Jacked Up! (A Lt. Jack Daniels/Leah Ryan Mystery)

by J. A. Konrath

  What a smiley guy.

  Under the assumption that he wanted to violate me while I was still breathing, I took a chance and headed toward the bed, hoping it would give me a chance to grab my knife.

  As I sat down I looked up at him.

  “This is what you want?” I put on a smile, hoping it didn’t look forced. “You could’ve just asked me out for a drink.”

  “Or to see your stamp collection?” His smile turned into a smirk.

  “Wow. I guess guys do talk.” But I knew there was more to it by the way he was looking at me. Like he wanted to hurt me. This guy didn’t like me. Not a bit.

  I stretched my legs out to unzip my jeans. If I could pull them down I could get to my boot, but he’d have to be up close for me to use it.

  He shook his head. “I know it’s hard for you, but just keep your panties on. We’re waiting.”

  I blinked. Okay. This was going from bad to worse. My heart was drilling against my ribcage and I struggled to keep my breathing even. I tried to breathe through the panic and think.

  “Waiting for what?”

  There was a sound at the door, then it opened.

  Fred walked through it holding a hotel key card.

  “Fred. You forgot my burger.”

  “You won’t need it where you’re going,” he said, standing beside Teddy.

  Oooo-kay. Fred and Teddy were going to kill me. “You two are not here for a threesome, so what’s the deal?”

  “You haven’t figured it out yet? For a nosy bitch, you aren’t too bright.”

  “You’re going to kill me because I’m nosy?”

  “I’m not going to jail because you can’t keep your bitch face out of our business.” Teddy wasn’t smiling anymore. No. He now had his angry face on. His eyes squinted in rage and his mouth had that downturned unhappy look.

  “Fred, you mind explaining to me what Teddy is talking about? I don’t speak psycho. You might, but I have high hopes that you’re more coherent than your friend.” Poking at the rabid animal wasn’t the wisest way to go, but maybe I could buy some time.

  Fred said, “Come on, Leah. You know what’s happening here.”

  “No, I don’t. Why don’t you fill me in.”

  If I didn’t do something soon, I was going to die in this hotel room and be carried out in a hotel bedspread.

  Teddy cocked the gun.

  “You think you can shoot me and one of you can write my suicide note with the same hotel pen that Stanley Carey used? Don’t you guys know about gunpowder residue and blood splash patterns and bullet trajectories? Here.” I held out my hand to Teddy. “Give me the gun. If I pull the trigger, you guys will be off the hook.”

  He wasn’t that stupid.

  “It’s too bad we have to kill you, Leah,” Fred said. “You’re funny, and an outstanding lay. It really is a waste.”

  I was running out of options. “I’ll start screaming.”

  “Go ahead. Tyler made sure there are no occupied rooms around you. No one will hear.”

  Tyler? Where had I heard that name?

  The girl at the front desk who checked me in. Fred’s girlfriend?

  Teddy unbuckled his belt.

  I lifted an eyebrow. Hope bloomed inside of me. Had he changed his mind? I practiced the move in my head. Grab the knife, stab him in the throat, grab the gun to use on Fred. But the more I imagined it, the more impossible it seemed that I could do it.

  Teddy pulled his belt off and walked over to me.

  “You want to punish me first?” I swallowed, hard to do with a dry mouth. “Kinky.”

  “You wish. No, you dumb gash. Lay on your belly.”

  Oh shit. If he got on my back, it would be bad. I wouldn’t be able to see what was happening, wouldn’t be able to get the Bowie.

  “Do it,” he said, gritting his teeth. He looked like a drawing of a deranged happy face.

  Sheer terror made me laugh hysterically.

  Teddy failed to see the humor. “Hold this,” he said, giving the gun to Fred.

  Fear threatened to choke me. If I lost it now, they’d both climb on top of me and I’d be done.

  “I called the cops, just before you came. I was on the phone with them when Teddy walked in.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “On the table, there. Look at the business card.”

  Teddy and Fred exchanged a look, and Teddy went for Jack’s card.

  “Homicide Lieutenant. On the way right now. Knows everything. You guys better get the hell out of here.”

