“I’m not sure what to make of it, that’s all. I associate the name with happier times.”
“These aren’t happier times?”
“I mean between you and me.”
“Do you still hate me, Shelby?”
“Why would I hate you?”
“For my part in the divorce.”
Shelby shook his head. “It always takes two. Breakups, successful marriages…no one should ever take all the blame or the credit. You were right when you said I wasn’t paying attention. Looking back, I can see I was really focused on my own shit and left you out a lot of the time.”
“It’s okay. Really. I have my own regrets to deal with.”
Shelby stood up. “Maybe I will have that wine.”
Helen accompanied him to the kitchen. “Do you know who followed you?”
“No. I was hoping you’d have an idea.”
Helen got the bottle from the refrigerator, found a clean glass, and poured. She bit her lip and waited to answer until she’d recorked the bottle and replaced it inside the refrigerator. She handed the glass to Shelby and said, “The gun. It isn’t for random safety. I got it for a reason.”
“Care to tell me what that reason might be?”
Helen drank her wine and got the bottle back out to refill the glass.
“I owe money. A lot of it.”
“How much is a lot?”
“A lot. And you might as well know, my ex-husband—my other ex-husband—didn’t leave me with much.”
“You didn’t get anything in the divorce settlement? I was under the impression he was well off. Wealthy men don’t generally do well in divorce cases.”
“Oh, yes, poor old rich guys being taken advantage of by their shrewish, money-grubbing wives. I’ve heard it all before. Believe me, if I could have taken his money, I would have. He deserved it. But it didn’t work out that way. Robert knows everyone in this town. Everyone in law, anyway. I got stiffed, and stiffed good.”
“Your lawyer didn’t see any of it coming?”
“He said it would be fine, that I shouldn’t worry. After the divorce was finalized, a friend told me she’d seen Robert and my lawyer having drinks at a club. They seemed very friendly.”
“You did get stiffed.”
“And stiffed good.”
“So that explains why you don’t have the money. But it doesn’t explain why you owe it in the first place.”
“Does it matter?”
“It might.”
Helen moved back to the main room and settled into her chair. She took a sip of wine and sat, thoughtfully moving her mouth back and forth like a connoisseur at a wine-tasting competition.
Finally, she said, “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Frankly, I’m embarrassed. Ashamed, really.”
“I think we’re over being able to judge each other, don’t you?”
“As Hemingway said in The Sun Also Rises, ‘Isn’t it pretty to think so.’”
“I’d like to help you, Helen. But I’m not sure I can if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Do you remember when we were married and would go to the casino and gamble until the wee hours?”
“Yes. Those were fun times, when we could afford them.”
“I loved those times. More than I ever let on.”
“How do you mean?”
“You know I have an addictive personality. I had to give up cigarettes altogether because I couldn’t moderate my consumption. I took sleeping pills for a short time and ended up hooked on those. I had back surgery a few years ago and had a run-in with pain meds.”
“Are you saying you’re addicted to gambling?”
“I was. I got help. I haven’t gambled in months. But I was in deep, Shelby, really deep. I went a little crazy during and after the divorce. Drained my savings, maxed out my credits cards, borrowed money from increasingly shady sources.”
“And one of these sources is more serious than usual about getting their money?”
“Yes. A man came to my house one night and threatened me. That’s when I gave him the five thousand. It was all I had. But I don’t think they believe I’m tapped out. Either that or they don’t care. I’m afraid they’ll kill me if I don’t pay. That’s why I bought the gun.”
“Who else knows about this?”
“No one. I haven’t told anyone.”
“Not even Gloria?”
Helen opened her mouth to deny but stopped short. Her mouth snapped closed. Then she said, “How do you know about Gloria?”
“For God’s sake, Helen, I’m still friends with Mack. And he and Gloria are still married, for now.”
“So you know about their issues.”
“Some. Enough to know Gloria has found herself a Cary Grant lookalike professor of literature.”
“As you said, it takes two.”
“Yeah, I know. But Mack’s a friend.”
“And Gloria’s a friend of mine.”
“Understood. But you’ve told no one else?”
“No one.”
“Not Leslie?”
“No one.”
“And there hasn’t been any suspicious activity around here? No one knows you’re here?”
“No, I’ve seen nothing. That’s why I didn’t want to go get my things. I was afraid they’d follow me back here. But they don’t know you.”
“Right. And that could work to our advantage.”
Helen squinted her eyes at him. “Exactly what are you scheming, Shelby Alexander?”
“I think I’ll stay at your place while I’m in town. It’s a fair bet whoever followed me was after you. It’s also a fair bet they’ll be back. If I park your car in the drive and stay out of sight, I may be able to spring a trap on the lowlife.”
“I’m worried, Shel.”
“No need to worry. You know how careful I am.”
“Yes, I do. And that’s why I’m worried.”
