Unplugged

by Lois Greiman

  “Police!” someone yelled.

  I jerked toward the sound. Men swarmed out of the brush like shadows amidst shadows.

  “Throw down your guns,” yelled the closest officer. “SWAT” was written in white across his black jacket. “Throw them!”

  I watched in a dream as pistols were tossed onto the pockmarked earth. My legs gave way. I sagged to the ground, propping my back sloppily against the Pontiac to keep from falling face forward into the dirt.

  The assailants were handcuffed and hauled away amidst muttered curses and disjointed Mirandas.

  Across the scruffy hillside, Solberg rose shakily to his feet. His glasses were askew and his hair was standing on end.

  Near the Saturn, a SWAT guy with a five o’clock shadow did a double-take at Elaine. The clouds had cracked open and a ray of sunlight slanted down, catching her in its golden rays. Her blouse was still open. Her hair was messed, and her eyes, wide with the tail end of fear and adrenaline, were as big and bright as turbulent seas.

  “Hey,” he said, his gun still trained on the departing prisoners, “maybe we could catch a movie or something . . . when this is all over.”

  23

  Money’s nice and all, but you can’t beat waking up on your own little plot of land with a gal who’ll kiss you even if you smell like pig manure.

  —Cousin Kevin McMullen,

  who likes his wife even more than his sows

  J UST WANTED TO stop by and thank you again,” Solberg said.

  We were sitting around my kitchen table, drinking all-natural papaya juice, which Elaine had thoughtfully brought from home. It tasted a little like cat pee. I’ve got brothers—I know.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “The half-million dollars is thanks enough.”

  He brayed like a donkey. Elaine was sitting next to him. She looked at me and smiled. It was the real deal, no artifice, no tears, actual happiness. I gave a mental sigh.

  “You’re a snooker, Chrissy,” Solberg said, “but I’m afraid the money’s already gone back to NeoTech.”

  “So your boss was embezzling,” I said.

  “Guess so.” He shook his head, looking befuddled. But he usually looked befuddled. “Emery Black. Woulda never guessed it if he hadn’t . . .” He paused and glanced at Elaine.

  “Hadn’t what?” I asked, but I already knew the truth.

  “Well . . .” He shook his head again, nervous this time. “He got drunk.” He tossed up a hand as if to make the whole thing go away. “When we were in Vegas. Said some things he shouldn’t have.”

  “Like what?” I gave him my innocent look. It was cruel of me to make him confess all, but I’m a cruel woman.

  He actually blushed. “Like he was worth more than anyone knew.”

  “Was that before or after he made a pass at you?” I asked.

  Solberg’s cheeks brightened to the color of tomato paste. He glanced sheepishly at Elaine. I grinned, ’cuz I was right on the money; flush with their mutual success, Black and J.D. had wandered off to the lounge with Solberg’s Lightbulb Award and Black’s $500,000 secret.

  “He said he had a little egg he’d scooped out of Neo’s nest. Said he wanted to share it with me. I don’t know what he was thinking. How could he think I was gay?”

  I noticed he wasn’t surprised that Black thought he’d be more than willing to nab a little ill-gained cash.

  “The heart will what it will,” I said dramatically, then, “So you left your golden pear with Black and scurried for cover.”

  “Golden—”

  “Your award,” Laney said, watching me. She knew I had been lying my ass off for weeks. She knew I’d, ummm . . . fictionalized Solberg’s affair. She knew why, and she forgave. Life was all right.

  “I still can’t believe he thought I . . .” Solberg’s words shambled to a halt. “He has two kids.”

  I laughed at his naïveté. Apparently Solberg hasn’t dated seventy-five men and learned a million things about the seedy side of life. “Life’s strange.”

  “But how did you know he was embezzling?” he asked.

  “I didn’t have a clue at first. He seemed pretty secure . . . said you and he had done well together in the past and would again in the future. It took me a while, but I finally realized you two must have been working on something special. Something with a big enough reward to lure you in to pick up the dough. He was absolutely sure you’d be back by the end of the month.”