  Teddy laughed. “It’s fake.”

  “It’s not fake.”

  “There’s no real cop named Jack Daniels. She’s from that TV show. The one where she wets her pants.”

  “I love that show,” Fred said.

  The hot ones were always stupid. Or insane. Apparently Fred was both.

  “She’s based on a real cop. I talked to her today. Look at my phone. I just called her.”

  But then Fred was on me, pinning my arms, and as I fought and kicked and tried to reach his gun, Teddy snaked his belt around my neck and started pulling.

  Within seconds my vision became fuzzy, and I saw little stars bursting before my eyes. Oxygen deprivation did funny things to a person.

  I tightened the muscles in my neck, willing myself to stay as calm as I could, but panic made me buck. The belt tightened and the world went grey. In a few moments I’d pass out.

  Heaving my legs back as far as I could, I reached my fingers down and pulled my pant leg off my boot, and reached, my fingers fumbling. My world faded, thoughts echoing like fevered dreams, then my fingers were around the knife hilt. My shoulders were pinned, but Teddy was close enough to kiss.

  I rammed the Uberti into his neck.

  The belt loosened. Teddy’s weight lightened and he fell to one side of me, off the bed. Fred stepped back, his face surprised, and I heaved air into my lungs a few times, then rolled away, falling on top of Teddy. The knife was buried deep in his throat, and his eyes bulged in shock. I knocked his hand aside and grabbed the knife, yanking it sideways. I cut Teddy’s throat, leaving a long, jagged gash.

  “You think I’m a gash? How’s that for a gash?” Adrenaline spiked through me and I was so glad to be alive that I giggled. I was pretty sure that I now looked like the deranged happy face. “How ya like me now, motherfucker?”

  I looked around for Fred, not seeing him. Where the hell was he?

  Then felt the metal of the gun press against the back of my head. “You killed him! Jesus Christ, you killed him! You’re dead. You are so fucking dead.”

  I was on my knees, looking down at the slack face below me, the jagged cut across his throat still leaking. He stared up at me, unfocused, his eyes round and empty.

  My blood roaring in my ears, fear clawing at my insides, waiting for the bullet to punch through my skull and enter my brain. I clenched my teeth, trying to stop trembling.

  I felt ready to OD on adrenaline, but feeling a gun on my dome made my heart pound like it was going to pop. It was even scarier than being strangled.

  “Drop the knife. Drop the goddamn knife!”

  I dropped it. Then I took a big breath, tried to keep my voice steady.

  “It’s over, Fred. You can’t cover this up. It’s all gonna come out in the news, and then the po-po will come and haul your freak ass to prison.”

  “What do you mean, freak-ass? I’m no freak. Lauren was the freak. And so was Carey.”

  And that’s when I put it together.

  “You don’t like trannies, huh, Fred?”

  “Shut up.”

  “You’re going to kill me, right? Why not tell me everything. What was the problem? She wouldn’t let you suck her dick?”

  He laughed, sounding every bit as hysterical as I had. “That’s bullshit. She was disgusting.”

  “You were attracted to her, weren’t you?”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Big macho stud, gets in all the girls’ pants, and yo
u had the hots for a tranny. What’d you do, make a move and she turned you down?”

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  The Fridge Notes flashed into my mind. They mentioned a photo shoot.

  “Carey hired you, to take pictures of Lauren. You made a pass, discovered she was born a man, and freaked out.”

  “She wasn’t any better than any other girl, but she thought she was,” he said, and I could hear his teeth clench. “She was worse. She was a fucking liar.”

  “What set you off? That she told you no? Or when you questioned your own masculinity because she turned you on?”

  “I didn’t kill her, you stupid bitch! It was Teddy. I wouldn’t come on to that freak. Once I found out what she was, I almost puked.”

  “If Teddy killed her you can still get out of this,” I said, thinking fast. “He was the mastermind. He was pushing you into it. You might even be able to walk away from this.”

  He laughed. “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He put his fingers in my hair and jerked my head up. “Smile. You’re on Candid Camera, Leah.”

