Don hesitated, then after a brief coughing spell eased into a wingback chair and grabbed the cigar lying across an ashtray on the stand beside him. He lit it.
"You’re smoking again?"
"When Marion’s out."
"Why? It makes you cough."
"No reason not to now."
Mitch braced his shoulders. "No reason not to do a lot of things now, is there?"
"What do you mean?"
"I think you know what I mean. I’d like to hear it from you." Mitch’s hands moved to his hips.
"Hear what?"
"How you’ve been on the take."
Silence. Don rocked the cigar between his fingers never taking his eyes off Mitch’s scowl. "I can’t believe you said that, Mitch."
"How long has it been going on?" Silence in this case wasn’t golden. It only made Mitch more determined to zero in on the betrayal. He maintained his rigid stance and felt the anger lashing around in his gut.
"I could bring you up on insubordination charges for that, but I’ll take into account we are more than friends. I’ve thought of you as a son, you know that."
"Cut the stalling, Don."
"I would never rat you out."
"Well, never came soon, because I know it wasn’t Bart that gave out the information and you’re the only one that had a reason."
"You don’t think I value my good name? I’d want to leave a legacy of being of some worth, Mitch."
"You wanted to leave Marion good financial resources worse. Be honest for once."
Don shifted around in his chair, his eyes skipping over the furniture and shelves that lined the wall, searching.
"Looking for a gun? Are you that desperate, Don? You’ll be on the floor before you can reach one."
Don followed a long pause with a loud sigh of resignation. Droplets of sweat formed on his brow. "No, I’m not that desperate, not yet. You’ll never know how I agonize over what I’ve done, Mitch. I never sleep, just toss and turn all night. I can’t take it any longer. I found out I was terminal about six months ago." He took a quick puff then watched the smoke funnel upward. "It’s not easy facing the end, but when I started settling my affairs, I realized I didn’t have much to show for all those years of putting my life on the line. The hoodlums are still out there getting rich while we scrape along. Wise up."
"Stop trying to justify it. You’ve done all right for yourself. You live in the ritzy part of the city, and from what I’ve heard, you and Marion have an active social life."
"That was mostly Marion’s good management. She loves social events and rubbing shoulders with the mucky-mucks. I wanted to be sure she could maintain that level when I’m gone." He coughed again. "We don’t make much difference, Mitch."
"We do make a difference. But we can make more of a difference with an inside lead. You’ve ruined it for us. Taken away our chance to make real headway here. And you’ve put my life out there on a platter." Just the thought of the danger Don had placed him in made Mitch’s head feel ready to explode.
"I didn’t rat on you, Mitch. I never said a word about you or what you were doing. I fed them small snippets of harmless information. The most serious was about there being a secret witness. That earned me ten thousand dollars. The rest was just peanuts."
"And you told them about Jen."
"You’re wrong. Mostly what I told them was when drug busts were planned. They’re a waste of time anyway. Within a few months the guys are out again. While they’re gone, others fill in to get the stuff back on the street. It never ends."
"Why should I believe that? I would arrest you on the spot if it wouldn’t alert the gang that we know something. As it is, I’ve contacted Internal Affairs. One false move and you’ll be in the slammer so fast your head will spin." Mitch bent down and jammed his finger into the center of Don’s chest. "You’re really some piece of work. I thought you were my friend."
"Hold it right there. I could have told them you were the witness. I backed myself into a corner because I wouldn’t squeal on you. I’ve been holding them off, hoping you’d be called to the stand before it was necessary to own up. Then no one would’ve been the wiser and it wouldn’t have mattered. The woman changed all that by switching your focus toward getting on the inside track to the goons. Now I’m in a bind."
"You’re in more than a ‘bind.’ I’ll see to it personally that you pay for your double-crossing. Can’t say I feel sorry for you, Don. You broke my trust. How can you fix that?"
"I’m thinking I could cut a deal and hand over information I learned. I know where the heart of their drug operation is. It’s where they stash their supply. It’s the real headquarters. Bull’s office is only a front."
