Extra Dirty

by Mia Gold

“My God,” Helen whispered, staring at the floor. “It’s hard to believe it’s possible.”

  She fell silent. Ruby studied her. Her reaction seemed strange. Helen was most certainly shocked, but did not seem too upset. Wasn’t this one of her best friends? Shouldn’t she be crying or trembling right now? Or at least stunned into silence?

  Ruby remembered once being at a tournament and mentioning to Axel, one of her fight buddies, that another fighter had been killed in a car accident the day before. It hadn’t hit the news yet and Axel had shown the same reaction that Helen Pierce did now.

  The reaction of hearing of the death of someone you knew slightly, more by reputation than in person. Not quite sadness, more like surprise mingled with a distant sort of regret and pity.

  Not the kind of reaction Helen should be having.

  “Do you remember anything else from that night?” Ruby asked.

  Helen looked up at her suddenly. “Why haven’t the police called me?”

  “I didn’t tell them anything,” Ruby said. Although now I’m thinking I should have. You’re more worried about yourself than your dead friend.

  Helen let out a gust of air. “Oh, thank you. This whole thing would kill my marriage.”

  Ruby felt her heart harden. She couldn’t decide who she felt angrier at, Helen for being so selfish, or herself for being so overly generous.

  That was going to change. When she met with Detectives Anderson and Pinder the following day, she would tell them everything, even if it meant admitting to lying in the first place.

  Perhaps Helen could get her off the hook.

  “Look, this has gone too far. You need to see the police and tell them everything you know.”

  Helen looked at her like she was an idiot. “What good would it do? You got there too late.”

  Ruby frowned, the last bit of sympathy for this foolish, selfish woman draining away.

  “Judging from the state of the body, she had been dead since that night.”

  Helen shuddered. “It’s a miracle I came out alive.”

  Still thinking of yourself, eh? Well, I sure as hell am not thinking of you anymore.

  Ruby went on. “You asked what good it would do. The police need every bit of information they can get in order to track down the murderer. You do want them to find Bridget’s murderer, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” she replied defensively.

  “Then give them a call.”

  “I will. I-I just need to think things through.”

  Meaning you need to think up a line of bull that makes you look better and maybe save the situation with your husband? I’m not going to let you do that. Tomorrow I’m going to tell Detective Anderson everything I know.

  There was one last thing she would do for this case, though, and she wouldn’t do it for Helen, but for Bridget, and Aaron.

  She pulled the watch out of her pocket.

  “I found Bridget’s—”

  Helen’s eyes widened. “My watch! Where did you find it?”

  Ruby blinked. “Your watch?”

  “Yeah, I thought it got stolen along with my necklace.”

  Ruby paused, looking Helen full in the face in order to gauge her reaction.

  “I found it in Bridget’s hotel room.”

  Helen registered confusion. “How could it be there? Oh, I know! That stripper must have taken it and forgotten it after she killed Bridget.”

  The truth finally clicked in Ruby’s head. “Or more likely you were in that hotel room too.”

  Helen shook her head. “No I wasn’t.”

  “But you said you can’t remember anything. So how can you know?” Ruby felt her suspicion rising.

  “I’m sure I wasn’t there.”

  Ruby growled, tossed the watch contemptuously onto the desk, and rose.

  “You and I are done.”

  Ruby walked out of the hotel room, hoping she would never have to see that woman again.

  * * *

  Ruby was so angry at Helen’s selfish behavior, she made it all the way home before she realized she still had the rental car. Ugh. Now she’d have to see her the next day. Maybe she could leave the keys at reception or something.

  She pulled up in front of her house and saw Mrs. Strapp’s house had all the lights off. Good. Sometimes she went to bed early. The last thing she needed right now was her nosy neighbor flicking the curtains. Seeing Ruby step out of a car, she’d probably call the cops claiming it was stolen. That would make a perfect end to a crappy day.

