Murdock said, “Let’s go up to the room. We can talk.”
Helene said okay and stood up. She was worried about Iveta Macek.
Chapter 61
The parking lot at Sedona Landing was packed, forcing Penny Diamond to walk, lugging the canvas work bag. People were pushing through the main entrance of the big hotel. Penny joined them—good camouflage. She felt surreal, as if she was floating from kill to kill. A job, another job, then another, another, another … when would it end? She had to hurry, get to Phoenix, catch that flight to the Caymans, start her new life.
At the front desk, she asked for Elroy Pooler. The desk guy, a Mexican named Raul, dialed a number and handed the phone to Penny. The construction guy would be right down. Penny handed the phone back.
“You got a package for me? C. Plummer?”
“Sure do. You really a tile setter, lady?”
“Paid my way through school,” she said. “Who brought this package in?”
“Some kid, works for a service.”
“You didn’t know him, a small town like this?”
“Sorry,” Raul said. “Hey, here’s your package.”
The package from Joey was an attaché case—brand new, weight maybe four pounds. The desk guy said, “Hey, here’s Elroy. He’s the man. Let me introduce you.”
Elroy Pooler had a medium gut, a wide smile, the handshake of a working man gone soft. He took her tool bag; she kept the attaché. Elroy’s tile guy, Francisco, had called in sick. Was there any way Miz Plummer could work overtime, set the tile by Saturday, leaving all day Sunday to cure? She nodded, no worries. She asked for double-time.
“No problem,” Elroy said. “This guy we work for, Ackerman, there’s no end to the money.”
They rode the elevator. Elroy used his special keycard. The job was a big bathroom at the end of a corridor on Ten, the penthouse floor. She remembered the construction smell from her teenage years—sheetrock, dust, man-sweat, and glue. Before he left, Elroy gave her a keycard.
“If you need anything inside, just ring the bell.”
*****
Lottie phoned the penthouse. Bruno welcomed her. Axel was having his massage, another fifty minutes, depending. Lottie was stiff from sitting—taxis, airplanes, limos—she could use a massage herself. Maybe take a run first, get acclimated to Arizona.
The penthouse was being remodeled, Bruno said. Lottie had a room on Eight, a commodious corner suite. Bruno said he would alert the desk.
Lottie grabbed the desk guy, handed him a twenty. His name badge said RAUL. He got her a cute helper named Javier. Raul apologized for the crowd, thanked her for the twenty. She wondered what Axel paid this guy.
Ramon and his luggage cart followed the crowd into the big lobby, and that’s where Lottie saw Hiram Fish, fat as ever, behind a portable podium, wearing a Stetson and his oily smile.
Her old nemesis from the past was introducing the next President of the United States.
“This fellow is my closest friend,” Hiram Fish said. “We joined forces in the Congress. Him and me, we been pals since those first early days on the Hill.”
“You all know him. He’s the Boy Next Door. He’s Arizona’s favorite son. Let’s give it up for Senator Soon-To-Be President Jimbo Gypsum.”
Applause rocked the lobby as a man in a suede jacket replaced Fish on the podium.
He was tall, with a lean film-star face and pale blue eyes. He wore a string tie.
He thanked Hiram Fish.
Lottie caught Fish’s eye. She held up her cute little Nikon and watched Fish go pale. The men at the podium were surrounded by guys wearing ear buds. Lottie recognized them as Secret Service personnel.
The crowd blocked the elevators.
Lottie handed Javier a twenty. She would take the stairs. He could follow with the luggage. Her legs needed to move, to climb. As she went through the stairwell door, she could feel the eyes of Hiram Fish tracking her. Spooky.
She phoned Iveta Macek.
*****
Helene was feeling apprehensive about the upcoming talk with Murdock. What if it didn’t work? What if they were not meant to be together? She felt tired. Maybe she’d take a nap, let Murdock stand watch over Ackerman.
They left the Bell Rock Bistro. A crowd blocked the way to the elevators, so they headed for the stairs. Helene spotted a woman who looked familiar, wearing a black pants suit, very stylish. She had red hair, worn in a French twist. Her face showed genes from Ackerman.
