Poison Flower

by Thomas Perry

  Jane went to his car, got in, drove the perimeter of the hotel grounds, and then made a circuit of the neighborhood. There were no vehicles parked in sight of the hotel with people waiting in them, no loiterers across the street in Pioneer Park.

  She drove to a large plaza dominated by a supermarket. She parked near the back of the lot, and selected a cart that someone had left far from the rack. She found that she could use it like a walker to take the weight off her healing right leg. She bought a cooked chicken, salad, and vege-tables for dinner, and then bought food they would need on the road-bottled water, cookies, nuts, fruit. She loaded it all into the car, and then went to the Target store beside the supermarket. She bought hair dyes, an electric razor, a pair of scissors, and a hand mirror. She found makeup that lightened her complexion a bit, and some tanning lotion. She bought sunglasses, hats, polo shirts for Shelby, sweaters, pullovers, and pants that would cover her bruises and burns. The last item was a small suitcase.

  When she had finished her shopping, she drove along the boulevard until she saw a gas station that had a pair of pay telephones on the wall outside. She stopped and filled up the tank, then went to the telephones, put in five quarters, and dialed the number of the old stone house in Amherst, New York.

  "Hello"

  "Carey. It's me."

  She heard the huff of air leaving his lungs, then heard the breath of air he took and she could picture him, standing in the kitchen. "Are you all right"

  "I'm okay. It's been a little hairy, so I couldn't call before now. I just wanted to let you know that the hard part seems to be over, so you shouldn't worry about me too much from here on."

  "I'll try to worry exactly the right amount. How much is that"

  "I'm sorry," she said. "It was stupid to put it that way. Don't worry at all."

  "I assume you can't say where you are or who you're with. Can you say when you'll be home"

  "Not yet. I would guess it will be at least a few more days. There's a lot to do this time. I wish it were now, but it can't be. I miss you so much I could cry. In fact I guess I am."

  "And I miss you."

  "What have you told people about me"

  He sounded weary. "I told them you've gone back into the consulting business because you missed the excitement, and you're helping a company change its supply and distribution systems to survive the hard times. They think you must have gone back to work because we've lost our savings in the market, so they just look at me with sympathy."

  "That's very well done."

  "Thanks. I've become an amazing liar-an undiscovered talent."

  "I'm sorry," she said. "Look, I've got to go. I'm not sure when I can call again, so don't think anything has happened if I don't. I love you."

  "I love you. If everything is okay, why are you crying"

  "The usual reason. Because I want to be with you and I'm not." She sniffed. "I'm sorry, Carey. But I've got to go. Bye."

  She hung up the telephone, went to the car, and drove off. She hated these telephone calls. They were always from pay phones, always rushed. "I'm sorry" and "I love you" and lies to him to make him think that what she was doing this time was safe and easy. None of it ever fooled him. He had learned over the years to pretend he believed, because that made it possible for both of them to get through the conversation. During their first year together, they had fought a couple of times during these calls. Since then they had learned to pretend.

  Everything was a half-truth or an evasion. She couldn't say anything that was true or real; she could never say where she was or whom she was with, just in case someone somewhere in the miles between them was listening. At times she had sensed that he wondered what purpose it served for her to call at all. But when she hadn't called, they'd both felt awful.

  On her last trip she had been taking an advertising executive named Stephen Noton out of Massachusetts and trying to relocate him in a safe place in the West. He had been an innocent bystander, but that hadn't protected him. There had been a would-be whistle-blower in a giant soft drink company who had documentary evidence that some divisions in the company were smuggling narcotics in certain large shipments of sugar and tea and tropical fruit. The company's security men had already intercepted his first attempt to get a copy out, had cut off his access to his computer, and were searching the building for him. He had noticed a large envelope in someone's office that was about to be sent by messenger to the advertising company-specifically, to Stephen Noton. He slipped his document into the packet and got back to his office just in time to be dragged away. Before long Stephen Noton had the document, but the company knew it. Once he'd read it, the company was determined to kill him. By the time he had made his way to Jane, Noton had survived two attempts on his life, including a nighttime raid of his home. When Jane had told Carey she was going to help Stephen Noton, Carey had said, "This is an innocent man. Surely the police can take care of somebody like him without your help." She had stopped calling until Noton was settled.

  Jane reached the hotel and repeated her drive around the block to see if there were any signs of change in the parking lots surrounding the building or Pioneer Park. When she was satisfied, she parked near the side door so she didn't have far to walk.

  She took her two bags of groceries and supplies and walked into the hotel. When she reached the door, she knocked and then stood in front of the peephole. She saw it darken, and the door opened.

  Shelby took the bags and she relocked the door.

  He stared at her. "Have you been crying"

  "Me No," she said. "I guess my eyes are still watering from the dry air in the West. They'll be better when we go east."

  "When is that"

  "It's almost six now. We can probably be ready by midnight. First we have some work to do. Bring a chair into the bathroom in front of the sink."

  Two minutes later, Jane joined him in the bathroom, opened the box of hair dye, and laid out the materials. When she had finished, she said, "Have you ever had your hair dyed before"

  "No."

