by Jim Heskett
Dead.
It felt as if my soul had been pulled out of me. I was broken. I fell to my knees, gasping for breath as blood cascaded from Martin’s legs onto my living room floor.
“Why did you do that? I told you I would do what you wanted.”
Darren wiped each side of my steak knife on Martin’s shoulder. “That was so you’d know how serious we are about what we want. You’ve had a real knack for coloring outside the lines, and it’s time all of that adventurousness came to a halt. So far, we’ve kept the list just to your acquaintances. We could make this a lot more personal.”
I had no doubt that they could. “If I do this… if I help you kill Kareem Haddadi, then this will all stop?”
He nodded.
Martin’s head slumped forward. His chest had stopped moving. I still couldn’t remember his last name, and that was maybe the most troubling aspect of it all. He’d died because of me and I couldn’t do him the honor of remembering his full name.
“Why me? If you want this guy dead so bad, why can’t you get your people to do it? I’m not the kind of person who knows how to kill someone.”
Darren stepped toward me, gripping the knife in his hand. He swung it around like an orchestra conductor. Droplets of blood sailed through the air, landing on my furniture. “Because this is destiny, Candle. We’re all here on this earth for a grand purpose, and I’m here to help you fulfill yours. No more wallowing in the well of mediocrity. From today onward, we seize the day by the goddamn balls.”
I winced. Part of me wanted to leap forward, grab the knife from his hand and jab it into his stomach. Darren didn’t look particularly fast or strong, and I imagined I could end his life without too much difficulty. But how would that benefit me? Still no closer to getting my wife back.
“Okay,” I said, “I’ll seize the day if that’s what you want. What do we do now?”
“Now we get to work.”
Chapter Eighteen
WHEN I WOKE the morning after Martin died, all the aches in my body were competing with each other. My head, my neck, my back, my legs. The adrenaline of the car crash had carried me through the evening, but that was gone. I was left with a broken and bruised body.
Darren had told me to sit tight, that information would be arriving soon to let me know what to do next. As if I had any other choice than to sit tight.
I was able to get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom to take some painkillers. Then a shower, which was an exercise in agony. Just touching a bar of soap to my chest made me yowl. When I opened the curtain, Kitty was sitting on the rug, looking up at me.
“I’m okay, Kitty.”
She dimmed her eyes and I slow-blinked back at her. She turned, brushed against the bathroom door, then tramped down the stairs, waiting to be fed.
I obliged, then spent some time resting upstairs in Grace’s nursing glider. Once the painkiller kicked in, I was able to relax a bit, but I still moved like a turtle in molasses. I turned my head, and the world took a half-second to catch up.
I was beginning to believe that no matter what I might do, this exercise was going to end in my death. Grace and our unborn child were likely already dead. These people were ruthless and seemingly all-powerful, and nothing I did made any difference. Every time I tried to venture out on my own, they caught me. My phone, probably tapped. My house, probably bugged.
I stared at the ceiling, which Grace had insisted we paint blue with white clouds. I’d painted the blue and she’d done the clouds since my artistic talent is just above zero. On her first attempt, they’d looked like nothing more than splotches. I’d tried not to inform her of that fact, because somewhere around three months pregnant, she’d taken to crying once or twice a day, and I hadn’t wanted to be the cause of another argument.
If I could do this whole pregnancy over again, I’d be more supportive. I’d rub her feet at night and rush to the store to buy her ice cream and cookies whenever she wanted. But I didn’t think I would ever have the chance to do it right again. Even if I killed Kareem for these people, there were no guarantees they’d tell me where she was.
Maybe I could sneak over to my neighbor’s house and ask Alan to call the real cops for me, but if they were careful enough to bug all of my communications, they’d have probably bugged his house too. If I invited him out for a beer, they’d follow us to the bar, we’d talk, then they’d just kill him when he left.
Kill Kareem, don’t kill Kareem. Did it even matter? I had no way to know if she was even still alive.
I picked up the copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting from the nightstand next to the glider and flipped through a few pages.
A knock at the door.
I groaned from the effort of leaving the glider as I eased down the stairs. I opened the door to Detective Shelton, smiling and holding two cups of coffee. Steam rose from the pinholes in the lids.
“Morning, Candle. Thought you could use a cappuccino. You look like hell.”
I didn’t even bother to ask him what he was doing here, or why he had coffee, or anything of the sort. I watched my hand reach out and take the cup, then I walked to the dinner table.
He followed me in, easing the door shut behind him. He set a bulky manila envelope on the table in front of me.
“What’s that?” I said.
He pulled up a chair and sipped at his drink. “Some leads on the whereabouts of Mr. Kareem Haddadi, AKA Muhammed Qureshi. At least those are two of the names he goes by. Outside of America, it’s like passport roulette.”
I sipped the coffee, and as I swallowed, the thought occurred to me it might be poisoned. And also that I didn’t much care. “Leads?”
“Wyatt thought you might appreciate something to help you get your feet wet. Since you don’t exactly have much detective work under your belt, is what he meant. Clearly, you’ve got some balls to you, given what you did to poor Glenning’s wrist. We were counting on him for the spring softball team, but you might have put him out of commission for the whole season. I hope you’re happy about that.”
