“You’re on the case,” I said out loud, just to hear how it sounded. “You are on the case.” I shook my head and kept driving.
As soon as I made my right turn onto the main road, I saw the flashers in my rearview mirror. I pulled over to the side of the road, closed my eyes, and waited for Chief Rudiger to stick his face in my window.
The door opened. “Out of the truck,” he said.
I looked at him.
“I said out of the truck, McKnight.”
As soon as my feet hit the ground, he spun me around and pushed me against the side of the truck.
“Chief, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Hands on the top of the vehicle,” he said.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Hands on top, McKnight.”
I put my hands up. He kicked my legs apart and patted me down. Then he pulled my arms behind me and put the handcuffs on.
“Rudiger, are you going to tell me what the hell is going on here?”
He pushed me toward his patrol car. When he opened the back door, he tried to push my head down. It was an old cop trick. You push the perp’s head down like you’re trying to help him clear the top edge of the door. Accidents will happen, though, and if you happen to misjudge the clearance, you end up bashing his face right against the door frame. Which is a damned shame, especially if the man whose nose you just broke happens to be a rapist or child molester.
I thought about kicking him right in the cojones, then thought better of it. No sense making the situation any worse. I just sat there in the back of the patrol car and counted to ten. I had been doing a lot of counting to ten in the last few days, not to mention all the time I had spent in handcuffs. Along with the number of shotgun barrels I had looked into, it had been quite a week.
“You need to tell me what’s going on, Chief,” I said as he got in and closed the door. “You can’t cuff me without telling me why.”
He swung the car around, did a U-turn, and headed north.
“We’re going to the station,” I said. “Am I under arrest?”
He didn’t say anything.
I sat back, getting as comfortable as I could on the hard plastic seat. There was nothing I could do except play out the hand.
Two minutes later, he pulled in behind the town hall. He got out, his boots crunching on the gravel in the parking lot, and opened my door. “Out,” he said.
I got out. He pushed me toward the building. I walked. He opened the door and held it for me, then followed me into the office. “Sit,” he said.
“I’m not sitting down until you take off these cuffs,” I said.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “You can keep standing. I’m gonna sit down.” He pulled out the chair behind his desk.
“Chief Rudiger, you are way over the line here. Do you want me to start naming all the rights violations?”
“Ms. Zambelli filed a complaint,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I just brought you in for questioning. You are handcuffed because we are alone in this office and because in the brief time I have known you, you have proven yourself to be hostile and uncooperative.”
“What complaint? What are you talking about?”
“For the past few days, Ms. Zambelli has been aware that she is being followed by an unknown party. Today, one of my part-time officers observed you waiting for her in the parking lot, then following her to her residence.”
“The man who has been following her drives a white Cadillac,” I said. “I’ve already given you that license number. If you bother to run it, you’ll see that it belongs to a private investigator out of Detroit. His name is Whitley.”
“Ah, so she’s got two investigators following her? I don’t suppose the two of you are working together.”
“I’ve never met him,” I said. “I presume he’s working for Charles Harwood, the man who’s been trying to find Maria for the last eighteen years.”
“You seem to know a lot about the situation,” he said. “I mean, for a man who supposedly has no involvement.”
“You know my story, Chief. I came here to see Maria because my friend was looking for her.”
“Your friend the con man.”
“So it turns out.”
“And today, you were following her because …”
I hesitated.
“You waited in the parking lot for twenty minutes,” he said. “After she told you in the company of my officer that she had no recollection of this friend of yours, the friend who was supposedly looking for her.”
“She did say that, yes. I wasn’t satisfied. I wanted to ask her some more questions.”
“So you waited in the parking lot. For twenty minutes.”
“Thereabouts.”
“And then you followed her home.”
I felt stuck. I couldn’t tell him that she wanted to know about Randy. More than anything, I couldn’t tell him about what she had confessed to me.
It was time to play my trump card.
“I can’t tell you anything more,” I said. “It’s between me and my client.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “Well now,” he finally said. “Your client.”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that convenient.”
“It was her idea,” I said. “She asked me to help her.”
“You don’t say.”
“You can call her and ask her.”
“I might just do that,” he said. “Maybe later. For now, I’d better get those handcuffs off you. I mean, seeing as how I’ve made such a terrible mistake.”
He stood up and took the key out of his pocket. I turned around. He unlocked the cuffs and took them off, dropping them on his desk. I stood there rubbing my wrists as he went back to his chair. He didn’t sit down this time. He put his hands on the back of the chair and leaned over his desk.
“What’s your game, McKnight?”
I shook my head. “No game, Chief.”
“I think you’re as dirty as your friend. I think you’re trying to take advantage of a very frightened woman who happens to have a little money. Which makes you what? I don’t think the scale goes that low.”
“I’ll have to muddle through despite your opinion of me,” I said. “Is there anything else you want to say to me? Or am I free to go?”
