Mortal Crimes 2

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Mortal Crimes 2 Page 132

by Various Authors


  Unable to stall any longer, she left.

  The elevator came almost immediately. She took it downstairs to the casino floor, then crossed to another bank of elevators that would take her to the roof of the parking garage. She rode the elevator alone to the top floor. Before stepping out into the garage, she took her canister of pepper spray from her purse and held it, her thumb resting on the lever.

  Warm, sultry air greeted her along with long and short shadows created by the sodium-vapor lights at each corner of the concrete expanse. About two-dozen cars were parked close to the elevators. A few others, probably belonging to employees, were scattered farther out.

  “Paula?” Kasey said under her breath. “Paula, it’s me, Kasey.”

  Kasey scanned the parking lot. She expected the woman to exit a car or step out from behind a van or minibus, but it didn’t happen.

  She waited.

  The door to the stairwell opened behind her. She hoped it was Paula, but braced herself in case it was Lucas Cage. An elderly couple exited. Both seemed out of breath. They glanced at Kasey, then walked arm in arm to a nearby car, got in, and drove away.

  She paced back and forth in front of the elevators. Although the air was warm, she shivered. Nerves.

  Paula wasn’t going to show. She would have been here by now, Kasey reasoned. Should have been waiting, in fact. It was crazy of her to come up here alone, unarmed except for a canister of pepper spray. If she had been thinking clearly, she would have refused.

  She turned, pressed the button for the elevator, then resumed pacing. After several minutes she pressed the button again and again, impatient now. The elevators were never this slow. She glanced at her watch: 9:18. She had been on the roof nearly ten minutes.

  The elevators had to be out. That’s why the elderly couple had used the stairs, she told herself. She had two options. Take the stairs or walk the six floors of garage down to the street. Neither option seemed inviting.

  She chose the stairs. Once the door closed behind her she listened for someone coming up the metal risers. When she heard nothing, she started down. The light in the stairwell appeared dimmer as she neared the third-floor landing. She soon understood why. The overhead light was out. She continued down, slowing as she left the protective shield of light behind. The second floor was completely dark. One floor to go.

  The sound of the main door opening at street level reached her. One floor up, she hesitated on the dark landing. Heavy soles, a single pair, sounded on the iron risers below. Steps too heavy for a woman. Kasey squeezed the canister. Cage had planned all this and she, like a complete idiot, had walked right into it.

  She stepped backward, her heel making a hollow echo in the stairwell.

  The footsteps below paused. The only sound for Kasey was the blood rushing through her head. The footsteps resumed again, faster now.

  Kasey spun around, grabbed the doorknob on the second floor landing, and twisted. Locked. She twisted, pulled, using both hands, nearly crying out in her frustration. The footsteps were not far away now. Although she couldn’t see the man in the darkness, she sensed him, heard him breathing.

  She turned, started to climb the steps back to the roof. He was right behind her; his hand touched her back. She fell against the wall, raised the pepper spray canister and was about to press the lever when she heard her name.

  Kasey froze instantly.

  “Kasey,” Jay said, taking hold of her arms. “It’s me. It’s only me.”

  She collapsed against him. “Oh God, Jay, I thought you were him.”

  “I know. I know. I wanted to call out. But I didn’t know if he were with you. If he had you.”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “When you weren’t in your room, I called security. One of the guards had seen you enter the garage elevator.”

  “The elevators are out.”

  “Yes, I know. I figured you would take the stairs. I also figured he had set you up, that he would be waiting for you.” Jay pulled her to him, buried his face in her hair. “Kasey, what the hell are you trying to do to me? Put me into cardiac arrest?”

  “I tried to reach you. Paula called; she changed the meeting place.”

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  The door below opened. Jay put his fingers to her lips. They waited; and when no one came up the stairs, Jay pulled her gently, urging her to follow. They went down the steps as quietly as possible to street level. Jay in front.

