A tremor of electricity shot through Dennis’ spine as he stood frozen, contemplating an immediate surrender. Almost without him telling them to, his legs started moving, sending him skittering around a corner and into the kitchen. Bobo looked up from an open drawer just in time for Dennis to tackle him and pull him onto the ground.
“Have you gone bloody mad?!” the bigger man yelped, barely saving himself from getting bruised on the floor’s hardwood paneling.
“Quiet!” Dennis scrambled into a low crouch and held an insistent finger to his lips.
“Why?”
“Be quiet!” Dennis hissed again. He strained to hear anything that might signify someone’s presence. At the very least, he should be able to hear footsteps on the tiled floor of the entry hall. For the moment, the house sounded empty, but how long it would remain that way, Dennis couldn’t begin to guess. He turned to Bobo, whose dark face had an ashen quality to it. “It’s Spinner,” explained Dennis, keeping his voice low. “His car just pulled up. I think he’s going to come inside.”
“What does he want?” Bobo adopted a crouch of his own, but rose slightly to peer over the countertop.
“He’s after the key.”
Bobo sank back down and gave Dennis a confused look. “What, the one we’re looking for? Why? How does he even know about it?”
“He’s Eric’s old partner,” answered Dennis.
The expression on Bobo’s face was a mixture of many emotions, confusion being the most evident of them. “Who?”
“Eric Palin,” Dennis replied. “Elspeth’s father. Spinner was his partner.” As quickly as he could, he recounted his conversation with Harding, taking as much of his attention away from listening as he dared.
“Your shrink buddy knew all of this?” asked Bobo, obviously amazed.
“No.” Dennis shook his head. “Not really. He didn’t know that Elspeth and Spinner’s niece were the same person.”
“Bloody shame, too. Would have saved us a lot of trouble.” He stole another glance over the countertop. “How do we get out of this one?”
“Through the back door?” Dennis suggested. “No, that’s no good, he’s parked right next to my car. Damn it!”
“We could just, you know...” Bobo pantomimed running legs with two fingers. “I mean, come back for it later.”
“I’m not leaving my car anywhere near that madman.”
“You’d prefer to leave us near him, then?”
“Fine, whatever,” snapped Dennis. “Let’s just get out of here.”
They crept forward, keeping low, with Dennis checking the windows as he passed them. The door to the backyard was painfully far away, across the living room and beyond Evy’s chair. Dennis kept his eyes fixed on their destination, counting each step that took them closer. Although there was still more than half of the room to traverse, Bobo edged around to peer outside.
“Looks clear,” he whispered.
Dennis nodded nervously. “When we get out,” he said, “we should try to stick together. It’s no use running if one of us gets caught.”
“He’s not going to get either of us,” Bobo said firmly.
A gruff voice growled from behind them. “How about both of you?”
Dennis whirled around on his heels, knocking backwards into Bobo and sending them both sprawling. Spinner’s massive figure loomed above them, his shoes clutched in one hand like a weapon. “You know,” he said, “breaking and entering is a felony in California.”
“We was invited,” replied Bobo fearfully.
“The charge covers threats and coercion,” Spinner stated. “Something that I’m sure you’re both familiar with.”
“I’m feeling pretty threatened, yeah.”
Dennis kept his mouth shut, content, for lack of a better word, to let Bobo do the talking.
“Shut up.” Spinner took an intimidating step forward. “You guys are in way over your heads. I’m disgusted, and I’ve seen some shit in my day.”
“Really,” muttered Dennis. He hoped the man would keep talking. Spinner had them at a disadvantage, to be sure, but if they could somehow manage to get past him, they might be able to make it to the car before being caught.
“I told you to back off, Dennis,” Spinner said with a disapproving shake of his head. “You didn’t listen, and now look where it’s gotten you.”
“Where’s that?” asked Dennis, still stalling for time. His eyes darted around the room, searching for options.
“Don’t give me that crap, kid. We both know what you’re up to.”
