Hit & Mrs.

by Lesley Crewe

  They followed him upstairs and down several corridors to a room full of desks and big men sitting at them. It was crowded, noisy, and confusing. He indicated the two chairs in front of his desk and pulled over a third. Linda pulled a little at her slacks and said she’d stand Detective Ames went around the corner of his desk and sat in his chair. He took a form out of a pile and reached for his pen. Linda spoke before he had a chance to ask them anything.

  “I know this sounds ridiculous, but we’ve been trying to report this for the last twelve hours and haven’t had any luck at all.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because every time we start to tell someone, something happens and we can’t. Take just a minute ago. We stopped two officers outside a coffee shop, but they had to drive away because of a D and C.”

  “D and C?”

  Linda looked around. “Was that it?”

  “It wasn’t a D and C,” Gemma tsked. “It was an ABP.”

  Detective Ames frowned. “An all-points bulletin?”

  “Oh, maybe not, then.”

  “How about a B and E?” the detective suggested.

  “That’s it,” Linda said.

  “A break and enter.”

  Linda nodded. “Yes. That’s where they went.”

  The detective cleared his throat. “Before we begin, I need your full names, addresses, and phone numbers.” He pointed at Bette. “We’ll start with you.”

  Bette gave him the information. “That’s long distance, of course.”

  Detective Ames mouth went crooked. “I’ll remember that.” He pointed to Linda. “And you?”

  Linda opened her mouth just as a man rushed into the room. “We have a bomb threat! Everyone evacuate the building.”

  “A bomb?” Linda cried. The other three jumped out of their chairs.

  “We’re being punished by God.” Gemma made the sign of the cross and held her hands in prayer. “Hail Mary, full of grace…”

  There was an instant mass exodus of people, most of them shouting out directions. Detective Ames stood quickly. “It’s all right, ladies. In an orderly fashion, follow me and we’ll have you outside in no time.”

  They felt better because he was so calm, and they quickly followed him like little ducks out of the room and down the first few corridors. The trouble was, they lost him after that. Someone ran up to him and said something in his ear. He looked concerned.

  “I have to leave you.” He pointed down the hallway. “You see the way we came in? You go to the end and turn left, all right? Then down another hallway and the lobby’s right there. Someone will assist you.”

  Before they could say anything, he ran back the way he came.

  The four of them watched him go with a look of panic. Naturally, it was Linda who mobilized them in the end. “This way, girls.”

  They started to run down the corridor, and then the huge policeman at the front desk happened to come around the corner. He frowned at them. “No running.” He quickly disappeared.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Gemma said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They came to the end of the corridor and looked both ways.

  “What did he say?” Linda asked. “Was it left or right?”

  “It was left,” Bette said.

  “No, it was right,” Gemma said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  So they hurried along the right corridor and then down another one, but the lobby was no closer.

  “We’ve gone the wrong way,” Augusta said.

  “Look, there’s a door with an exit sign,” Linda said. “Let’s take that.”

  So they hurried out the door and went down concrete stairs. They burst out of the exit and walked into a cement courtyard. A courtyard hemmed in with a chain-link fence.

  “What’s this? It’s a prison yard…how do we get out?” Gemma asked.

  “Grab the door before it closes,” Linda cried.

  Bette lunged for the door, but she was too late. It slammed shut.

  Augusta threw her hands in the air. “I don’t believe it. We’re going to die in New York City surrounded by two hundred policemen.”

  “Why did it say it was an exit when it obviously isn’t?” Bette asked.

  “Technically, it is an exit, it just doesn’t go anywhere.”

  Bette threw off her coat. “Well, I’m climbing this goddamn fence. Someone give me a boost and I’ll go over the top and tell someone we’re here.”

  They rushed over to her. “Good idea,” Linda said. “But since you’re the shortest, it makes more sense for Augusta or me to try it.”

  “I’ll be the one who boosts you up.” Gemma bent over to give them access to her back.

  Augusta looked at Linda. “I’ll go. You’ve got my new jeans on and I don’t want them ripped.”

