and along came SPIDER ( A Martina Spalding Thriller ) (Spider Series Book 1)

by J. R. WRIGHT

  A few moments later, to her dismay, she saw a light blue Thunderbird in the rearview mirror. It was coming her way, a half block back. Had she not loosened the valve cores enough, she wondered? It was only a faint hiss on each, she recalled. She’d figured that would flatten a tire the size of those on the ‘bird’ in fifteen minutes. What could’ve gone wrong? But there he was nonetheless, near on her now.

  Marti’s father had done a superior job of fine tuning the old Chevy when he owned it. But even at that, it was no match for the newer, more powerful, car behind her. She saw what she thought was a pistol suddenly appear from the driver’s side window. This prompted her to begin swerving in her lane, making it difficult for him to target her. The first shot shattered her rear window, and the bullet lodged into the seat at her back. She felt the thump, but knew it hadn’t come through the steel shell that was in there somewhere.

  At the next intersection, paying no attention to the traffic light, she whipped a sharp right turn. The tires squealed as the car nearly went over on two wheels. She’d avoided the second shot fired. Looking back, as he followed her around, she noticed that the rear tire on right side was completely flat now. It was also smoking from the friction of the rim spinning around in it.

  Another quick turn, this time to the left, produced the results expected. The Thunderbird stalled out on the turn. Only the rims raced inside the tires, leaving it dead center of the intersection. Soon thereafter, horns began blaring from all sides. Marti was safe at last and exhausted a long held breath in relief.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Fifteen minutes later, Marti pulled up to the curb at Spencer House. In her panic to get inside, her purse strap caught on the door handle while entering, setting her back on her heels. Embarrassed, she fumbled to get it free. She needed to use a phone quickly, and the one there was the handiest, since she felt a need to tell Gloria what’d happened, anyway. Finally, coming through the door, she noticed Scott Harris at Gloria’s desk. Gloria had a cardboard box and seemed to be in the process of clearing out her desk. Her face showed that she had been crying.

  “You understand, don’t you?” Harris was saying, when Marti approached. “We just can’t have that kind of publicity.” His finger pointed to a newspaper on the desk. The headlines read: “TWO OFFICERS DIE ESCORTING SPENCER HOUSE NURSES HOME AFTER A NIGHT OF DRINKING.” “And that goes for you too, Martina.” Harris focused on her now.

  “What goes for me?” Marti asked, but already had a good idea what was coming down.

  “Why are you firing Martina?” Gloria protested. “She was at work here till midnight. She had only one glass of wine at Hannity’s before we left there to go home.”

  “I’m sorry, Martina,” Harris turned to her again. “Like I told Gloria, when this blows over I’ll be happy to hire you both back. It’s just that this sort of thing makes the home office very irritable. In this case, I have no choice but to abide by their wishes, and let you go. For what it’s worth, though, I will be issuing you each a glowing recommendation. Absent of this recent incident, of course. You both have been superior employees. If you should choose to seek employment elsewhere, hopefully those will help. I might add: we also have openings at our Los Angeles and Portland Oregon facilities. That is, if you’re interested in continuing with us. You can think about it. In the meantime, however, your final checks will be available in a few minutes. They’re working on them upstairs now.”

  ‘Oh, wow!’ Marti thought, once all of this had sunk in. What would her folks think of her getting fired after only a month on the job? But she understood why and didn’t hold a grudge against Spencer House for doing it. Or even Scott Harris, for that matter. He was only doing his job. “I’ll just go up and get my things,” she said, timidly backing away.

  “That won’t be necessary, Miss Spalding.” Harris waved her back. “A fourth floor nurse will be down with the contents of your locker, momentarily. I took the liberty of having that done for you.”

  So now she wasn’t even trusted to retrieve her own things? “Okay. Then I’ll just wait. In the meantime, can I use the phone? I need to call a friend.”

  “Help yourself,” Harris tossed over his shoulder, already retreating toward his office across the lobby.

  Marti opened her purse and searched for the card given to her by Lieutenant Dunbar. She knew just where to look. It was, no doubt, under the pistol, but she wouldn’t bring that out here.

