Stainless steel gleamed on all sides. The long central worktable looked scrubbed for surgery. Mammoth industrial sinks lined the right wall, their tall sprayers curved downward at rest, like the necks of robotic swans. The professional-grade appliances arrayed on the left still bore neon-red or acid-green labels from the factory. Even the gray porcelain tile of the floor threw off a hard, reflective shine, except in a few areas probably scuffed up by the workers.
I did not see or hear any sign of another person in this space, so I dared to keep exploring. Farther toward the back of the main room, the ceiling panels still gaped in some places, and capped-off electrical wires dangled from the openings like jungle snakes. A tall ladder slanted against one wall bore a thin film of dust that again showed it hadn’t seen much use recently. Nearby, a rolling rack of open shelves, the kind that could move many trays of hot meals at once, stood empty.
Behind the rack, I glimpsed a low, white-draped form, and crept nearer. A round, room service–type table stood shoved up oddly against a closed, windowless door. In sharp contrast to the rest of the sterile, lifeless environment, the table had been spread with a neat linen cloth and set with two of the hotel’s dessert plates. An unopened bottle of red wine stood between two stemmed glasses, near a small, unopened Valentine box of “assorted chocolates.” Across the center of the table lay a florist’s bouquet of red roses mixed with baby’s breath and tied with a white ribbon.
For a second, I tried to rationalize all this. The tableau looked so carefully assembled—could it be a genuine room service delivery that had been parked here for some reason? But my sixth sense didn’t buy that explanation. I remembered the tidy presentation of Gordie’s heart-shaped silver tag nestled in the small white gift box, which had been tied shut with the cat’s plaid collar.
My flesh prickled.
I would have backed away that instant, except for the faint scratching noise that came from the other side of the half-hidden door.
That could have sent my mind to all kinds of lurid places if it hadn’t been so familiar to me. It soon was followed by another sound that I’d both hoped and dreaded to hear.
A long-drawn, mournful meow.
Chapter 19
I lost my sense of caution and rolled the dinner cart out of the way. The single door had no keypad, and when I tested the latch, it gave.
The small room behind also was dim, but as soon as I cracked open the door, a silver tabby cat pressed himself into the gap. I blocked his escape—a move I’d perfected with my own cats as well as on the job—pushed into the room, and shut the door behind both of us. Gordie rubbed against my shins and purred loudly, starved for attention.
Or just starved? I scanned the space, which was outfitted with shelves like a storage room or pantry. On the floor, I spotted a cheap plastic double bowl with hollows for food and water. The food side was empty, but a bag of inexpensive dry stuff sat on a shelf above; not the special diet that Gordie needed, though. A shimmer in the other bowl told me that he at least had been left with some water. One sniff let me know there also was a used litter pan somewhere in the room.
Most important—off to the right, I spied Gordie’s distinctive aqua-blue carrier.
My heart pounded with fresh excitement. Here was a chance to solve a big part of everyone’s problem. Grab the cat, return him to Jaki, and she’d have no need to risk her neck by meeting her stalker in person. Steve/Stefan might even lose his nerve when he realized he no longer had the perfect bait to reel in his dream woman.
And with the expo winding down, no one would think it odd for me to be walking down the concourse at this hour with a fancy cat carrier.
Definitely worth the risk.
Since the Scottish Fold was playing up to me anyhow, I scooped him into my arms, crossed the narrow room, and tucked him into his carrier. I whispered to him to be quiet and closed it up. Toting the bag, I tiptoed back to the storeroom door and eased it open.
I pushed it shut behind us and carefully rolled the room service cart back to where it had been. I had left the double doors exactly as I’d found them, about half an inch ajar with the rubber doorstop wedged in between. Gordie and I should be able to make a quick and quiet getaway.
Out in the main kitchen area, with a little more light, I checked my phone again for the time. Six forty-five; Jaki would be about to start her show. Would she feel better if she knew her cat was safe? I set down the carrier for a second and typed a text to Bonelli: Found Gordie! Tell Jaki he’s okay. I’m
Bad move to take my eye off the door, even for a second. My clever exit plan also let Steve make a quick and quiet entrance.