  They heard a groan. Paper rustled.

  “Who’s down there?” Jay called.

  Silence.

  “Answer or I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”

  A match flared, the glow revealing a street bum sitting under the iron risers.

  “Wanna hit?” The bum held out a brown paper bag with the neck of a beer bottle poking out. He dropped the match, cursing.

  Jay and Kasey hurriedly passed him.

  “Hey, Romeo, get a room,” the bum called after them as they went out the door.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Jay and Kasey stepped off the elevator on the twelfth floor just as a security officer rounded the corner from another wing.

  Since Dianne had left, taking three of the hotel men with her, Jay had cut security on this floor to one uniformed and one plainclothes guard.

  The man stopped. “Evening, Mr. King,” he said. “Is everything all right, sir?”

  “That remains to be seen, Larry,” Jay said. “How’s it going up here?”

  “Pretty much routine. Got a call earlier about a disturbance in Room twelve-oh-nine. Turned out to be nothing.”

  “Larry,” Kasey said, “did you by any chance see a woman in her thirties, about five-five, with short, blonde hair, coming or going in this wing around nine o’clock? She was supposed to meet me at my room.”

  He took a moment, pondering. “No, Ms. Atwood. I don’t remember seeing anyone like that. Not alone, anyway. Pairs and groups mostly, and I didn’t look real close at anyone in particular. But like I said, the last few minutes I was down at the north end.”

  Jay thanked him. The guard stayed in the area of the elevators as Kasey and Jay went down the corridor to Kasey’s room. She wanted to check her room for a message from Paula Volger.

  Kasey inserted her keycard in the lock and opened the door. Jay stood behind her.

  “If there’s no message,” Jay asked, “what then?”

  “Then I go home. I only came for this meeting with her.”

  He turned her around, looked into her eyes. “Kasey, we still need to talk. You brought up something today that has to be discussed. At the time I didn’t want to hear it—I still don’t—but there’s a possibility, a remote possibility, you could be right.”

  “I don’t want to be right, Jay. But I thought you should know.”

  “Look, let’s not discuss it here in the hall. Have you eaten?”

  She thought of her confrontation with Brad in the Steak House earlier. She shook her head again. “I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite.”

  “Maybe you’ll change your mind. Join me, okay?”

  “What I could really use is a good, stiff drink.”

  “Bar is fully stocked. If I don’t have it, I’ll get it.”

  She nodded. She opened the door, glanced inside the dark room at the telephone on the nightstand and, when she saw no red message light, she pulled the door closed. “Nothing.”

  “She’ll be in touch. I’ll have the front desk transfer your calls to the suite.”

  “I should call home first,” Kasey said, reinserting the card in the lock. “Go on ahead. I’ll be right there.”

  He took her arm. “Call from my place. I’m not leaving you alone.”

  Kasey and Jay continued down the corridor to the suite. The red light on the security camera above the double doors glowed. Their arrival would not go unnoticed.

  Once inside, Jay went directly to the bar and made drinks; s
cotch and soda for her and straight whiskey for himself. Kasey used the phone on the bar to call home. Her mother told her Artie had arrived minutes ago and that, so far, Lucas Cage was keeping his distance. Not taking any chances, they had brought Snickers inside to warn them if he showed up. Sherry had come and gone again. Her daily horoscope followed. Something you discover today will help solve a puzzle.

  The capsule in Cage’s car? A day of contrasts: The day may start favorable and end badly or vice versa. Kasey thought of her confrontation with Cage and again with Sherry. It could only get better.

  Kasey gave her the number of the suite, then hung up.

  She sampled the drink, tasting mostly liquor. He had taken her at her word and made it stiff.

  Jay picked up the phone, then slipped off his suit jacket as he dialed. Clipped to the front of his belt, in a leather holster, was a small gun. So his threat in the garage had had substance after all.

  Jay packing a gun didn’t surprise or alarm Kasey in the least. In fact she felt reassured by the sight of it.