  I was facing a wall, which had that ugly framed picture of a black cat.

  “Hidden camera. Teddy and I are making a fortune in this hotel.”

  I thought of Tyler at the front desk, and Sidney from the elevator.

  “You and Teddy are pimps.”

  “That wasn’t where the money was. We took movies. Married guys. Married women for me. Two hundred bucks an hours is nothing. We were making thousands, blackmailing the idiots.”

  “So you slept with Lauren, and then tried to blackmail her?”

  “I didn’t sleep with that woman. Or guy. Or whatever she was. Carey hired me to take some pics. Thought she was going to be some big fashion model. I took a few while she was dressing, found out her secret. Tried to put the squeeze on Carey by telling the public. He was running for mayor. He told me he didn’t care if the world knew. Then things got intense, and Teddy went nuts. Guy begged us not to hurt his girlfriend. Swore he didn’t have any money. He’d mortgaged everything to pay for her operations. And Teddy didn’t believe him, and he died. Then he did her because she was a witness.”

  I was only following half of what he said, because I couldn’t get my focus off the gun pressing against me.

  “You can still get out of this.”

  “There’s only one way out of this.” He leaned in, whispered in my ear. “You are going to die. And trust me. You won’t like getting shot.”

  “Got some bruises from the bullet-proof vest, Ninja-boy?”

  “Goodbye, Leah. Got any last words?”

  “Yeah. I’m glad I won’t feel it when you abuse my corpse.” I squeezed my eyes shut, felt a drop of sweat roll down the back of my neck and between my shoulder blades.

  He reached over to the bed and grabbed a pillow, placing it between the gun and the back of my head.

  This really was it. I was going to die in a hotel room at the hands of Fred the bartender. Regret bubbled up inside of me, causing a lump in my throat, and I swallowed it down. I was not going to cry for this cowardly little creep. Fuck him.

  A knock sounded at the door. I opened my eyes, hope taking the place of the regret.

  “Go away!” Fred bellowed.

  “Leah! Leah, you bitch! I’ll kill you! Open this door so I can bash your head in!”

  I bit my lip to stop from laughing hysterically. Harry McGlade. If he got me out of this alive, I’d rock his world.

  “He’s going to kill me. Don’t tell him I’m here.” I put as much fear into my voice as I could, which wasn’t hard, considering I’d almost died seconds ago.

  “Who is that?”

  “Somebody I owe a lot of money to. He really is going to kill me. I’m not kidding. He’s probably got the cement ready for my shoe fitting. Please don’t let him in.”

  That would solve Fred’s problems. Someone else murders me and he’s free to contaminate the earth another day. I felt Fred’s weight come off the bed as he padded toward the door.

  “Don’t move,” he warned.

  As soon as he turned his head to check the peephole I jumped off the bed, grabbing the knife I’d dropped.

  Harry McGlade kicked the door in, banging against Fred’s face, knocking him on his ass. He was holding the biggest handgun I’d ever seen. Obviously a case of overcompensation.

  “Toss it to the side, shit head,” Harry said.

  Fred tossed the gun onto the bed and raised his hands.

  “You okay, Leah?” Harry asked.

  I nodded.

  Harry looked at Fred, disgust on his face. “I heard everything, listening at the door. Because that’s my thing. Listening at people’s doors, hoping to hear them having sex. That’s right. I’m a pervert and I’m proud of it.”

  Thank God for that.

  “Leah, grab his weapon and—”

  “Walk into the room and put down the gun.”

  Harry dropped his .44 Magnum. Behind him, with a gun of her own, was Sidney, the girl from the elevator.

  Shit.

  Fred and I both went for the gun on the bed at the same time. He was stronger, but I had the knife. Peripherally, I saw Harry turn and start to wrestle with Sidney, and then I was trying to drive my Uberti into Fred’s ribs. He deflected it, but I tagged him with an elbow, right into his bruised chest. He grunted in pain, and I got a hand on the gun.

  Then he was on top of me, pinning my arms down as he had before, and it didn’t take long for him to pry both the knife and the gun from my hands.

