Diamond White: A Red Riley Adventure #2 (Red Riley Adventures)

by Stephanie Andrews

  “Exactly.”

  “She’s going to be after you.”

  “And you. And Ruby. And Park.”

  “Shit.”

  “You need a dozen more Tristans out there.”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about. She’s not getting in here. Not even through the ductwork,” he said, reading my mind. We both couldn’t help but glance at the ceiling. “It’s Auntie I’m worried about. And Ellery. Maybe I should invite Ms. Park to stay with me for a while.”

  I rolled my eyes and picked up my helmet from the sofa.

  “For safety!” he called after me.

  I raised one leather-clad middle finger over my shoulder as I headed for the door.

  Twenty-three

  Over the course of the next week, someone tried to break into Technology Acquired twice. Presumably it was Salerno, though she managed to avoid being caught on camera. Marty had all kinds of little sensors around the place, some of which included punitive responses like pepper spray, or electrified doorknobs.

  We sent Ellery Park out of town, three days at Harry Potter World in Florida. I’m serious, that’s where she wanted to go. Expecto geeko.

  Ruby and I spent the time up at the lake, enjoying the last of the warm weather. The nights were getting cool, and the leaves were changing. I did a lot of kayaking, running, rock climbing. At night, Ruby taught me chess, but it was taking me some time to get it. You really have to learn to think several moves ahead. I’m pretty sure Ruby was trying to tell me something.

  On Thursday, I borrowed Ruby’s car and scoured antique shops and yard sales, picking up this and that for my apartment. I stopped at Wrightwood Furniture and bought several things to be delivered later that day.

  On my way back to my place on Roscoe, I drove past Ruby’s house in Wicker Park. I was tempted to stop and water her plants, but I was afraid of meeting an unwanted acquaintance. There weren’t many entry points for Salerno, but Ruby’s house was one of them. Since Park’s little trick, Ruby had changed the title on the cabin, but her house in the city was still in her name. Like Park, Selena could figure out Ruby’s name easily enough, and from there her address.

  I was wise to be cautious, because during my drive-by I spotted a black BMW with someone sitting in the driver’s seat. It’s a good thing I wasn’t on Gromet, or she would have made me easily. I passed by nonchalantly, turning at the first cross street, then doing a three-point U-turn to head back for another look. Just as I turned back onto Ruby’s street, Salerno hopped out of her car and jogged around to the back of Ruby’s house. I pulled up next to the BMW and rolled down my window. Grabbing some napkins and a pen from the glove box, I wrote her a little note and tossed it through the open window onto the passenger’s seat.

  I was about to take off when I heard a strange thumping coming from the back of her car. I paused, listening. There it was again. By God, she had someone in the trunk! I was about to step out of the car, when instinct grabbed me by the ear and turned my head toward Ruby’s house. Selena Salerno was racing across the grass toward me!

  I threw the Subaru in drive and stomped on the gas. The station wagon surged sluggishly forward, not the peppiest vehicle on the streets, but I started to pick up speed. Selena adjusted her trajectory across the yard and hit the street about five feet behind me.

  “C’mon!” I shouted at the dashboard, stamping my foot all the way down to the floor as I approached a four-way stop. “Damn!”

  I slowed just enough to make sure no one was coming, but it was all the opportunity Salerno needed. As I careened left around the corner, I heard a thump. I looked back to see her hanging from the luggage rack, scrambling to get her feet up on to the bumper.

  Holy crap! I swerved left at the next intersection, trying to shake her off, but it was impossible to get up any speed in this neighborhood. She leaned out around the back quarter panel of the car, one hand holding the luggage rack, the other reaching for the rear side door. I turned into a back alley off LeMoyne and moved perilously close the brick wall of a building, trying to scare her off, but she had pulled herself up onto the top of the car. There was a horrible metallic crunching sound as the passenger side of the Subaru collided with cement. Sorry, Ruby.

  Up ahead the alley ended, the wall of an apartment building fast approaching. Damn.

