“What? What’s what?” I asked innocently.
She picked up her radio and pushed a button on the side. “Lieutenant Allen, there’s something tacked to a tree behind the house. Can you check it out?” She turned to me. “You done yet?”
“I’m done.”
“Let’s go.”
I followed her down the stairs. When we reached the back yard, Tex stood by the row of dogwoods with a piece of paper in his hands.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You tell me,” said Nasty. “I think she threw it out the window when she was upstairs.”
“I did not!” I exclaimed.
He handed the paper to me. Written on it in familiar handwriting was a new threat. IT ENDS AT THE MUMMY.
“Where was that?” I asked. When I’d looked out the window at Hudson, there’d been nothing of the sort in my line of vision.
“It was pinned to this tree. With this.” She held up a hat pin. It was the one Hudson carried around with him to remind him of his grandmother.
“Night, where did that hat pin come from? And don’t lie to me. I can tell you recognize it. You might as well tell me now because I can make a guess and I’m probably right.”
“Whoever the owner of the hat pin is, it doesn’t mean he left the note. It could have been stolen from him.”
Too late, I realized I’d as much as fingered Hudson with a simple choice of pronoun.
“Take me to my apartment.” I turned and walked away, leaving Tex and Officer Nast behind.
I didn’t talk on the drive back to Gaston. It wasn’t because I didn’t have anything to say, but I couldn’t figure out which thought to start with. Too much connected Hudson to the murder, that I knew. Why did I believe in his innocence more than his suspected guilt? What was it about me that wanted—no, needed—to help find a way to allow him to move on from the net of memory?
It was because I was trapped in the net of memory myself. Since leaving Pennsylvania, leaving a bad relationship, leaving behind a life I thought I was happy with and starting over, I’d spent so much time looking forward I never justified the past. But through everything I was living now, the memories were pushing against the surface.
I wasn’t born yesterday. Just because my business was relatively new didn’t meant I didn’t have the battle scars gained from forty-seven years of life. I saw those same battle scars in Hudson and Tex. How their lives had been changed because of all of this. And focusing on this murder investigation had made it become my problem. It had taken the focus away from me and the problems I already had. Not trusting people. Not letting people in. Not seeing reality. Not willing to open up enough to allow myself to get hurt that badly again.
Tex pulled into my apartment building and backed into an open space by the dumpster. He left the engine on.
“Night, you are one crazy woman. I can’t begin to figure you out and on some days that is an incredible turn on, but on other days it makes my job very hard to do.”
“Lieutenant—”
He held up a finger to my lips, shutting me up with both the unexpected intimacy of his gesture and the heat coming off of his hand.
“I keep telling you I think Hudson is guilty and you keep covering for him. But think about this. If you’re right, and he’s not guilty, he’s in a lot of danger. He’s closer to this thing than even you are and the best way for you to protect him, which is what I think you’ve been trying to do, is to let homicide do their job.”
“Homicide wants to arrest him.”
“Homicide wants to solve the crime and catch the bad guy. Right now, everything points to him.”
“And if it didn’t? If I could make you see things differently, what would you do?”
“How are you planning to do that?”
“That’s my problem, not yours.”
“You are my problem, Night. Like it or not, until this case is solved, I’m sticking to you like glue.”
The sun had dipped below the tree line and the dumpster and a shadow fell across the hood of both the Jeep and Tex’s face. The heat was still in effect. I reached a hand up and adjusted the bandana that held my hair back. It would have been cooler to have my hair in a ponytail but necessity had eliminated that option. Now, my hairline, damp with sweat, created sticky tendrils that had snuck loose.
“I’m your only link to the investigation, aren’t I? The only reason you’re here, carting me around Dallas, layering on your inappropriate come-ons and your man-about-town persona is because you need me.”
I expected him to deny it, or to say something flip, but he didn’t. He reached a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me close to him. Our lips met in a crush of a kiss, powerful and unexpected. At first I fought him, but something inside me, a flicker of passion I thought had been turned off forever, lit and I kissed him back with equal intensity.
My heart pounded when we pulled apart. We stared at each other. I didn’t know what to say, whether I should be embarrassed or flattered or both.
“Night, I hate to break it to you, but you got your facts all wrong,” he said, his voice husky and low. My eyes dropped to his T-shirt, where they lingered. I was afraid to make eye contact again. I was afraid of what that kiss had meant.
“I’m going inside now.”
“Are you going to invite me in?”
I raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t sure what kind of an invitation he was looking for, and after that kiss I certainly wasn’t thinking clearly.
“Glue, Night. Whether I’m in there or out here, I’m not leaving. If Hudson James is your kind of guy, that’s your business. But if he wants to find you tonight, I’m going to know about it.”
“You better make yourself comfortable, Tex,” I said, and climbed down from the side of the Jeep. I took a few steps toward the back of the building and turned around.
He was watching me; he’d been expecting me to change my mind.
“If it makes a difference, I’ll bring you a pillow.”