  “What the hell difference does that make?” Gemma shouted. “Our clothes are about to be blown to kingdom come. Now someone get on.”

  Augusta put her foot on Gemma’s back and grabbed the chain-link fence. She hopped up and put both her feet on Gemma’s back. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Gemma said. “I’ll push you up.”

  Gemma started to straighten up and Augusta reached higher. She lifted her right leg and almost got her toe hooked on the top of the fence. She tried it again but didn’t quite make it.

  Bette clapped her hands. “You can do it, Gussie.”

  Augusta was making a third attempt when the exit door flew open and their large desk sergeant appeared. “There you are.”

  In her relief that rescue was at hand, Gemma rushed over to him, leaving Augusta stranded on the fence.

  “Gemma, get back here.”

  Gemma ran back.

  “Hold the door,” he shouted at Gemma. She turned around and did as she was told. The big cop ran over to Augusta and pulled her down.

  “Everyone out.”

  He took them down several corridors and led them to the lobby. He was about to say something to them, but he was called away, so, shouting “Thank you,” they ran to the front doors and burst out onto the sidewalk. Once there, they ran until they couldn’t run anymore. They finally sagged against a storefront and waited until they could catch their breath.

  “Can you believe that?” Linda said. “Is it my imagination, or do you think someone doesn’t want us to report this crime?”

  The others agreed with her.

  “How many times have we attempted to let someone know about our stupid dead guy?”

  Gemma stamped her foot. “This is ridiculous. We’re in flippin’ New York City and so far we haven’t done anything. We’re going to spend the entire time rushing from one police station to the next and before you know it we’ll have to go home.”

  “Well, what do you think we should do?” Augusta asked.

  “Before we do anything else we have to get Linda some clothes.” Gemma pointed at Linda’s feet. “She’s got Kleenex hanging out of her shoes, for God’s sake. She looks like a bag lady.”

  They looked at Linda’s shoes and agreed. It was time to go to Saks.

  Stuart walked back to the hotel with a few other delegates from the conference. They chose to go out for their mid-morning break instead of staying in the hotel. It felt good to get a breath of air. He wanted to run up to his suite and check in on Ryan. He’d give her his American Express card and tell her to go nuts. They had a free evening on the roster and he planned to take her out to dinner. She could buy herself an outfit.

  His colleague pointed out something and even though Stuart wasn’t listening, he turned his head anyway. That’s when he thought he saw Linda walk by on the opposite side of the street. No. He was seeing things again. He did a double take. She had already disappeared. Get a hold of yourself, Keaton. He started to sweat. Maybe he was having a mid-life crisis. He’d heard his receptionist say so to one of the nurses in the office. He remembered being angry, but she was good at her job so he let it go. S
till, it was definitely a burr under his saddle.

  Stuart couldn’t wait to get rid of his fellow doctors. They parted company in the lobby, where Stuart dashed for the elevator and willed it to hurry up to his floor. He got off and rushed to his room. When he took out his card and opened the door a pillow hit him in the face.

  “Don’t you come near me, you bastard.”

  He was incredulous. “What’s wrong? Didn’t you like your flowers?”

  “How long have you been sleeping with her?”

  Stuart was seriously confused. He came into the room and Ryan jumped on the bed, as if to get away from him. “Sleeping with whom?”

  Ryan pointed her finger at him, her face full of tears. “Don’t you dare deny it, you creep. You have a baby and you didn’t bother to tell me? I want your babies. No one else can have them.”

  “I don’t want babies. I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

  “You don’t want babies? What are you talking about? You said you loved kids.”

  “Yeah, other people’s.”

  Ryan picked up another pillow. “I hate you, you stupid man.”

  Stuart reached up and pulled her off the bed. She struggled with him before he finally got a hold of her shoulders and gave her a shake. “Now calm down and tell me what’s going on.”

  “A girl came to the door and she said she wanted to speak to Mrs. Keaton.”

  Stuart made a face. “What?”

