Caught in the Middle

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Caught in the Middle Page 16

by Gayle Roper


  I nodded and forced myself to smile back. “It’d be great for my story.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll show you my spot. Then again maybe I won’t.”

  Cute, I thought. So cute.

  “So why’d you come?” he repeated. “Aren’t you scared of me?”

  I shook my head. “Maybe I should be, but I’m not. And you seemed to need to talk to me. I decided to take the risk.”

  “Who knows you’re here?”

  I took a deep breath and told him the truth. “No one.”

  “So I could whap you on the head, too, and no one would know?”

  “Not until Monday morning when the guys came in to work and found me, I guess. Of course, if you did me in, I couldn’t write about your evening at the mayor’s.”

  We looked at each other, a strange sort of understanding between us.

  “Like I was saying,” Andy said as he hoisted himself onto his worktable. He began kicking his legs back and forth, back and forth. “I was standing there trying to get up the nerve to ring the mayor’s doorbell.”

  “Did you hesitate because you knew she was sick?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t know that. Was she really sick?”

  “She must have been. She’d canceled some meetings. And we know she passed out and hit her head.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He grinned like I had said something funny. “She passed out and hit her head.”

  I waited, but he didn’t share the joke. Instead he continued his story.

  “I was sort of scared to go to her door because I’d never met her. I saw her picture in the paper a lot, but I never talked with her or anything. I mean, would she be snotty or would she be nice?”

  “What did you want her to do for you?”

  “Be my lawyer,” he said, stating the obvious.

  “I know that,” I said. “But what did you think that meant?”

  “Well, she’d help me out. She’d listen to me and tell me what to do and help me hide.”

  “Help you hide?” I was startled.

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “But lawyers don’t hide people from the police,” I said.

  “Sure they do. Like in The Client.”

  “But that was just a book. A novel.”

  “It was?” He seemed surprised. “I saw the movie on TV a couple of times. The lawyer hid this kid from the cops.”

  “But that kid was innocent of any crime. Certainly he didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Yeah, but she hid him. And she got him a new life. He flew off in a plane at the end, and the FBI let him go. That’s what I wanted the mayor to do for me.”

  “But that was because that kid was innocent,” I repeated. “And besides, it was only a novel and a movie based on a novel.”

  “Well, they couldn’t have made it into a book or a movie if it wasn’t true.”

  “Sure they could have. That’s what a novel is,” I said. “A made-up story.”

  He shook his head. “She would have done it. Just like Reggie Love in the movie. I know.”

  “I don’t think so, Andy.”

  “Why not?” he asked belligerently.

  “Because you’re not innocent. You killed Pat. Everybody knows it.”

  “But I didn’t mean to.”

  I nodded. “So they’ll call it involuntary manslaughter instead of murder, and the penalty won’t be as serious. But you’re still guilty.”

  It was obvious that Andy didn’t like that idea at all.

  “Have you thought about turning yourself in?” I asked.

  “So they can send me to jail? Are you kidding? I’m not going to jail!”

  “But you can’t run forever,” I said. “You’re bound to get caught, and by running you’re just making things worse for yourself.”

  “Nothing’s worse than jail. I’ve seen the jail movies, too. Besides, I’m not hanging around here much longer.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Do you think I’m dumb enough to tell you? You’ll just put it in the papers.”

  I grinned wryly. “You’ve got my number,” I said. “So tell me more about that rainy night.”

  “Well, it was just before you came along and almost ran me over.” He glared, making sure I realized that I should feel bad for scaring him like that. “This guy comes running out of the mayor’s house. I mean, he was mad!”

  “A guy came out of the mayor’s house? Are you sure it was her house?”

  He nodded. “I looked up the address before I went over. And there’s the sign.”

  “What sign?”

  “There’s this little sign hanging on her light post that says McGilpin. I know because I checked.”

  “Before or after the man came out? Before or after I almost hit you?”

