‘Something personal.’
‘Well, they haven’t asked for anything.’ Bill leaned against the railing, looking out over the city. It was a nice night, if you ignored the potential stalker. ‘I would have thought it had something to do with Wendell.’
‘Then why aren’t you–’
‘Being targeted too?’ Bill shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea. Maybe it was just somebody who happened to catch you and is trying to set things right before they got the whole scoop. So far, you’re the only lead. Captain Cox knows this, which is why I’m here.’
Mason placed his palms against his back, stretching out. ‘Okay,’ he said, coming to Bill’s side, ‘so you’re the lead investigator on this. How long do I have before I’m officially in for questioning?’
‘Not long.’
‘Great. So, if I decide to look into this…’
‘Then you’d have to do it quickly. I can make some excuses – say I haven’t managed to get in touch – but sooner or later, I’ll be replaced by somebody who will bring you in.’
Mason clenched the railing and gazed into the distance. He’d really been looking forward to spending this weekend with Amy. In a strange sort of way, he had even forgotten about all this business with the Lullaby Killer. But for everything to suddenly spring open again, landing him – and only him – in trouble… That was enough to spoil anyone’s day.
‘We spoke to the victim’s best friend,’ said Bill. ‘Apparently, this Johnny Walker kid was thinking about hiring a prostitute. It’s not much, but–’
‘It’s a start.’ Mason pushed back from the railing and headed inside. ‘Thanks, Bill.’
‘Be careful.’
5
It was a case he had no choice but to take. That was, if he wanted to stay out of the spotlight.
Mason dropped Amy off at her mother’s and watched protectively as she bounded up the steps and inside. Her mother, Sandra, was probably surprised to see her home so soon, but it couldn’t be helped. Mason secretly hoped this might have ruined any private fun time that Sandra and Joshua – the replacement boyfriend – might have been looking forward to.
An hour later, following a long stretch of heavy traffic, he stopped the Mustang on Barley Street, one of the many go-to places for prostitution or drugs (if you knew anything about this city, anyway). Mason got out and started from the nearest end of the road.
‘Excuse me,’ he said to two particularly overweight hookers. They were clearly on edge, which was exactly why Mason had elected not to go showing his badge to everyone. Instead, he used only the photograph of Johnny Walker, which Bill had been kind enough to lend. ‘Have you seen this kid?’
‘Who’s askin’?’ the larger one said, blowing impressive pink bubbles of gum.
‘A concerned friend.’
They looked at each other, turned back to him, then shook their heads.
‘Thank you.’
It was further up the road, after an hour or more (who was counting at this time of night?), when Mason found somebody who might be of use. There was something ratty about this girl, but in a sweet, keep-your-hands-to-yourself sort of way. Her arms were folded across her flat chest in a defensive manner.
‘This boy,’ he said, holding his tired arm out to the woman. ‘Have you seen him?’
She peered at it unenthusiastically. ‘Might have.’
‘Twenty bucks if you tell me you didn’t. Fifty if you point me in the right direction.’
Her eyes dropped to study him, from boot to head. She had every reason to be suspicious, but she was certainly in no danger from Mason. ‘You a cop?’
‘No.’
‘You look like a cop.’
‘I’m not a cop.’
Giving one more scan of his features, she held out her palm, until fifty dollars was slapped into it. ‘Follow me,’ she said, turned, and walked towards a run-down building with graffiti on its walls and windows.
Mason gave her the benefit of the doubt and went after her. Inside was a tall and narrow staircase, which seemed to go up five different flights. Each landing was littered with badly dressed young men, most of whom had their lips nuzzled into girls’ necks. Mason clenched his trench coat, careful not to let it flap into somebody’s way. He’d been to these sorts of places before, and there was always somebody looking for an excuse.
‘Here we are. Wait here.’ The hooker disappeared for a few moments before returning and waving her hand.
