Five O'Clock Twist

by Joanne Pence

  “Hide it?” she asked. He could tell she was still rattled by the shoot-out.

  “So whoever was trying to kill you will think you got away—far away,” Richie explained. “It’ll buy us some time.”

  She hung back. “But …”

  “We don’t know how many are looking for you. That shooter might be calling for back-up. Now, move!” He knew he sounded harsh, but he had to get through to her. She was the one in danger now.

  Zombie-like, she got into the Porsche’s passenger seat, and Richie drove off.

  o0o

  Instead of driving to his house, Richie pulled into the alleyway behind Big Caesar’s. They entered through the back door. Rebecca said little as he drove, but he essentially got her to explain about her call from the dispatcher and being sent out along the beach.

  “Why are we here?” Rebecca asked when she saw where they were.

  “It’s safer than my house,” Richie said. “If whoever did this is able to make you think they were dispatch telling you to go out on a call, and had someone dressed up like a cop to fool you even more, they’re plenty clever. And it’s not just one person. More like, I hate to say it, but like a gang that could have ties to city government. And if so, they know where you live and where I live. They’ll be looking for you at your place, and depending on how much they know about us, possibly at mine.”

  They went into his office. Richie handed her a shot of brandy. She downed it in one gulp. Richie didn’t drink anything, instead he watched her. “Sit down, Rebecca,” he said, gesturing towards the sofa. “You’re white as a sheet.”

  She did as told. “I couldn’t believe what was happening. I’ve never been a target like that.”

  “You’re sniffing around City Hall, Chinese triads, and powerful foreign investors,” Richie said, “all of whom can have ties to unsavory characters. People who don’t give a damn about body counts. Someone doesn’t want you to get any closer. What’s going on here is potentially huge, and we don’t know how deep it goes.”

  “That could mean you’re in danger, too.”

  “Yes, it could,” Richie murmured, then got up and put his jacket back on. “Get some rest. You’ll think better in the morning. This place is like a fortress. I’ll make sure everything’s okay, and I’ll leave you alone. Shay’s outside keeping an eye on the place. You’ll be safe.”

  “You’re leaving?” She hated that her voice still sounded small and frightened.

  “Would you like company?” he asked.

  She was tempted to say she did, but he looked antsy, as if he had things to do but didn’t want to tell her. “I’ll be fine,” she murmured.

  “Good. I’ve got a couple of things to take care of, then I’ll be back.”

  Who could argue with “things” to do at two in the morning? “Before you go,” she said, “thank you for helping me. But how did you even know I was out there?”

  “You can thank Vito,” he said with a gentle smile. “He wanted to keep an eye on you tonight after the incident on Noriega Street. He followed when you went out, and also called me. Vito’s intuition has saved me more than once. I contacted Shay, and the rest, you pretty much know.”

  She shut her eyes, thinking she likely would be on her way to the morgue now if Vito hadn’t been suspicious. When Richie, Shay, and Vito had shown up, she was down to only a few bullets left, and from the fusillades that were fired at her, whoever was trying to kill her had come well armed. “It was so scary,” she muttered.

  “Yes, it was.” Richie then showed Rebecca the cellar and places to hide if she needed to. Last, he showed her a side door that led to the alley. If it came to that, he directed her to run.

  He was about to step out of the club to his car when she put her hand on his shoulder.

  Surprised, he turned back to her. She put her arms around his shoulders and held him tight. His arms circled her and they remained that way a long time.

  Then, he left.

  o0o

  Richie drove to Mulford Alley and rang the doorbell to Rebecca’s landlord’s flat several times.

  About five minutes passed before he heard Bradley Frick’s voice on the other side of the door. “Who’s there?”

  “Richie Amalfi, Rebecca’s friend.”

  Bradley opened the door, his eyebrows raised and a frightened, questioning expression on his face. “What is it?”

  “Rebecca needs your help.”

  “My help?” He was dressed in p.j.s and a bathrobe, his bleached blond hair askew, making the spikes look more like bent nails. “What’s going on? First Kiki, now Rebecca? This neighborhood has become a war zone!”

  Richie pushed his way into the flat and shut the door behind him. He didn’t want to be caught outside if whoever had tried to kill Rebecca showed up at her apartment sooner than he expected. Bradley’s eyes went round, gawking at Richie as if he were crazy. They stood at the bottom of a long flight of stairs that led up to Bradley’s top floor flat.

  “Don’t worry,” Richie said. “Rebecca’s going undercover for a while. All she asks is that you take care of Spike for her. And if anyone comes here looking for her, even if they say they’re the police, don’t believe it and don’t tell them you’ve got her dog. Only say you haven’t seen her and you have no idea where she is. Got it?”

  “Even the police?” Bradley looked ready to pass out.

  “Tell yourself they could be fake, okay?”

  “But badges—”

  “You haven’t seen her and have no idea where she is. Repeat that.”

  Bradley swallowed hard and murmured the words, his voice as thin and shaky as a ninety year old’s.

  “Also, if they see Spike, just say he’s your dog.”

  “Why?” Bradley’s voice was just a squeak.