Softball? The callousness of these people didn’t even surprise me anymore. Of course softball was a priority, right after murdering several of their own employees, kidnapping the spouses of others, and conspiring to commit murder. Softball had to rank on the list somewhere.
“If this was your big plan for me, why go to the trouble of putting Keisha in my car? What if I’d gotten arrested?”
Shelton sucked his teeth. “I lost twenty bucks on that.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We knew you wouldn’t go to the cops, and if you did, we had her hair and blood and the murder weapon ready to stash under your bed if need be. But we knew it wouldn’t be necessary.”
“You people are monsters.”
“Six of one, half-dozen of the other. It’s not much to go on,” Shelton said, pointing at the folder. “But there’s a residence, not in his name, of course, but one he’s been spotted at. Also some known associates and some other avenues for you to investigate.”
I lifted the envelope, and my elbow joint felt like a piece of plastic about to snap. Painkiller starting to wear off. “How am I supposed to go to his house? You people totaled my car last night.”
Shelton took a set of keys from his pocket and placed them in front of me. “I heard about your car. That’s a real shame, and we understand you need transportation, so Wyatt authorized me to give you a company car for a few days. You don’t have to worry about the paperwork, I’ll get that all squared away with HR for you. It’s out front. It’s got a full tank of gas.”
“You trust me to take your car and drive around the city?”
He laughed. “I’m pretty sure you know what will happen if you do something we don’t like.”
I dropped the envelope, which thunked onto the table. “I’m not so sure I care anymore. Grace is probably dead, and you’ll kill me no matter what I do.”
He sighed, then took a smal
l envelope from his pocket. “I understand your concern, so I’m authorized to pass along some information about that. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to show you this.”
He slid the envelope on the table, and I opened it to find a Polaroid picture. Grace, eyes closed, on a cot in front of a white bed sheet, a newspaper next to her head. My medicated heart beat rapidly against my ribcage. “Why are her eyes closed? How do I know she’s alive?”
“She’s sleeping in that picture. She’s been drugged.”
“When was this taken?”
“Can’t you see the newspaper?”
“It’s too small.”
“Well, that’s yesterday’s paper. Sorry about the little picture, but I didn’t take it. You can rest assured that’s her, and she’s definitely still alive. We don’t want to kill you, Candle, and we don’t want to kill Grace, either.”
My eyes traced the line of her baby bump. I wanted to scream and cry because a little glint of hope had worked its way back into my despair after I thought they’d sucked it all out of me.
The picture gave me something like a second wind. I studied the strap across Shelton’s chest, which likely lead to a pistol holstered under his armpit. Maybe I could grab it, or maybe my dulled reflexes would be too slow.
He saw this, and sat back, a caustic frown on his face. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your situation. But you’ve been a very naughty boy, and you’ve made this a lot harder than it needed to be. It’s time to stop with all your cowboy shit and do the right thing.”
“I don’t know if I can kill him. What if I just find him, then you guys do whatever you need to do?”
He shook his head. “It has to be you. They were very specific on that, so you can keep your bargaining to yourself.”
“But why? Why me? I’m no detective or bounty hunter, why give me all this info and expect me to find him?”
Shelton took a deep breath then looked at the ceiling to find his answer. “We’ve all got a part to play here. Killing a man isn’t easy, and trust me, I know all about that. When it comes down to it, it’s between you and your God. You’re a family man, so you know what it’s like to have to make sacrifices for the greater good.”
I reached across the table and picked up the car keys. If Grace was alive, I still had a chance. “Where do I start?”
“I’d go to Kareem’s house in Boulder. He’s not there, of course, but maybe you can learn something useful.”
“Kareem lives in here in Colorado?”
“Haddadi has several residences in the US, but he’s rarely at them. Like I said, nothing in his own name. Darren should be joining you later, but you can get a head start on it if you want.”
He smiled at me, warm, patriarchal. He thought he was the voice of kindness, helping me out and guiding me. “One last thing. The night you met our boy Kareem at that bar, I was supposed to be on him and bring him in. I dropped the ball on that one and missed my chance. Didn’t find out about the meeting until the day after. So I’d appreciate it if you could help me out and find him, so I don’t look so bad anymore.”
“Why would I care about making you look better?”
“One phone call from me and your wife starts losing fingers. I’m sure you’d rather be looking at a picture of her face, instead of her digits in a box, am I right?”
My chest thumped. “Okay.”
“Kill him. Think of it like a Band-Aid,” he said. “Quick and decisive. One big rip, and this whole thing’s over with.”
Driving toward Boulder in the “company car,” I took some time to reflect on the state of my life. Wasn’t good. I’d been indirectly responsible for the deaths of at least three people… Paul, Keisha, and Martin. Three perfectly valid human beings, now erased from the earth.
My wife was gone. My employer IntelliCraft had turned out to be the evil empire, intent on making me kill a man for no discernible reason. And that man, who had flashed some quasi-magic on me, warned me about all of it outside a dive bar on the edge of Boulder.