  “But he was stealing from NeoTech,” Solberg said, still outraged.

  “Which he didn’t think you’d have a problem with, but when you did, he knew he had to get rid of you. So he called in his goons to find you. I didn’t have any way of knowing whose goons they were, though. Black seemed perfectly normal . . . until I saw him with Laney.”

  Solberg was scowling. “What are you talking about?”

  “He came to the office and . . .” Elaine had cried for Solberg. Actually cried—right there behind the reception desk. Holy crap. Someday I might have to buck up and admit she’s crazy about a little dweeb I could strap to my back and carry around like a tent stake. “Well, he upset her,” I said, “and didn’t offer her so much as a handkerchief.”

  “Angel.” Solberg turned toward her, stricken and pale, tightening his bony hand over hers. “What’d he do?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “It was nothing.”

  “Anyway,” I said, “I knew that if he wasn’t kissing her ankles and offering his firstborn, he had to be gay.”

  “But what did that have to do—”

  “I spoke to a gal in Vegas who said you didn’t go out with the dancing girls. Said you headed off with another man instead. I knew your reasons.” I shifted my gaze to Elaine. As far as I knew she was absolutely perfect, and I’d known her a long time. “I could only guess at his. But I couldn’t quite put everything together.”

  Solberg shook his knobby head, still baffled. “How could he think I was gay?”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes. “My question is, why didn’t you just turn him in to the police?”

  “I just . . .” He shifted in his chair, his scrawny body wiggling under my scrutiny. I had been perfecting the evil eye. “Well . . . I didn’t know right off that he had embezzled. I mean, it sounded kind of funny, him saying he had a half million squirreled away, but . . . Emery Black! You know . . . he’s got a frickin’ fortune . . . and sons.” It sounded like he didn’t know which was more unbelievable, that a millionaire still wanted more money, or that a father of two had been eyeing his ass.

  As far as I was concerned, they both qualified for the Twilight Zone.

  “Uh-huh. So why didn’t you call the police?” I repeated.

  “Well . . .” He glanced at Elaine again. “Once I figured out what was goin’ on, I knew I could handle it myself.” He shrugged and sniffed a little. “It ain’t easy breaking into them Swiss banks, ’specially when you can’t get to your own gear, but I got my ways.”

  My mind was working overtime. “So why didn’t you just let the FBI, or whoever, take care of it if everything was on the up-and-up.”

  “Well . . .” He scowled at me. “Like I said—”

  “It didn’t have anything to do with Combot, did it?” I asked.

  His face drained of color. “How do you know ’bout the Bot?”

  I couldn’t contain my smile. Truth is, I didn’t even try. “I’ve got my ways,” I said.

  “What’s a bot?” Laney asked.

  He twisted toward her like a man in a nightmare, slowly, as if he might turn and find her gone. His knuckles looked white against her hand. “Listen, Laney,” he said, and exhaled carefully. “I thought we had full legal rights to that thing.”

  Her expression didn’t change an iota, but by the look on his face you would think she had spit in his eye.

  “Swear to God, Laney,” he said, talking fast. “Emery took care of the legal matters. See, years ago, him and a guy name of Franklin had come up with s
omething called ‘Compubot.’ It’s like an interactive computer, kind of. Anyway, Franklin, he fiddled with it for a while, then got tired of it. So Black took it over. He said he got the rights free and clear. I knew ol’ Frankie had helped with the early stages. But no big deal. You know? ’Specially when he got that promotion and moved to Texas. The Bot was nothing then. So Black invited me in. He said I should keep it quiet, ’cuz he didn’t want anyone to think he was favoring me. Office politics and all that . . . and I thought, Hey, this might be interesting.

  “I worked on that thing for five years. Five full years. I was just doin’ it for fun, you understand. But then things started clickin’ and Black suggested that we sell it on the Internet. I thought maybe we should market it through Neo, but Black says no, we don’t want to give away our baby and we can make more money this way. So we’ve been sellin’ a few. You know, here and there. Then Technoware gives us a call and says they’re interested in buying the whole shebang. So we got a chance at big bucks, and they want to get together at—”

  “The end of the month,” I said.