  “Al, it’s me,” Jay said. “Would you put Mrs. King on, please.” He waited, sipping his drink. Their eyes met and he smiled.

  Kasey smiled, then looked away. She felt awkward, wished he had made his call from another room.

  “Is she sleeping?” Jay asked. “I see. No, no, that’s all right. Thank you, Al. Tell her I called. I’ll call tomorrow.” He pressed the disconnect lever, dialed again, turned to Kasey, his face expressionless, and said, “Dinner. What would you like?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t care. Maybe a little soup. And bread.”

  “Seafood okay?”

  She nodded.

  He turned away, spoke quietly into the receiver, then hung up. “What do suppose that woman, Paula, wanted to tell you?”

  “I’m positive she saw or heard something. After her run-in with Cage a couple of weeks ago in the parking garage, her friend, the maid, was murdered. I’m not implying that the two are tied together in any way, but I know she was afraid of someone. On the phone this morning, she said a man was following her, watching her house. She said I’d know who it was. There’s no doubt in my mind she meant Cage.” She banged her drink on the bar top. “Damnit, Jay, why didn’t she show tonight? Did Cage follow her here? Scare her off?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Jay, what about Dianne? She didn’t see her attacker, but she said he spoke to her. I know this is a stretch, but is it possible she could identify him by his voice?”

  “I asked Frank that. He said it wasn’t enough. Even if she could swear the voice of the man who attacked her belonged to Cage, it’d never stand up in court. I also talked to one of Cage’s ex-partners. We can’t count on him in court either, but he gave me some interesting information.”

  “Something we don’t know already?”

  He nodded. “Cage has an abnormal fear of contracting a venereal disease. His father or grandfather died from one.”

  “The antibiotics?”

  “Yes. He drops them like candy. Some sort of preventative measure. I don’t know what, if anything, this information can do for us, but it might come in handy.”

  Kasey was certain someone had been snooping through her medicine cabinet in her bungalow. She had no antibiotics for Cage to steal, but she remembered finding an empty vial in Jay’s medicine cabinet the day she’d packed his things. She told him about it.

  For the next half hour they went over everything that had happened. Then they discussed Brad and his possible involvement. What could he have been looking for in Jay’s safe? What business could he have with Dan Carne? Did Brad know Cage? Were Brad and Cage accomplices? There was definitely a common link between Cage, Bartona, Carne, and even Cummings. All had worked for Ansel Doyle at one time or another. But where did Brad fit in?

  They were interrupted by a knock at the door. “Room service,” a voice on the other side called out.

  Jay rose. “I believe in my nephew, Kasey. I have an idea what’s going on with him. If it’s what I think, then it has nothing to do with Cage, sabotage, or the rest of this craziness.”

  With his hand on the gun at his belt, Jay went to the foyer and, after making certain it was a room-service waiter, he opened the door. He took the cart and sent the waiter away.

  He started to wheel the cart to the large round table by the window, but changed his mind midway into the living room. “I’m afraid we’ll have to sacrifice view for practicality. This is a meal that requires dexterity and lots of elbow room.”

  Kasey excused herself to use the bathroom, the guest bathroom in the foyer. When she returned she saw an oversized tureen on the narrow top of the marble coffee table. Jay had set out plates and bowls, silverware and wineglasses.

  Jay helped Kasey remove her jacket. Her turtleneck silk blouse was sleeveless.

  “Good, no sleeves. They tend to get in the way. Sit,” he said, indicating the floor on one side of the low table.

  Kasey kicked off her heels, hiked up her skirt, and sat on the plush, off-white carpet.

  Jay came behind her and tied a bib around her neck, a plastic one with a red lobster on the front. It covered her entire upper torso. The plastic felt cool through the thin fabric of her blouse. He removed the gun and holster from his belt, laid it on the table, rolled up his sleeves, tied on a bib, then sat opposite her.