He didn’t respond.
I turned around again and went into the building.
I hadn’t thought about romance since Brad. I thought that closet door was shut and locked. But I’d kissed two different men in two days, and whether I wanted to face it, the door was unlocked and open. And on top of everything else, I had to wonder what was so wrong with that anyway.
I kicked my shoes off by the sofa, then called Effie to let her know to bring Rocky by. I glanced at my email. Buried between Fourth of July offers from Bed Bath and Beyond, Sears, and eBay was one from Susan at AFFER.
There was a knock on my door. Susan would have to wait. I was eager to see my cuddly little fellow. I peered through the peephole and opened the door to Effie, with Rocky cradled in her arms.
“Thanks again for watching him all day. How’s he been?”
“He’s been a doll, as usual, but he keeps sniffing around like he’s looking for someone.”
I draped his leash around my neck and cradled him in my arms. “Probably just wanted to play with a particular toy, that’s all.” I buried my face in the fur on the top of his head. “You said someone,” I commented.
“What?”
“You said he was looking for someone, not something.”
“Well, I know you’ve had a couple of, um, friends over lately and I thought maybe he was looking for one of them.”
“Oh?”
“No offense, Madison, but I don’t think I ever saw three different men come by your apartment in the same week!” She giggled.
The smile on my face froze like it had been hit with liquid nitrogen but I fought to hold it in place. Something didn’t compute. She’d seen Hudson at my apartment. And she’d been there when Tex came over, too. But three?
“I think you counted Lieutena
nt Allen twice. He does occasionally like to pretend he’s someone he’s not.”
“No, I can recognize the Lieutenant by now. I meant him, the handyman, and the Russian.”
THIRTY-THREE
A chill shot through me like a bolt of electricity. I put my hand on the desk to steady myself. “Effie, can you do me one more favor?” I asked, and reached for a pen. “The lieutenant is out back in his Jeep. He’s parked next to the dumpster. Can you take this to him?”
Before she could answer, I grabbed a piece of paper from my desk and scribbled on the back of the paper Who is the Russian? I folded it in half and half again and held it out in a gesture of expectation, not giving her the chance to turn down my request.
“Is he here on cop business or personal business?”
I smiled enough of a smile for her to assume the answer she wanted to believe. Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine, bouncing from the left to the right, checking if I was pulling her leg or if I was serious. The gravity of the situation kept the smile from returning to my face. She made a silent O with her mouth and left me in the hallway.
“Sure, I’ll deliver your love note.” She patted Rocky on the head and looked back up at me. “He’s cute, Madison. Lucky you,” she said.
I waited until I heard the back door close before I entered my apartment. I turned on lights, a lot of lights. Lights in the living room, the hallway, the bathroom, and the bedroom. Enough lights to flood the parking lot with clues that I was inside.
Nothing was out of order, but I suspected there was one angry cat in my closet. I pulled on a pair of oven mitts and headed into the bedroom, ready to face Hudson’s little devil. Somewhere during my pep talk to myself, there was another knock on the door. I pulled off the mitts and peered through the peephole. Effie stared back at me.
I pulled the chain off the door and turned the knob. “That was fast!” I said before the door was all the way open. That’s why I didn’t see the black-gloved hand come at me, covering my mouth, pushing me back into my apartment.
Richard stood in front of me, his eyes wild. He had a firm grip on Effie’s upper arm. She looked terrified. He pushed her away, down the hall. “Get out of here. Now.”
Rocky, caught up in the excitement of unexpected visitors, bounded back and forth on his hind legs, front paws on our kneecaps, looking for his own bit of attention in the melee. His barking was lost in the white noise of the apartment and the sound of fear ringing in my ears. Richard kicked at him and pushed me against the bookcase.
“Where is it? Madison, where did you hide it?” His fingers bit into my biceps and he shook me. “He’s going to kill me if he doesn’t get it. You started this whole thing, you have to finish it. I can’t hide anymore.”
“Richard? What’s going on? What are you doing here?” I tried to stall.
Effie had come back too soon. She hadn’t had a chance to deliver the note to Tex. And I’d seen the look on her face before she ran to her apartment, and it was one of fear. Not of fighting, or standing up to a bully, or taking control of the situation. If I was lucky, she would call 911 and Tex would get alerted by way of dispatch.
Richard pushed me out of the way, against a wall, and kicked the front door shut.
My feet sought footing and I wished I was wearing my shoes instead of being barefoot. I felt something under my heel, crushed glass from the bulb of the lamp Rocky had broken earlier. Small shards stuck into my foot. Richard pushed me to the side and looked at my bookcase. Like a crazy man his eyes scanned the shelves, until he tipped the whole thing over, scattering volumes of decorating magazines and reference material across the floor. Even if someone did show up and try to come in, the door would be blocked.
The lights were on and if I could get Richard into the bedroom, Tex might see his shadow backlit from the light in the room. He’d know I wasn’t home alone. He wouldn’t know who was with me, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting help.