  I turned to Harry, hoping for help, but he was on the ground, Sidney standing over him with her gun pointing at his face.

  “What?” Harry said to me. “She’s stronger than she looks.”

  Shit.

  “Waste him,” Fred told her. Then he pressed the gun up to my teeth.

  “HEY!”

  I looked at the door, expecting that Tyler from the front desk had joined the party. Why the hell not? Everyone else was here. The room had become a scene from a Marx Brothers movie.

  But it wasn’t Tyler.

  It was Lieutenant Jack Daniels. She had her .38 drawn, and she looked pissed.

  JACK DANIELS

  Herb had gone home for the day, and I’d been on the phone with Stanley Carey’s parents in Saratoga, relating the sad news. Not my favorite part of the job. They’d had a falling out with their son because he was dating Lauren, and they didn’t approve. His father was so angry he cut Stanley out of the family business, forcing Stanley to start over in Chicago. He wouldn’t even sell his son a Bentley for her. Between his new business, two homes, political dreams, and paying for Lauren’s gender operations, Stanley was close to bankruptcy. He’d even gone to his parents for help, and they refused.

  I listened to them sob and wondered when, if ever, people would stop judging others based on their sexual preference. And if any of this would have happened if they’d just been a little more tolerant.

  During the call I got a ring from Leah Ryan. She didn’t leave a message, but her phone recorded part of a conversation where she was talking to someone named Teddy. It ended with a sound like a grunt and someone hitting the floor. I tried to call Leah back and got a recording that her phone number was not available.

  Like Herb, I’d been in my car and heading to my home in the suburbs, but the Farlance Hotel was really close so I decided to stop by and check on Leah.

  Good thing I did.

  I’d walked into a free-for-all, Harry and Leah scrapping with a woman and a man. I saw at least three weapons in play, with Harry’s Magnum on the floor, and I drew my piece and shouted, “Hey!”

  The girl froze, and Harry immediately disarmed her. But the guy on the bed swung his weapon toward me.

  No Kevlar vest on this guy. I put three in his chest, and he dropped the gun and slumped off the bed.

  “Hiya, Jackie.
” Harry said. “You up for a little ménage a trois?”

  I almost turned my gun on Harry. But instead I went to the man I’d shot, found a pulse, and also found another guy alongside the bed, his throat torn open. Incredibly, he was also alive.

  Leah called 911. I handcuffed the girl, recited Miranda, and called for a crime scene team.

  When I asked what happened, both Harry and Leah started talking at once, and then Leah talked louder and said, “You can watch it yourself,” and tugged a picture of an ugly black cat off the wall, revealing a shelf in the wall with a camcorder on it.

  Which I did. I watched it as the paramedics came and hauled away the two injured bad guys. Then we all went down to the station to sort everything out.

  • • •

  Herb whistled. “Blackmail biz seems to pay pretty well.”

  We were at Teddy Cholpek’s Lake Shore apartment, which looked like it had been decorated by a flamboyant teenager with billionaire parents. Electronics were everywhere, a huge TV, some arcade machines, two different stereo systems, a leather sectional with the shipping plastic still on it. No rhyme or reason to anything, other than it all seemed expensive.

  We found a stack of DVD-Rs next to his computer, all carefully dated and labeled. I recognized the names of a few local politicians and businesspeople. We watched one, just to make sure it was what we thought. It was.

  “The press gets hold of this, it’ll be huge,” Herb commented.

  I shrugged. “You play, you pay.”

  And we packed it all up as evidence to let the State’s Attorney deal with the mess.

  All except for one DVD, which I slipped into my jacket pocket.

  LEAH RYAN

  I’d been pressured to stay overnight in the hospital for observation. I’d been banged up a bit, and I relented just to get everyone out of my hair.

  At three am I checked myself out, unable to sleep because my roommate snored like a buzzsaw, and checked myself into a nearby Hilton.

  I slept until noon, woken by my cell phone. Jackson. I gave him the quick version, which took a lot longer than I expected, and then your friendly neighborhood supercop Jack Daniels called, bitching me out for leaving the hospital against doctor’s orders, and then asking to meet me for a beer.