by E B Corbin
After Henry spent thirty restless minutes in the lobby, White Cloud called and told him the kidnappers had stopped at a private home. He asked if Henry wanted him to try to rescue Sam.
“Too dangerous. Just keep watch. I’m calling an Uber and will be there as soon as I can.” Henry punched off and pushed the Uber app. To his relief, a car was around the corner and could be there in two minutes.
It took him that long to rise from the chair, limp to the door and out to the sidewalk. A Nissan Sentra pulled to the curb, and the window whirred down. “You waiting for Uber?”
“Yep.” Henry reached for the door and almost lost his balance.
“You need some help there, dude?”
Henry shook his head in disgust and cursed to himself at his situation. This was not the time to be indisposed. He gave the driver his phone with the Google map White Cloud had sent showing where he wanted to go. “How soon can you get me there?”
The driver studied the phone. “Thirty, thirty-five minutes.”
“I’ll give you double the cost of the ride in cash if you make it in twenty.”
The young man nodded, handed Henry his phone and they shot away from the curb.
Before he had time to pocket the phone, it beeped with a text message. White Cloud changed the place to meet.
“Change of plans,” Henry told the driver. “There’s a truck stop off I-5 at Exit 307. Take me there instead.”
“That’s a huge place, man. Where do you want to go? There’s an inn, movie theaters, and a couple of restaurants.”
Henry glanced at the text again. “The convenience store for long-haul truckers.”
“Sure. Do you want me to wait?”
“No need. I’m meeting a friend.”
As they sped along the interstate, Henry fought to control his nerves. White Cloud never mentioned Sam in his text. Why were they meeting at a truck stop? Surely, those goons didn’t stop to eat again.
When they pulled into the area near the convenience store, the driver braked and smiled at Henry. “Eighteen minutes. How’s that?”
“Great,” Henry mumbled, his focus on finding Sam. Even though the buzzing had eased, not knowing the reason for the diminished sound worried him. He pulled four twenty-dollar bills from his wallet and handed them to the driver before he struggled out of the car. He spotted a green taxi parked at the far end of the store in a dark corner, backed into the space as if ready to bolt at the first opportunity.
He drew nearer and saw that the vehicle was empty. “Dammit,” he muttered to himself as he scanned the parking area for another taxi but saw none. Leaning on his cane, he stood beside the taxi and reached for his phone.
He couldn’t text with only one hand available to both hold the phone and type the message, so he punched the call button, hoping White Cloud was somewhere that the ringtone would not cause a problem.
The Native American answered on the first ring. Even though he could barely hear over the sound of Detroit Diesels and Mack engines, Henry thought he heard White Cloud say, “We are at the checkout now paying for our hot dogs.”
“Who’s we?” he shouted into the phone.
“Sam and I. She was hungry and since I’d missed dinner, too, I thought I’d join her.”
Henry felt relief and anger rush over him. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me she was all right?”
“Didn’t have time. We were running for our lives and couldn’t stop.”
Frustrated, Henry disconnected and leaned against the taxi, his eyes roving the area in case the Charger or the black van showed up. A yellowish-orange glow from overhead lamps spotlighted the big rigs pulled into the bays to fill up. It imparted a false warmth to the chilly night that he found reassuring.
The smell of diesel fuel permeated the air, reminding him of the first time he’d hopped a Greyhound to Atlantic City from the Port Authority station a few blocks from his home in Manhattan. He was sixteen at the time and looking for adventure. He smiled at the memory. How could he have ever been that naive?
A trucker with a pot belly and a dirty Seattle Mariners baseball cap pushed outward through the store’s swinging door, slurping on a hot coffee. He climbed into the cab of his semi, which sat idling at the side of the one-story building, without so much as a glance at Henry.
Sam and White Cloud exited the store next, their hands full. At the sight of his two associates, Henry relaxed his shoulders and felt some of his tension fade. The buzzing had receded to a low level that he could barely hear. He noticed White Cloud balanced three drink cups and hoped they brought him a hot dog too.