  Unwilling to slow down, I turned hard right at the end of the building on my right, keeping the wheel racked around and making a u-turn over the sidewalk and into a green courtyard on the back side of the row of buildings I’d just sideswiped. Nobody seemed to be out and about, which was a relief as I ran over someone’s little plastic toddler car. I hope they had insurance.

  I drove even faster until I could see an opening at the end of the courtyard. At the last instant, I slammed on the brakes and pulled hard to the left, skittering across the sidewalk and coming to a screeching halt, back on LeMoyne.

  That did it. The g-forces were too much for Salerno and she flew off the roof of the Subaru. Narrowly missing the trunk of a tree on the far sidewalk, she landed on a grassy lawn, rolling over and over again until she came to a rest about twenty feet in.

  I didn’t have time to see if she was all right, as I was sitting stalled in oncoming traffic. A big, dark green Honda SUV came to a stop in a controlled skid, our grills almost touching. I waved my half hand at the ponytailed woman in the driver’s seat and threw the wagon into reverse, backing up along the rest of the block until I could turn around and head off, my hands shaking on the wheel.

  I woke up the next morning feeling great. My apartment looked more and more like a place in which someone might actually live. All the furniture I bought was from the clearance section. Mismatched and eclectic. It made it look like I had lived here forever.

  Then I remembered not only my run in with Selena, but the damage to Ruby’s car. Sure, we both had plenty of money, but she loved that old thing. I was never going to hear the end of it.

  I stretched and did some calisthenics in the living room, which I had purposely kept sparse for this reason. I got dressed in running attire and went out and ran around the ball fields a few times. I’ll admit it—I hate jogging. Yes, I’m becoming a fitness nut, but I just don’t get the concept of running when you aren’t being chased. Oh well.

  An hour later I was showered and shaved when the doorbell rang twice, then I heard the door unlock at the bottom of the stairs. That had to be Nick. I looked in the mirror and thought about meeting him naked, but we didn’t really have time for that this morning. I threw on red panties and a matching red bra, and pulled on a red sundress with small white polka dots. Summer wasn’t going to last forever. I grabbed my climbing clothes and something less dressy to wear later in the day, and threw them in my satchel.

  I found Nick in the kitchen/dining room, looking over the new dining room table and mismatched chairs with amusement. He was wearing faded jeans and a paint-stained white oxford shirt. Old leather shoes with no socks. When he turned and saw me his eyes lit up and he mouthed a silent, “Wow.”

  “Am I overdressed?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

  “No, not at all. You look fantastic.” He looked down at his own clothes. “I came straight from the studio, and I won’t be at the meeting, so I didn’t bother to change.”

  “You won’t be there?” I said with an inadvertent pout.

  “No, this is Don’s show, and trust me, it’s going to be a great show. My part is pretty small and I already know what to do.” He looked past me at the tall standing lamp in the corner, with the blue tasseled shade. “You bought furniture.”

  “Yes,” I said, excited. “Isn’t it great?”

  “Well, it’s distinctive.” He looked back at me. “You know we sell furniture, right? At Shelby Furniture. It’s not just a front. We actually sell the stuff. We could have given you a good discount.”

  I gave him a big hug, then stepped back.

  “No offense, but I wanted something a little livelier. When we get married and buy
a McMansion in Gurnee, then we can buy all the Shelby furniture you want.”

  He colored, embarrassed by the suggestion, which immediately made me color, too. Between the red dress and the hair and the blush, I’m sure I looked like a big red idiot.

  “Not that we’re getting married any time soon,” I added, haphazardly.

  “You haven’t asked me yet,” said Nick, recovering.

  “I’ve been busy.” I went to my new coatrack and took down a light black windbreaker and my satchel.

  “Gurnee, huh?”

  “Actually,” I said, heading for the door, “I’ve been thinking a lot about the island of Vieques, when I get tired of playing Batwoman.”

  “I didn’t know there was a Batwoman.”

  “I’ve upgraded Batgirl.”

  “Vieques?”

  “Yeah, though I burn easily. How would you feel about painting in the tropics?”

  “It worked for Gaugin,” Nick said gamely, closing the door behind him.