  “I’m sorry, Martina,” Gloria said, between sniffles.

  “Don’t be. I figured to be leaving soon anyway.”

  “And when were you going to tell me that?”

  “Tonight, probably. It just came to me this morning, after I left you,” Marti said. “I planned to ask you to come along.”

  “You did?” Gloria seemed pleased.

  “Of course! It’s because of you I decided to go. It’s the only way you’ll be safe again.” Marti came up with the card and reached for the phone. “I thought we’d leave tonight,” she said, then remembered the broken rear window in her car. It was the reason for the phone call she was about to make. She dialed the number.

  “I can’t go that soon,” Gloria protested. “I’ve got furniture to deal with and…”

  “Yes, Lieutenant Dunbar, please?” Marti said, then paused. “No, just tell him Martina Spalding called… Yes, I’ll be at the apartment, once you’ve radioed him… He knows, yes. Thank you.” Marti dropped the phone into its cradle.

  “What was that about?” Gloria took on a blank look.

  “I’ve got a bullet in my car. I thought he’d be interested in it.”

  “A bullet! My God, Martina! What happened?”

  “Raym took a couple of shots at me,” Marti said, then for some strange reason, she smiled as if the whole ordeal had been a hoot.

  “What…! Martina, are you alright?”

  “I’m fine. But I bet things aren’t going so well for Raym, about now. I told his mousey wife that I was having an affair with him. I even gave her reason to believe me.”

  “And he shot at you for that?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh my God! What am I going to do with you? Somehow, when I drew that floor plan of the building last night, I just knew something like this would happen. Raym has a terrible temper.”

  “That’s all you have to say? He has a temper? The man’s a killer, Gloria,” Marti corrected her. “And an easily provoked one, at that. But then, I knew that going in.”

  Twenty minutes later, the two of them cautiously exited Spencer House and ran for the car with their possessions. Two minutes after that, they were at the curb in front of the apartment building, and soon thereafter scrambling to get inside. But before they could, a familiar voice shouted from the street.

  “Miss Spalding!” It was Dunbar they saw stepping out of the patrol car and marching toward them. “You called?”

  “Go on in, Gloria,” Marti said, looked around, then descended the steps again. “Lieutenant, I called because, as you can see, I ran into a little trouble,” she said, pointing to her car.

  “This is your car?” Dunbar walked to it. “What happened to the rear window?”

  “Raym Koffee shot it out. But that’s not why I called…”

  “Now, wait just a damned minute, Martina! There you go again. Will you just once answer a damned question, before creating another one? Now, let’s start over. Raym Koffee shot out your rear window. Was he trying to kill you?”

  “Well, I guess that’s pretty damned obvious, wouldn’t you say, Lieutenant?”

  “Okay. Then let’s try this one. Why was he trying to kill you?”

  “Because I provoked him,” Marti said. “Are you going to ask me how I provoked him? Or why I provoked him? All of that is counterproductive, Lieutenant. The important thing is one of his bullets is lodged in my seat.” She yanked open the rear door and pointed at the hole. “I thought maybe the bullet that’s in there somewhere may match up to the ones removed from the John Doe. If
so, then you have your killer, Lieutenant.”

  “Okay,” he said, scratching his brow, confused. “But one question first. Then I’ll let the others rest until later.” Dunbar lifted his eyebrows in anticipation. “Did you actually see Raymond Koffee shoot at you?”

  “Of course! He was chasing me with his car. Plenty of people must have seen it. It happened just an hour ago, in the downtown area… two blocks from the police station, Lieutenant.”

  Several people, in fact, had reported a car chase. But none reported gun shots that he knew of. “Did you see the actual gun?”

  “Well, I saw his fist come out of the window. It looked like something black was in it. Then POW! My rear window exploded.”

  “So, it could have been a small pistol? Even smaller than the one I gave you?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Alright! Now, we’re getting somewhere.” Dunbar then got down on his knees with a small knife to cut the seat and remove the bullet. Moments later he came up with it. “Twenty-five caliber,” he said, holding it up to the light. “Okay, Miss Spalding, I’ve got to get this downtown. You’d best get inside.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell me if that’s a possible match? I mean, I think I have a right to know, since I was almost killed by it.”