“That’s all you’re gonna do? Just walk out of here? After I dragged you down here like this?”
“I’ve had worse, Chief. Believe me.”
“Nobody’s here, McKnight. Maybe you want to take a swing at me.”
“If you’re going to shoot me,” I said, “you’re gonna have to do it in cold blood. I’m not gonna give you an excuse.”
“Shoot you? My, you do have an active imagination.”
“Sure,” I said. “And that’s why you’re making a point of standing across the room from me, with your hands free.”
I didn’t really think he’d shoot me. I was just trying to rattle him. The day before, I’d been wishing he’d get off his ass and find out what had happened with Randy. Today, I was hoping he’d spend all of his time thinking about me instead. I was on the case, and this was just part of the service.
Perhaps the man would have shot me if he’d thought he could have gotten away with it. Or if I had given him a good excuse. Or if he’d simply had enough guts to do it.
Hell, maybe he would have worked up the courage to do it, if he had a few more minutes alone with me. He would have shot me and then watched me die on the floor, and my last thought would have been how familiar the feeling was, to be looking up at a ceiling and feeling all of my blood flow out of my body. But one of his part-time men showed up at the door just then, breaking the spell. It was Rocky.
The chief offered me a ride back to my car. I declined.
“It’s two miles,” he said.
“It’s a nice day for a walk,” I said. “It’ll give me the chance to get to know the place a little better. Now that I’m going to be work
ing here.”
A half mile down the road, I heard him behind me. I turned and watched his patrol car. He sped past me without the slightest glance in my direction.
Damn it all, I said to myself. I forgot to compliment the man on his house.
CHAPTER 18
When I got back to the motel in Whitehall, I called Leon.
“I don’t have anything new on this PI, Whitley,” he said. “I’ve called his number a few times, but nobody’s answering.”
“He’s been hanging around in Orcus Beach,” I said.
“A good PI would have an answering service,” he said. “Or he’d automatically forward his calls to his cell phone.”
“I don’t know if Whitley would make the ‘good’ list,” I said. “If he’s working for Harwood, he doesn’t have very good taste in clients. We’ve got reason to believe that he broke into Maria’s house, too.”
“He broke into her house? That’s offensive, Alex. The man is giving private investigation a bad name.”
“I seem to recall the two of us doing the same thing,” I said. ‘Twice, in fact.”
“That was different,” he said. “We were wearing the white hats on both occasions.”
“Whatever you say.”
“So why did he break into her house?” he said. “Did he take anything?”
“No, he probably just went through her mail and whatever else he could find. You know, gathering information.”
“He could have planted a bug,” he said.
“That would explain some things,” I said. “Every time she spots him and calls the police, the guy disappears. I’ll check her phone when I go back over there.”
“Don’t be surprised if you don’t find anything,” he said. “It’s too obvious. The guy would be better off using a couple UHF receivers. They make them to look just like pens, or those little outlet adapters—you know, the kind where you plug it in and you’ve got three outlets instead of one? They put the receiver right in there. That way, you can hear everything that’s going on in the room. All the time, not just on the phone.”
“That’s gotta be against the law, right? I know they can’t prove he broke into her house, but if they catch him sitting there in his car, listening to her?”
“I’ll bet you he’s got a nice metal box in the front seat,” he said. “With a lock. He sees them coming, he just throws it all in there. They can’t open it without a warrant.”
“Leon, how do you know all this stuff?” I said. “Never mind. I’ve seen all the catalogs you get. I’ll look around her house and see if I can find anything.”
“Good man.”
“By the way,” I said, “we’re officially hired.”
“I’ll come down right away.”
“Leon, you have two broken ankles.”
“My wife will drive me.”
“Leon, you’re not coming down here. I’ll call you if I need anything.”
When I hung up, I pictured him sitting in his bed, banging the telephone on his head. I was sure he’d be driving his wife crazy for the next few hours.
I called Whitley’s number next. I got the same monotone recording asking me to leave my name and number. The guy had no future as a telemarketer.
“This is Alex McKnight,” I said. “I’m a private investigator working for Maria Zambelli. We know you’re following her, Whitley. And we know some other things, too. I’d like to meet with you and talk about it. She’s prepared to make your client a very generous offer, so let’s all be adults, eh? No more slinking around like juvenile delinquents. My partner says you’re making us all look bad.” I left my number and hung up.
Almost immediately, the cell phone in my coat pocket rang. I dug it out and hit the button.
“Alex, it’s Maria.”
“Maria, listen very carefully. Don’t say a word. Okay? Just say yes or no, I mean. You got that?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, look at your phone, very carefully. Try taking the receiver apart if you can. If it’s one of those old-fashioned models, I mean. With the mouthpiece that comes off. Is it that kind of phone?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, try unscrewing it, see if there’s anything in there besides the transmitter.”