8
Jimmy pulled the Impala to a stop next to the curb and looked at the house. He blinked, on the off chance his eyes were deceiving him. The woman’s car sat in the driveway and a light was on inside the house. He pumped his fist. It was about time he scored a little good luck. He’d been taking it on the chin for so long, sometimes literally, that it was his turn. He sat in the car, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman. But the front curtains were drawn tight. She was probably worried about someone shooting through the window or something. She seemed the paranoid type. The truth was, no one was going to kill her until she paid up. She was too valuable. Unless it was true she was broke, but Jimmy didn’t believe that for a minute.
He turned off the car, unbuckled his seatbelt, and settled in. He didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes after he’d gotten comfortable—or as comfortable as one could be in the driver’s seat of an Impala—the lights in the house turned off.
“I’ll give her a little while to fall asleep. Then it’s show time.”
Twenty minutes crawled past before Jimmy pushed open his door and stepped out of the car. He gently closed the door, checked in his jacket for the 9mm, and moved toward the house. He went around back, scaling the low chain link fence and dropping into the backyard without incident. The fence must have been there for the dog of a previous owner, as Jimmy had never seen one anywhere around.
Jimmy moved crablike along the wall until he came to the backdoor. He reached into a jacket pocket for his tension wrench and pick. Using these, he began fiddling with the door lock. It was a simple design and, within a few minutes, the door swung open. It creaked, and Jimmy froze, listening for the sound of footsteps or movement. There was nothing. He stepped into the house and closed the door gently behind him. It was particularly dark in the rear of the house, out of reach of streetlights, and Jimmy wished he’d thought to bring a flashlight. Then again, he hadn’t expected to encounter anyone in the house. Still, he wasn’t worried. The woman was not much of a threat; he could fend her off with
one hand.
He moved along the wall, trying to remember the layout of the house. He could see enough to know he was in the kitchen. The looming shapes of appliances were unmistakable and what little light did enter through the windows glinted off stainless steel. He made for the doorway, moving his feet slowly to avoid kicking a chair or table leg, or tripping over an unseen obstacle.
As he walked through the open doorway, something hard and unyielding connected with the back of his head and then his eyes stopped working and the world went black.
Shelby watched the young man crumple to the floor. He flexed his hand. The hammer fist blow to the base of the skull was one of the least destructive to his hands, but even it had caused a stab of pain. He wondered if his arthritis—something he suspected had been caused or exacerbated by his boxing days—was worsening. A visit to the doctor might be in order. If he indeed scheduled an appointment, he’d be sure to keep it a secret from Leslie. His daughter had appointed herself as his medical watchdog, and she had enough to worry about right now.
He bent down and dragged his victim back into the kitchen. He made sure the blinds were closed before turning on the light. He grabbed a chair from the table set and hoisted the young man’s body into it. Using duct tape, he secured one leg to each front chair support before pulling the hands behind and taping them together. Then he wrapped tape around the upper body and back of the chair several times. One final strip was placed over the prisoner’s mouth. Shelby didn’t need him waking up and yelling before being shut up again.
After several minutes, Shelby double-checked to make sure the young man was still alive—perhaps the hit was harder than intended. That blow had been used as a kill strike in the past, and Shelby was rusty. He was on the verge of throwing cold water in the young man’s face, when there was a muffled cough and a snort. The young man’s eyes were wide and confused. They darted back and forth as their owner tried to put together what had happened.
Shelby leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. He regarded his captive with cold, calculating eyes. “You can relax. I’m not planning to hurt you. Unless you piss me off.” He pushed away from the counter. “If I take that tape off your mouth, are you going to do anything stupid? Like yell or call for help?”
The young man shook his head.
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
Again, the young man indicated no.
Shelby walked over and unceremoniously yanked off the duct tape. The young man yelped as the powerful adhesive tore free of his beard stubble.
“I thought you were going to be quiet,” Shelby said.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I think I’ll ask the questions. Although that is a good one. And since you’re the one who broke into someone else’s house in the middle of the night, I think it’s only fair you go first.”
“Jimmy.”
“Jimmy? That’s it?”
“Yeah, Jimmy.”
Shelby made a tsking sound with his tongue. “I was hoping to avoid any unpleasantness, but if you’re going to start lying to me this early—well, I don’t know how we’ll avoid it. That little tap on the head was my version of gentle. Understand?”
Jimmy nodded.
“Well, then?”
“It’s Smith. Jimmy Smith.”
Shelby’s open palm caught Jimmy on the face, snapping the young man’s head to one side.
“You disappoint me, Jimmy.”
“Shit, man! That hurt!”
“You brought it on yourself.”
“How do you know my name isn’t Smith? Lots of people are named Smith.”
“You don’t look like a Smith to me.” Shelby flexed his hands. “You want to try again?”
“It’s Holstine.”
“Holstein? As in the cow?”
“We don’t spell it that way. It means ‘one who dwells in the woods.’”
“Thanks for the etymological insight. But I’m more interested in why you were breaking into someone’s house in the middle of the night.”
“That’s usually when I break into people’s houses.”
Shelby sighed. “You don’t seem to be taking this seriously, James. I may look like a placid older gentleman, but let me assure you I am capable of some rather nasty behavior, especially when it comes to protecting the people I care about.”