  Twenty-four

  I was leaning against the wall of the dealership, thumbing through news reports on my phone while waiting for Ruby to return from her test drive. Four different salesmen of various age and weight asked if they could assist me. A female salesperson sailed right by without a moment’s hesitation.

  I didn’t look like much of prospect, I admit. Ruby had picked me up from the climbing wall and we had come straight into the city. I was wearing camouflage surplus pants and a black tank top, and my hands still had some white chalk on them.

  Since leaving Kay Riley for dead, I hadn’t spent any time on social media, and I really hadn’t paid that much attention to the news, either. I’d been in a constant zone of self-improvement, and I liked what it was doing for me. I was fitter, calmer, hopefully smarter. I had it in my mind that I was going to change the world for the better. Or at least Chicago.

  So it was with disgust that I read about the eleven homicides in Chicago over the weekend. More than fifty people wounded in shootings. What the hell was wrong with the world? What the hell was wrong with people like Jared Dexter, making money and political gain off the deaths of our young people.

  Elgort Shelby had a lot to answer for in his life, that’s for sure. At least now he was trying to do something about it.

  Unlike Elgort, if my life were a ledger, there’d be almost nothing on the bad side. However, there would be precious little on the good side either. Sure, I protected and served for ten years. Probably did a little bit of good here and there, but I couldn’t help but think of all the opportunities I likely let pass. I wasn’t a very good cop. Not particularly eager to go the extra mile.

  We must each contribute according to our abilities, said…somebody. Well, my abilities were growing stronger by the day, and I intended to contribute.

  I straightened my shoulders and slipped my phone in my pocket. When I looked up I saw a young man with an ill-fitting suit and an ill-advised mustache approaching.

  “Hello,” he said. “Are you car shopping, today Miss…?”

  “Aguilera,” I said, looking at him over my sunglasses. “I was actually looking for the motorcycle department.”

  “I’m, sorry, Miss Aguilera, we don’t sell motorcycles here.”

  “You don’t!” I leaned back against the wall and stuck out my lower lip. “But I had my heart set on trying one out.”

  I never found out his follow-up move, because a bright red Subaru wagon came tearing around the corner and screeched to a halt. The guy jumped a foot, and another, older salesman came striding quickly from his office, an aggravated look on his face.

  “Ma’am,” he began, as Ruby climbed out of the driver’s seat and slammed the door. “I must insist that—”

  “I’ll take it,” announced Ruby, cutting him off. “G.I Jane there will pay you.”

  “Oh. Well…” said the older man, adjusting his attitude.

  “Are you sure, Ruby?” I asked. “I think you should get the Mercedes.”

  “Why” she asked, limping around the car toward me. “This is more practical, no?”

  “Yeah, sure, but when they make a movie about my life I bet Mercedes will pay way more for product placement than Subaru will.”

  Papa Car Dealer looked at the two of us like we were crazy, but Sonny Car Dealer turned his attention back to me, his eyes again wandering down my body.

  “But that is nonsensical,” exclaimed Ruby with her rough accent. “When they make the movie, they can use whatever model car they want, right?”

  “If they care nothing about verisimilitude, sure,” I countered. “It’s just, this is the same exact wagon, Ruby.”

  “No it isn’t,” she said indignantly, “it’s a 2017 model. Havel was a 1998. Plus, it’s red. Havel was green.”

  “Right,” I said, admitting defeat. “You’re absolutely right.”

  I turned to Sonny Car Dealer.

  “How much will your dad give us for Havel?”

  “He’s not my dad,” the guy said, indignantly.

  “I’m sorry,” Papa broke in. “Havel?”

  “The old car,” I explained. “Its name is Havel.” I tilted my head toward Ruby and rolled my eyes to the men to indicate that she was perhaps mentally challenged.

  “Well,” he said, “I’m afraid that car has sustained quite a bit of damage to the body.”

  “Yeah, but you heard Ruby, it’s an antique, right?”

  “Not exactly…”

  “And, we’re paying cash,” I added, pulling a wad of money from my pocket with my right hand.