"Okay, that might help your case, and only because of what you can tell us will I hold back on reporting you, but it sure as hell doesn’t regain my respect. If I find out you don’t follow through, I’ll come after you. Wherever you go, I’ll find you." Mitch paced the floor. "I’m really disappointed. You took me under your wing when I was a rookie. Now this. Some role model you turned out to be."
"Mitch? Does Miss Murray know you’re a police officer?"
"Yeah, I told her." He turned to leave. "I’ve got to find out if Bull knows. I don’t want to jeopardize what we’ve done so far if he really doesn’t know who I am."
Mitch slammed out of the house. In spite of what Don said, he wondered why he should trust him at all. He knew Don had better be on the level this time--his own life depended on it.
Ten
The building’s side door creaked and lent an eerie atmosphere to the dark interior. A door directly across from the entrance with a brass nameplate labeled THE MISFITS had to be Bull’s office. Jen’s hand trembled as she raised it to knock, then dropped it down to her side. She shoved her hand into her jacket pocket and felt the pistol’s black steel handgrip. Mitch would be furious when he found his 9mm Glock had disappeared. She breathed in deeply, raised her hand and was shocked when her light tap swung the door wide. Spike stood in front of her, grinning at her surprise. "The boss is waitin’ for you." He stood aside and motioned her in.
Jen shivered at the glint in his large popping eyes. His short, stocky form stirred memories of the shadows prowling outside her cabin. Her hand instinctively returned to her pocket as she entered. She expected to hear the door slam. Were they confident enough to keep it ajar? The small window kept the room dim, a good thing. They might not notice how jittery she was.
"You’re late," Bull snarled from behind his desk. "Where’s the pup?"
"I didn’t bring him. I brought money, instead." Her eyes smarted from their cigarette smoke. Her nose stuffed up immediately with the acrid smell. She blinked, hoping to stem any sign of tears before they appeared and exposed her fright.
"I told you it’s the pup I wanted. How much do you have?"
"Six hundred. That’s all I’ve got. Do you have the papers I need?"
"Take a seat."
"I’ll stand. Where are the documents?" She heard a movement behind her just before Spike’s punishing grip clamped on her shoulder.
"The boss says sit, you sit!"
She shouldn’t have let him get behind her. She sat.
"You’re somethin’ else." Bull’s eyes gored her. "You waltz in here and really expect them to be ready. You got no appreciation for craftsmanship."
Jen maintained her composure. "I expected you to deliver as promised."
"I don’t have to do anythin’. Where’s the mutt?"
"He’s safe." She had to think fast, no point in pissing him off more. The fact Spike stood behind, his hand playing with the end of her ponytail, bothered her more than Bull’s crude, leering smile. She’d as soon have a snake slithering around her neck. She shook her head, but he latched on tight and yanked. The pistol-grip felt slippery in her sweat-dampened fingers. To avoid suspicion, she reluctantly withdrew her hand.
"Jake’s gonna be mighty pleased to hear we got you. I’ll call the hospital and see if he has any special re
quests." Bull dialed and waited.
Jen sat on the edge of her chair concentrating on keeping her hands folded in her lap. All was quiet until the bald-headed biker shifted to alert. His scalp glistened with sweat. His eyes zeroed in on her, and she wanted nothing more than to wipe that sneer from his face--with the business end of the gun.
Bull’s mouth tightened. "I want to talk with Jake... he’s not there?... How come? Isn’t he back from surgery yet?" His stillness kept Spike and Pugsy glued to his face... "Well get someone on the phone who knows what’s goin’ on." Bull rolled his eyes and placed his hand over the mouthpiece. "That was one of the housekeepin’ maids makin’ up Jake’s bed. She’s gone to get a nurse to take my call."
His feet moved to the floor when another voice came on the line. "I’m the twin brother of the patient that should be in that damn bed by now after his surgery." He ignored Spike’s snort of laughter. "Where is he, if he’s not there?" A brief pause shot up Bull’s eyebrows. His mouth drooped.
"What’s wrong?" Spike’s fingers stilled but kept their grasp on Jen’s hair.