  “Uh, I went back the next day,” he said quickly, too quickly. “After I heard she was dead, you know? I wanted to be sure the guy really came from her house.”

  “And he did?”

  “And he did.”

  “And he was mad?”

  “He was burning up. I could practically see the steam from across the street. He burst from the house, slamming the door so hard it didn’t shut right.”

  “It didn’t? You’ve got great eyesight,” I commented neutrally.

  “Yes, I do,” he said stubbornly, daring me to disagree, which I didn’t. “The man ran to his car and jumped in and slammed that door, too. It’s a wonder the thing didn’t fall off. Then he just took off without looking around at all.”

  “This is the guy who pulled out in front of me? The one who caused me to hit my brakes?”

  Andy nodded.

  I thought for a minute, fascinated by the idea of an angry man leaving Trudy’s house on a night she was too sick to keep her appointments. Who was he and what was he doing there?

  “Do you know who he was?” I asked Andy.

  “Well, he had his collar turned up, and he was wearing one of those tweedy hats with the brim that turns down all the way around. On TV English guys wear them.”

  “Was he trying to hide?” I asked. “Or was he just trying to keep the sleet off?”

  “Well, I’ve seen him around town other times, and I never saw him with a hat on before.”

  “So you think he was trying to hide.”

  Andy nodded. “He kept peering around, you know, like he was looking to see who might see him.”

  “But he didn’t see you?”

  “Not me. I hid behind a tree until he got in his car. Then I stepped between the cars where I was when you almost got me.”

  “Enough with the poor-me-you-almost-got-me bit,” I said irritably.

  Andy grinned unrepentantly.

  “So you’re saying you know who this guy was?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” And he stared at me, his feet kicking the air in a regular rhythm.

  “What?” I said, because it was obvious he was waiting for me to say something. “You think I should know, too?”

  Again I was back at Trudy’s house, and again the car leaped at me with no warning. Again I felt cold all over, and again I hit the brakes.

  I stared at the mental image of a man in a hat, collar up, as he flashed before me in the glow of my headlights. I felt tight with anticipation. Maybe now I’d get my zing of insight.

  Seconds ticked by with only my stomach growling. I looked at Andy, shaking my head. “Nothing,” I said.

  “His picture’s in the paper lots of times,” he offered, as if he was giving me a clue.

  And I knew. Just like that, I knew.

  Andy grinned at me. “Surprised?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  “He’s got money. He’s not rich exactly, but he’s not poor, at least not yet.” And Andy laughed nastily.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Andy, are you trying to get money out of him? Are you blackmailing him because he was at Trudy’s that night? Is that why you�
��re still around?”

  Andy slid off the table and went to his laptop. “Wonderful little thing,” he said, patting the machine. “And e-mail’s the best of all.”

  “But why is he willing to pay?” I asked. “Just being at someone’s house is hardly a legal offense.”

  “Yeah,” Andy said. “But leaving the house in a fit of anger with a person lying dead on the floor is.”

  I stared at Andy until he began to squirm. “You went into Trudy’s house, didn’t you?” I asked. “After I drove off.”

  “So what are you going to make of it if I did? The door was open.”

  “What did you find?”

  He cleared his throat. “She was already dead. She was lying on the floor in the bathroom in her nightgown, and she was already dead.”

  I shook my head. “The medical report says she didn’t die right away.”

  He looked at me, his face lit by the gray wash from his laptop. “She was dead. She was. She was all white and dead. I know because I touched her, and she was cold.”

  “I’m sure she looked dead. The cold was shock, I would guess. But did you feel her pulse or anything?”

  He shook his head. His face showed surprise and then, gradually, something else. Anger? “She had to be dead. She had to be. Do you really think I’d be dumb enough to let the one person who could have helped me die?” His voice shook with the unfairness of it all.

  I thought this was a very good time to say nothing.

  “But he must have killed her,” Andy said. “At least involuntary manslaughter like me. Why else would he be willing to pay?”

