Spy, Spy Away

by Diane Henders

  Chapter 27

  When the condo’s vestibule door released to the sound of Miss Lacey’s brisk ‘Come in’, I trailed across the lobby and dragged myself upstairs, remembering half-way up that I could have taken the elevator.

  I was still mumbling half-hearted expletives when I gained the third floor and turned the corner to find Miss Lacey hovering in her doorway, her gaze darting between me and the interior of her apartment.

  “You poor child, you look exhausted. Won’t you come in and have a cup of tea?” she inquired, but I could tell that despite her sincere concern for me, her card game came a close second.

  I smiled, recognizing the gleam of a bridge fanatic in her eyes. “No, thanks, I’ll just get Arnie’s things and go.”

  She was far too polite to look relieved. “Very well. Perhaps you could keep John Lee company for a few moments if you’re not in a terrible hurry to return. My bridge partner is quite allergic, so poor John Lee has been relegated to Arnold’s apartment for the duration. I’m sure he would appreciate the companionship after such an upsetting day.”

  Hooker’s gravelly meow sounded clearly through Hellhound’s door, and I summoned up a chuckle. “I think he agrees.”

  She smiled, too, and I assumed catcher’s position while she unlocked the door and swung it open. Scooping up the big cat when he made his usual determined bid for freedom, I stepped inside.

  “Do take your time, dear,” Miss Lacey urged. “I will be up for several hours yet.” She hurried back to her game, and I bolted Arnie’s door behind me with the sense of locking out all the dark dangers that circled me.

  Still hugging Hooker, I leaned against the door and slid slowly down to sit on the doormat. Slumping forward to hide my face in his fur, I mumbled, “Jesus, Hooker, I’m so fucked. What the hell am I going to do?”

  He squirmed free and gave me an affronted yellow glare before pacing deliberately toward his food dish. His imperious meow made his advice very clear: “Feed me.”

  I hauled myself upright. “Nice try, buddy. Miss Lacey wouldn’t let you go hungry.” Nevertheless, I located the bag of cat food and sprinkled a few crunchy treats into his bowl before heading for Arnie’s bedroom.

  The blood smear on the wall made my stomach tighten. Unable to bear the sight, I pulled the bloodstained linens off the bed and bundled them into the bathtub to soak in cold water before going in search of a cleaning rag. A disposable dishcloth from an unopened package in the kitchen served the purpose, and I tackled the dried blood on the wall, carpet, and bathroom sink. Deliberately blanking my mind to concentrate on my task, I lost myself in the comforting monotony of scrubbing.

  At last, I rinsed out my cloth and hung the wet sheets over the shower rod, feeling calmer. I hesitated in the living room. Somehow Arnie’s absence made me feel like an intruder in his home.

  His personality radiated from the walls of shelves sagging under the weight of music CDs and vinyl albums. His guitar was propped within easy reach of his favourite shabby but comfortable chair; his jacket still draped carelessly in its usual place over the half-wall at the entrance. His cozy hand-crocheted afghans were bright spots of warmth and softness in the barren bachelor décor.

  With an effort, I resisted the urge to wrap up in one of those afghans and curl into fetal position on the couch. Instead, I squared my shoulders and went to breach the privacy of his bedroom.

  I had been in there often enough, but the bed was the only thing that had ever occupied my attention. I approached his small bureau hesitantly.

  Dammit, it was stupid to feel so uncomfortable. If he hadn’t wanted me rummaging through here, he would have told me exactly where to find his clothes, or else sent Kane instead.

  I pulled open the top drawer. No clothes. Only dozens of small, neatly stacked boxes almost filling the available space. I watched in guilty fascination while my hands eased open one of the boxes despite my better intentions.

  A medal gleamed against a dark velvet background.

  I snapped the box shut and stood staring at the drawer.

  Kane’s amused voice came back to me. “He has a drawer full of medals at home.”

  I ignored my nagging conscience and opened a few more boxes. He really did have a drawer full of medals. I carefully replaced the boxes exactly as they had been and slid the drawer closed, wondering.

