Razzamatazz (A Crime Novel)

by Sandra Scoppettone

  Without thinking, Annie seized the moment. Arms outstretched, she jumped, flung herself forward, and pushed Drew backwards. The chair toppled over as he tumbled back, crashing to the floor.

  Annie was through the doorway before Drew landed. Her ankle tortured her, she ran to the huge sliding doors and pushed. Nothing moved. Glancing back at Drew, she saw him slowly rising. There wasn't going to be time to get out of the barn. Frantically she looked around. There were boxes, furniture, curios piled everywhere. And then she saw the ladder leaning against the second story. A large iron unicorn on wheels blocked the ladder. She pushed it to the side and hobbled up the rickety steps. At the top she started to pull the ladder up after her, but Drew reached it and caught the bottom rung. She let go suddenly and the ladder fell, knocking him to the floor.

  "You fucking bitch!" he screamed over the music.

  A waist-high railing ran three-quarters of the way around the second story. Annie was on the long side opposite the barn doors. She could see that there were alcoves and nooks in which to hide, but there was only one way down—the way she'd come up. It was essential not to get too far from the ladder. She could hear Jim Drew scrambling around and knew she had to act quickly. He would be putting up the ladder again and she would have to knock it down. Or better still, knock him off it.

  Behind her, to the right, was a rusted gasoline can. She picked it up, relieved to find it empty. The ladder thudded against the wood as Drew propped it in place. Annie moved to the right side of the opening and dropped to her knees. She heard him grunt as his boot hit the first rung. It would be stupid to throw the can before he was halfway up, but if she missed then she would have much less time to run. Still, it was a chance she must take.

  Counting his steps, she calculated where the midpoint would come, the music and the thumping of her heart almost blocking out the sound of his footfalls. But as he reached eight she sprang up and with all her force threw the can at the top of his head. He saw it coming and, letting go of the ladder, put up his arms to ward off the blow. The can hit his arms, bounced, and glanced off the side of his head. Balanced precariously, his arms windmilled while he tried to regain his equilibrium. A horrified expression passed over his face as Annie gave the top of the ladder a shove. It swung out, stopped upright for an instant, teetered, then finally fell backwards. Drew let go of the ladder in midair and fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

  Still on her knees, Annie watched and waited. The Beatles finished their song. Immediately another record began, loud and metallic-sounding. Drew lay unmoving for several moments. For a second she was hopeful. And then he stirred, slowly sitting up. He raised his head. "I'm going to get you!" he yelled.

  Annie remained where she was, watching to see what he'd do, deciding what her next move should be. She was astonished to realize that she no longer felt fear. Something more powerful had gained control of her. Perhaps the will to survive. And with it came energy, adrenalin pumping through her body.

  Awkwardly, Drew got to his feet, took a step, limped. He grimaced in pain, muttering to himself. Then he glanced her way again, kicked out in anger, hitting the fallen ladder.

  She smiled as he limped toward the far end of the bar. Now they were more evenly matched. Drew disappeared under the overhang of the second story. She couldn't imagine where he was going. Was there another way up? Would he suddenly appear before her, pop up as if he were a jack-in-the-box? She had to be ready for him.

  Frantically, she looked around for other weapons, hoping to find a pitchfork, a spade at least. Behind her was a stall, remnants of hay littering the floor. Cartons were piled up against the far wall. She ran to them, opened the top one, peered in at books, moldy and old, earwigs crawling over the covers. She whirled around, searching for something else. And then she saw it in the corner, covered with dirt and bits of hay.

  Kneeling down, she wiped away the filth with the sleeve of her

  louse. The red of the cylinder began to show through. God, let it still work, she prayed. She'd never used a fire extinguisher before and had no knowledge of how it operated. She turned it around searching for directions. A chrome band circled the middle of the cylinder. There was print beneath the grime. She gave it a swipe, but the dirt was caked and needed more than a wipe with a sleeve.

  She looked around the floor of the stall for something sharp to scrape off the dirt. A rusted can opener was near her foot. Perfect. She dug at the dirt on the chrome band. It seemed to take forever. While scraping away, she managed to remain alert to the sounds around her even though the rain on the tin roof and the blaring music of the Rolling Stones were almost deafening.

  When she'd gotten most of the dirt removed, she brought the extinguisher closer to read the instructions. But she saw immediately that instead of instructions on how to use it, what was printed there were instructions for maintenance and recharging. Frustrated, she slammed it with the heel of her hand, cried out in pain, then slapped the hand over her mouth as she heard the squeak of a board from the far end of the upper floor.