When they had piled into the taxi, Sam distributed the hot dogs and bags of chips while White Cloud passed Henry a large Coke. They tore into the food as if it were a gourmet meal.
Between bites, Sam said, “Man, getting kidnapped sure makes you hungry.”
“So what happened? How did you get away?” Henry stopped eating, unwilling to make light of the situation.
Sam finished swallowing a bite of the hot dog before she answered. “Those two are dumb as rocks. I slipped away while one was on the phone and the other was inside the car fumbling with the keys to shut the motor off.”
“And I was waiting in the next yard,” White Cloud said. “She ran right into me.”
“It gave me a scare,” Sam said with a laugh. “I thought the Incredible Hulk caught me for a second.”
“I am not that big.” White Cloud sipped at his drink.
“You didn’t budge when I rammed into you.”
“It is a gift of my people. We stand strong when threatened.”
Henry finished the last of his hot dog, scrunched up the paper and stuck it in the empty chip bag. “Well, whatever . . . I don’t think we should hang around here too long.”
“I don’t want to go back to that damned apartment,” Sam said. “I think that creep gave me a concussion when he hit me. I was seeing double when I first came to and I have a knot on the back of my head as big as a softball. It hurts like hell too.”
She paused to slurp the last of her Coke. “I called the hotel. We can check in tonight and pick up our things at the apartment tomorrow.”
“Maybe you should go to an emergency room. See a doctor about your head.” Henry said.
“God, no. We’ve seen enough of those lately. I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.” She winced as she touched the knot on her head.
“Well, I’m waking you up throughout the night.”
“Fine.” She leaned her head against the back of the seat, taking care to avoid the pulsing knob at the back of her head and closed her eyes. “Wake me when we get to the hotel.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Henry poked her arm when they pulled up to the rounded portico of the Hotel Monaco. A doorman in a black-and-gray uniform stood at attention just inside the double glass doors. He stepped outside when the taxi arrived and tipped his black cap at them.
Sam slid out while the hotel employee held the door and waited for Henry to maneuver his way to the entrance. She advised the doorman they had no luggage and moved toward the lobby.
Henry took the time to thank White Cloud and gave him the last of his twenty-dollar bills. He told the taxi driver he would give him more when he found an ATM. White Cloud waved his concern away.
Henry trailed behind Sam, the doorman holding the door with a pleasant smile.
Inside, the lobby was as plush and opulent as the photos on the website indicated. Red walls surrounded comfortable chairs arranged for conversation. Along one wall a sofa lined with cushions was flanked by two glass end tables, with identical white lamps. A coffee table sat in front of the sofa with a striped chair at each end, two high-backed gray leather chairs faced each other in front of a gas fireplace in the corner.
Sam was grateful for the warmth produced by the fire since her cotton sweater did little to cut the damp chill in the air. She longed for her suede jacket, currently hanging in the foyer to the apartment. She’d be glad to pick up all her s
tuff in the morning, but for now, she was happy to be in the comforting cocoon of the Hotel Monaco.
When she reached the desk, she realized she didn’t have her purse, any of her credit cards or her phone, which had Apple Pay. She almost gave the desk clerk her real name before she remembered she’d made the reservations under the name of Stephanie Plum. She turned to Henry. “I’m afraid we’ll have to use one of your credit cards to register.”
He handed over his American Express card, uncertain whether his credit limit would cover the charge. To his surprise, it was approved, so they waited for the key cards as patiently as possible. He wanted to get the weight off his ankle as much as Sam wanted to sink into bed.
The admitting clerk beckoned a bell hop, who looked around for their luggage.
“Our bags won’t be arriving until tomorrow,” Sam explained again, keeping the tone of her voice matter-of-fact, as if it were perfectly logical for them to check in with no luggage, no ID, and no coat on a chilly evening.