  The next drawer held socks, neatly paired and folded, and the bottom drawer revealed jeans. I extracted a pair each of socks and jeans and turned for the closet. When the door slid open, I stepped back, my jaw dropping.

  I had known he kept his shirts in there. Any time I’d watched him get dressed, he’d simply slid his hand through a narrow gap in the doors and pulled out a T-shirt apparently at random. Now I knew why.

  A small array of commemorative concert T-shirts occupied one end, but spotless military gear filled the rest of the closet.

  I might have believed the dress uniform was left over from before his retirement from the army, but not the black fatigues that hung beside it. Nor the black body armour; the neatly coiled ropes; what looked like a climbing harness; a black rucksack. A matte black combat helmet perched atop olive-drab cargo bins stacked in the corner.

  I backed away and sank onto the bed.

  All that gear. Clearly well-used and impeccably maintained. And he had a hell of a lot of medals for a guy who’d ostensibly never made it past the rank of corporal.

  Civilian private investigator, my ass.

  Hooker’s accusing meow startled me out of my abstraction.

  “Yeah, I know I’m snooping, big guy,” I told him, and hoisted him up to my lap. “But if he didn’t trust me with this, he wouldn’t have sent me.”

  The big cat gave me a doubtful look and squirmed free to jump down again, padding over to sniff the wet spot on the carpet where I’d scrubbed away the blood.

  “Don’t worry, he’s coming back,” I assured him.

  Hooker continued to pace, meowing piteously, and after a few minutes of futile murmured reassurances my nerves began to fray.

  What if he knew something I didn’t? What if he had some weird psychic connection to Arnie and something bad was happening?

  I shook off the foolish notion. If anything untoward had occurred at the hospital, Kane would have called me. I checked my phone just in case, but there were no missed calls. The sight of Hibbert’s number in the call list made a queasy knot in my stomach.

  Drawing a deep breath, I closed the closet doors and remade the bed with the single set of sheets I discovered in the tiny linen closet. When I tried to cuddle Hooker one last time, he braced both front paws against my chest in an unequivocal ‘put me down’ gesture, and I sighed and packed up Arnie’s things before crossing the hall to tap on Miss Lacey’s door. She locked Arnie’s apartment and hurried back to her card game, and I shivered out into the frigid darkness.

  The drive back to the hospital gave me far too much time to think about Hibbert. By the time I parked, my cowardly brain had fabricated several possible scenarios for the ‘party’, each more frightening than the last.

  I swore and yanked out my phone. If I was going to be terrified anyway, I might as well be terrified of reality, not imagination. I clenched my teeth and punched in Hibbert’s number before I could lose what little nerve I had left.

  A couple of rings later, his smug voice came on the line. “Arlene. I’m looking forward to seeing you at the party.”

  I gave silent thanks that he couldn’t see my shudder. “I won’t be able to make it. I’m not in a party mood,” I snapped.

  “I don’t think you understood my message. When Nicholas Parr invites you to a party, you are always in a party mood.”

  I went for cranky and uncooperative. It wasn’t much of a stretch. “I’ve never even heard of Nicholas Parr. Why would he invite me anywhere? And why the hell would I want to go?”

  I held my breath. Come on, Hibbert, spill it.

  He did. “Nicholas Parr is possibly the most powerful ma
n in Canada, and most parts of the world. When the owner and CEO of Fuzzy Bunny Enterprises says j-” My strangled gasp made him pause. “Is there a problem?”

  I released my panic in an explosive snort I sincerely hoped sounded like laughter. “Fuzzy Bunny? Does he hop around with a little powder-puff tail and floppy ears tied to his head?”

  Hibbert’s voice chilled me to the bone. “If you want to live, I suggest you never, ever make that joke again. Fuzzy Bunny imports and exports children’s toys, and Mr. Parr has diverse business interests all over the world.”

  Yeah. Interests like espionage, arms deals, and money laundering. Not to mention torturing and killing anyone he suspected of interfering with his ‘business interests’.

  The gruesome memories rose like bile. The once-handsome young blond man strapped naked to the bed. His horrific injuries…

  The rich Italian food churned in my stomach. I clenched my free hand on the steering wheel and held my voice dead level. “So what?”