  “And she had a baby with her. She insisted on talking to Mrs. Keaton. I know what she’s doing. She wanted me to know. You hid this from me and now you’re caught. I bet this is your wife’s doing. I bet she put her up to it. She wants to ruin every bit of happiness we have. The evil cow!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re all over the map. Linda doesn’t even know I’m here. And how would anyone else find me, much less a girl with a baby?”

  “How should I know? But it happened, and you’ve ruined my trip.” She shook herself out of his grasp. “As a matter of fact, you’ve ruined my life.”

  In a flood of tears, Ryan ran into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Stuart stood there and looked around the room.

  What had just happened?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Izzy and Ida didn’t sleep very well the night of Bette’s phone call, although neither one wanted to admit it. It was a little spooky knowing a young person wasn’t at their beck and call.

  It was mid-morning when Izzy walked in the kitchen with his sleeveless undershirt and boxers on. His cigarette had a two-inch ash hanging off it.

  Ida was parked in front of the fridge with the door open, a carton of eggs in her lap.

  “How did you sleep?” she asked him.

  “Like a log. You?”

  “Like a log. Do you want some eggs?”

  “When was the last time you saw me eat an egg?”

  “So I should stop asking?”

  He walked over to the coffee maker. “I’ll have coffee.” He poured a cup and put five spoonfuls of sugar in it. No cream.

  Ida shook her head. “You look like a skeleton. Why don’t you eat some food?”

  “I am. Coffee.”

  “Coffee’s not food.”

  “Coffee comes from a coffee bean. That’s food.”

  “The only thing keeping you alive is the sugar.”

  Izzy flicked his ash on a saucer. “The only thing keeping me alive is watching you eat.”

  Ida spun her wheels around to face him. “What are you talking about, you fruit loop?”

  “One day you’re going to explode, and I want to be here when you do.”

  Ida picked up a bread knife and stabbed the air. “One day, old man, I swear…”

  There was a loud crash as the kitchen door was kicked in. A gigantic man stood in the doorway. Izzy’s cigarette dropped from his lips into his coffee cup. Ida’s eggs and bread knife fell to the floor.

  Izzy jumped up, grabbed the back of Ida’s wheelchair, and pushed her, hell bent for leather, out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Ida’s screams pierced the quiet morning air. The huge man ran after them, but Izzy was faster than he looked. His knobby knees pumped like pistons as he turned left into the living room and back out to the kitchen. Ida grabbed a broom. The huge man was almost on them. Izzy turned left again to circle around and back down the hallway. Ida swung the broom. She hit her mother’s vase and brushed the picture of dogs playing poker off the wall.

  “Come here, you little shit,” the giant man shouted.

  “Don’t you dare call my husband a little shit.” Ida threw the broom over Izzy’s head and knocked the guy right between the eyes. Didn’t hurt him, though. He brushed it off, reached out with his beefy hand, and grabbed Izzy by the back of his undershirt, nearly ripping it off his skinny body.

  Izzy fought like a tiger, but he wasn’t very successful.

  “Stop moving, you bony asshole.”

  Izzy still flailed about. It took a sock to the jaw to keep him still. He was knocked out cold. The intruder picked him up, threw him in a chair, bound him with duct tape, and put a strip of it over his mouth, all the while fending off Ida’s wild punches and jabs.

  “Leave my husband alone, you monster!”

  He almost yanked Ida out of her chair when he grabbed her hands and wrapped tape around her wrists.

  “Rape! Rape!”

  “Shut up, you old bag. Who’d want to rape you?” He gave her hair a tug. “Tell me where I can find Bette Weinberg.”

  “Never.”

  He back-handed her in the face.

  “Tell me.”

  “Never.”

  He went over and put a knife to Izzy’s throat. “Tell me or he’s dead.”

  “She’s at the Waldorf in New York. She never should have gone. It’s all that Linda Keaton’s fault. Just because she lives in Pointe Claire and has a plastic surgeon for a husband, she thinks she’s better than anyone else.”