  Fear returned as Annie realized Jim Drew had gained access to the second floor. Her heart pumped overtime. She breathed, mouth open, as if somehow taking in great gulps of air would help her. Quickly, she turned the extinguisher around. She knew there had to be instructions somewhere. The front of the metal band also revealed bits of printing. She struggled with her can opener again, scraping and scratching. Slowly, a black band within the chrome one appeared. Large chrome printing spelled out, TO OPERATE: She knew she had to hurry as creaks in the distance told her Drew was moving closer.

  The words were finally visible. TO OPERATE: HOLD UPRIGHT. PULL PIN. SQUEEZE LEVER. DIRECT AT BASE OF FLAME. Pin? Pin? She started to panic.

  Then suddenly, “I’m going to get you, Annie.” Drew’s voice, hollow and menacing, came from nearby. “You’ll never get away,” he warned. “Never!”

  ----

  Hallock and Colin had had two close calls. The first with a trailer truck obviously heading for the ferry at Point Haven, the second with a Volkswagen bug. No one was hurt or pushed off the road in either instance, but privately each man thought that his number was up both times.

  The rain had increased the last five minutes as if they were driving under a continuous waterfall. In any other circumstances Hallock would have pulled off the road. But he couldn't do that now. Now they had to creep along the back road, both of them hanging out of the windows, trying to see, trying to keep on the right side, but not too far over.

  Colin knew there was a possibility that when they made it to Drew's barn, he and Annie might not be there. He was sure that Drew had gotten to her somehow, but chances of him taking her to his barn were slim. Still, they had to check it out. He couldn't allow himself to think that Annie might already be dead; it was totally unacceptable.

  There were no lights on the back road, but in the distance, on Colin's side, he could see a glow through the downpour. He pulled in his head.

  "I think we're here," he said, water running down his face.

  Hallock slowed to a stop. "Get out and see, will you, Maguire?"

  Colin opened the door, jumped out. The wind buffeted him backwards against the car, flattening him as if he were a bug. Rain stung his face. He cupped his eyes with both hands, tried to see. Something was swinging near him, its iron creakiness cutting through the storm.

  He pushed against the wind, moving forward until he crashed against something hard. It was the sign to Drew's antique barn. Calculating the distance to the drive from memory, he got back in the car.

  "About six feet, Waldo. Six feet and turn right."

  The car inched forward as both men tried to gauge six feet.

  Colin pulled his head in, "Now. Turn now."

  Hallock did, and they felt the wheels grip the entry road as they drove slowly forward up to the barn.

  ----

  She knew he was only four or five yards away from her at best. This was no time to panic, not now. Then a new f
eeling of calm descended, her hands stopped shaking, her heart slowed. She read the directions on the extinguisher again, and this time she saw the pin. She pulled but the pin didn't move. There was rust around the hole. She pulled again. Nothing.

  "Come on out, Annie," Drew yelled. "If you come out I'll do it quick. If you don't I'm going to take my time."

  Still calm, she gave the pin a wrenching tug and it slipped out, almost making her lose her balance. Next she unhooked the black hose from its holder. Standing up, she lifted the extinguisher in her arms. It was heavy but manageable. She placed herself at the edge of the stall so that as Drew came past she could squeeze the lever, aiming the hose at him.

  As she listened for his footsteps, she thought of the possibility that the extinguisher might not function. It was obviously old. And even if it did, what then? Time. It would buy her more time. She knew now there was another way down, and she would try and find it.

  "Last chance," Drew called.

  He sounded closer. Eight or ten feet away. She held the extinguisher in one aching arm, balancing it on her hip, and with the other hand she pointed the nozzle like a gun. She was ready.

  The floor creaked as Drew came closer. Another step. She still felt in control.

  And then suddenly there was a crashing sound. Louder than the music. It was coming from below. At first she didn't know what it was, but then realized it was someone hammering against the barn doors. She forced herself to block out the sound so she wouldn't be distracted as she listened for Drew's footsteps.

  The second story was silent. The banging from below continued. She wondered if Drew was diverted by it. Maybe he'd gone back in the other direction, away from her. Desperately she wanted to look, to move forward just an inch so she could see. She dared not.

  "YAH!" he screamed and jumped in front of her, the knife held in one upraised hand. His sudden movement sent her back a step, but she didn't lose her balance as she squeezed the lever, the nozzle pointed at Drew's face.

  The foam shot out, hitting him in the eyes. He dropped the knife and reeled backwards, screaming. Annie advanced and squirted more at his face, his eyes. He kept on screaming, twisting, turning, and then he was at the open place in the railing where the ladder had been. She watched him teeter for an instant, and then he fell, screaming.