  She nudged Zoomer, who had been sleeping off the vodka the strippers had given him at Caribbean Dreams.

  “Time for bed, buddy.”

  Zoomer let out a little belch as she put him on her shoulder. Ruby fanned her hand in front of her face.

  “Ugh. Your breath stinks.”

  Not as much as that hotel room.

  Ruby shuddered.

  As Ruby got out, she scanned the area as usual, her fighting instincts and security training making the act automatic. No one close enough to be a threat. With a sigh she tromped up onto the porch and pulled out her keys …

  … and paused.

  Why? She couldn’t say. Some tingling in her spine, some little alarm in the back of her head, and told her not to open the door.

  Had it been a sound, sensed more than heard at the edge of her hearing? Or was it the fact that Zoomer had perked up?

  She looked at her monkey. He stared at the door, fully awake, eyes wide.

  Ruby took a slow step back, clutching her car keys through her fingers to make a crude set of brass knuckles.

  Her first thought was to burst in there and start kicking ass, but a moment later she decided against it. If someone was really hiding in there, they’d be more ready than her. No, better to surprise them.

  Slowly she backed away, taking the two steps down from her front porch and wincing as one of them creaked.

  She bolted down the street, checking over her shoulder to make sure no one was pursuing.

  No one appeared. That did not reassure her.

  She rounded the block and came to the fence around her back yard. Zoomer sat on her shoulder, as still and as silent as a statue, his little fingers gripped hard on her flesh.

  Once she got to the fence, she stood quietly for a couple of minutes, ears straining. She heard nothing but the rustle of the palm fronds on the tree in her yard and the subdued sound of a car passing on a nearby street.

  She set Zoomer on the ground.

  “Stay here,” she whispered. “It isn’t safe.”

  Then she clambered over the fence, trying to make as little noise as possible.

  With Mrs. Strapp out or asleep and the house on the other side currently unoccupied, no lights shone in the back yard. Only the ambient light of the surrounding city kept the yard from complete darkness. The dim illumination and jet-black shadows both reassured and frightened her.

  Gripping her keys between her fingers, she crawled through the yard until she got below the kitchen window.

  Slowly she rose and, exposing as little of herself as possible, peeked inside.

  She could see nothing. No sound came from within.

  Ruby stayed there, totally still and silent, hardly daring to breathe as her ears strained to hear the slightest sound.

  Maybe there’s no one inside. Maybe Zoomer got spooked by nothing, or by my own mistaken reaction. He’s drunk, after all.

  You got a bit tipsy yourself, and you shouldn’t have.

  She tried the back door. Locked like she had left it. Easing her key into the lock, she turned the latch, then opened the door. It let out a soft squeak.

  Lucky for me I’m a good bartender. I’d make a lousy burglar.

  She did not enter at first, merely left the door open while keeping out of sight to the side. Still no sound.

  A quick peek revealed only vague shadows. A longer look showed her nothing more.

  Maybe I’m just paranoid.

  She crept into
her kitchen, peering into the darkness.

  By memory she moved to the counter where her carving knives were set into a wooden holder. She grasped the biggest one and pulled it out.

  Feeling better, she tiptoed into the living room …

  … and froze as she felt the cold muzzle of a gun press against the back of her head.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “You’re not faster than I am, Miss Wayne, so don’t try anything,” a deep, male voice warned her.

  He knows my real name.

  He had been hiding beside the doorway and had put the gun to her head as she passed through from the kitchen. Ruby realized he must have heard her pull up, then move around back. He had been lying in wait the entire time.

  “Drop the knife and keys,” the voice ordered.

  Ruby did as she was told, barely able to get her fingers to function. Her entire body was stiff, cold, and she had a desperate urge to pee. No amount of MMA training could have prepared her for this.

  The muzzle of the gun jabbed at the back of her skull.

  “Take two steps forward, hands on your head with your fingers interlaced.”

  As Ruby did so, the muzzle still pressed against her head, the man flicked on the light. Ruby blinked at the sudden glare.