I heard the scraping of the plastic as she unscrewed it. A few moments later, she screwed it back on.
“No,” she said.
“Okay,” I said. “My partner thinks it’s more likely that he put a receiver in the room, anyway. Is there someplace you can go, like a closet?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Say a couple things and then say good-bye. Then go in the closet.”
“That sounds good,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it. Good-bye.”
A minute passed. Then her voice came back in a whisper.
“Do you really think he bugged the place?” she said.
“It’s a good possibility. Why else would he break in?”
“I don’t like this, Alex.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll look around when I get there.”
“Chief Rudiger stopped by,” she said. “What did you do to him?”
“We just had a friendly chat,” I said. “No big deal.”
“He wanted to know why I hired you. I told him I was scared and I wanted you to find Harwood for me. He didn’t seem to like that too much. I don’t think he’s real happy about me living in his house right now.”
“So why even stay?” I said.
“Let’s just finish this, Alex. Then I’ll get out of here.”
“No sign of our man in the Cadillac?”
“No, but it’ll be dark soon. I don’t like being here alone. I want to go out and get some dinner. I don’t suppose you’d want to join me.”
“Go do your usual thing at Rocky’s,” I said. “I don’t think I’d be welcome there. I’m gonna make one more call and then I’ll go out to your house. I mean, if that’s the way you want to do this… .”
“Yes,” she said. The woman knew how to whisper a yes. I felt it go right through me. I tried to picture her face.
Bad idea, Alex. Exactly what you don’t need right now.
“I’ll see you at the house,” I said. “Be careful.”
I hung up the phone and sat there for a long moment with her voice buzzing in my head. Then I called the hospital.
“Dr. Havlin, please,” I said. “I’m calling to find out about Randy Wilkins.”
I was on hold for a few minutes. Then the doctor came on the line.
“Mr. McKnight,” he said. “Mr. Wilkins is in recovery.”
“How does it look?”
“I removed the fragment,” he said. “Now we just have to wait. If he’s going to regain consciousness, it should be in the next forty-eight hours.”
I thanked the doctor and hung up.
Forty-eight hours, Randy. If I didn’t have other things to do, I’d go there and wait. I want to be the first person you see when you wake up.
It was dark when I left the motel. You shouldn’t have let it get so late, I thought. You should be at her house now.
Relax. She’s not even there. She’s at the bar, having dinner.
The cell phone rang. I picked it up and hit the button.
“Alex,” she said. “Where are you?” Her voice was low again.
“I’m on my way.”
“He’s here.”
“He’s where?” I said. “Where are you?”
“I’m at home,” she said. “It was just too weird being at Rocky’s. The way he was looking at me when he found out about me hiring you.”
“Are you in the closet again?” I gunned the accelerator. I was still a good twelve miles from Orcus Beach.
“Yes,” she said. “I just went upstairs and looked out the window at him. I used the binoculars this time. He turned the light on in his car for a second. I could see he was wearing earphones.”
“Okay, just relax,” I said. “I’m on my way.”
&
nbsp; “He looked kind of big, Alex. And ugly.”
“Just sit tight,” I said. “I’ll be there soon.”
“What if he comes to the house again? What if he breaks in here?”
“He won’t,” I said. “He knows you’re there.”
“Maybe he wants me to be here this time,” she said. “Alex, I’m scared.”
The signal wavered. Goddamned stupid piece of crap. “Maria, are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“Do you want to call the police? If you do it from the closet, he won’t hear you. They’ll be able to catch him this time.”
“I thought they can’t do anything to him. You said that yourself.”
“They can put him through the wringer,” I said. “But ultimately, no, they probably can’t charge him. My partner thinks he probably has a lockbox in his car to hide everything.”
“Even if they could,” she said, “we still couldn’t find Harwood.”
“Probably not.”
“Unless you think there’s a way,” she said.
“There may be,” I said. “I could talk to him. I could ask him real nice.”
“I probably don’t want to know what ‘real nice’ means.”
The signal went out, came back, went out.
“Maria?”
“I’m still here.”
“Which way is his car facing?”
“It’s facing … south, I think. I’m terrible with directions, Alex. If you’re coming up the street to my house, he’s facing so that he’ll see you coming.”
“That figures,” I said. “All right, just make sure the doors are locked. I’m gonna try something here.” I had just left M-31 and was racing up B-15 along the shoreline. I caught up to a station wagon pulling a boat on a trailer. The driver was taking it nice and slow, so I blew by him.
“I’m gonna go back to the window and take a look,” she said. “I’ll keep talking like nothing is happening. In fact—”
“What? What is it?”
“I’m going to keep him occupied, Alex.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m gonna make sure he keeps listening.”
I heard a door open. Moments passed. “Is that you?” she said. Her voice was normal now.
“Maria, what are you doing?”
The Hunting Wind Page 20