  The man picked up the address book on the table by the phone and opened it. He flipped through a couple of pages and ripped one out before he walked into the kitchen and stood by the backstairs doorway. Taking out his cellphone, he turned his back on Ida and relayed the information to Candy.

  “Bette Weinberg is staying at the Waldorf. Linda Keaton’s address is 4560 Fraser Street in Pointe Claire. I’m calling a friend. He can be over there in a matter of minutes. Right.” He hung up and dialled once more. “4560 Fraser Street, Pointe Claire. We’re looking for anything suspicious that might be linked to a rival gang. Call Candy and give him the info when you’re done…yeah, I’m gonna…”

  Ida couldn’t believe he was standing in her kitchen yakking on the phone as if nothing was wrong. She looked over at poor Izzy. For all she knew, he was dead.

  Her eyes narrowed. That son of a bitch. She took her wrapped hands, grabbed the controls of her electric wheelchair, and silently zoomed into the kitchen, plowing smack into the back of the guy’s knees.

  “Wha…!” He tried to turn around at the last minute but missed his step and fell over and over, crashing all the way to the bottom of the stairs.

  He was still.

  Ida backed up and headed for the living room. “Izzy! Are you dead?” She took his wrist and felt a pulse. “Thank God. Now wake up, old man! Why should you be sleeping? Do I have to do everything around here?”

  She drove over to the phone and with her hands still tied together, took the receiver and put it on the table. Then she pressed the numbers of Bette’s cellphone.

  It rang and rang. Finally Bette answered. Ida bent over as close as she could get and shouted, “Bette, it’s your mother…your mother… can you hear me? Where are you? I can hardly hear you. Well, get off the street and listen to me. There was a man here and he tied your father and me up and he punched…What? Stop laughing. I’m serious. I just killed the guy. Bette, stop laughing. What do you mean I’m trying to make you come home? I’m trying to tell you your father and I had an intruder and…no, I�
�m serious. Don’t go…don’t hang up…”

  The line went dead.

  Ida threw her taped hands in the air and appealed to the ceiling. “Am I such a rotten mother? Do I deserve such disrespect? What is wrong with my children? I’m cursed, I tell you. Cursed!”

  She punched 911 into the phone. “I’ve just killed a man! He attacked me! What? I’m in my living room with a husband who’s too busy snoring to help and a daughter who thinks I’m kidding. Does your family treat you like that? What on earth have I done to… What?…I don’t know who he was…Isn’t that your job? Like I have to do everything for you people?”

  The 911 operator finally got Ida to tell her the address and said the police were on their way.

  Izzy groaned a little as Ida hung up the phone.

  Ida drove over to him. “Izzy? Are you all right? Speak to me.”

  He groaned again.

  “Oy…your nose looks broken. Does it hurt?”

  Izzy’s groan got worse. He shook his head around.

  “Are you convulsing, Izzy? Why is this happening? Why me?”

  Izzy finally shook his head so violently, Ida stopped cold. That’s when she realized he had duct tape over his mouth. “Oh, I see the problem.” She grabbed one end with her tied hands and yanked for all she was worth.

  Izzy’s scream reverberated all over the neighbourhood. “You stupid woman!”

  “Hey, this stupid woman saved your skinny ass. I killed him.”

  “You killed him? Did you drive him to suicide?”

  “You think you’re a comedian, don’t you?”

  “Never mind arguing, old woman. What did he take? Did he rob us?”

  Ida grew sombre. “No, he wanted to know where Bette was.”

  “What? You didn’t tell him, did you?”

  “I had to. He said he’d kill you. He had a knife.”

  Izzy rolled his eyes back. “Oh my God. Why didn’t you let him kill me? I’m an old man. This is our daughter we’re talking about. She comes first.”

  “Well, this is typical. I get it in the neck for saving your life. Of course I know it’s our daughter, but we had to live to warn her, didn’t we? To tell her someone is looking for her, even though I can’t imagine why.”

  “Are you sure you killed him? Oh, my nose. I need a cigarette.” He tried to stand up but was pretty woozy.