  Annie dropped the extinguisher and ran to the edge just as he landed on top of the iron unicorn, its horn running through him from back to front. He hung there like a speared fish, blood staining his shirt, his eyes open wide as though he couldn't believe his rotten luck.

  Dizzy, Annie grabbed the railing. She knew he was dead, knew she had killed him, but she felt no guilt. Perhaps later. The banging and yelling continued and she thought she heard her name being called, thought it sounded like Colin. Swaying for a moment, she rested her hand on the railing; then, feeling stronger, she began to limp in the direction Drew had come from. She would find the way down. The way back to life.

  LOOKING BACK—25 YEARS AGO

  A memorial was held last Friday morning in the Seaville High School auditorium for the victims of the Razzamatazz fire on June 10th. Twelve people died in the blaze. The Mayor read a eulogy and various friends and family of the deceased contributed reminiscences. Grace Gildersleeve sang "Nearer, My God To Thee." It was a very moving occasion for the next of kin as well as saddened villagers. Repercussions of the fire will be with citizens of Seaville for a long time to come.

  FORTY

  Colin held Annie in his arms. She had begun to cry and so had he. He cried for Alicia and Todd and Nancy because they were dead. And he cried for Annie, thankful she was alive.

  Across the room Hallock stared down at the body of Jim Drew Perkins, still astonished by the man's elaborate scheme to avenge the deaths of his parents. He wondered what the boy would have become had there never been a fire at the Razzamatazz Club. He shook his head. There'd never be a way of measuring, toting up cause and effect. And in the end, Hallock wondered, how important was that anyway? The only thing that really mattered was that the reign of terror on the North Fork was over.

  He walked across the barn to where the phone rested on a roll top desk, picked up the receiver, and punched out a number. This first call was to the M.E., and the second would be to Gildersleeve. And then he would call Schufeldt. He grinned. Oh, how sweet it is, he thought. When all those calls were made he would phone Fran, ask her if he could come home. He realized what a fool he'd been, taking out his hurt pride, his bruised male ego, on the one person who loved him unconditionally—the one person he loved more than anyone or anything. And as for her involvement in her causes, he realized that a part of him was proud of her, glad that she had principles. He wouldn't want her any other way. Somehow he would make it up to her, take her away on a vacation, make love with her four times a day. Well, two, maybe.

  Colin stroked Annie's hair, kissed her cheek. "It's okay, Annie, it's okay now."

  She looked up into his brown eyes, wiped a tear from his cheek. "It's so awful," she said. "The whole thing's so ugly and awful."

  "I know."

  "And I feel so bad about Mark."

  He nodded. "Me, too." Colin knew it would never be the same between Mark and him again. Each of them had suspected the other. How would there ever be room for trust after that? Besides, after what Waldo had told him about Mark and Julia Dorman, he'd lost all respect for the man. He would have to leave the paper, move somewhere else.

  As if Annie had read his mind she said, "I think I'll have to find another parish. Too much has happened here. Too many wounds." Instinctively she looked across the room at Jim Drew, shuddered, and turned away.

  "Yes," Colin agreed, "we'll have to find another place."

  She seemed startled, then smiled. He kissed her lips gently.

  Hallock cleared his throat. They broke apart.

  "Listen," he said, "no reason for you kids to hang around here anymore. Tomorrow's soon enough for statements. I'll take care of the rest of it."

  "Are you sure?" Colin asked.

  "I'm sure. Fact is, I think you should get the hell out of here before the place starts jumping."

  "What about you, Waldo? What are you going to do later?"

  "I'm going home where I belong. Fran said she'd wait up for me."

  "You're a lucky guy," Colin said.

  "Don't I know it."

  "Well, Chief," Colin put out his hand.

  "Might be a little premature on that one, Maguire."

  "Not a chance. I wish I could see Schufeldt's face when you're reinstated."

  Hallock grinned. "I hope to have that pleasure myself. Go home now. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

  Colin and Annie said goodnight, then walked to the sliding barn doors. He pushed them open. The rain had abated slightly but it was still coming down.

  "Your car's in the garage underneath here," Colin informed her.

  "And yours?"

  "My what?"

  "Your car? Where is it?"

  "I came with Waldo."

  She looked surprised.

  "Omigod!" he said. "I didn't notice. Driving here from the paper I didn't even realize I was riding with another person. Well, what d'you think of that?"

  "I think it's wonderful."

  He drew her to him. "How would you like to drive a guy home?" he asked.

  "I'd like to very much," she said. "Very much indeed."