"Expired? You mean he croaked? Damn, what shitty luck." Bull slammed the receiver and gazed vehemently at Jen. "See what you did?"
Jen jerked to attention. Her voice choked. "He d-died?"
"You killed him and for that you’ll pay. He was a good pal of mine."
"Are we gonna have some fun now?" Spike asked, his glimmering eyes shunting to Jen.
"Not yet. Your time will come. Remember, we’re usin’ her to pull Mitch into the net. Then we’ll really have a fun time. Go check and see if that pup is in her car, if he is bring him in." He turned to Jen. "Hand over your keys."
With the release of her hair she twisted her neck around and quickly appraised the situation. "I have them in my pocket somewhere." She pretended to search, then stood. In a flash, she whipped out Mitch’s gun and slipped sideways so she could cover both men. Her hand steadied when she aimed; her eyes fixed on Spike. "Move over beside Bull!"
Bull stiffened in his chair. "You just made a big mistake, lady. There are two of us."
"And I’ll get at least one. Which one will it be?"
Bull raised his hands in defense. "Okay. Whatever you say. Watch that thing. It might go off." When Spike moved beside him, Bull winked and slid a smile across his ugly teeth.
She should have sensed another presence by the sudden sparkle in Bull’s eyes, but her mindset concentrated on maintaining control. The danger behind struck the side of her head with his flat hand, sending her crashing into the wall, then down to the floor. Spike leaped across the room and clasped both of his arms around her chest levering her with a violent jerk. Pugsy came from behind and lifted both of her feet and snickered, "You ought to watch your back if you’re gonna be playing nasty pranks."
~ * ~
It was all Mitch could do to keep his speed down as he drove the city streets. His meeting with Don had filled him not only with disgust but with worry as well. He wished he knew where Jen had gone. He hoped she had sense enough to stay away from her apartment. That would be the first place they would check. For now he had to focus on Bull. If Don were lying, he’d be running into a trap.
The parking lot looked empty until he rounded the corner and was shocked to see Jen’s car parked at the side. He pulled in beside it and shut down his bike. He hoped Spooky would be lying on the seat--it would mean she didn’t intend to stay long. When the dog wasn’t there his stomach plummeted.
Mitch opened his side compartment to get his gun. He’d handled it a short time ago, now it was gone. Jen was the only one who’d known it was there. A chill split through his insides. He could only pray she was unharmed. He slid silently in the side door and listened. He heard the distant voices of the bartender and a customer. No sounds came from Bull’s office. Were they lying in wait?
Jen’s face burst into his mind and boosted the electric charge surging through his nerves. He turned the doorknob. It was locked. His shoulder needed only one hard whack at the wood panel to open it. The empty room brought relief, which quickly turned to worry. He hurried to the desk, his eyes combing the top and meager surroundings. There was no proof of any kind she had been here. Until he took in a deep breath. The damn fruity smell of her perfume lingered in the air, more pervasive than the sickening smell of sweat that was usually here. He fought down his panic.
Mitch tiptoed to the barroom door and peered around the jamb. The customer was just leaving. The bartender bade him goodbye, then wiped off the counter, pocketing the tip. Mitch ambled into sight and sidled up to the bar.
"You came in the back way, Mitch?"
"Yeah, Sam. I wanted to catch Bull, but seems like he’s not around." Mitch kept his cool but his anger was hard to squelch. When he sat on a stool and leaned on the countertop his hands fisted. He instantly flattened them to appear nonchalant.
Sam grinned. "Spike said they were leaving for awhile, but to tell you if you came in that Bull would meet you here tonight to discuss business."
"Where did they go? I can’t wait until tonight.
"Hell, I don’t know, Mitch. I make it a point not to know too much. It’s safer that way."
As the bartender turned away, Mitch grabbed him by his shirt collar and twisted him around to face him. "That’s not good enough. Where did they take her?"
"Take who?"
"The woman."
"Christ! I didn’t see any woman. That’s the truth. I heard some barking, though."
"And you didn’t investigate?"
"A barking dog? Big deal. I don’t stick my nose into anything that goes on out back."