  “So you are blackmailing him.”

  Andy turned to his laptop and hit a few commands. Up popped a file. He invited me to read.

  I saw you, you know. I saw you leave McGilpin’s. And she’s dead. How would that look to everyone? $10,000 and I won’t tell.

  “Andy! Don’t you know this is against the law?”

  “Do you honestly think I care?”

  Good point. When you’re wanted for killing someone, what’s a spot of blackmail?

  “So how did he respond?”

  As Andy brought up the response, I heard a scraping noise outside his cubicle and what I could have sworn was a rapidly drawn breath. I got real still and strained to hear more, but there was nothing.

  Andy again indicated that I should read.

  I did nothing and you know it. Get off my back if you prize your position.

  I stared at the last sentence. “What in the world does that mean?”

  “I couldn’t figure it out at first, either,” said Andy. “So I wrote him again.”

  Like you can scare me. I can ruin your reputation, land you in jail, and you know it. $10,000 or else. By Saturday.

  “And his answer?”

  Back off, Merry. I don’t like to play games.

  “Back off, Merry?” I squeaked. “Back off, Merry? Where does that come from?”

  Andy had the grace to look sheepish. “I didn’t know he knew you.”

  “What?” I pushed him aside and began fiddling with the laptop on my own. I called up the e-mail message about ruining reputations. There, large as life, was From: MERRY.

  I rounded on him. “From Merry? Merry? My name? Whatever possessed you to send those vile messages in my name? How could you have done that to me?”

  “I didn’t know it was you!” he said, hands raised defensively. “I mean, I knew it was your trunk Pat was in, and I knew you were the one who almost hit me, but I didn’t know you.”

  “How?” I screamed. “How did you know Pat was in my trunk? How did you know it was me in that car?” I had never been so upset in my whole life.

  “Your license plate,” he said. “MERRY. When I dumped Pat, there was MERRY staring at me. And I didn’t feel merry, let me tell you. When I watched you drive away after almost hitting me, there was MERRY again. I didn’t even know Merry was a name. It could have meant happy or funny or something, like it belonged to a joker or a comedian. I didn’t know you or anything. I certainly didn’t know where you worked or lived or anything. I just needed a word to sign on with, and I didn’t want to use Witz. He might know who that was or be able to figure it out. I needed a new account name. When I went to log on, ‘Merry’ popped into my mind because I’d just seen it a couple of times. But I didn’t know he knew you! It’s not like I was out to get you or anything.”

  I slumped against the worktable. “Oh, Andy.” I wanted to cry at the absurdity of it all. “He thinks I’m the blackmailer. He thinks I’ll tell people I saw him leave Trudy’s. And Trudy died suspiciously, or at least without anyone seeing. That’s why he’s trying to kill me!”

  NINETEEN

  “You’re right,” a new voice said. “And I guess I should apologize, Merry.”

  Andy and I spun around. There he stood in the opening of the cubicle with a gun in his hand.

  I felt the blood drain from my head, making me woozy. I grabbed the edge of Andy’s workbench and held on. “How in the world…” I began

  “You told!” Andy’s face contorted with fury and he lunged at me.

  “I did not!” I jumped behind the table for protection. “Tell him!”

  Andy was too furious to hear me. “I asked you to come alone!”

  “I did!” I yelled as I circled the table, Andy following. “I don’t know how he got here.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Andy as he surged up onto the table, preparing to leap on me. “Tell me another one.”

  “Back off, kid,” yelled the intruder.

  If Andy heard, he paid no attention.

  “Remember, I warned you,” the gunman said, and proceeded to fire his gun twice.

  I jumped and screamed as Andy’s laptop popped and then died of its bullet wounds. Andy froze, then turned and stared in disbelief at his dead computer.

  He now directed his wrath toward the man with the gun, a circumstance I heartily approved of. “Why, you—”

  “Don’t try anything!” The warning was sharp and cold. “I wouldn’t mind shooting you, too. Or better yet, you move, and I’ll shoot her.” He shifted slightly and aimed his gun at me.