  The older man turned to his not-son. “Why don’t you take this young lady inside and begin filling out the paperwork? I’ll take another look at Mrs. Martynek’s trade-in and see what we can do.”

  “So, Sonny,” I said as we walked toward the showroom door.

  “Seth,” he interrupted.

  “So, Seth,” I continued as he held the door for me, “tell me about yourself.”

  Twenty-five

  I watched through binoculars as Jared Dexter entered the building of his very expensive acupuncturist in Lincoln Park, Nick entering right behind him.

  I thumbed my walkie-talkie. “He’s on his way in.”

  “Roger,” answered Park. “Going quiet now.”

  “Good luck.”

  I crossed Wells St. and entered the building, wearing a blonde wig and nurse’s scrubs, a bag of leftover Thai lunch in my hand. The glasses I was wearing were so thick I almost tripped up the stairs on my way in.

  The reception area was elegant, if antiseptic. Dexter sat in a chair, looking at his phone. He had obviously been in a fight, or a car accident, very recently. His face was bruised, and there was gauze covering his left earlobe, red showing through. Nick sat in another chair reading Golf Digest. Behind the reception desk sat Margaret, Nick and Don’s cousin, or maybe aunt—I could never quite get it right.

  I wondered briefly who was selling furniture today at Shelby’s, and smiled at the mental image of Uncle Elgort showing a young couple a living room set. Actually, he’d probably be pretty good at it.

  “Back from lunch,” I said breezily as I passed by reception and made my way to the back. I walked into an open treatment room, set down my leftovers, and pulled the syringe out of my scrubs pocket. I set it on the counter, then crossed the hall to peek into the other room.

  The acupuncturist and his receptionist were both seated on office chairs, their hands tied behind their backs, duct tape over their mouths. Standing next to them was Park, wearing a gorilla mask and holding a gun. I could see from the doorway that there was no cartridge in the weapon, and grimaced.

  I approved of the sentiment and the safety of leaving it empty, but I also wanted to be sure Park was equipped to handle herself. She had returned from Orlando with a nasty black eye, and hadn’t yet told Ruby or I what had happened. I looked back at the acupuncturist, who was a balding man in his sixties, and the receptionist who clearly spent too much time sitting at reception. El
was in no immediate danger from those two.

  I gave her the thumbs up, and she gave me a thumb’s up back.

  I returned to my room, picked up the syringe in my left hand, and covered it with a towel. This had the bonus of covering my disfigured hand. Didn’t want Dexter to make the connection if he ever saw Georgette’s hand.

  I stuck my head into reception.

  “Mr. Dexter,” I said in a deep, throaty voice, “the doctor is ready for you.”

  He looked up at me in surprise. I don’t think he had really noticed my earlier entrance, entranced by his phone as he was.

  “Helene is out today, too?”

  “Yep,” said Margaret, before I could even respond. “She and Sylvie both had a bad lunch at the Whole Foods. Food poisoning. You got the B team today, I’m afraid.”

  Dexter stood and put his phone in his pocket. He chuckled good-naturedly.

  “I’m sure you ladies will do just fine.”

  “I’m sure we will,” I said and, as he walked past me, I dropped the towel and stuck the needle through his shirt and into the fleshy part of the back of his upper arm.

  “Hey!” he bellowed. He slapped at his arm as if he’d been stung, grabbing the syringe and yanking it out. I turned my face away, because I didn’t want him to recognize me. He seized my arm in anger, beginning to pull me around toward him, but then his grip loosened as the drug made its way into his bloodstream. A moment later he was on the floor, unconscious.

  Park peeked her gorilla head out the door questioningly.

  “All good,” I told her, as Nick entered the hallway and bent down to check Dexter’s pulse.

  “Jesus,” said Nick, “who tuned him up? Negron?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. I had a feeling I knew who had done it.

  In the reception area, the front door opened and Don entered carrying a stretcher. Through the open door I could see an ambulance at the curb, lights flashing.

  “Subtle,” I said.

  He rolled his eyes at me, and then he and Nick rolled Dexter onto the stretcher, lifted together in synchronization, and walked Dexter out to the curb. The first part of Don’s plan had gone like clockwork.