Mason went in, immediately struck by the smell of marijuana. The air was painfully thick with it – bad quality, too. ‘Who set the fire?’ he jested, but the woman’s expression didn’t seem to change.
They came into a large, open room. It was full of smoke, neon, and plenty of people garbed only in black. All eyes seemed to be on him as he strode across the room and approached the desk, which appeared to be the highlight of the room.
‘What have we here?’ Seated at the desk was a black man, perhaps early thirties, wearing a black beret and a badly trimmed goatee. He looked at Mason with obvious signs of scepticism, raising an eyebrow here, rubbing his chin there.
‘I’m just looking for a kid who might have come through here,’ Mason told him, handing over the photo. ‘Nobody is in trouble, but he was recently found dead, and we’re trying to pick up a trail.’
‘We?’ The man looked up at the prostitute then back at Mason. ‘Are you a cop?’
‘Private investigator,’ Mason corrected.
‘Shit, man.’ He sunk his face into his palms before looking up at the woman. ‘Patty, what the hell do you think you’re doing, bringing PIs up in here?’
‘I didn’t think–’
‘Obviously.’ The man pushed back from his desk and shot to his feet. He was yelling now. ‘Get out of my sight.’
‘She made me pay her to keep it a secret, too,’ Mason offered, throwing a wrench in the works. It was never his intention to anger this man – he only wanted the information – but this woman had been rude to him, and he would never let that slide.
‘What?’ she screamed. ‘He’s lying! Rosco, I–’
‘Go, before I lose my temper.’
The woman stormed out, spitting at Mason’s feet as she passed, but he didn’t stop grinning.
‘Now, this boy you’re looking for.’ The man – Rosco – slammed his palm onto his desk, and all chatter around them suddenly stopped. ‘What’s it got to do with you? Ain’t the police already looking into it?’
Mason cleared his throat. ‘Not over here, they’re not. And if I get what I want, they’ll have no need to be here. Do we understand each other?’
Rosco sighed, smiling uncomfortably at the people who were eavesdropping. Finally, he threw his hands up. ‘Look, I seen the kid around but he was only window shopping, if you catch my drift. Some say he went off with some dame last night, but she wasn’t one of mine. So, if you don’t mind…’ He raised his hands towards the door.
Mason examined his expression, which seemed more than sincere. As soon as he accepted that this was a dead end, he leaned over, took the photo, and headed for the door. ‘Thank you for your time.’
As soon as he stepped outside, Mason cursed under his breath. This was his only lead, and now here he was, alone in a bad neighbourhood, and with no information at all. Once again, he found himself feeling around in his pockets for his cigarettes.
What the hell is wrong with me?
6
Last night’s victim was her first, and it had made her feel alive. The kid may not have deserved it, but somebody needed to die, so why not him? How else could she have gotten the message across?
Clenching the two sides of her jacket and pulling them together (she wasn’t quite ready for business yet), Lady strode past the usual crowd of working girls. She had spoken to some of them – they were good people, for the most part. Perhaps that was why she had decided to target the clients instead. At least they deserved it. They were, for lack of a better term, filth.
‘
Hey, you,’ a voice came from behind her, breaking her thoughts.
Lady craned a neck over her shoulder, looking down her nose in the seductive manner she had practised countless times in front of the mirror. She wished she hadn’t looked now – the man seated in his car was fat and grotesque, sweating under the weight of his own skin.
‘Come here, let’s get a good look at you.’
Lady hesitated. The creeps are out early tonight. Trying not to make her cringe so obvious, she slowly approached the car. It was a small thing with no back-end – far too small for this guy. ‘What can I do you for?’
‘Open your jacket. I want to see what you got.’
‘Open your wallet, sugar. I want to see what you got.’ Lady didn’t know much, but she knew that if a man wanted sex, she could make him do anything she wanted. Besides, if she were to go home with this guy, she would need to see that he had the dough up front.
With a grunt and a shuffle in his car seat, he dug into his pocket for his wallet.