  “Okay, Martina. I’ll share with you just this once. Both the John Doe and Officer Bright were killed with twenty-five caliber bullets. The only thing is, the markings on the slugs recovered could not have come from a modern gun. The gun those bullets were fired from could only have been a Colt vest pocket pistol, manufactured somewhere around 1896.”

  “So it was an antique?” Marti said.

  “I suppose so, yes.”

  “As Gloria mentioned… the Koffees own hundreds of antique guns. Do you suppose that Colt you’re talking about is one from their collection?”

  “Could be,” Dunbar shrugged. “But now I need to go. I’ll wait for you to get inside.”

  “There’s just one more thing, Lieutenant. I tricked Raym Koffee’s wife into admitting he wasn’t at home last night.” She fingered some hair aside, proud of her accomplishment. “He told her he’d been at the club.”

  “Okay! You got me again, Martina.” He pushed his hat back in frustration. “Now just how was it you happened to be chatting with Mrs. Koffee?”

  “I’ll make it quick for you, Lieutenant. I went to the Koffee building this morning. I did it with one goal in mind, and that was to intimidate Raym. Give him some of his own medicine. So, when I went in, who’s the first person I bump into? Well, it just happened to be his wife, Sheela. To get the ball rolling, I told her I was pregnant.”

  “Pregnant!” Dunbar glanced to her midsection. “Are you pregnant?”

  “Of course not, Lieutenant! But I’m on a mission, remember? What I did then was tell her that Raym was the father.”

  “Wow! So, that’s why he chased you and shot out your rear window?”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Miss Spalding, I don’t have time for this.” Dunbar said, holding up a hand. “Do me a favor. Go to your apartment, and please don’t come out again until you hear from me. I’ve got your number. Okay?” Dunbar was beyond frustration. He wondered now if it was still a good idea that she continue to have the Beretta he’d given her. Where’d this gal come from? he asked himself, again.

  “Okay, if you insist,” Marti said, then she backed away to a point, and ran up the steps. Why was he so sour, she wondered?

  Fearing by her departing expression that he’d hurt her feelings, Dunbar shouted after her, “Thank you, Miss Spalding!” He was, after all, appreciative of the potential evidence she’d supplied him.

  “Sure!” Marti felt better now and merrily entered the building. Even if she didn’t have the opportunity to tell about how clever it was of her, to have the foresight to flatten Raym’s tires. Even though it hadn’t worked out quite as well as she’d expected… he didn’t need to know that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  To add insult to injury, when Gloria got to the apartment door, attached to it was an eviction notice. After a petition was circulated by the tenants of the building, management determined by the results that they were no longer wanted here for safety reasons — their own safety. They had one week to relocate. The balance of this month’s prepaid rent, plus deposit, would be fully refunded, if they complied as requested. Otherwise, a court order would be sought.

  Gloria had a martini in hand when she allowed Marti entry into the apartment. What else could go wrong this day? she wondered, waving the notice about.

  “What’s that?” Marti asked, knowing it must be something awful, judging by Gloria’s body actions.

  “We’re evicted,” she said. “The other tenants are worried for their safety.”

  “I can’t say as I blame them. I’d be plenty scared myself. Them not knowing how much of what happened is our fault.” Marti took it from her hand. “How long do we have?”

  “Just a week!” She tipped the drink for a sip. “One stinking week! Can you believe that?”

  Surely, Marti could have a new rear window installed in her car by then. “If we’re leaving town, what difference does it make?”

  “Maybe none. But I like things on my terms. I’m tired of being told what to do.”

  “I know, Gloria,” she went to her, “but all of that is about to change.” She pulled her in for a hug. “How does Los Angeles sound to you?”

  “Actually, any place but here sounds good to me right now.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Marti said and went to the kitchen, where she poured a glass of wine. “Cheers!”