  “They need to think she’s run off. If they see her dog, they’ll assume you know where she is, and that won’t be good for you.”

  “Oh, my.”

  “Got it?”

  He gave a quick, slight nod. “I got it.”

  Richie made sure no one was watching, and then ran out of Mulford Alley to the street two blocks away where he’d parked.

  A half hour later he was home. He had been tempted to go back to Big Caesar’s to stay with Rebecca, but knew it would be better if he didn’t. Besides, anyone looking for her would more likely show up at his place than at the nightclub.

  He changed into sweats and sat in the living room with muted baseball highlight films on the TV, and the Glock at his side. He didn’t plan to sleep that night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Rebecca lay on the couch in Richie’s office. She had tried to sleep, but her mind raced with visions of the beach.

  She sat up, instantly wide awake, at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. She picked up her SIG Sauer as the doorknob turned. It was Richie.

  She relaxed and put the weapon down. “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Six.”

  She rubbed her eyes. “Ugh! I’m surprised you’re already awake.”

  “I haven’t been to sleep yet.”

  Her face fell at the implication of danger behind his words. “I’ve got to go home. I can’t leave Spike alone with no food or fresh water.”

  “No problem. I visited your landlord last night. He’s taking care of Spike.”

  Rebecca could only gape at that. Bradley liked Spike and would take good care of him but she could only imagine how he reacted to a visit from Richie. She had somehow managed to keep the two apart up to this point. Bradley was the type who easily felt intimidated and Richie could be imposing under the best of circumstances. And particularly when he was making a “request,” he came across as someone you might not want to say no to. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate you thinking about him.”

  “I’d have taken him myself, except I’m not sure where this will lead. Spike is safe with Bradley.”

  “You’re right,” she murmured.

  “Now, let’s get out of
here.”

  “Get out? Where are we going?”

  “Some place no one will think of.”

  She needed a minute to put her boots back on and freshen up. She looked longingly at the shower, but knew that was a luxury she definitely didn’t have time for. That didn’t stop her from wondering why he’d installed a shower in the office bathroom, but that was a question for another day.

  He had parked in the alley behind the building. The sun was just beginning to light the sky as they crept out the back door and jumped in the Porsche. As they drove, she called Homicide. No one was there this early, as she expected, so she left a message for both Eastwood and Sutter that she woke up with a bad case of stomach flu and wouldn’t be in that day, but that she hoped to see them tomorrow.

  Richie drove to Chinatown and pulled into a brick-lined alley that dead-ended.

  “Are you kidding?” she asked as they got out.

  “Nope.”

  He led her to a door that opened as they approached. She recognized the Chinese man who opened it. “You remember Benny Wong,” Richie said.

  “Of course.” She wondered why they were there.

  “Inspector,” Benny said with a slight bow, “don’t worry. We’ll take good care of you. Richie explained everything to me.”

  “Thank you, but there must be some mistake.” She faced Richie. “I can’t stay here. I’m not about to hide. I’ve got to find out what’s going on.”

  “You will. We all will, but not when you’ve got a target on your back.”

  “We’ll head downstairs,” Benny said, leading them to a stairway. “The room is big enough for two, by the way. And I won’t bother you. It’s under the restaurant, so when you need food, you just go on up. We’ll make a plate to take back downstairs. That way, you won’t be hungry.”

  “Under the restaurant?” Rebecca looked at Richie as they went down two flights of stairs.

  “Where else?” Richie murmured.

  “You know those tunnels and underground passageways you were always told existed in Chinatown?” Benny said, having heard Rebecca’s words.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “They really do exist,” Benny said as they reached the bottom of the stairs and were in a small hallway. “You go through that door”—he pointed to one with a deadbolt—“and you’ll be in one of the tunnels. If you are scared about something, just go through it and then run. Eventually, you’ll find a way out. I can’t say where—it all depends on the turns you make as you run.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “But I don’t intend to run from anyone.”

  Benny’s dark eyes glanced in Richie’s direction.

  “Don’t blame me,” Richie said to him, both hands raised. “I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Not this time, at least,” Rebecca added.

  The two were shown to a small room with a double bed, chair, dresser, small refrigerator, hot plate, tea kettle, and a bathroom with an old, rusting tub and no shower. It made her wish for Richie’s place all the more. The walls were a kind of dark cream color, which Rebecca suspected had been nearly white some twenty or thirty years ago when they were last painted. The furniture wouldn’t have been accepted by Goodwill.

  “I’ll leave you two.” Benny walked out of the room and shut the door behind him.

  “Home sweet home.” Richie muttered as even he looked dismayed by the space. “At least you’ll be safe here.” He walked to the bed and pushed down on the mattress. The springs squealed so loudly it was like something straight out of an old Laurel and Hardy comedy. “I’m going to check out that tunnel.”

  She went out into the dingy hallway with him.

  Richie went to the door, unlocked and opened it. Both he and Rebecca looked in at what was a narrow passage framed with wood. It had no lighting, and apparently no electricity. “I don’t think I’ll be using that,” Richie said firmly.

  “I wonder if it has rats.” Rebecca took a couple of steps inside, but then stopped.