  “Soup?” she asked.

  With a flourish, he removed the lid from the tureen. The rich, pungent smells of shellfish, seafood, garlic, wine, and a half-dozen spices wafted upward, enveloping her, making her mouth water. Suddenly she was starved.

  “Cioppino.”

  He nodded. “From the Sea Bar.” He filled both bowls, then tossed back the linen from a basket of bread—a huge round of sourdough.

  Jay opened a bottle of dry white wine and poured. “Dig in.”

  She watched him tear into the crusty bread with his hands. She did the same. They began to work at whole mussels, clams, and crab and lobster claws with a small fork made for digging seafood out of the shell. The bread soaked up the rich, red broth like a sponge. Juices ran along their fingers and down the front of their bibs. At one point, their eyes met and they smiled at each other before digging in again. The bandage over his eye gave him a rakish look.

  They kept conversation to a minimum. Chitchat mostly, too engrossed in what was in front of them to spoil it with any serious talk. It was the best meal Kasey had had in years. It seemed to go on and on, the physical act of eating, the mechanics of it, far more time-consuming than food-consuming. After the shellfish in their bowls disappeared, they plucked choice pieces directly from the tureen, not bothering with formalities or etiquette, selecting what they liked best.

  There was something primitive about sitting on the floor eating in this manner. Fingers and mouths in play, sucking, licking, unmindful of running juices and flaking crumbs. She found herself covertly watching Jay’s hands and mouth, shiny and moist, deftly at work. And she felt heat rise to her cheeks and chest

  “This is decadent,” Kasey said softly, sucking on a cracked crab leg.

  Jay’s only response was a slight, amused smile before returning to the lobster claw in his hand.

  She discarded the shell on the small mountain of empty shells and claws between them. Had they really eaten that much? Where in god’s name had they put it all?

  She dipped a chunk of bread into the broth and, halfway to her mouth, changed her mind. With a moan, she let it fall from her fingers into the bowl, too full to eat another bite.

  “I’ve had my last meal, warden. I’m ready to die,” she said touching a hand to her stomach, closing her eyes and tipping back her head.

  “So the way to your heart is through your stomach?”

  “Not always,” she said, sipping wine, “But in this case, yes.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. It’s my favorite. It’s something that should be shared with someone. Not eaten alone.”

  She understood why. But now that it was
over, something would have to be done about the mess. She felt as if she had swum in her dinner rather than eaten it. “What now?” she questioned, holding her hands in the air like a surgeon waiting for sterile gloves after just scrubbing for surgery.

  Jay grinned. “Sit tight.”

  He rose, went to the bar, quickly washed at the sink, pulled off his bib, then wet a bar towel and returned with it to the coffee table.

  Kasey reached for it. Jay ignored her outstretched hand, kneeled and began to gently pat at her chin. Next, he took her hands and washed from her elbows to her fingertips. When he was finished, he pulled her to her feet and reached around behind her to unfasten the bib.

  “It’s knotted,” he said, tugging slightly. He brought his other hand up, his arms around her neck. “Your hair, it seems to be tangled in the knot.”

  Kasey reached up to help. Their hands touched, fingers entwining. When Jay leaned in to see better, she became acutely aware of his nearness. Her pulse picked up, and she felt a tight heaviness in her chest that made breathing difficult.

  The bib came free and slid down in front of her. And before it touched the carpet, they were locked in an embrace, kissing.

  It hadn’t happened suddenly. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, excruciatingly slow, as though their lips would never meet. And when finally they did, it was with a certain desperation. She crushed her mouth to his, wanting to hold him against her forever, wanted his kiss, his touch; she had never wanted anything so much in her life.

  Jay broke the kiss, put his mouth to her ear, and whispered, “Kasey, I want you. Nothing else matters—”

  “No, nothing else matters,” she responded, her voice hoarse with wanting, with passion. Then they were kissing again.

 

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