Lady thought he looked like a woodlouse on its back, trying to wriggle back onto its legs. She held onto her laugh as best she could, but then she saw someone else. Someone across the road from her, who the very sight of contorted her smile into a frown.
‘Hey. Hey!’ the fat man shouted.
But she was already gone, her legs moving as if automatically, while her gaze shifted to Mason Black. What is he doing here?
She saw a group of working girls on her side of the street and stood close to them. If she could blend in with the crowd, she would be fine. From here, she could watch his movements, see exactly what he was up to.
Was it a wonder that he wasn’t arrested already, given this morning’s gift to the San Francisco Police Department? Lady had known that it was no guarantee. But still, it was bound to have caused some sort of disturbance to his life’s balance.
Now, Mason was reaching into his pocket as he stopped next to a black Shelby Mustang. It was his, she knew – she had done her research. The hatred for him had driven her to such lengths.
Lady watched, grinding her teeth as he drove up the street and rounded the corner. Fine then, she nearly said out loud, let the song and dance begin.
7
Mason stopped at the traffic light, gnawing on this thumbnail. It was starting to feel as though he’d been taking his freedom for granted. He knew that if he couldn’t find a lead soon, then he would be taken in for questioning. It wouldn’t take long for the police to figure out that he had something to do with Wendell’s disappearance, and that wasn’t good.
The lights turned green, and Mason drove on in a thoughtful cruise. He wasn’t ready to head home just yet. Not without something to put him on the right track.
He slid into fourth, fifth, and took another glance in the rear-view mirror.
That same car.
It was a Prius. Red, he was sure, but it was difficult to tell at this time of night. It had been some distance behind him for a few blocks now, hanging back in a poor attempt to stay out of sight. Mason had to test it. He took the next left and found himself on an industrial estate, which was awfully quiet.
The Prius turned too, still on his tail.
Who might be after him? A list of all the people who hated him flickered through his mind. It was a long list, but seemed too coincidental to be happening on the same night they found Johnny Walker’s body.
Mason knew where his gun was. He leaned across the seat and took the revolver from the glove compartment, checked it was loaded, then stopped the car on the side of the road. Stuffing the gun under his coat, he pretended not to notice the other car and hopped over a closed gate. He landed in the parking lot of some carpentry store and walked around the building slowly enough to be followed.
Who are you? Mason wondered, checking his bullets again. He stopped here, heard the door of the Prius slam shut and the whining rattle of the same gate he had leapt over only a few moments ago.
The footsteps were coming closer, the person’s shadow stretching out across the parking lot. Mason had his back to the wall, his finger coiled around the trigger. He didn’t want to shoot anybody tonight, but he sure would if he had to.
Whoever it was, they were almost at the corner now.
Mason clutched the gun tight, spun his hip, and rounded the edge of the wall. He grasped the person’s shirt with one hand, pulling them off balance, while his right hand pressed the lip of the revolver to the person’s chin.
They struggled, his stalker fighting to break free of his firm grip. It was a woman. Mason could feel it – the delicate frame, her nails digging into his clenched fist, the soft protesting to let her go.
But Mason was in control. He pushed her back, pinning her against the wall. While an unsuspecting car drove past, its high beams illuminated the face of his follower. His mouth opened in surprise. ‘You.’
8
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘It’s nice to see you too, brother.’ Evie wrangled free of his grip and straightened out her shirt. ‘You can put the gun away now.’
‘Are you crazy? You can’t go following me like that.’ Mason stowed the revolver back into his coat and folded his arms. ‘I have enough problems without accidentally shooting my own sister.’
‘Sorry,’ she said, a little too sarcastically. Evie – or Evelyn, if you were looking at her driver’s licence – was a mousy woman with black hair and overly large glasses. Apparently, they were back in fashion now.
Mason let out a sigh. ‘Come on. We’re trespassing.’