  “There are rats all over the city,” Richie replied, “especially as you get near the wharves. Did you know there was once bubonic plague in the city? It was a hundred years ago, but seemed to be centered in Chinatown.”

  “Do you have to tell me that now?” Her voice a little too high, she scurried back to the hallway. Rats were bad enough, but plague?

  He chuckled. “Sorry. It was eradicated and never came back … I don’t think.”

  “You can stop anytime. There’s no way in hell I’m going into that tunnel, so I don’t care of Godzilla’s in there.”

  “Want me to check it out for you?” he asked.

  She was tempted to say yes, but that would have been mean. “Oh, right, like you’d do that,” she said. “You go in there and start crying for help, you’re on your own, buddy.”

  He smirked, but as she looked at his humor-filled expression, she realized that, like her, he was glad for the chance to banter, to ease a little of the tension of the past few hours, as well as the tension between them.

  They hurried back to the room Benny had given them.

  Rebecca sat on one side of the bed. Not only did the mattress squeal and sag, but a big puff of dust rose from it.

  “Take one side of this bedspread,” Richie said as he took the other. Together, they brought it out to the hallway and shook it, then hurried back inside and shut the door so the dust wouldn’t blow back in. They folded it up and put it atop the bureau.

  Having the bedspread off gave Rebecca a chance to check out the blanket, pillowcases and sheets to make sure there were no creepy-crawly bugs or other critters living in there. There weren’t. Not under the bed, either. She suspected any mice nearby probably didn’t bother with that room since there was no food in it.

  “I think this is a keep-your-socks-on kind of place,” Rebecca said woefully.

  Richie looked down at the bed, and then over at the small, spindly chair. He sat on the bed. “Kind of depressing, isn’t it?”

  “This entire situation is.” She sat on the opposite side.

  “Why don’t you lie down and get back to sleep. You’re going to need to be sharp to deal with all this. I’ll be right here. You don’t have to worry.”

  “You need some sleep as well,” she said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “But we should be doing something, not hiding out in Chinatown.”

  “At this time in the morning?”

  She realized she’d barely slept in his office as she’d been worried about everything that had happened on the fog drenched beach. Now, in the quiet of this strange but safe little room, a bone-aching weariness came over her and she stretched out on the bed. The mattress seemed to sag nearly to the floor.

  She was about to tell him she didn’t think she could fall asleep, given the danger, but she must have dozed off before she could say a word.

  A nightmare, a dream of her trying to run on the beach but being slowed down because of soft sand sucking at her shoes, of being hunted, and then, of a man with an assault rifle standing in front of her, raising his gun to shoot, startled her awake.

  She looked around the dark room. It took a moment to remember where she was, and then to shift from the near-reality of the dream to being here, underground in Chinatown. Her breath came in small, quivering waves.

  Beside her, on his side, his back to her and snoring lightly, was Richie. The way the mattress sagged in the middle under both their weights, she was close to him. She could have tried to ease away, but she didn’t. Instead she turned on her side, facing him, and rested her arm against his back, glad she wasn’t alone when the nightmare hit. Glad he and his friends had looked for her. As much as she liked to think she could have gotten away from the gunman, she honestly didn’t know. But she did know the chance of getting away unscathed was slim to none.

  She noticed, then, that his deep, sleep-filled breathing had stopped. It was almost as if he were holding his breath. A part of her—most of her—was tempted to whisper his
name. She was certain that one simple word, any word, would have gotten him to turn and face her. She knew where that would lead—exactly where she wanted it to.

  If she were the type of woman who could separate loving a man with her body from the feelings she had for him in her mind, she would have done so. But she couldn’t.

  She shut her eyes, not daring to move, and prayed for the oblivion of sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  When Rebecca awoke, she was alone on the bed. Richie had left a note saying he’d meet her in the restaurant at noon, and that he would call Shay and Vito to join them.

  She stepped into the Jade Dragon’s dining room.

  Richie sat at a table in the back, next to the kitchen—an easy exit if necessary. She was glad he decided to meet here, where there were windows and daylight, rather than in the private downstairs room where they usually dined.

  She joined him.

  She no sooner sat than Shay walked in, his blue-eyed gaze going from her to Richie and back. She was surprised that his stare wasn’t as icy as usual. She must be wrong, she told herself. In the months she had known him he never showed the slightest modicum of human compassion. He might be handsome and intelligent, with an ability with software that should be the envy of the NSA, not to mention his skill as a sniper, but he always made her nervous. Still did, come to think of it.

  “Shay, I didn’t get a chance to thank you for getting me out of there last night,” Rebecca said as he sat at the table with them.

  “No problem,” he said. “But I’ll be better as soon as we get to whoever was behind all that.”

  Vito was right behind him. He greeted everyone and sat, still wearing his heavy tan jacket.

  “Vito,” Rebecca said smiling at him, “I hear if it weren’t for you, I’d probably be ‘swimming with the fishes.’”

  “Aw,” he muttered, his round, fleshy face scrunching into a big but self-deprecating smile. “Just doin’ my job.”

  Rebecca reached over and gave his hand a squeeze.