  He gave me an openmouthed look, then turned back to Laney and hurried on. “So I thought, Why not. And I . . .” He ran out of steam suddenly, his face still pudding pale. “I didn’t know we were doing anything illegal. Black told me, that night, in Vegas, after he dropped the grenade about the half million, he says that Franklin should still have rights to the Bot. I learned . . .” He winced. “A lot of shit.” He swallowed, gripped her hand harder. “Stuff,” he corrected. “Lots of stuff. I didn’t mean to do anything illegal. I was just being . . . creative.”

  “So creative, you might find your ass in jail?” It was hard not to grin. But I mean, I’d been through hell for this little geek.

  “No jail,” he said, looking frail and panicked. “No jail. There’s nothing that can implicate me.”

  I raised my brows at him. “Electronic Universe must have some really top-notch equipment.”

  “No.” He flashed his gaze to Laney and back. “I mean, yeah, I made sure there wasn’t nothing could tie me to Black’s crimes . . . just to be on the safe side. And that took some time. But I’m giving my share of the rights to Franklin. And the money we made. All the money if he wants it.”

  Elaine was absolutely silent.

  Solberg’s shoulders drooped like a wounded soldier’s. “Swear to God, Laney,” he croaked. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ illegal. Not no more. I wouldn’t do nothin’ to . . .” On his face was such painful adoration, it was almost hard to look at. Not that Solberg’s ever easy to look at. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ to disappoint you,” he whispered.

  The silence stretched out, and then she lifted her hand and slowly touched his face. “I know,” she said.

  He looked as though he were going to melt right into the floor. “You believe me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh God.” He closed his eyes. “I was so worried, Laney. Terrified. I didn’t know what to do. Black threatened to pin the theft of the Bot on me if I told anyone about the embezzlement. And I thought . . . Jesus . . . I mean . . . man, oh, man . . . what if they sent me to the big house?” He paused. His eyes went blank. “What if I couldn’t see you? I had no choice but to hide out until I could get the money back and prove my innocence.”

  Elaine gave him a wistful smile. “You should have told me,” she said. “I would have helped.”

  He looked like he was going to die. “No.” He shook his head. “No way. They didn’t know nothing about you at Neo and—”

  “Why?” I asked, still baffled about that one point.

  He glanced at me before skittering his gaze back to her. “Because I . . . Well, maybe I’ve told some stories about women before. You know, big stories. They wouldn’t believe I had gotten someone as perfect as her, and I didn’t wanna jinx it or nothing. And then when this all came down, I was glad I hadn’t been bragging, ’cuz I couldn’t risk my Angel. But I still didn’t dare call her, in case he found out we’d been dating.”

  “You called me, though,” I said.

  “I couldn’t take it no more. I was worried sick ’bout Laney,” he said. “I had to make sure she was all right, and I was having a little trouble straightening out the money. I didn’t know you’d be asking around about me, so I couldn’t guess Black would tap your phone.

  “Or that his goons would follow me to the restaurant.”

  “I was waiting at the Oaks, sort of out of sight, but I saw them follow you in and took off. One of them came after me, but I got away. I tried to call you . . . to warn you, but it was too late. I ’bout died when I saw them take you. I tried to stop them, but I couldn’t get there fast enough.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I called the police,” he said lamely, and gave Laney a sick look. She squeezed his hand. “But they got there a little late.”

  “You think?” I said, remembering the terror.

  He gave me a lopsided grin. “I called the cops about Black, too. Anonymously. Said he had embezzled funds. I hoped they would put him away, but they couldn’t prove nothing, and then he tried to pin it on me.”

  “So you’ve been hiding out all this time?” I asked.

  “Stayin’ at cheap motels near E.U. Couldn’t use no credit cards, ’cuz I was afraid Black would find a way to trace them. So I had to pay cash, and all the while tryin’ to get everything straight—with Neo’s money, with Franklin and Combot. He ain’t gonna press charges. And . . .” He was still pale. “There’s talk of givin’ me Black’s job.”