The bell hop showed no reaction. He bowed his head once and stepped forward to take the key cards from the check-in desk. He glanced at the room number, a brief flicker of surprised passed over his face, then he stepped back with a bow. “Please, follow me. Sir . . . madam.”
Sam bit back a laugh as they followed him to a bank of elevators. With her snagged and dirty sweater and Henry’s beat-up boot, they hardly looked like they could afford the cost of a regular room, let alone a suite on the tenth floor. She tried for a haughty demeanor, but couldn’t pull it off, so she kept her eyes focused on the brass elevator doors. Each had an identical Tree of Life design stamped on the front and a labeled plaque next to it on the wall. One to four, five to eight and nine to ten. He summoned the elevator for nine to ten and they stepped in without a word. Sam dared not look at Henry, fearing she’d burst out laughing.
The hotel employee led them through one of only five doors on the floor and gestured them in. He checked each bedroom, bath, and the sitting area before he paused at the door.
Henry realized he had no cash left for a tip and looked to Sam for guidance.
“We’ll catch you later,” Sam told the bellhop as he nodded and backed out the door, the corners of his mouth turned down in disgust.
“Well, that was awkward,” Henry said.
“He’ll get over it.” Sam glanced around the formal sitting area. A curved green sofa lined with at least seven pillows filled one corner. Two black-and-white checked high-back chairs surrounded a round black lacquer table next to a tall window. A vase filled with white lilies was centered on the table.
Henry threw the deadbolt and attached the chain lock, happy to have the security. He limped toward one of the black-and-white chairs, not willing to contend with all those loose pillows making up the back of the sofa.
Sam inspected both bedrooms and decided on the one with two single beds since it seemed a little larger even though it had less floor space. She’d leave the master suite with a queen-size bed to Henry. He’d have a hard time jockeying around the two beds with the boot on his foot.
She sat on one of the beds and sighed with pleasure as she sank into the firm yet giving mattress. Even though she longed to lay her head on the pillow, she forced herself into the bathroom. She needed a shower before anything and was thrilled when she saw the fluffy white terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the door.
The small bottles of shampoo and conditioner would allow her to wash her hair as long as she took care with the sore spot. The hot water warmed her bones and she stood under the spray much longer than necessary. Wrapped in the comfy robe, she poked her head into the sitting room. “I’m going to rest a while.”
“I’m ordering room service,” Henry said. “Do you want anything?”
“Jesus, Henry, you had a hot dog at the truck stop.”
“One hot dog is barely a toothful. They have club sandwiches that look pretty good.”
“Ugh. I can’t even think about eating again.” She had wolfed down the hot dog in the taxi and it now sat like a lead balloon in her stomach. “If they have green tea, get me some. See if they have any aspirin or Advil or something for a headache . . . I’m going to find a hair dryer. They must have one in here somewhere.”
“For what this room costs, it should be solid gold,” Henry said as he picked up the phone.
By the time Sam’s hair was dry enough for her to sleep on it and not have it look like a rat’s nest in the morning, room service had delivered Henry’s sandwich, her tea, and a small bottle of Tylenol. Sam gulped two tablets and sipped at her tea. She soon found she could barely remain upright in the chair.
“I’m going to bed. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.”
Henry nodded through a mouthful of turkey and ham. He swallowed. “I’ll wake you every two hours.”
She was too tired to argue. “Whatever,” she said, barely moving her lips.
In spite of waking in pain every time she rolled over the sore spot on her head and having Henry wake her every two hours asking her name or what year it was, she felt a smidgeon better the next morning.
The heavy robe wrapped around her legs as she tried to get out of bed and her head still felt as if she’d been hit by a hundred-miles-per-hour fastball. She tapped three Tylenol from the small bottle, wishing she had something stronger.