Maybe if Kareem had been specific with me, I could have actually done something. Or maybe not. I’d only half-believed him that night.
So much didn’t make sense. But one thing I knew for sure, I needed to warn Grace’s boss Rodrick that he was in danger. Going to his house yesterday had been a stupid idea, and if he wasn’t dead already, I needed to help him.
I dialed as I drove along the highway through the suburb of Broomfield.
“Hello?”
“Rodrick, it’s Tucker Candle.”
“Oh, hey there, Candle,” he said, and I heard the hesitancy in his voice. Twice in two days I had made strange appearances to the guy. He probably doubted my sanity as much as I did.
“You need to listen to me because this is important.”
“Sure,” he said, with a dubious tone.
“I need you to get out of town for a few days. Just get your stuff and go somewhere, and it doesn’t matter where. It’s better if I don’t know, actually.”
He laughed. “Why in the world would I do that?”
“I’m afraid I might have put you in danger. I didn’t mean to, but it was a stupid thing to come to your house yesterday.”
“Listen, buddy, I think it’s about time you told me what’s going on here. You call me and tell me I need to leave town, well, that’s a pretty big deal. I can’t pack up my wife and kid and leave without a good reason, but you don’t seem to want to give me one.”
I paused, thinking about what I should say next. Good chance this phone call was being recorded or monitored in some way. “You’re going to have to trust me, Rod. What I’m telling you is the truth, and I can’t make it any plainer than that.”
He laughed again, a half-hearted and incredulous sound. “If you’re some kind of government agent warning me about a terrorist attack, you should come out and say it. Otherwise, I don’t understand a word of what’s going on here if you won’t give me a good reason.”
“I can’t explain it. And I realize I can’t make you do anything. All I can tell you is that bad things are happening, and it’s all because of me. I don’t know if I can fix it, but you’re involved now too, and I don’t want anyone else to suffer for my mistakes.”
I listened to his breathing on the other end of the line for a few seconds. “Did you do something to Grace? Did you harm her in some way?”
I wanted to chuck my phone out the window. He wasn’t getting it. I wiped dribbles of tears from the corners of my eyes and cleared my throat. “No, she’s fine. I haven’t done anything to her. Please, just think about what I said.”
He mumbled some kind of ambiguous acknowledgment and hung up the phone. I knew if he didn’t take my advice, he’d be dead within hours.
Chapter Nineteen
KAREEM HADDADI’S HOUSE was in south Boulder, in an area of town near the National Center for Atmospheric Research building, perched at the foot of the Flatiron Mountains.
Grace and I used to hike on the trails leading into the foothills all the time before her pregnancy started sapping her energy. Just a couple years ago, we’d spend entire weekends hiking up trails to Bear Peak, Royal Arch, and others between NCAR and Chautauqua Park, then eating and drinking ourselves silly at Southern Sun afterward.
The house was an expansive three-story modern building with a four car garage and what appeared to be a massive greenhouse. Buddhist prayer flags decorated the gate across the front.
I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but not a giant mansion in one of the wealthiest parts of town. A guy who lived here should wear sharply tailored suits and expensive shoes, not a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and sneakers, as he had the night I’d met him at the bar. Didn’t make sense, but I supposed I knew almost nothing about the man.
Except that I had a mission to kill him. Thinking about that fact sent me into cold sweats.
“Focus, Candle,” I said to the dashboard. “Remember what’s at stake.”
I parked across the street
and sifted through the envelope to see if there was anything else in the packet that might help me once I was inside. Didn’t find much, just the one sheet with this address, a note with the code to the front gate, and a set of keys that looked fresh out of the key maker machine at Home Depot.
My last round of painkillers was starting to wear off and the thump in my chest and back resurfaced. I popped another pill from the three I’d stashed in my pocket. Relief was on its way, T-minus fifteen minutes or so. Maybe I should have let them take me to the hospital, but it didn’t matter much now.
As I left the car and crossed the street, I flashed on the image of the Polaroid picture Shelton had shown me. Would it be easy to fake something like that? Possibly, but I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Grace might still be alive. I had to tell myself all of this insanity wasn’t for nothing, even if it was.
I keyed in the gate code and walked through a garden of carefully sculpted hedges, a light snow covering the tops of them like icing on a cake. Then I slipped the key into the lock as I looked around for any nosy neighbors. Quiet fancy Boulder neighborhood, no one would suspect anything strange. This town had no idea what real crime was like; the worst they ever saw here were low-grade frat boy riots after big football games.
Inside the house, I was struck by a flurry of food-related odors. Most of them, I couldn’t place, but I distinctly smelled lamb and curry. Definitely curry. How long did that scent linger?
I stepped into an open living room connected to a kitchen on the right and a hallway on the left. The walls were a stark white. Small amount of furnishings, as if the person who lived here didn’t need or want much. No art on the walls or trinkets, just a lot of open space.
“Okay, magic man, tell me or show me something. Give me some help.”
But I wasn’t sure what I expected to find. Something that was supposed to lead me to Kareem, and then what? I somehow find a handy crowbar and bash his brains in? Would I really be able to carry out such a gruesome and heinous act as killing another human being who had done nothing to me?