  “Turn around.”

  Slowly, so as not to startle the gunman, she turned.

  He was a stocky man, a muscular five foot ten, wearing a ski mask and a tight-fitting black t-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers. Ruby could see just enough of his skin to see that he was Caucasian with the slight sunburn of a recent arrival to the island. His words came out with a neutral American accent, no drawl or twang. In his hand he gripped an automatic pistol with a silencer. She stared at it in fascination. She had never seen one outside a movie before. Shoot her with that and not even Mrs. Strapp would come to investigate.

  The gun did not waver a millimeter.

  “The sheikh sends his regards,” he said.

  Oh God, it really was the Saudis who killed Senator Wishbourne. And now they’re after me.

  But which sheikh is he talking about? He obviously assumes I know more than I actually do.

  Ruby didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.

  “Where is it?” the man asked.

  Ruby resisted the urge to glance at her bookshelf. She had tucked it behind there. A ridiculously obvious hiding place, now that she thought about it. This guy apparently hadn’t had the time to search the house.

  “Where’s what?” she asked.

  The masked man shook his head. “Don’t even.”

  “I don’t have it anymore. I passed it on to the FBI.”

  “I seriously doubt that. Give me the thumb drive or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

  Ruby gave a little shrug, trying to act braver than she felt. “You do that, and you’ll never find it.”

  “Perhaps. But think on this. Once I kill you, I’ll go after everyone you know—your friends, your coworkers, your neighbors. Everyone. So I ask again, where is the thumb drive?”

  Ruby hesitated. She had no doubt that he meant every word he said.

  “And if I do give you the thumb drive?” Ruby asked.

  “You haven’t cracked it, so you’ll no longer be a threat. I’ll let you go.”

  Yeah, right.

  Ruby weighed her odds. She could drop and sweep his legs, then go for a hold and break his wrist to disarm him.

  That would be a risky move even on some normal street mugger. He had the gun pointed at her head with the finger on the trigger. And this guy was no random thug, but obviously a professional. His body showed the results of years of training. His stance and muscular development hinted at martial arts training.

  She gave her odds at about one in a hundred.

  But she put her odds of surviving if she didn’t fight at zero.

  Ruby got ready to strike.

  Then the odds changed.

  A black and white furry blur sprang out of the kitchen and latched itself onto the back of the gunman’s head. Claws and teeth sank into the back of the man’s neck. The gun wavered just enough that Ruby could drop to the floor, the silencer popping less than an inch from her head. She swept the guy’s legs just as he swatted Zoomer off him.

  The man fell with a thud, fired an unaimed shot that forced Ruby to roll away before doing him anymore damage. By the time she got ready to spring, he was already up on his knees.

  Ruby managed a kick from a prone position that knocked his gun hand to the side. The kick, hurried and from a bad angle, didn’t have much strength to it, and yet still it should have made him drop his weapon.

  It did not.

  She was definitely dealing with a trained professional here.

  Ruby dove for him, grasping his arm just before he could level his gun once more. He drove his free hand into her stomach, his fist feeling like a lead ball. Ruby tried to twist his wrist, but got hampered by only being able to use one hand. The other had to fend off a series of punches to her head. With her old injury, if any of those got through they would kill her as quickly as that pistol.

  Since neither could get the advantage, the gunman changed his tactic. He twisted, getting his shin against Ruby’s chest, and tried to push her off. All he needed to do was get her away from him for one second, just long enough to take a shot.

  Ruby flailed against the hand trying to punch her and managed to grasp his forearm. He increased the pressure with his leg, but she clung on to both his arms for dear life.

  Desperately, Ruby hoped Zoomer would get back in the fight, because the gunman was going to win this reverse tug of war. Against the relentless push of his leg, her grasp steadily began to slip.

  In a normal fight she had a dozen techniques to deal with this situation, but none of them took into account that the opponent had a gun in his hand. Strictly against MMA regulations.