“You mean the old woman who lives here?”
“That old woman happens to be my ex-wife.”
“I can see why, if you’re into tying people to chairs.”
“Wisecracks are not your friend, Jimmy. I realize you’re using humor as a way of keeping your shit together, but it’s really starting to piss me off. Remember what I said about pissing me off?”
“You weren’t planning to hurt me.”
“Unless you piss me off. We’re fast approaching that point. Now I’m going to ask you again. Why did you break into this house?”
“I have business with the old—your ex-wife.”
“What sort of business?”
“Private business.”
Shelby clipped Jimmy on the side of the head with the casual flick of a wrist.
“Jesus!” Jimmy’s face twisted with pain. “I didn’t mean we were screwing or anything.”
“That’s not my concern. She has better taste.”
“She dumped you. That says something.”
As angry as Shelby was, he couldn’t help feeling a creeping sense of admiration for the young man. Whatever Jimmy might be, he wasn’t a coward. Foolish, perhaps, but Shelby had sympathy for young stupidity, having demonstrated a large capacity for it himself in years past.
“Listen, Jimmy. You seem reasonably intelligent, so let’s examine the situation. You’re tied to a chair in a house you illegally entered. Your captor is a man with a violent past who gets a little crazy when those in his inner circle are threatened. Are you seeing the inevitable here? You’re a likable kid, but you’re way down on my list of people I give a shit about. I don’t want to go all CIA black site on you, but I will if you don’t give me the answers I’m looking for. Okay?”
Jimmy said nothing.
“Let’s start again,” Shelby said. “What are you doing here?”
“I had business with the woman.”
“Business of what nature? Money?”
Jimmy nodded.
“You were here to collect on a debt?”
Another nod.
“How much?”
Silence.
Shelby walked over to the counter where a block of kitchen knives sat. He selected one and tested the blade on his thumb. He winced.
“A little dull. If there’s one thing I always hated, it was getting cut with a dull knife. They do so much more damage and hurt like hell, because it’s basically blunt trauma.”
Jimmy’s cool demeanor cracked a little. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Shelby approached his captive and tapped him on the nose with the point of the knife. “Is it worth taking the chance? I mean, once I get started, I may not be able to stop. The smell of blood, you know, it kind of gets to me.”
A few beads of sweat popped out on Jimmy’s forehead.
“Let me ask again. How much money are you trying to collect?”
“She owes twenty.”
“Twenty?”
“Thousand.”
Shelby stood there for a moment, trying to process the figure. Helen owed twenty thousand dollars to loan sharks? She hadn’t been overstating when she’d said she had gotten in “really deep.” Shelby took the knife away from Jimmy’s face and began turning it over and over, the handle making little slapping sounds as it connected with his palm. “Here’s the most important question, Jimmy. And I really don’t want to go around and around about this. One straight answer is what I’m looking for. You ready?”
Jimmy stared but said nothing.
“Who are you working for?”
Jimmy squirmed. “Nobody. I’m on my own.”
Shelby’s lunge was a blur. He gripped Jimmy’s throat in a vise grip and pulled the younger man forward so hard that the rear chair legs came off the floor.
“Don’t lie to me, you little shit. I’m done messing with you. I’ve been around long enough to know you aren’t running this racket on your own. Play me for a fool and you might find yourself in a ditch somewhere without any identifying features.”
Jimmy opened his mouth as if to speak, but his airway was completely shut off. Shelby relaxed his hold a little and Jimmy croaked out, “I can’t…tell you. He’d…kill me.”
“Who’d kill you?”
Jimmy’s eyes bulged and his face darkened from oxygen deprivation. He struggled against the restraints, but the duct tape held. Shelby gripped the young man’s throat and leaned in until their faces were only an inch apart.
“Who…are…you…working for?”
“I—I can’t tell you.”
Shelby saw red for a split second and the next moment he’d released the throat hold and pressed the knife against Jimmy’s neck. He could see the pulsing artery being pinched beneath the skin.
“So help me, you little shit, if you don’t start talking, I’m going to—”
“Shel! Stop!”
Shelby whirled around, the knife ready, his body instinctively assuming a defensive position. A man stood in the door, a suitcase in one hand, the other holding a gun.
“Mack? What the hell are you doing?”
Mack pointed the gun at Shelby’s captive. “That’s what I was going to ask you.”
“How’d you get in here?”
“I thought you were staying at Leslie’s, so I went there first. Helen told me where you were and gave me her key. I heard something going on when I walked in the front door, so I grabbed my sidearm and came to investigate. What the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to get information.” Shelby removed the knife from Jimmy’s throat and stepped back. He walked past Mack, gesturing for his friend to follow him into the main room.
Once there, Mack gripped Shelby’s arm.
“What the hell are you doing, Shel? Since when do you go full Donald Rumsfeld?”
“This kid broke into the house looking for Helen. Apparently, she owes money to some loan sharks and the kid is a collector. He’s being stubborn.”
Serenity Avenged Page 4