  “Think I care?” Andy challenged, but he stayed on the table.

  “Hey!” I scowled. “How come I’m suddenly expendable?”

  But I was, and I realized it with the emotional equivalent of walking into a brick wall. I actually felt knocked backward, and all the breath was forced from my lungs. Now that I knew who had attempted to kill me, he couldn’t let me go free. It would mean an arrest, a trial, jail and, most importantly to him, loss of reputation and position—if I ever got a chance to talk to anyone, that is.

  I wondered whether Andy had yet realized that the man’s being here with a gun sounded the death knell to his extortion scheme, too. Somehow, knowing Andy’s unique thought processes, I doubted it.

  “If she didn’t tell you I was here,” said Andy with a malevolent stare in my direction, “how did you know? What did you do? Follow her?”

  “I read her e-mail.”

  I frowned. “How? It’s a private file. You don’t have my password.”

  “Whiskers,” he said. “It wasn’t too hard to figure out.”

  “Whiskers?” Andy repeated, still staring hostilely from his perch up on the worktable. If one of those people who say they can see auras were here, she’d probably see waves of black emanating from Andy, threatening, hating, plotting.

  “My cat,” I said. “My password.”

  Andy snorted. “How clever.”

  “What’s yours?” I said defensively. “Welder?”

  He didn’t answer, and I knew I had hit it first try.

  Instead he turned to the man. “You hacked into her private files?”

  He nodded.

  “You had no right!” Andy shouted. I wished I could believe he spoke because he believed in privacy and other constitutionally guaranteed rights, but I knew he was miffed because he had been found out.

&
nbsp; “Look who’s talking about rights,” sneered the gunman. “The guy who smashed a wrench into an innocent man’s head.”

  I don’t think it was so much what the man said as the way he said it, but it was the last straw for Andy. He leaped.

  I saw him dive, his arms and legs spread like some kind of giant, demented flying squirrel. His body seemed to hang in space forever before it plummeted down, a smothering weight.

  As soon as Andy jumped, the gunman fired. Fortunately, in spite of what he’d said about shooting me, he turned the gun on the one jumping him.

  And he missed, at least as far as I could tell as I ran out through the opening between the welding shields, out into the dark shadows of the main working area of Brandywine Steel. I ducked behind the first big machine I came to as a second shot rang out, reverberating hollowly in the great building.

  Andy screamed.

  Dear God! I prayed as I tried to paste myself against the machine and make myself invisible. Let him be okay!

  When I heard quiet, stalking footsteps, I knew the man was concentrating on me. That meant Andy wasn’t going anyplace, at least for now. Oh, Lord, please don’t let it be permanently!

  “Merry,” came his cajoling whisper. “Merry, where are you? I won’t hurt you.”

  Right. And Jack’s coming to marry me tomorrow.

  I ducked as low as I could and fled to the next piece of equipment. I would have been fine if I hadn’t slammed full speed into a workbench and jarred any number of things loose, including my teeth.

  Through the ringing in my ears I heard him moving in my direction. I blinked back tears and struck off to the left.

  “Come on, Merry,” he said sweetly. “Why would I ever want to hurt you now that I know you weren’t trying to blackmail me?”

  And why would I ever want to let you know where I was as long as you have a gun in your hand?

  I kept moving. It was a slow business because I was afraid of what I couldn’t see. I came to an open space between two pieces of equipment. A security light far above showed dimly that there was nothing between the two pieces to bump into or fall over. I took a deep breath and dashed for the far cover.

  My left foot hit the grease patch that lay silently, patiently waiting beside the far machine. My feet flew up. In the split second I hung suspended, I heard this “Oh-h-h-h!” that was unfortunately me. I twisted to keep from falling on my back, and that’s how I slammed onto the concrete on my arm, my elbow taking much of the hit.

 

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