  A pounding on the door made them pause.

  “Police! Open up!”

  The gunman and Ruby looked at each other.

  “I’m just as surprised as you,” she told him, then shouted, “I’m being attacked!”

  The gunman brought his leg back an inch and slammed it into her chest, forcing her to let go. As she rolled back, scrambling to get behind an armchair in the vain hope that it would protect her from the bullet she felt sure would come, the gunman leapt to his feet and bolted into the kitchen and through the back door into the yard.

  Ruby scrambled for the front door, unlocked and unbolted it, and flung it open.

  Detective Anderson and a female police officer stood there.

  Ruby had never been so glad to see Detective Anderson. In fact, until this moment she had never been the least bit glad to see Detective Anderson.

  “He went out the back!”

  “Ruby Steele, I’m arresting you for—”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Ruby screeched. “He went out the back!”

  Detective Anderson frowned. He could be a bit slow on the uptake. “Who?”

  “A masked man attacked me!”

  “Ms. Steele, your ridiculous excuses no longer—”

  “JESUS CHRIST YOU BLITHERING IDIOT A GUNMAN JUST TRIED TO KILL ME AND HE’S GETTING AWAY. ARREST ME LATER!”

  Something in Ruby’s tone made Detective Anderson wake up to reality. Perhaps it was her screaming at the top of her lungs straight into his face. That often made an impression. His expression changed as he noted her disheveled appearance, then his gaze flicked to a point on the wall.

  Ruby looked. A tidy bullet hole had been drilled into the wood. That bullet had come within less than an inch of piercing her skull.

  Detective Anderson whipped out a pistol from beneath his jacket and shoved past her.

  “Call for backup. Go around the house to the back yard!” he ordered to the female officer over his shoulder.

  The homicide detective, leading with his gun, advanced into the kitchen, then to the open door to the back yard. Ruby followed just behind him, s
haking like a leaf. She kept him in front of her as a human shield. It “wasn’t cricket,” as Neville would say, but Detective Anderson was the one with the gun.

  As they got to the kitchen, Ruby flicked on the light and they ducked for cover on either side of the doorway. When no shot came, they dared a peek out into the yard.

  The attacker had fled.

  A moment later the female officer’s voice came from behind the fence.

  “No sign of any intruder, sir.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?” Detective Anderson asked Ruby.

  “He wore a ski mask.” Her voice came out high, warbling.

  “Of course he did. Can you give me any description?”

  “White, five-ten, stocky. Armed with a pistol and a silencer.” Ruby shuddered, coughed, and got it together enough to finish. “Black t-shirt and matching sweatpants and sneakers. Bit of a sunburn. Recent arrival.”

  Detective Anderson relayed that to the officer.

  “I’ll radio it in and have them put out an APB, sir,” she replied.

  “All right. Stay there and we’ll join you.”

  Mrs. Strapp’s kitchen curtains opened, and her scowling face appeared.

  “Ruby, what did I tell you about leaving your back light on when I’m trying to sleep. And what’s all this racket?”

  Detective Anderson stepped into view. “It’s all right, ma’am. I’m an officer of the law. There was an intruder, but he’s gone now.”

  “Intruder? One of her one-night stands, more like. She’s always got some craziness going on. Just this morning she was making a monkey do back flips for rum.”

  Zoomer!

  Ruby rushed back into the living room to find the monkey sitting by the wall, looking dazed and rubbing his head in a pitifully humanlike fashion.

  “You OK, little buddy?” Ruby cooed, picking him up and petting him, her fear for her life easing as she worried about her fuzzy friend. He didn’t seem to have any broken bones; he only seemed stunned. The gunman must have flung him against the wall.

  “Come on,” Detective Anderson said, all business now. “I need to search the area and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  Ruby cradled Zoomer and followed him out the door.

  They ran around the block to join the female officer. The distant wail of a siren told them the closest patrol car was on its way.