“I think I just saw Ack’s daughter,” Helene said. “She had glorious red hair.”
“Where?”
“She was heading into the stairwell.”
“Family reunion,” Murdock said. “Just what the killer ordered.”
“We should check on Arthur,” Helene said.
“Have Connie do it, or Slattery.”
“There’s your jungle buddy,” Helene said. “Where’s he going?”
At the podium, Hiram Fish had turned away from Candidate Gypsum to say something to Monty Featherstone. Featherstone nodded, slipped past a guy with an earbud, and walked toward the stairwell.
He was a minute behind the woman with red hair.
The noise was loud in the room. As they went through the stairwell door, Helene felt someone at her side. It was Iveta Macek, gripping her cellphone.
“I can be with you, yes?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know the fat man?”
“Murdock knows him. Why?”
“He frightens me. Please, might we go up?”
Helene said okay. Murdock was holding the door open.
The Ad-Hoc press conference was over. The new candidate for president, smooth Senator Gypsum, was being ushered out by the Secret Service. And Helene was about to sign a contract for a million dollars.
The world was a crazy place.
Chapter 62
In the bathroom that needed work, Penny changed into her tile-setter costume, overalls, dusty work boots. Her phone beeped: a text from Joey with four numbers, 4117, the combination that unlocked the attaché. Inside she found two identical Sig Sauers, thirteen little bullets, bringing a cold chill. The attaché case plus the texted numbers meant Joey was close.
Thinking about Karla, Penny felt edgy and hurt and angry. Why was the woman she loved writing about her Charleston childhood? And how did Joey get his hands on the writing? Joey had to be here in this town. He had to know his way around. Karla was a very secretive gal. She would not show her writing to just anyone. Joey had always been persuasive; he could wangle stuff out of anyone.
Penny shook her head. Told herself to focus. This was the last job. No more Joey. No more Karla. Maybe it was the way Joey was leading her, step by step—he had to be close. Penny felt impelled, out of control, hands off the wheel, a vehicle on auto-pilot.
Text number two from Joey: “Target, check penthouse spa.”
*****
Lottie Ackerman Belle liked to keep in shape.
As a kid, she led her team in soccer scores.
She ran relay races. They wouldn’t let her on the wrestling team.
She took boxing lessons to defend herself against Danny.
Her legs were happy to be climbing.
Even when she flew First Class, Lottie felt dead; the airplane was a coffin hurtling through space at 600 mph. In kilometers that was 965. The plane flew at 30,000 feet. In meters, that was 9144. She loved being a citizen of the world.
When she reached the second-floor landing, her legs were feeling better, more spring in her step. She could take the elevator or keep climbing. Her legs were strong because she walked in Paris. She was on the second-floor landing when she heard someone behind her. Lottie kept moving.
At the next turn, she caught a glimpse of a man in a leather jacket, climbing fast, two stairs at a time.
He wore a handkerchief, masking his face, but not the silver-gray hair. She had seen him before, in the lobby. Standing close to Fatso Fish. She tripped, movin
g too fast, and hit her shoulder. She had met him once, in Europe. The man’s name was something-something. Her knees crumpled; the man was tugging at her shoulder bag. He wanted the camera. His name was … she could not remember. He said “Goddamn!” Her eyes fluttered. She stopped moving. The man was into her shoulder bag. She knew she had made a mistake, warning Fatso Fish. Her world went black.
*****
They entered the stairwell and Murdock heard someone up ahead.
Had to be Featherstone, moving fast.
“What does he want?” Helene said.
“Something for Fish,” Murdock said.
“You and your old jungle buddies,” Helene said.
Murdock was on the stairs between Two and Three when he heard a cry.
Sounds of a scuffle, grunting, slapping.
Sounds of a body coming down, bumping on the stairs, then stopping.
Murdock made the corner, saw the red hair, the black pants suit, blood.
He heard footsteps up above, light flashed off slick leather.
A door opened, then closed.
Murdock reached the woman. Still breathing. Blood still pumping, her eyes were closed.