Before I could even glance up again, he was inside. He still wore his “uniform” of a gray polo shirt and dark dress slacks, topped by a black windbreaker.
At least he turned away from me to shut the door. I ducked behind the end of the long worktable and pushed the cat carrier behind me. Before pocketing my phone, just in case it would do any good, I hit send.
In the stillness of the empty kitchen, Steve/Stefan must have heard the shuffling sounds, because he spun around. I worried that the gap between the tabletop and its lower shelf might not do much to hide my crouching silhouette.
“Who’s there?” He sounded neither as frightened nor as angry as I’d have expected. Also a little . . . hopeful? Did he actually think that Jaki might have figured out his hiding place and come to meet him ahead of schedule?
That did seem to be the way his thoughts were trending, because his voice turned gentle and wheedling. “I know you’re in here. It’s okay, you can come out. Don’t be afraid.”
Figuring it was only a matter of time before he spotted me anyhow, I stood up slowly. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d disappointed a guy, but until now the consequences hadn’t been fatal.
“You!” His bland, Boy Scout face spasmed; I almost expected him to stamp his foot and throw a tantrum. “How did you find this place?”
For the time being, I tried to forget that this unimpressive-looking young guy might have killed two men who’d had, presumably, better self-defense skills than mine. Stefan stood only an inch or two taller, and the couple of times we’d met before, I’d thought of him as having a slight build. Now I noticed that he actually looked pretty fit, maybe from all of those hours in the dojo.
I tried desperately to think of an approach that would defuse the situation, from his point of view. I kept my tone calm and quiet, as if handling a rabid wildcat that might slash me to ribbons.
Use the name he gave himself.
“It’s okay, Steve. I just want to help you,” I said. “To keep you from making a bad mistake.”
“The worst mistake I could make now is letting you walk out of here.” He jabbed a hand inside his windbreaker and whipped out the stolen semiautomatic.
Oh, crap. All blood rushed from my brain to my feet, and the pistol’s barrel, though fairly small and half a room away, loomed gigantic in my mind. This was not even the first time I’d been held at gunpoint, but trust me, that sense of barely controlled hysteria never gets old.
Somehow, though, I managed to keep talking in a way that I hoped would make sense to Mr. Dumas/Rickert. “That’s where you’re wrong. See, Jaki and I have gotten to be friends. The security guard, the private eye . . . those guys didn’t mean anything to her. And if you killed them in self-defense, Jaki will understand that. But if you shoot me in cold blood, she’ll be really upset. She could never forgive you, and it would ruin your whole plan.”
This sounded like pure BS even to me, but at least it made Steve stop and think. He must already know that I’d had contact with Jaki, since he’d left the ominous note on my windshield.
“You’re interfering!” he accused. “If all of you just stopped interfering, none of this had to happen.”
“I know, Steve. The others don’t understand. They think you’re trying to hurt Jaki, but you’d never do that, would you?” I nodded toward the alcove with the room service table.
“I saw the nice surprise you set up for her. That’s lovely. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”
“Sh-she’s still coming?”
I nodded. “She has to do her show first, of course. So she probably can’t make it until after eight. And I know she’s waiting for the last few clues from you about how to get here. I just stumbled onto this place because I’d heard there was an unfinished wing and got curious about it. I never would have guessed this was your meeting spot. Very smart!”
His eyes hardened behind their dark-rimmed glasses, and his grip on the pistol steadied. “You’re making fun of me.”
“No, not at all. You’ve handled everything very cleverly from the beginning. Even Jaki can’t believe how much trouble you went to, just to arrange it all.”
Showing at least some fleeting grasp of reality, he snorted. “She probably doesn’t even remember me.”
“Oh, she does. I was showing her pictures I took at the cat show, and one of them had you in the background. Right away, Jaki said, ‘Hey, I know that guy. It’s Stefan’”—I thought it better to leave off his last name—“ ‘from high school!’ After that, she figured it must’ve been you leaving the notes and sending the e-mails, the past couple of years.”
