“You don’t say,” Steve said.
“I do say. There is a wealth of experience here to draw on and support you.”
It sounded to Colleen as if they would be chatting for a while. Good.
She traveled the rest of the hallway, trying doors. Many were locked. The ones that weren’t were a small kitchen and storage room.
She turned around, crossed over, did the other side of the building. At the far end was a door leading outside, to the back grounds, marked “Exit.” It was latched and locked. She unlatched it, twisted the lock open. She might have an opportunity to come back later, root around.
On the way back to the lobby, she peered down a dark stairwell leading to a basement.
“Excuse me,” a timid voice said.
Startled, Colleen spun.
The young girl who had been sweeping up in the main room.
“Just looking for the Ladies’ room,” Colleen said.
“It’s back this way.” Face down, the girl pointed to a door near the entry to the foyer.
“Ah,” Colleen said. “Thank you.”
“You’re not supposed to be here unescorted.”
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
The girl actually made eye contact for a split second.
“What’s your name?” Colleen asked. Their eyes met again, before the girl looked away.
“I don’t have one yet.”
“Well, what did it used to be?”
“I’m not permitted to say. I’m in ‘bevestiging’ and my past must be washed away.”
“Do you have any idea what your new name will be?”
“Roos,” she whispered, looking away.
“That’s a pretty name,” Colleen said. Pretty weird.
“It will be my perfect name.”
An Afrikaans name of some sort. Colleen introduced herself as Carol Anne. She wanted to ask about Pamela but it felt risky to implicate Pam until she knew Roos better. Instead she asked her how long she had been there, how old she was.
“Adem says we are all ageless.”
Great. Colleen wanted to shake some sense into her. “So you speak Afrikaans?”
“I am learning it. We all must.”
“And how long have you been with Die Kerk?”
Roos looked around, nervous. “I mustn’t be caught chatting. And you must go back to the hall. I could get into trouble.”
“I certainly don’t want to get you into any trouble, Roos.”
“Yes, thank you. But that is not my name yet.”
“Got it. By the way, what does dood mean?”
Roos blinked at her as if she might be simple. “Why, death, of course.”
Colleen fought an involuntary shudder.
Die Kerk van die Volmaakte Dood.
Church of the Perfect Death.
“What is this pilgrimage that Adem is making?” she said, recovering her composure.
Roos was looking profoundly nervous. “I must not discuss church business.” It sounded as if she was reciting a rule. She closed her eyes and hummed. Then her eyes opened. “I’ll take you back to the others now. Please. Before someone sees us?”
“Of course,” Colleen said.
In the hall Alex was still chatting up the big guy. She gave Colleen a look of relief when she saw her come back in.
It was a good hour before Steve returned.
“When I die and go to hell,” Steve said, smoking a cigarette as Colleen drove back to her place, “Die Kerk will be where I end up.” He blew smoke out of the open car window into the rainy night air. Alex was in the back seat, looking out the window absentmindedly.
“Anything interesting?” Colleen asked Steve.
“Apart from the fact that they want my money? Which I don’t have?” Steve smoked, blew another stream out the window. “There are about two hundred and forty-odd members on some retreat. That’s why Brother Adem—aka Angel 22—isn’t around.”
“Where the hell are they?” she asked.
“Don’t know.” Steve shook his head. “But there’s some bloody village they’re building near some volcano they seem to think is important.”
Jesus, Colleen thought. Moon Ranch was looking better by the day.
“Come on,” she said. “I’m a big girl, Steve. Let me have it.”
“They said I would learn more when I became a member. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s not good, Coll. You saw that bloody bunch.”
“Die Kerk van die Volmaakte Dood,” she said. “Church of the Perfect Death. Did Barend mention that part?”
“Fuck me.” Steve looked at her, grimaced. “No, he bloody well didn’t.”
“Funny they forgot that,” Alex said from the backseat.
“Die Kerk is sounding like a suicide cult,” Colleen said, her heart palpitating. “Did you see any files, Steve? File cabinets?”
Steve flicked ash out the window. “Along the wall of the office. Four or five of ’em.”
“I’ve got to find out what kind of involvement Pam has.”
“Let’s hope none,” Steve said.
Colleen bet Pam was on that pilgrimage. She turned on Vermont, up to Alex’s Jag parked in front of her building. Steve got out, held the door for Alex. Alex gave Colleen a peck on the cheek on the way out. “Next time, I pick the party.”
“Deal,” Colleen said. “Thanks for diverting the big guy while I snooped around.”
“You bet.” Alex winked. “Hope Pam is okay.”
“You going straight home?”
“Yes, yes. I’m giving my liver a few days off—per your instructions.”
“Good girl. We’ll get together soon.”
Alex climbed out of the Torino, gave Steve’s arm a squeeze. “’Nite, Steve. I better be on the guest list next time your band plays.”
“Done and done,” he said.
Alex got into her Jag, started it up with a rumble, sped off. Steve climbed back into the Torino, heaved the door shut.
For a moment, Colleen thought about asking him up to her place for a drink. But that sounded like a bad idea. Or a good idea. Whatever it was, Steve had Mel to look after now. And she had plenty on her mind.