They walked back across the lot, climbed over the gate, and stood directly between their two cars. It was a rare sight for these two to be seen together, especially since her unwilling involvement in the Wendell case. She had nearly gotten killed, and Mason probably wouldn’t be here today if she hadn’t sprung into action. But that didn’t make it okay for her to stay in the line of fire.
‘Where’d you get the car?’ Mason asked, trying to slow his heart rate with small talk.
‘My… Oh, the Prius? It’s a company car. I hate it.’
‘It suits you.’
‘Small and useless?’
‘Pretty and discreet,’ Mason corrected.
‘You flatter me.’ Evie laughed and leaned against the hood of her car. ‘So, look, I heard about your name being plastered across that guy’s chest. Why didn’t you come to me? You know I would have tried to help.’
‘That’s exactly why. I don’t want you in trouble anymore. Anyway, how the hell did you hear about it? I thought you’d left the thrilling world of journalism.’
‘I did. But advertising for a toy company is dull work.’
‘So you keep an ear to the ground?’
‘Everybody needs a hobby.’
Mason grunted. It was good to see her – it really was – but the circumstances were somewhat… unsettling. ‘Why are you here, Evie?’
She looked at him, then grinned and kicked herself away from the car. ‘What do you know about this victim? Why is your name on some dead guy? The truth, please.’
What could he tell her, really? He sure as hell couldn’t confess to having chained up the Lullaby Killer, torturing him before slicing his throat and burying the son of a bitch. Mason dreaded to think what that would do to their relationship. ‘I wish I knew.’
Evie studied him, probably looking for some sign of a lie. ‘All right then. Get in your car and follow me. If you’re going to be working the case then there’s somebody you’ll need to meet.’
Mason grabbed the car key from his pocket. ‘How do you know I’m working it?’
Evie glanced back. ‘Because I know you.’
9
Melanie Fry was a married woman and knew she shouldn’t be doing things like this. The problem was, she had been holding back on her desires since she hit puberty, and now she simply had to know.
She shut off the engine, straightened out her dress, and threaded her fingers together. The prostitutes were
all lined up and ready for business, pulling exaggerated poses to emphasise their qualities.
What would Bryan say?
He had always been so sweet to her, doing jobs around the house without excuses, taking care of the kids so she could take nights out. They weren’t even his kids – only screaming, whining debris of a previous relationship. And yet he still took care of them like they were his own.
Forget it.
Melanie fed the key back into the ignition. She couldn’t do this to him. As much as she wanted to kiss the soft lips of another woman, to run her fingers delicately across her skin, she had said her vows. Who was she to break them?
There was a rapid knock on the driver’s side window, causing her to jump. Beside her was a beautiful redhead. If she had decided to go through with it, this was probably the kind of woman she would have chosen.
She lowered the window.
‘Looking for a nice evening?’ The woman leaned in, smelling of butterscotch and something else – something fruity and exotic.
Melanie froze, looking around her. Maybe just a little play wouldn’t be so bad. Only enough to satisfy my curiosity. ‘Do you, uh… You know?’
The woman giggled and brushed her hair behind an ear. ‘Do I like women, you mean?’
‘Yes, I…’ Melanie couldn’t help but look down the woman’s top. She pictured what those breasts would look like if she laid on her back. It sent a warm wave through her. ‘I mean, is it okay? I don’t… I haven’t done this before.’
‘First time, honey? That’s okay.’ The woman put a hand on Melanie’s. It was warm and gentle – assuring. ‘My name’s Lady. What do you say we find somewhere quiet?’
10
Mason and Evie arrived in their separate cars outside the jewellery store. It was a secluded place away from any other buildings. The parking lot was huge in comparison to the store itself. Mason had a feeling that business might not be going so well on this end of town.
They parked near the front, where a dark figure sat neatly on a bench. Evie was first out of the car, and Mason followed in behind her.
Mason Black (The Complete Collection): 6 Gripping Crime Stories: The Complete Collection + BONUS Story Page 19