He looked truly confused now. Because I had my facts straight, he couldn’t accuse me of just making stuff up. “She really recognized me?”
“She did. She said, of course, that you’ve matured a lot since she last saw you.” I decided the best approach from here on out was to lie my head off. “She told me she felt sorry that the two of you never got together back then. She was so busy with all of her lessons, and then the TV show, that she hardly had time to date anybody. Anyway, she’s glad for this chance to make things right. She’s looking forward to seeing you later, so you two can catch up and finally get to know each other, the way you should have years ago.”
I might have overdone it, I realized, when I saw tears running down the guy’s face. For a second, I did feel some compassion for Stefan: brilliant but oddball teenager with a difficult mother, regularly taunted and even beaten up by the school jocks. Eventually, though, he’d developed two areas of expertise—electronics and martial arts. The day he’d broken that bully’s collarbone and left him howling in the schoolyard must have been a tipping point.
A secret superhero in his own mind, Stefan—now Steve—would not be cowed anymore. He would go after what he wanted in life.
And the prize he wanted most was Jaki.
If she had graduated and simply moved elsewhere, he might have forgotten about his crush on her. But she became a star, so he could watch her on TV, find pictures of her all over the Internet, listen to her albums, and maybe get a ticket now and then to one of her concerts. This continued their relationship, if only in Stefan’s head. She became the goddess who would finally give meaning to his lonely life. He just needed to get her to return his feelings.
Helpful as it was for me to understand his thought processes, I warned myself not to let my sympathies get the better of me. Stefan seemed to be wavering now, but I still needed some excuse to get past him and out that door to safety.
“The only thing Jaki’s still concerned about,” I told him, “is Gordie. She understands why you took him, but the thing is, he’s not as healthy as he looks. He has a kidney condition and needs a special diet. I’m sure you didn’t know about that, but if he doesn’t get the right kind of food soon . . .” I frowned in the direction of the carrier. “Jaki loves Gordie, and she’d be heartbroken if anything happened to him. Why don’t you let me take him to her now, while she’s onstage, so she can see that he’s still okay?”
He stiffened again. “Then she won’t come later on.”
“Sure she will. Like I told you, she wants to, now that she realizes it’s you she’ll be meeting. But if I bring the cat back, it will help. She’ll know for sure that you don’t mean her any harm.”
“I don’t mean her harm?” Stefan’s cheeks reddened. “They’re the ones who are destroying her! Her family, her agent, her record company . . . To them, she’s just a property, a moneymaking machine. I heard they got her hooked on drugs just to keep her going even when she was exhausted. Then last year that stupid playboy actor broke her heart.” Tearing up again, he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his windbreaker. “That song she wrote, ‘Free Me’? That was the real Jaki, calling out for someone to take her away from it all, to love her for herself. That’s what I’m going to do! Once she realizes that, she’ll be happy to go away with me.”
I knew better than to argue with him about his delusions. Obviously Stefan had kept up with, and believed, every bit of exaggerated gossip about Jaki’s career, her brief episode of abusing prescription drugs, and her rocky love life. And he interpreted her moody pop ballad about longing for escape, adventure, and romance as a desperate cry for help that only he could answer. There was no way I, a stranger, could hope to talk him out of all those fantasies.
Stefan calmed a little, and his gaze roamed around the gleaming, antiseptic surfaces of the dormant kitchen as dreamily as if it were a romantic rooftop garden. “This place was supposed to be our secret, hers and mine.” His hazel eyes, behind the rectangular glasses, locked onto me again. “If you go back now, the cops will want to know where to find me. And you’ll tell them, won’t you?”
“No, Steve. I promise—”
“You were on your phone to somebody when I came in!”
Damn, I hadn’t thought he saw that. “To Jaki. I texted her that I’d found Gordie. That was all I had time to write.”
“Great, just great.” His eyes darted around now, as if he might find some escape from his dilemma among the rows of stainless-steel shelving. “The cops can trace your freakin’ phone. Think I don’t know that?”