“I’ll run you home, Steve.”
“Right.”
She headed down 19th.
“Tell me you’re not going to do anything rash, Coll,” Steve said.
“Okay,” she said, dodging the pothole she always did. “I’m not going to do anything rash.”
“Lovely. Now say it like you mean it, yeah?”
She mustered up her inner Elizabeth Taylor, laid on the acting skills. “I do this kind of thing for a living, Steve. No need to worry.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to think on it,” Colleen said.
“So you’re not planning on breaking into Die Kerk or anything daft like that? Nose around in the file cabinets?”
She forced a laugh. “That would be crazy, Steve.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “That’s why I asked.”
“I’m going to run it by my buddy Owens at SFPD.”
“Good idea.” Steve nodded. “Bring in the police.”
Not really, but she needed to allay Steve’s fears. “I thought so.”
“And it’s also something I know you’re adverse to.”
She shrugged. “People change, Steve.”
“All I’m trying to say is that if you’re going to take those fuckers on, don’t do it alone, yeah? I mean, I can help you.”
“You with the eleven-year-old daughter who needs looking after.”
“Twelve.”
“Twelve. Is Melanie going to help too? Now that I think about it, maybe that’s not a bad idea.” Steve’s daughter was a handful.
“You might actually have something there,” Steve said.
Colleen turned, looked at Steve. “I’m not going to do anything dumb, Steve.”
He looked at her with pursed lips. “Scout’s honor?”
&
nbsp; “Dib dib dob.”
They pulled up in front of Steve’s apartment building.
“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it,” Steve said.
“Yes, you will.”
They sat there for a moment. The engine growled in idle.
“Fancy coming in for a drink?” Steve said quietly, giving her a candid look.
Did she? How many times had she thought of that night? “It’s a school night,” she said. “Isn’t it?”
“Dunno. I flunked school years ago.”
“But Mel will be in bed—won’t she?”
“She better be,” Steve said.
“That’s what I thought.”
“At Auntie Deena’s,” Steve added.
“Oh.” Colleen turned. Steve was looking directly at her with a sly smile. “I did not know that.”
Steve feigned surprise. “What? You thought Auntie Deena was staying at my place?”
“I guess I did at that.”
“No, Mel’s over there. For the night. The entire night. Auntie Deena’s taking her to school in the morning.”
“Is that a fact?” Colleen said, thinking of the possibilities.
“It is,” Steve said. “Got the place all to myself tonight.”
“Well, thanks for clearing that up.” Colleen turned all the way in her seat.
Steve returned bedroom eyes.
She reached over, tousled his hair.
“Good looking guy,” she said.
“You’re no old boiler yourself, love.”
“I think that might be the nicest thing anyone ever said to me,” she said.
“I always mean what I say.”
“I like that.”
“Especially about not doing anything rash.”
“Actually, I was kind of thinking of something rash,” she said.
Steve raised his eyebrows. “Care to elaborate?”
“God, but you’re simple sometimes.”
“I thought you liked them dumb.”
“I do. Dumb as a box of rocks. And hot.”
“Well, that would be me, then—wouldn’t it?”
“Not really.” She tousled his hair some more. “You were pretty slick over there at Die Kerk.” She brushed her fingers along his cheek. “But you’ve definitely got the hot part down.”
“Can’t help it, love.”
“I’ll need to verify that, though. I am, after all, a trained investigative professional.”
“A lot of big words in a row. But I think I got the gist of it.”
“I need a shower after that locker room church. Jeez.”
“Me too,” Steve said.
“Want to save water?”
“Are you proposing what I think you’re proposing?” he said.
“It’s the environmentally correct thing to do, isn’t it?” she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ONE DAY LATER, JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT
The Dobermans came trotting out of the shadows, emitting low growls in unison, making Colleen’s spine prickle.
She stood outside Die Kerk’s wrought-iron fence with the spears on the posts in her gray rain jacket, hood pulled up against the steady drizzle that had been falling all evening. The front of the building was lit up, the gold trim and columns shiny with rain.
She followed the fence around to the far side of the building. The dogs tracked her, throats rumbling. She stopped under a tree, pulled the tinfoil bundle from her pocket. It crinkled as she unwrapped it. She caught a whiff of liverwurst.
The dogs watched intently.
She extracted one cue-ball-sized piece of doctored lunchmeat and held it up for the animals to see.
Their eyes connected. They were bonding.
“Good boys,” she said. “Nice boys.”
She tossed one ball over the fence. Dog One caught it on the fly. She quickly tossed the other. Dog Two followed suit.
They barely chewed as the food went down.
Then the snarling resumed.
“Sweet dreams, guys.” Colleen headed back to the Torino parked down the street in the shadows. Got in.
Boom was sitting in the passenger seat, reading Probability and Statistics with a small flashlight.
“I hate to keep messing with your finals,” she said, rolling down the window.
“No big,” Boom said. “The hours are perfect for my busy class schedule.”
Colleen lit up a cigarette, blew smoke out the window. “Not too many college students specialize in Breaking and Entering as a sideline.”