  "You'll be amazed at how much it helps." She pulled his head back above the sink and applied the noxious-smelling chemical to his hair. "Now sit still and relax for fifteen minutes, and then I'll do a few highlights. Nobody's hair is all one uniform shade."

  "I suppose not."

  "I know you're skeptical of this stuff, but believe me, it's worth the effort. Anything you can change about yourself, you change. Some changes are hard. This is one of the easiest ones. You want all the cosmetic stuff done right away, before you go out where you'll be seen. And soon you'll have to rent an apartment somewhere. You don't want to show up looking dark, and then be light. Men don't do that very often."

  "Let's do whatever we have time to do."

  Jane patted his shoulder. "You're learning fast."

  "A few years in a state prison gives a person great perspective."

  She finished the dye, and then mixed the small amount of blond for the highlights, and brushed it on select strands. "We'll give it a few minutes, and then you'll get to see the final effect."

  When the hair was done, she held the mirror so he could see himself. "What do you think"

  "Hmm," he said. "I look really different. Maybe even better."

  "Glad you think so. That's what we want. I like it, too. Any change you make is best if it's an improvement." She took all of the cellophane and packaging and disposable parts of the kit and put them into the shopping bag. "This is another precaution. If you do something like dyeing your hair, don't leave any of the materials in the trash. It's always possible that one of the chasers will get a tip or make the right guess. If you leave the dye or the box, they'll know you dyed your hair and the exact color."

  "I understand."

  "Good. The next thing is your skin. I've got a tanning lotion here that will change the shade of your skin. You won't be that pale prison color."

  "Don't those things make you look orange"

  "I've experimented with ju
st about every version that's on the market, and this one is the most natural looking. It looks like a mild tan." She handed the tube to him. "You don't have to do it."

  "I'll do it."

  "I'll get you started. Take off your shirt." She applied it to his face and neck and ears, his shoulders and back and chest. "You'll notice I'm wearing gloves, because I don't want to turn the palms of my hands dark. There. I'm finished with that part. Take a pair of gloves and go into the bathroom to do the rest. Do every part that the sun would tan if you were on the beach, including your feet and the tops of your toes. Then take a shower to get the lotion off."

  When he returned, fully dressed, she said, "Very good. You look natural."

  "How long does it last"

  "A few weeks, but it fades gradually, so it's possible to stop using it without suddenly looking pale. Or you can keep using it as long as you want. We're thinking in small increments of time now-how we can give you tomorrow and the next day. Anything that can disguise you for weeks is pure magic. Just keep reminding yourself that change is good as long as it doesn't attract attention. Here," she said. "I bought you some glasses. Try them on."

  He picked up a pair of frames with faintly tinted gray plastic lenses, and put them on.

  "Those are pretty good," she said. "The frames are like regular glasses, and they look expensive. That gives you the right kind of appearance-professor, not drifter. And they obscure the color of your eyes. Try the dark ones."

  He put on a pair that wrapped around his face. "I like these."

  "They're the right choice for sunny days. Take them off when you go inside. I try to do it before I open a door because I don't like that moment of near-blindness when I step into a building. I want to see everybody who can see me. Since the glasses you replace them with are nearly clear, you'll be able to take one step and stop to put them on, but use the time to survey the place. If you don't like what you see, you're already at the door."

  "All right," he said. "What next"

  Jane looked at the clock beside the bed. "It's getting late, and that's a good time to travel-there will be fewer people on the road. Now we pack up and clean the apartment. What we do after that is get your sister out of her hiding place and take her with us into a better one before somebody finds her."

  She went to the desk at the side of the room, turned on the desk lamp, found the pen, and filled in the quick checkout card. She put his key card into the envelope with it; then she took a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and left it for the maid.

  She took a hand-towel from the rack and went around the room wiping things off-doorknobs, the television set and remote control, the surfaces of all the furniture, the thermostat.

  When Shelby emerged from the bathroom and put his razor, hairbrush, and toothbrush into his suitcase, she used her towel and wiped off every surface in the bathroom, too-mirrors, drawers, drawer pulls, faucets, tiles-rinsed the glasses, and dried them.

  "You're pretty thorough," he said.

  "There's no reason to make it easier for the chasers. If they find this room, they'll have to do a thorough job of fingerprinting to know it's yours. And maybe if we work at it, they won't find anything."

  "That would be good," he said. "If they even get this far."

  She stopped and looked at him. "I'm afraid this is what it's going to be like. You leave as little trail as possible, and you take the extra few minutes to give the chasers a chance to make a mistake or miss something. If they do, you've won for this day. You get to go on living until tomorrow."

  "It doesn't sound like victory, does it"

  "No, because it isn't. Nobody comes to me until all his other options are gone. Your sister made it clear to me that yours were."

  "They were. I was buying one day at a time by fighting off the inmates who had been trying to kill me in the yard or on the cellblock. The stab in the back came on a work detail. One guy came up to distract me while the one with the homemade knife came up behind me. Another one tried while I was still in the hospital. I don't mind precautions."