I hung my head in a show of humility. “I’m sure you do, Steve. You know a lot about electronics, that’s for sure.”
“Stop it!” he screamed. “You’re just screwin’ with me, aren’t you? I bet none of it’s true. Jaki didn’t remember me, and she’s not coming, is she?”
Afraid to string him along any further, I shut up and hyperfocused once more on the gun. But so far, in all of this time, Stefan hadn’t used it. If he had no practice with one, he could be a lousy shot. He’d nailed the PI at close range, but it would take more skill to hit me from about twenty feet away, especially if I ducked.
Or was it one thing for him to use lethal force in self-defense, but another to kill an unarmed woman in cold blood? If he shot me now, he wouldn’t be able to rationalize it away.
No question, he’d be a murderer.
During our mutual silence, I thought I heard faint sounds from the concourse outside. Wishful thinking? If I screamed for help, Stefan might just panic and shoot. And if the noises came from an unsuspecting maintenance worker who’d noticed the door left ajar, I could get another innocent person killed along with me.
All I could do was delay as long as possible. Going back to my calm, cool voice, I asked, “What time is it now?”
He blinked, as if wondering what new trick I was up to. But after all, I didn’t pose much of a threat. I didn’t have a gun of my own, and I was too far away to rush him. In the barren kitchen, there wasn’t even anything handy that I could throw at him—unless I wanted to hurl the carrier and sacrifice Gordie. He probably guessed that wasn’t going to happen.
Still, he didn’t trust me long enough to look away for an instant. “You tell me.”
I checked my phone. “Five after seven. Jaki will have started her show. A shame you can’t be there to see it.”
In a brittle voice, he told me, “You won’t see it, either.”
I put the phone away carefully, still keeping one eye on his gun. But my pulse rate slowed just a little from full panic mode. While checking the small screen, I’d seen Bonelli’s recent answer to my text of fifteen minutes earlier: Sit tight, we’re right outside.
Guess I just needed to get myself out of the line of fire. Ri
ght on cue, another pathetic meow issued from the cat carrier on the floor, still tucked safely behind the steel table.
“Aww, poor Gordie.” I glanced down to let Steve know what I was up to, then squatted to comfort the cat. “It’s okay, boy. You’ll be back with your mommy again soon—”
“Freeze! Hands up!”
As the double doors burst open, I dove to the floor next to Gordie, behind the steel table. The hard linoleum burned the palms of my hands, and I shut my eyes, braced for the shootout.
When a minute passed and it never came, I dared to peer from my hiding place. It looked as if, surprised from behind, Dumas had been too stunned to even fire his weapon. Officer Gardiner, the young one with the flattop, quickly removed the pistol from Stefan’s raised hand and cuffed him, while reading him his rights.
Chapter 20
Once handcuffed, Stefan Dumas stood still and mute, his normally pale face beet red. Embarrassed that he’d lost his battle of wits with the cops? Furious that I’d conspired in his capture? He did shoot me a venomous glare, as if he wished he’d killed me when he had the chance.
I really hoped they’d send him away to someplace secure where he’d never escape. I sensed Stefan would be very good at plotting revenge.
Once I could see the situation was under control, I rose unsteadily back to my feet. My legs felt as cramped as if I’d been huddled behind the steel worktable for hours instead of just minutes. I hugged Gordie’s carrier to my chest, feeling bonded to him by our shared near-death experience.
The sight made Bonelli smile, and she asked me, “How’s our hostage doing?”
“Probably better than I am. How’d you find me, by my phone?”
“Yeah, and it helped that you’d already mentioned checking out this kitchen. You took a hell of a chance, though, lady.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t mean to, but once I realized Gordie was in that pantry, I thought I’d have time to whisk him away before Stefan came back.” I stuck a finger through the mesh of the carrier, and the tabby rubbed against it. “I’m sure he has no idea what a close call we both had. Can I get him out of here? Maybe take him to Jaki?”
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