Boom looked up, ambient streetlight flashing off his glasses. “Or ripping off drug dealers.”
“A man of many talents.” She smoked, tapped ash out the window.
“After Nam and working for you, Chief, an office job is gonna be kind of boring—if anybody will give a brother a job.”
“They’ll give a smart guy like you one. And, if you ever need a reference, let me know. I can vouch how good you are with a shotgun.”
“I appreciate that,” Boom said. “How much time do we have?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
“What did you give Flopsy and Mopsy?”
“Valium.” Alex had most of a bottle left over from when her father was dying and she’d been a nervous wreck. Three five-milligram pills would sedate a ninety-pound dog for a good few hours, if not the rest of the night.
“As long as you didn’t give them any Moon Ranch LSD,” Boom said.
“Good point. We don’t need nasty guard dogs tripping on acid.”
Boom flipped a page, went back to his chapter.
Her goal was the office downstairs where Steve had met with Barend, where he’d seen filing cabinets.
“It’s starting to come down,” Boom said.
Colleen and Boom stood on the far side of Die Kerk, rain pelting off Colleen’s hood cinched around her chin, and Boom’s camouflage Boonie hat. His broad shoulders stretched his USMC jacket to capacity. A military surplus shoulder bag looked like a kiddie pack on his big frame.
“It is that,” Colleen said. “But no snarling pups so we’re good to go.” Hopefully there wasn’t any other threat on the immediate horizon.
Boom crouched down by the six-foot wrought-iron fence and clasped his hands together with his fingers, making an impromptu step for Colleen.
“Ready when you are, Madam.”
Colleen placed one wet Pony Topstar in Boom’s big hands and tested the fit. Her trusty hiking daypack was secured on her back. “I want you to know I can still get into the dress I wore to my court sentencing ten years ago, Boom.”
“You’re light as a feather, Chief. I can tell.”
She grabbed two fence spears for stability. “Let’s do it.”
Boom counted her off—one-two-three—and heaved Colleen up as she simultaneously sprang, and threw her over the fence. She cleared the spears and landed on the wet grass without falling. Slipping, yes, but catching her balance. She stood up, hefted her daypack up her shoulders. Keeping one ear cocked in case either one of the dogs were somehow still awake.
Boom gave her a thumbs-up. Then he scaled the fence as if it were a stepladder, landing smartly, springing on both feet.
“Show-off,” Colleen said.
They jogged across the wet grass into the shadows back behind the building, taking it easy, the grass wet and slick.
The doghouse behind Die Kerk buzzed with snoring Dobermans.
“Sleeping on the job,” Boom whispered as they headed up to the back door Colleen had unlocked the night before. Colleen was just happy the dogs were out of the rain.
The back door she had unlocked last night was once again locked.
“I knew it was too good to be true,” she said.
“Can you pick the lock?”
Shook her head. “There’s a latch on the other side. Whoever locked the door probably took care of that too.”
“We could bust it,” Boom said. “But it would make one hell of a racket.”
/> “Let’s look for a window.”
They scoured the ground floor, staying close to the building. Every first-floor window, front and rear, was shut. They headed back around to the rear of the building.
“There.” Colleen pointed at a narrow upstairs window, revealing a gap of a couple of inches. It also had the advantage of being above a small ornamental balcony for access.
“I’d never get through,” Boom said. “But someone who can still get into her sentencing dress should have no problem.”
“How do I get up there?” There was a drainpipe, but contemplating it made her armpits ticklish. Plus, who knew how much weight it would bear?
Boom unhooked his bag as he squatted, came out with a coil of 3/8-inch braided white nylon rope. He tied a one-pound cannonball fishing weight to the end. Colleen slipped on her beat-up leather gloves.
Boom stood up, holding the rope, the weight dangling from his hand. He stepped back, flung the weight up into the air toward the mini balcony, letting the rope spool out of his hand. The weight went over the stone banister but didn’t catch.
“Dang.” Boom gave the rope a yank and the weight clunked over the banister and came back down. He caught the weight but there had been enough noise to make the two of them nervous. Colleen put a finger up to her lips, cocked an ear.
Just the wind through the trees, and a distant car shifting up. “Try again,” she whispered.
Boom did and this time the weight flipped around the banister in between the carved wood columns and made a complete loop.
“You just won a Kewpie doll,” Colleen said.
Boom tugged on the rope. Secure. “You sure you’re up for this, Chief ?”
“No,” she said. “But let’s do it anyway.”
He handed her the rope. She yanked on it. Solid.
When climbing a wall on a rope, the trick was to walk in a crouch, use your feet over your arms. Hand over hand, sure, but walk up the wall. And don’t wrap the rope around your hand. The faster you go, the easier it is. Easier being a relative term.
Colleen nodded, on edge at the prospect.
Boom squatted down near the wall, facing it, patted a shoulder, signifying for Colleen to climb up. She did. Slowly, Boom stood up, raising her five feet off the ground. She gathered up the rope and, limbs quivering with apprehension, put the sole of one sneaker on the stucco wall, which, although wet, had some rough surface to grip.
Bad Scene Page 12