Helene was calling for an ambulance. There was no service here, no little power bars, so she went into the hallway. Iveta Macek was on her knees, whispering to the woman.
Murdock found Helene on her cellphone.
“What?” she said.
“I’m going after Featherstone,” he said. “Send help up, Six maybe, or Seven.”
“Murdock, damn you. Don’t go.”
“Send me someone who’s armed.”
Chapter 63
The door to Ackerman’s penthouse was black. It brought a smirk from Penny Diamond.
The door knocker was cast-iron, curved and thick, imitating a male sex organ, so ugly, so typical. Ackerman was a true denizen of Sodom. She pressed the button, a voice through the speaker, “Yes?”
“Got an eye injury here,” Penny said. “Gotta flush the eye with clean water.”
The door opened.
Framed in the doorway was a Penny Diamond lookalike.
A carbon copy of herself from twenty years ago, still young, still sassy.
Same build, same face, pale red hair on its way to white, a mirror-twin, another slave for Axel. Where did Axel find these bitches? The same place he found Penny—hungry girls, smart girls—they drove Axel crazy, so he bought their services, paid them top dollar, spread their legs, thinking he could fuck them and stay young forever.
She shot her younger self lookalike in the thigh. She wanted to kill her, a bullet in the heart, but the lookalike thing made Penny weak, no resolve. Blood dribbled onto the area rug, a pricey Oriental. Axel collected carpets like he collected women, something soft to walk on.
A black guy came out of a doorway. He wore a white turtleneck, a shoulder holster with a pistol.
Penny aimed at the white turtleneck.
The gun made a spitting sound; the suppressor was first class. A red splotch splashed the white. The turtleneck guy went down, eyes fluttering.
Penny found keys, moved down the hall, thick carpet here. A sign over a door said Executive Spa. The key fit.
She left the moaners behind her. Life is tough.
*****
Murdock chugged up the stairs, his mind locked on the past.
He had served with Monty Featherstone in the jungle.
Despite the grime and the humidity, Featherstone was always shaved, his shirt always ironed. He packed a Glock in a shiny shoulder rig.
Featherstone was an asset because he knew how to talk to generals and visiting congressmen, and he had a plausible explanation for this job with Senator Fish—to preserve his pension—but Murdock knew Featherstone was hiding something. He had arrived too fast at the Foxglove Lane crime scene. He was owned by Senator Fish. He would be armed. Murdock’s weapon was in his room on Nine. He removed his belt, wrapped it around his right fist.
Murdock caught Featherstone on Seven, pressing the button to call the elevator.
His face was sweaty and red. Featherstone was out of shape, breathing hard. He trained his gun on Murdock. The woman’s purse hung from his shoulder.
“Don’t get into this, Foxy.”
“What’s in the purse?”
“My future,” Featherstone said. “Orders from on high.”
Murdock feinted to the left. Featherstone fired; the bullet whiffled past Murdock, dug into the wall beside his head. Murdock flicked his right hand. The belt unrolled, caught Featherstone on the ear. He fired again. Murdock felt a heavy weight slam his shoulder. Featherstone called Murdock a bastard patriot.
The elevator door opened and Connie Fremont stood there, holding her weapon in both hands. She yelled at Featherstone. He ran for the stairwell door. Murdock tripped him as he went by. Featherstone hit the floor, rolling, and took aim at Connie. She fired, Featherstone went down. Blood gushed from the wound. Connie’s bullet had severed an artery. Featherstone gave Murdock a weak smile.
“It’s only a hotel, Foxy.”
“That’s why you’re here?”
“Fish wants a piece,” Featherstone said. “The Arabs were his skirmishers, then you came along, Foxy Murdock, riding to the rescue. Now look what you’ve done.”
“Soft target,” Murdock said. “What do you want from Ackerman’s daughter?”
Featherstone’s eyes closed. No answer to Murdock’s question.
Connie Fremont kicked the Glock away, going through the motions. She phoned for help. She knelt down, touched her finger to Featherstone’s neck. She looked up at Murdock.
“Christ, Murdock,” she said. “I had a date with this guy.”