She nibbled on some toast Henry had ordered before he left to retrieve their belongings from the apartment and paced the living area of the suite. Without clean clothes, her laptop, or cell phone, she had nothing to do. The big-screen TV held no appeal, so she continued to stride around the large sitting area going over yesterday’s events in her mind.
Guilt over her friend’s death seemed the most logical reason behind Betty Maguire’s suicide, at least to Sam. Detective Munroe seemed to disagree. But then he was a very disagreeable person. Sam had to prove it somehow. Without a note confessing to the mercy killing, it was going to be difficult to change the detective’s mind but there had to be a way.
Norman Bledsoe had seemed oblivious to his housekeeper’s behavior but perhaps Helen knew something about Betty’s state of mind in the past few weeks. Sam reached for the house phone before she realized Helen’s number was sitting in the contacts of her iPhone along with those of Norman Bledsoe and the real estate office. Nothing she could do until Henry arrived with her purse. She couldn’t even call him because she’d never bothered to memorize his cell number but relied on her phone’s memory.
Resigned to waiting for her employee’s return, she found a toothbrush wrapped in clear cellophane and a small tube of toothpaste in the bathroom. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and combed her hair as best she could. She needed to wait for her makeup bag to try to hide the dark circles under her eyes, but she bit her lips and pinched her cheeks for some color.
Then she resumed pacing, this time thinking about the two goons who had grabbed her last night. She finally accepted that they were sent by either her father or Jules. They were probably under orders not to kill her until she gave up the information to retrieve the missing funds. But they were certainly not the brightest bulbs in the box and she didn’t look forward to running into them again.
She’d let her self-defense training slide when she left the FBI, but she vowed to visit the gym at the hotel and get back in shape. She’d also keep her .44 handy, no matter where she was. Never again would she submit to being grabbed by some imbeciles sent by her father.
When she heard a knock on the door, followed by a muffled voice, she hurried to the peephole and saw a young man dressed as a bellhop with one hand wrapped around a tall brass cart. He looked legit but she wasn’t taking any chances. Why wasn’t Henry with him?
At a second knock, she called through the door “just a second” and scanned the sitting room for something to use as a weapon, should she need one. A pillow would never do and there were no knives or forks since the suite had no kitchen. She spied the vase of lilies on the table and grabbed it for lack
of anything better.
She heard the electronic lock click in the door and was ready to pounce if necessary.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Whoa!” Henry dropped his cane and held up both hands when he saw Sam balancing the vase over her head. “Sorry it took so long, but there’s no need for violence.”
Sam lowered the vase, clutching it to her chest to keep from dropping it as the tension leaked out of her muscles. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, her cheeks puffed, her lips distended.
“We had a lot of stuff to gather,” Henry continued. “And your friends were waiting across the street again when we left. We had to make sure we lost them before we unloaded here.”
Feeling like a fool, Sam said, “You weren’t in the hall a minute ago when I looked out.”
“I sent Tim up with the luggage. Thought you might be anxious to get it. I had to stop at an ATM in the lobby.”
Tim, the bellhop, cringed in the hallway, with eyes as big as silver dollars. He stepped behind the luggage on the cart with one foot turned toward the elevator, his stance uncertain.
“Sorry.” Sam said to the bellhop and put on the friendliest smile she could muster. “Forgive me, I’m a bit jumpy this morning.”
Tim hesitated before he maneuvered the cart through the door. He remained in the hall, ready to bolt.
“Come in, come in.” Henry picked up his cane and moved out of the way. “She’s not going to bite. I promise.”
Giving Sam a sidelong glance, Tim steered the cart between Henry and the crazy lady with a vase. His eyes darted around the room like a pinball as he croaked, “Where do you want your bags, ma’am?”
“Put everything in the first bedroom,” Sam said. “We’ll take it from there.”
Henry gave the anxious bellhop a twenty and closed the door. He turned around, noticed the chagrined look on Sam’s face and started to laugh. “You scared the hell out of that poor boy.”