  "Okay. Make sure we have everything."

  He took his suitcase and hers. "Ready."

  "Are you sure you can carry both of them"

  "Having both keeps me balanced."

  She let him out into the hall and wiped the doorknobs, then tossed the towel inside and shut the door. They went to the first floor and put the envelope in the box at the end of the cashier's desk on their way out.

  Jane walked to the gray car she had bought for Shelby. "Put the suitcases in the trunk and drive." She got into the passenger seat. "Circle the hotel, and then head toward Route 15."

  Shelby drove around the block where the hotel was, and Jane studied the traffic, the cars parked in the area, and the people visible on the streets. Then Shelby came past the front of the hotel along the route to return to the interstate. As they drove past, Shelby pointed. "Look at that."

  There were four police cars at the front entrance to the hotel with their lights off, and another unit on each side, near the residential wings.

  "It looks as though they may have gotten a report that there were a pair of fugitives living on the second floor," Jane said. "I'd say they haven't gone in after them yet."

  Shelby looked stunned and frightened, but he drove on.

  "Stop at the light," Jane said.

  "Sorry," he said. "It's hard to do anything but floor it." He pulled to a stop at the red light. It changed to green in a few seconds, and he continued up the street.

  "There. That's good," she said. "You don't want to run a light right now. There will be more cops, probably." They went under the overpass where the street met the interstate, and there were two more police cars parked beneath it with their lights off.

  "How did you know"

  "I guessed. Just before they go after somebody who's armed and dangerous, they block the streets so nobody walks into the middle of it."

  "What should I do"

  "Keep going. When you're past the interstate and out of sight, I want you to swing around the next block and come out near the hotel. Let me off in the park."

  "Let you off Why"

  "I don't have a lot of time to tell you the whole story. But I left somebody else in that hotel, a young woman I picked up on the way in Las Vegas who had been abused by her ex-husband. I shot him. I'm sure he'll try to use the police to get back at her-get her arrested for the shooting, and so on. If she gets held long enough for him to catch up, he'll kill her."

  "My God. How did you ever get involved in that" He turned the corner and drove along a street parallel with the interstate.

  "I guess I have a knack for making friends. Just let me off in Pioneer Park, and I'll take it from there."

  "I can't believe you're going back for her," he said. He turned again and went under the freeway to the street behind the hotel.

  "I think I may have made the mistake of assuming the cops were after the two of us-you and me. But maybe they're looking for the two of us-her and me."

  He pulled to the curb and watched Jane get out. She leaned back in. "If things go badly in there, take the next street over to get on the interstate. Don't go past the cops again. Get on the highway just as we planned. Pick up your sister and do the best you can."

  Jane walked across the parking lot, trying to make her limp less pronounced. There was a lock on the side door that was engaged at night, so she took out the key card she had retained from checking Iris in, swiped it in the slot, and entered the building. She went haltingly up the stairs near the door and came out on the third-floor corridor. She was relieved to see there were no police officers waiting in this hallway, but just as she found Iris's room, she heard the elevator give a faint ding, and the doors rolled open. Jane inserted her key card in the lock, the lock gave a green light, and she tried to open it. The handle wouldn't budge. The dead bolt must have been set from the inside.

  She knew that if the police were in the next corridor, they would hear her knock. So
she put her ear to the door and used her fingernails to scratch the door. It sounded a bit like a dog trying to get in. She scraped and scratched quickly and without stopping. If Iris was asleep, she didn't want to let her roll over and forget she'd heard anything. After a few seconds she heard something moving inside. She stepped back so she would be in the light if Iris looked out the peephole in the door.

  The door opened, and Iris was smiling, about to say something. Jane held a finger to her lips and slipped inside past her, then closed the door. She whispered, "I came back for you. There are police in the parking lot, and I think they're on some of the upper floors. I don't know if they're looking for my client and me, or for you and me because I shot your ex. It probably doesn't matter, because I paid for both rooms with the same card. Get your things."

  "Okay." Iris looked terrified, but she scurried around the room collecting the few items she had brought and stuffing them into her backpack, while Jane took a hand towel from the bathroom and repeated her routine of wiping off all the obvious places Iris might have touched.

  Suddenly there was a knock on the door. "Police."

  Jane put her face close to Iris. "Let them in. Don't lie about who you are. Maybe they'll want to see your identification. Fine. Just say you're alone."

  Jane lay down on the floor beyond the bed and listened while Iris opened the door.

  "Hi," Iris said. "What's going on, officer"

  "Are you alone in this room, miss"

  "Yes, why"

  "We were called because someone thought they saw a man and a woman who are wanted, considered armed and dangerous, at the hotel. The man is six feet even, light hair, and about one-eighty. The woman is tall and thin with long black hair. Have you seen anybody like that"

  "I don't think so," she said. "I just checked in today, and I haven't been out."

  "One of the other officers thought he heard a stairwell door open on this floor, and then a room door opening and closing. He thought it might be your room. Was it"

  "No."

  "Did you hear it, too"

  "If I did, it didn't make an impression," she said. "Doors open and close all the time."