  “Cheers,” Gloria laughed, hoisting her drink. “After this, why don’t we go to Hannity’s and celebrate our new adventure?”

  “Oh, honey!” Marti said. “Dunbar made me promise to stay in until we hear back from him. He’s on to something and apparently doesn’t want to have to worry about us for a while.”

  “Well, if I’m to be trapped here for any length of time, I’ll need a resupply of gin.” Gloria picked up the bottle and held it to the light of the window. There seemed to be only about four or five good drinks left in it.

  “If it can wait until afternoon, perhaps you can call Hannity’s and have Lenny send over a bottle,” Marti suggested. She then headed to her bedroom to change out of the tight dress. A few minutes later, she emerged in jeans, a white sweatshirt, and sneakers, to find Gloria pouring herself another drink. Marti laid the Beretta, previously removed from her leg, on the table and topped off her wine.

  “Have you ever been to Los Angeles, Martina?” Gloria spoke of what was on her mind.

  “You know I haven’t. I’m a virgin, remember?” She then laughed at her own joke. “Why? Is there something about it I should know, before going there?”

  “It’s beautiful.” Gloria sat down at the table with her fresh drink. “And then there’s Hollywood. Hey, maybe you could get into the movies?”

  “Me?” Marti laughed at the suggestion. “How about you? You’d make a great movie star. Not only do you have all the right features, your voice is so sexy… like… silk. Change your hair color to blonde and you could be another Marilyn Monroe.”

  “You think?” Gloria extended fingers and fluffed her hair. “Then I may give it a shot. I tried once before, but I guess I was too young then. Maybe I was just at that in between age, where nobody wants you for a movie. Too old to be a kid — too young to be a woman.”

  “How come you never told me about that before?”

  “How much can one person tell about herself over a month’s time, and do a decent job of it? There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Gloria said, looking into her drink as she stirred it with a finger. “I didn’t have a happy little home to grow up in like you, Martina. My folks were divorced when I was eight. After getting shuffled around all over the place, I ran away at seventeen. That’s when I ended up in Hollywood. After a couple of weeks of getting screwed on every
agent’s couch in town, I finally wised up. After that, my grandmother took me in. Then, eventually, she sent me to nursing school. End of story. Now you know it all.” She laughed heartily.

  “Oh, Gloria!” Marti reached out to her. “It doesn’t have to be LA. Hell, we can go to Oregon? Or anywhere else you want, for that matter.”

  “Los Angeles is fine. It is truly an exciting place. Besides, I’m wiser now.”

  “Yes, you are,” Marti said, patting her back. “That’s what comes with experience. It can cure you… or near kill you even, but we always seem to emerge the better for it. Right?” She smiled warmly, with concern.

  “Bravo!” Gloria hoisted her drink and drained it.

  Then, eventually, Gloria drained the bottle too. And, after finishing the drink made from it, she went to her bed to sleep off what she’d previously thought was a decent drunk. That is, until dizziness set upon her, and she found it difficult to speak coherently.

  After Gloria left the room, Marti paced the floor for a half hour, before forcing herself to sit down. It had been a traumatic morning, and even after two glasses of wine, she wasn’t recovered. The wine was gone, but she probably wouldn’t have had any more of it, anyway. She knew her limit when in this frame of mind. Drinking when anxious only served to make her more anxious, she knew from experience. Now she’d proved that true, one more time thus far in her short life. How many more times like this would there be? she wondered dreadfully.

  Springing to her feet again, she went to the door and looked through the peep hole. Nothing there, nor did she expect anyone to be. Nobody but the two of them lived on the sixth floor. It was too much of a climb for most people to want to have to deal with. Dunbar intimated he would call if there was an all-clear… or something to that effect. At least that’s the way she took it. Certainly he wouldn’t drive over just to tell her an arrest had been made, when a phone call would serve to update her just as well.

  Looking back at the clock on the wall, she saw it was near noon. Strangely though, she didn’t feel hungry. Why not? She was always hungry at noon, regardless of the breakfast she had eaten. Another revelation! Enough excitement could cause a loss of appetite.