  “So Mr. Parr was pleased with the phone list you provided. I suggest you make sure he remains pleased.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “Other than the privilege of continuing to breathe?”

  I channelled every tough-chick movie character I’d ever seen. “Yeah. I don’t work for free.”

  Hibbert chuckled. “Your priorities are admirable. If Mr. Parr decides he likes you, the opportunities are considerable.” Iron entered his voice. “If you give him a reason to dislike you, well… I suggest you don’t. Be at the Crystal Ballroom at the Palliser Hotel at eight o’clock tomorrow night. And try not to dress like a drug-addicted vagrant.”

  Click.

  I took my time loudly itemizing every detail of Hibbert’s striking resemblance to certain portions of the male anatomy, along with his illegitimate parentage, deviant sexual preferences, and inadequate penis size. When I had it all out of my system at last, I sat glaring through the windshield for a few minutes, vaguely surprised it hadn’t melted under the heat of my invective. Then I drew a deep breath and let it go.

  Arnie came first. If he still needed me tomorrow night, Parr and Hibbert could go piss up a rope. Preferably in tandem.

  I grabbed Arnie’s clothes and headed for the ward.

  The knots in my shoulders eased when I peeked into the room to find Arnie snoring softly. Kane smiled from his post beside the bed and nodded at its peaceful occupant, and my lips creaked into what felt like their first real smile all day. Kane rose, making barely a rustle, but Arnie’s eyes snapped open.

  “It’s okay, it’s just us,” I reassured him, and Arnie relaxed, giving me a smile before his eyes slipped closed again.

  A few moments later his snores resumed, and Kane trod quietly across to where I stood in the doorway. His thumb traced gently across my cheekbone, his eyes softening to warm grey.

  “Why don’t you let me take the first shift?” he murmured next to my ear. “You must be exhausted. There’s no need for both of us to be here at the same time. I’ll give you the key to my condo, and you can go and get some sleep.”

  “No, it’s too far away. I’ll stay.”

  Kane followed my gaze to Arnie before he gathered me into his arms and held me as if I was made of glass. “He’s stable,” he whispered against my cheek. “He’s safe here, and the best thing you can do for him is to take care of yourself. Take my key. Get some sleep, and come and spell me off around two if you really feel like you need to be here.” His lips brushed my forehead before he tilted my chin up to look into my eyes. “Will you do that for him?”

  The fatigue of the day descended all at once, and I sagged in his arms, letting my forehead drop against his broad chest. “Okay.”

  “Take a cab.” He stroked my hair, holding me close. “You’re too tired to drive.”

  I hauled myself upright. “No, I need my car. I’ll be okay.” I accepted the proffered key. “Thanks.”

  When I stumbled into Kane’s condo nearly an hour later, the austere décor chilled me almost as much as the temperature of the abandoned rooms. Shivering, I turned up the thermostat before appropriating the crocheted afghan from the back of the sofa, the only softness in the apartment. The reassuring clicks of the heating system promised warmth soon, and I huddled into the afghan while I wandered through the almost-empty rooms.

  I guessed he hadn’t been here in a long while. The air smelled flat and stale, though there was no dust to be seen. He must hire a cleaning service.

  I drifted to a halt in front of the cold fireplace, caught once again by the photo of his brother. Daniel’s sparkling grey eyes and handsome young face laughed from the frame with such vitality it seemed inconceivable he had been murdered only a couple of weeks after the photo.

  Nearly twenty-five years ago.

  I shivered again and hurried down the hall to curl into a ball in the big, cold bed.

  Promptly at two A.M., I peeped into Arnie’s hospital room. Arnie still snored quietly, and Kane still sat in the chair beside the bed. His hands lay loosely on his knees, but despite his apparent relaxation I recognized the alert balance in his solidly planted feet and his instant reaction to my movement in the doorway.

  “Just me,” I whispered.

  He smiled and rose to stretch his arms above his head, twisting his torso right and left and grimacing at the ensuing crack from his back. Arnie didn’t wake, and Kane and I exchanged a satisfied glance.

  I tiptoed in and handed over his key, and Kane leaned down to whisper, “See you in a few hours. I hope my bed’s still warm.”