Mitch released his hold. "You’re real scum; you know damn well what goes on back there is often illegal."
"I do what I can to survive. It’s a job, that’s all."
Mitch stomped out the door to his Harley and revved up the engine.
~ * ~
The ambulance, siren screaming, pulled out of Don’s driveway. Two police cars parked out front meant more than a little trouble. Mitch rushed up the steps, taking two at a time. The door was open, so he walked in. "Marion? Marion!"
Don’s wife hurried from the parlor; Mitch recognized the three police officers behind her. "Oh, Mitch. Something awful has happened."
"Steady yourself and tell me what." He took her hand and patted it gently.
"I c-came back from town and f-found Don sitting in his chair, incoherent, and his speech slurred. An empty bottle of his Demerol pills lay on the floor at his feet. Mitch, his lips were blue. I’ve got to get to the hospital. One of the officers is going to drive me in my car. They didn’t think I should go in the ambulance. Why did he do this?"
"Only Don can tell you why. I’ll meet you there, Marion."
Marion nodded, then brushed away a tear.
Mitch made the drive in record time arriving at the hospital shortly after they had wheeled Don into an examination room. When Marion arrived a few minutes later, Mitch had collected himself after talking to the nurse and was able to offer more comfort. "Marion, the nurse said a doctor will see you after they pump out his stomach."
Her shoulders slumped. Mitch ushered her to a chair in the lounge and they began the wait. Marion seemed compelled to talk about her husband. "I don’t know if you’re aware that Don’s been dealing with cancer and it’s been hard on him."
"I just found out. I’m so sorry." Mitch reached down and placed his hand on her shoulder.
She reached up and laid her hand on top of his for a few seconds, then placed it back on her lap. "I had no idea he was contemplating doing away with himself. I don’t know how many pills were in the bottle. Oh, Mitch, what if it was enough to kill him?"
"Let’s hope it wasn’t. It’s not only the pressure of his illness, Marion. Don has other things going on. He’ll tell you about that later if you pursue it. I feel a bit to blame since our conversation wasn’t pleasant when I talked with him earlier. He has information I need right away. A woman’s life depends on it.
A woman that I care very deeply about."
"Oh, dear. I hope he can give it to you."
Voices up the corridor revealed activity near the nursing station. A distinguished gentleman wearing a white lab coat walked their way at a brisk clip. His tentative smile gave Mitch optimism for good news. When the man entered the lounge, he addressed Marion. "Hello, I’m Dr. Jordan. I’m the physician on call in ER today. I’ve given your husband an injection of Narcan, an antidote for Demerol, and we’ve pumped his stomach. He’s regained consciousness."
"Will he be all right?"
"He’s not feeling well right now, but he can speak. He should be okay, time will tell, but for now he can talk and move. Those are good signs. You can go in for a few minutes."
Marion turned to Mitch. "Maybe you’re the one that should talk with him because of that woman. Would it be all right, doctor? This man is a police officer."
The doctor looked thoughtful for a moment and nodded. "You can both go in."
The stillness of hospital rooms always bothered Mitch. He hated them. Having a friend in here, white as the sheet that covered him, didn’t change his perspective, neither did the smell of disinfectant.
Marion held Don’s hand as he looked at Mitch, his eyes unfocused. "Mitch... did you find... Ms. Murray?"
"No. I know Bull has her, but I need to know where they would take her. Can you draw me a map?"
"My head’s hurting... something... fierce, not to mention my stomach. I really bungled my life... didn’t I?"
"You can make up for some of it now." Mitch almost felt sorry for him.
Don raised his hand. "Get me... paper. They’ll have her out in the suburbs."
Marion fumbled in her purse. "Don’t talk, just draw," she whispered.
Mitch waited impatiently. He needed to move around, but he didn’t dare risk leaving Don’s side in case he faltered and gave up. He silently fumed as Don sketched out the map and handed it over. Mitch’s scrutiny ended with a nod of satisfaction. "Thanks. I’ll see this is reported in your favor. Might help. Where’s your gun?"
"It’s locked in the glove... compartment. Marion has the key. Want me to... have her phone headquarters?"
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