  “It’s nice to know you didn’t waste a lot of time worrying about me,” I said.

  He gave me a sheepish smile. “Truth is, I knew you could handle yourself, babe.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said again, pushing back memories of tampons and garlic. “Well, next time I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me out of your shady deals.”

  He opened his mouth as if to object, then turned his gooey gaze on Elaine once more. “Everything’s a little shady, I guess, ’cept Laney,” he said, and gave her a moony stare. I squelched my gag reflex. “She’s all sunshine.”

  I realized then that it was time for him to leave. I hadn’t had a cigarette in two days and my nerves were a little frazzled.

  Mom had called five times in as many hours. I’d let my answering machine take each one, and although she never explained her reason for contacting me, the tone of her voice was acidic enough to fry the poor machine’s circuits. It was a safe bet that she’d heard about my not-so-sisterly advice to Holly.

  “Well,” I said, and stood up, “all’s well that ends well.”

  “Yeah, hey.” Solberg glanced up as if awakening from a dream. “You, me, and Laney should double it sometime.”

  “Double what?”

  “Double date.”

  “Wouldn’t that be more like a triple?” And creepy. I opened my front door.

  He brayed like a zebroid. “You could get a date. I was thinking, I got a pal at NeoTech. Name’s Bennet, Ross Bennet. You’d like him.”

  Oh, crap. I felt my stomach loop. I still had Bennet’s checkbook. Tucked in between the deposit slips, I’d found a picture of a yacht. I had a bad feeling the account was nothing more scandalous than savings for some big-ass boat.

  Since I now knew he hadn’t murdered Solberg and didn’t have any plans of decapitating me with his steak knives, I’d have to call him . . . later . . . or maybe I could somehow drop his checkbook into his car or something.

  “No, thanks,” I said.

  “Come on, doll,” Solberg said. “It’d be fun. Laney’d like that, wouldn’t you, Angel?”

  She looked at me. Her eyes were laughing. She pulled her hand out of his, wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and hugged me. “I love you, Mac,” she said.

  I teared up immediately. Probably allergies. “You’re not bad yourself, Sugar.”

  She laughed, but when she pulled away, her eyes were misty, too.

  “See, that’s what I’m talking ab
out,” Solberg said, not understanding the joke but glancing from me to Elaine and back like an ugly puppy. “We’d have a smash together.”

  “It’s time to go,” Elaine said.

  “But—” he began.

  She linked her arm through his and drew him onto my cracked front walk.

  “Oh, okay,” he said, and followed along like a pull toy.

  I closed the door and returned to my kitchen. It seemed a little empty. Which, considering Solberg, could be a good thing. But considering the thugs who had recently tried to kill me, didn’t seem so great. In fact—

  I heard something in my vestibule and froze.

  Footsteps tapped quietly across the linoleum. I reached for the drawer to my right and grabbed a butcher knife.

  “McMullen.”

  I jumped like a tree frog.

  Rivera was glaring at me from the doorway, making me droop with relief.

  “Is there something fundamentally wrong with you?” he asked. He was wearing blue jeans gone gray with age and a plain brown jersey of the same vintage.

  I drew a few careful breaths, just to prove I could. “What are you talking—”

  “Why the hell don’t you lock your door?” he asked, advancing steadily.

  “Elaine just left,” I said. I was going for bravado, but my voice might have cracked a little.

  “So you’re sure some crazy, knife-toting drug addict won’t jump you for another half an hour? You think there’s a time limit on these things?”

  I tried to glare at him while simultaneously shifting a worried gaze to the door. No crazy, knife-toting drug addicts in sight. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Just visiting,” he said, and reaching into my cupboard for a glass, poured himself some papaya juice. After tasting it, he made a face, glanced at the curdling beverage, and raised his gaze to mine. “What the hell are you doing with that spoon?”

  I looked in the direction of my right hand. There was no butcher knife. But there was a good heavy mixing utensil.