  I grinned. “Maybe if you hurry.”

  He slipped out and I took up his post in the chair, letting out a breath of comfort when his residual body heat warmed my back. Arnie slept on, and I watched the reassuring rise and fall of his chest until his snores lulled me into drowsiness.

  I was fighting to keep my eyes open when Arnie mumbled and moved restlessly. I snapped to wakefulness as his hands clenched, his head rolling on the pillow while his mumbles grew louder.

  “Arnie?” I reached over the bed rail to stroke his knotted fist. “Arnie, it’s okay, just relax.”

  “No…” His face twisted, his eyes still squeezed shut. “No…” His fists jerked by his sides, his breath accelerating into ragged gasps. “NO!”

  I sprang to my feet to lean over the rail and shake his shoulders gently. “Arnie, wake up. You’re dreaming. It’s just a dream. Wake up.”

  His eyes flew open in a wild stare and his hands clamped around my wrists so hard I let out a cry of shock. He pushed me away, struggling to sit up. “Mom… run!”

  “Arnie, no, it’s okay! Wake up! It’s just a dream!”

  He stared blank-faced for another moment before recognition relaxed his features and he fell back on the pillow. “Shit. Sorry, Aydan.” He hugged my hands to his chest, trembling. “Shit. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I twisted awkwardly over the rail to slide my arms around him, dropping kisses on his cheek and forehead. “Just a dream. You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

  A rustle from the doorway made us both snap our heads around to face the source of the sound. The incoming nurse raised her hands placatingly. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah,” Arnie rasped. “Nightmare. Sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” She stepped forward, eyeing my contorted pose. “Here. Let’s try this…”

  She lowered the bed rail, and I let out a sigh of relief as my body resumed a more comfortable position. “Thanks.”

  She withdrew and I stroked the uninjured side of Arnie’s face. “You’re safe,” I murmured. “I’ll watch out for you.”

  “Thanks, darlin’. I’m okay.” He spoke with confidence, but when he reached to squeeze my hand, tension quivered in his grip.

  I kissed him before nudging the chair closer so I could sit without breaking our contact. “It’ll take a few minutes to fade. Just let it go.” I caressed his arm with slow, soothing strokes.

  He gav
e me his devil-may-care grin. “I’m just tryin’ to look pathetic so I can get in your pants. Is it workin’?”

  I grinned and cuddled closer. “Hell, yeah. You’ve got that angle all figured out.”

  “Hey, I’m good, darlin’.” His arm slid around my shoulders. “Watch me sweet-talk ya into bed now.”

  I succumbed to his gentle pull and leaned over to lay my head on his chest. His heart still thumped too rapidly beneath my ear and his hand trembled on my hair, but I played along with his act with a giggle and a teasing southward migration of my hand. “I know exactly how good you are.”

  “Ya ain’t seen nothin’ yet, darlin’.” I could hear the grin in his sexy growl.

  “Mmm, I can hardly wait.”

  His heartbeat was slowing. His tense muscles eased under me as he chuckled. “Spring me from this joint, an’ I’ll give ya somethin’ to remember.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “Mmm.” His chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, his arm loosening around me.

  “Go back to sleep,” I whispered.

  “Mmhmm…”

  Chapter 28

  “…outta here.” Hellhound’s quiet rasp drifted into my consciousness.

  “Listen, you pig-headed git…”

  I opened my eyes at the sound of Kane’s growl to see him glowering at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. I dragged myself up from my uncomfortable slump across Hellhound’s chest, massaging my strained back muscles and trying to yawn as quietly as possible while Kane continued.

  “…the doctor was very clear! No exertion. No stimulation. Calm and quiet. A hospital bed is the best place for you.”

  “No, it ain’t. Now look, ya woke her up.” Hellhound shot a glare at Kane before drawing me down for a kiss. “’Mornin’, darlin’.” As I straightened, he returned to the attack. “Hospitals are for dyin’ in, an’ I ain’t plannin’ on dyin’ any time soon. If ya want calm an’ quiet, I’m gonna be a helluva lot better off at home, an’-”