*****
The phone call came to Raul at the front desk. The voice was muffled, like the person was talking through a wool sock. “Listen up,” the voice said. “A woman in construction clothes is going to kill the old man in the penthouse.”
“Who are you?” Raul said. “Who is this? What woman?”
“Get those two detectives,” the caller said. “That babe who wrote the book. Hurry!”
*****
The EMTs rolled Ackerman’s daughter into the elevator. They had been in the parking lot, three minutes away, on alert for the press conference.
Helene called Connie’s cellphone—busy. Helene started for the stairwell. Her phone rang; it was Raul, the desk guy. A woman posing as a construction worker was going to kill Señor Axel. “Call Slattery,” Helene said.
Helene’s brain whirled.
Featherstone had gone up, but how far?
Helene rode the penthouse elevator to Six. No Murdock. She heard voices up above, took the stairs two at a time. She was out of shape, getting fat, time to regroup.
She found Murdock on Seven. He was on his back and bleeding. Connie Fremont had a tourniquet around his arm. His head was pillowed on Connie’s thighs.
The two women exchanged looks. Monty Featherstone, the old jungle buddy, lay in the fetal position, hands between his knees, his eyes shut tight.
The elevator doors opened, two EMT guys with a gurney.
“Can you handle this?” Helene said.
“Yes,” Connie said.
“Ackerman’s in trouble,” Helene said. “Send some help to the penthouse.”
“You got it, girl.”
Connie pointed to Murdock. “This one goes first.”
Helene watched the gurney carrying Murdock enter the elevator. Before the doors closed, she was headed up to Ackerman’s penthouse.
*****
Penny Diamond entered a room bursting with exercise machines, a forest of steel and rubber, pulleys and straps. The machines blocked her view of the massage table.
Penny eased between a leg press and a hamstring machine, saw Karla Kurtz, masseuse, writer, long-lost lover, a white tank top, bare shoulders shining with oil. Penny had longed to see Karla naked. Seeing her now, the skin smooth and dark, enhanced by the white halter, those exquisite
muscles flexing, Penny felt crushed by love.
Ackerman lay on his belly, face turned to the side, eyes closed, the billionaire’s Nirvana.
Penny felt clumpy in the work boots. They were new, obvious, clumsy, part of her disguise. Her heart pounded, a snare drum, maybe it was the room, the rubber floor, bouncing the sound.
Karla turned. Her eyes were wide, full of surprise. “Charity, what are you—?”
“Are you crazy, girl?” Penny said. “Writing about me? My life?”
“Writing about … how did you know … my God, oh, shit ….”
Ackerman lay on the massage table, thin as a mummy.
He was bald; he looked dead.
The mummy turned his head, and his eyes opened. He gave her the famous money grin.
“Penny Diamond,” he said. “I thought you were dead.”
“You old bastard, you jilted me for another society whore.”
*****
Helene pressed the penthouse doorbell. From behind the black door, she heard chimes. The door opened a crack. She saw Giselle’s face just below the doorknob. Giselle was on her knees. Her face went away and Helene heard a thump.
Giselle’s downed body was blocking the door. Helene pulled her aside. Blood leaked from Giselle’s thigh. Helene fashioned a tourniquet on Giselle’s thigh, halfway between knee and hip. The bleeding slowed. Helene found Bruno in the hallway. He was coughing. He’d taken a bullet in the shoulder. There was blood on his white turtleneck. His weapon, a Ruger Nine, was under his hip.
Helene said, “The woman?”
“In the Spa. Hurry.”
*****
Penny shot Karla. You always kill the one you love. Karla fell, pulling Ackerman with her. They landed with a muffled thump. Penny walked over, her boots loud on the black floor. Ackerman’s eyes were closed. The sheet had come loose. She let loose a stream of curses. She aimed at Ackerman’s balls; no more babies from this monster.
There was noise behind her.
Penny stopped cursing and turned, saw a woman in the doorway holding a gun. The woman had dark hair, cop eyes that froze Penny’s blood. She held the gun with both hands, a shooter in a cop movie.
Karla was down on the floor, trying to crawl, trapped under Ackerman.
Murdock Rocks Sedona Page 21