Dennis thought frantically. The table was close enough to provide a bit of a shield, and he might be able to wound Spinner with a fork, but he still doubted that he would win in a fight. There had to be something he could do to deflect the man’s attention, if only for a second. His heart sped up as his gaze fell on Evy’s armchair. If the ghost would put in an appearance, it might provide enough of a distraction to cover an escape, assuming she didn’t waste time with a slow fade into existence.
“Don’t even think about running,” warned Spinner. “You won’t make it.”
Here’s hoping that you’re wrong, thought Dennis. “Evy?” he said, choking on the name. He cleared his throat. “Evy?” he tried again, louder. “There’s someone here who knows you.”
“Oh, yes!” a feminine voice exclaimed. “Malcolm, how are you?”
The moment Spinner started to turn, Dennis seized his chance. He leapt up and bolted, keeping the table between himself and the detective.
“Hey!” Spinner yelled, lunging. He caught Dennis by the arm and yanked, bringing them both crashing down amidst a clatter of silverware. Dennis flailed his legs, trying break free of Spinner’s grasp. The man was strong, impossibly strong, and his clenched fist held firm.
“Boys, really!” protested Evy. Her words were drowned out by the sounds of the scuffle. Using his free hand, Dennis groped for something, anything, to defend himself with. His fingers closed on a smooth metal cylinder, and he managed to get a few hits in before the candlestick was wrenched from his fingers.
“Hang on, mate!” That was Bobo, but Dennis couldn’t see what he was doing. He shoved against the table, trying to tear himself out of the melee. Spinner’s iron grip kept him pinned, and Dennis’ efforts felt feeble by comparison.
“Cut it out!” barked Spinner, flexing his arm and pulling Dennis closer. There was a rustling noise from beside them, and suddenly the world was covered by a billowing tablecloth. For a moment, Dennis struggled through the thick shroud of white linen, until the jolt of a heavy impact reached him through Spinner’s arm.
“Now, September!” Bobo yelled. “I’ve got him stuck!”
“I’m stuck!” Dennis answered, but he felt Spinner’s hand fall away as the man struggled. He slid backwards, clearing the table just before it toppled over, taking Bobo and Spinner with it. A second silver candlestick, twin to the one that Dennis had lost, rolled by his leg. He snatched it up, twisting to face where Bobo was holding a thrashing pile of table cover and private investigator.
“Keep him still!” shouted Dennis. He swung his makeshift weapon at where he thought Spinner’s head was. The pile grunted, and Bobo shifted his weight to hang on.
“How?!”
“Use the tablecloth!”
“I am using the tablecloth!” Bobo screamed. A protruding bulge from the fray caught him against the chin, and he jabbed an elbow back in response.
Dennis moved forward on his knees, pulling the cloth tight beneath his weight. “Where’s the knife?”
“What knife?”
“The steak knife!” Dennis landed another blow with the candlestick, not caring what he connected with. “It was on the table!” His words seemed to give Spinner new energy, and the struggles beneath the tablecloth increased. A sudden tear erupted in the material, and a glint of metal slashed through, narrowly missing Dennis’ hand.
“I think he has it!” exclaimed Bobo, pulling back. The move was almost
enough to grant Spinner a second of freedom, but Dennis swung his candlestick, smashing it into the man’s knuckles and sending the blade flying.
“Grab it! Hurry!” Dennis shouted. Spinner’s hand shot towards him through the rip in the fabric and closed around his forearm like a vice. Even tangled as he was, the man’s strength easily outmatched Dennis’, but with his head still covered it was a reduced advantage. Dennis fought furiously, trying to free his arm for another swing, when Bobo sprang forward with the steak knife in hand.
“Here!” he exclaimed. He yanked the tablecloth down, revealing Spinner’s scowling face. There was no way for the man to block as Bobo launched a rocketing fist at his head, connecting solidly with his right temple. The grip on Dennis’ arm slackened. He twisted away, bringing himself around to trap Spinner’s hand. The detective’s face took on a hint of fear. With a growl worthy of an enraged grizzly bear, Bobo pressed the knife against Spinner’s throat and tensed. Spinner froze beneath the tablecloth, and finally crumpled as Dennis brought a streak of heavy silver down on the man’s skull.
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