“What are you looking for?”
“Don’t play stupid with me, Madison. The film? The stolen reel? You think I don’t know you have it now? He tracked it to you and he’s after me to get it back. After all these years, it’s come down to this. You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You wouldn’t get scared, and now he’s going to kill us both. I don’t even know how you ended up with it, but I’ve already gone through too much to lose it all.” His eyes darted around the apartment.
He wasn’t making any sense, but he wasn’t acting like a killer. He was acting like a very, very scared man who had a very real threat pressing down around him.
“Richard, are you Russian?” I asked.
He glared at me for a second before he opened my hall closet and started pulling down large rubber tubs of personal belongings that had been packed away. Stale mildew-laced air wafted from storage bins. Blankets and dolls and vintage clothes that needed mending spilled into the hallway. He shook his foot to get a green tweed dress off the toe of his heavy black shoe.
“It’s not because I’m Russian. It’s because of the application. He would have found me whether I had Russian parents or not. I changed my name so I could disappear and start over. And you’ve ruined that for me. Killing me won’t bother him, he’s already killed four people!”
“Richard! What are you talking about?”
He looked into my eyes with an intensity that scared me more than anything else that I had seen. He kicked the clothes between us.
I took a step backward.
He advanced until I was pressed up against the wall in the hallway. His face was inches from my own. His hands pushed against the wall on either side of my head, creating a cage of limbs.
“The film reel. I need the film reel.” The lights had solved the biggest problem that Richard had, which was being able to clearly see what I owned and where I kept it. “Where did you hide it?”
“I don’t have any film reel!”
There was a knock on the door.
Richard clamped a hand over my open mouth, black wool fingers jutting between my lips, triggering a gag reflex.
“Quiet,” he hissed. “It’s him.”
I couldn’t speak or yell if I wanted to and I really, really wanted to. I wanted to throw something at the window to make it break, to shower the parking lot with a glass shard cry for help. I wanted Rocky to create the biggest ruckus he’d ever made.
Rocky.
Where was Rocky?
He’d gotten out. When Richard had forced himself in, Rocky had taken off. He was a dog, a little dog, a little defenseless dog who liked people and attention and cars and didn’t know any better when it came to traffic when he wasn’t on his leash. And despite the threat against me, tears stung my face as I thought about little furry Rocky outside, alone, in the dark, in the night.
The knocking continued. Come in come in come in hammered against my brain, willing any of my neighbors to show up at my door. From the hallway where Richard was pressed against me, I could see the shadow of two feet by the front door. Come in come in come in, I thought again. This is no time for politeness. Come in. You heard something or you know something, or you found my dog, but just come in. Try the knob and come in.
“Madison? Are you in there?” asked a male voice. “Madison, I found Rocky running down Gaston. His address is on the tag on his collar.” There was another knock on the door. “Are you in there? I thought I heard you.”
It took me a second to place the voice.
I looked at Richard and shook my head rapidly to get his hand away from my mouth. “It’s okay, I know who it is. He’s from the pool where I swim. Be human, Richard. I’ll help you find whatever you need but let me answer the door and get my dog back.”
Richard pulled away from me and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. It was still hot, too hot to
be wearing a sweatshirt. He pulled it over his head, exposing a black T-shirt with a picture of Klaus Kinski on the front.
“Thank you,” I said, and stepped over the mounds of clothes to the front door. The knob turned before I got to it and the door hit the resistance of the books on the floor.
“Hold on just a second, Mr. Popov, I mean Andy,” I said and kicked the books away from the door.
Mr. Popov.
With a force I didn’t know he had, he shoved a foot in the opening and pushed against the door, crushing magazines behind it. He did not hold my dog.
“Volpa jenshiva, you stupid little girl,” he said. His face twisted, his wrinkles etched deep into angry lines on his forehead, by his eyes, and on either side of his down-turned mouth. “You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?”
He walked toward me and again I found myself retreating.
I looked around but didn’t see Richard anywhere.
“That reel of film cost me my career. I thought I took care of it, but I didn’t count on Thelma Johnson or her daughter. That kid was no good, she caught me searching her mom’s house and tried to blackmail me. She wouldn’t let it go. I had to shut her up, for good. And your friend the good Samaritan came along and made it all perfect. I convinced her mom he was the killer and she never once suspected me.
“But I couldn’t find the reel. I thought I’d bide my time, wait until I found it and get her to give it to me. It wasn’t until she said she sold a bunch of stuff at a yard sale that I realized it might be gone. I freaked and she realized the truth. And even after I took care of both of them I didn’t count on you.”
His face twisted into an angry knot. His words were laced with an accent normally kept under wraps at the pool.
“Where is it, girly?” he demanded.
“Where’s my dog?” I demanded back. I couldn’t stop to think about the danger I was in because I still couldn’t wrap my brain around what was going on. But Rocky’s life depended on every move I made.
Pillow Stalk (A Mad for Mod Mystery) Page 23