Malicious

by James Patterson

I parked at the far end of the lot and came into the pub from the side door. I’ve never been much of a bar guy, and this place looked just like the State of Mind Tavern: dark and musty, and no place to be on a crisp winter day.

  After I walked inside, it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the lighting. When the room came into better focus, the big Hispanic guy I had kicked in the crotch was striding toward me from across the room. At least he wasn’t reaching for a weapon. That proved that he had some brains.

  He said, “You and me got some unfinished business.” His voice sounded like a tuba.

  I said, “I’m pretty satisfied with our last transaction. Are your balls still swollen?” I have no idea why I threw that last comment into the conversation. Or why I felt like I had to smile at him. It only pissed him off like I knew it would.

  He squared off in front of me again. Not much different than he did the first time.

  Today I had another test of his abilities in mind. I raised my left hand, just like I had during our first meeting. This time he didn’t take the bait and kept his eyes on me and his big hands near his groin.

  This was another old trick I had learned. I just balled my left fist and hit him with a wild haymaker across his chin. It was spectacular. I felt his jaw shift and his head snap to the side as he staggered backward, finally plopping into a chair next to an empty table.

  Then the bartender and a sturdy-looking guy at a table sprang into action. I saw a flash of metal and realized the bartender had a knife. I didn’t have time to reach into my pocket and draw my commemorative Navy knife. I angled my body to give him the smallest possible target and got ready to show some Navy pride.

  Then I heard a shout.

  “Cool it, everyone.”

  Chapter 15

  THE MEN FROZE as Alton Beatty stepped into the room from a rear hallway. He had his long hair in a ponytail and was wearing a simple plaid shirt and jeans. He hardly looked the part of the successful drug dealer.

  Both the men froze but didn’t retreat at Alton’s command. As he stepped closer to me he said, “Jerry, Blade, step back.”

  I looked at the bartender and said, “Are you Blade?”

  He smiled and nodded.

  In my experience, a guy usually didn’t get a nickname like Blade for no reason. He stepped back to the bar and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Now Alton Beatty was right in front of me. He said, “In all the time I’ve known Natty, he never mentioned he had a brother.”

  “I don’t brag much about him, either.”

  “I hear you been askin’ about Pete Stahl. Mind telling me why?”

  I really noticed his twang in simple conversation. “Where are you from? I mean, originally.”

  “Outside Cincinnati.”

  “For some reason I thought you were from New York City.”

  “I went to NYU and stayed after graduation. I moved here from the city a couple of years ago.”

  “Excuse me. NYU? Are you kidding me?”

  Alton gave me a smile of pride and said, “School of Business.” He sharpened his gaze at me and said, “That’s just your New York prejudice. Hear a slightly Southern accent and assume a person’s stupid. I try to use it to my advantage.”

  “How did you get into drug dealing after graduating from NYU?”

  “Easiest way to learn the metric system,” he said, giving me a sly smile.

  I looked around the seedy bar and said, “This place is just like the bar my brother works out of.”

  “You gotta go where the customers are. It’s just smart business.”

  “Like killing Pete Stahl?”

  “Don’t be a dumbass. I worked with Pete. If you’re gonna start throwing around accusations like that, I’ll just refer you to my attorney, Lise Mendez.”

  “Jesus, she the only attorney in town?”

  “Only one worth a shit, and who looks like that.” He stepped closer to me and put his arm around my shoulder. “Speaking of beauties, how’s Pete’s wife, Katie? Is your brother still sniffing around her?”

  Chapter 16

  ALTON DIDN’T TELL me a whole lot, and his condescending attitude made me realize it was time to move on. At least for now. It was late afternoon by the time I left the Budstop. Dusk comes awfully early in upstate New York in winter. Especially with the low clouds that threatened more snow. The temperature dropped and I wasn’t prepared for it. I stepped out of the side door and felt the sharp wind. There was ice across the parking lot, so I made my way as quickly as I could without losing my footing.

  Alton hadn’t given me the impression that he was a cold-blooded killer. But greed could do crazy things to people. I still had a lot of questions to ask and work to do.

  I was lost in thought and concentrating on not falling, so I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. That’s a mistake in most circumstances and an all-out blunder when you’re investigating a criminal case. I hadn’t noticed anyone else in the parking lot before the man in the ski mask stepped out from behind my car.

  I skidded to a stop, astonished. It was a big guy wearing a thick winter jacket. He didn’t say a word as I just stared at him. Then he moved his right hand and I saw he had a red crowbar in it. It almost looked like a fireman’s tool, but I knew he wasn’t here to fight a fire.

  I’d like to say I was prepared to fight him, but I was no idiot. My training in the Navy and specifically the SEAL class taught me when to evade. This was one of those times. I quickly spun and intended to dart back into the bar, when I felt the hook of the crowbar around my ankle, tripping me on my first step. I fell to the hard, icy asphalt and immediately rolled to my side, just as a blow struck the pavement where I had been lying.

  I was able to scramble forward and gain my footing, but now I was facing my attacker and I didn’t have an easy way to run. He stepped forward with confidence because he was wearing decent boots. I feinted left, then tried to jump to my right. The attacker fell for it at first, and swung the crowbar wildly as I tried to slip past him.

  It caught my forehead with a glancing blow, opening up a gash. Almost immediately blood started to run down my forehead into my eyes. I took a second to wipe it with my sleeve and before I was finished, the attacker was on me again with the crowbar over his head. This time I jumped back and rolled over the hood of a newer Chevy.

  As the attacker swung down with his crowbar, I slid off the hood, and the curved part of the crowbar punctured the metal, locking the attacker’s weapon in place. I knew this was my one chance so I kicked hard, catching the ski-masked man on his left side and knocking him to the ground.

  It was a good, solid kick and the only thing that protected him was his padded jacket. I rushed forward, trying to take advantage of my good luck.

  The man was able to fend me off and send me slipping back onto the icy asphalt. Then he turned and started to run across the street and out of sight.

  I sat there for a minute, catching my breath and assessing my injury. As I stood up, holding my forehead, I noticed a Newburgh police cruiser pulling into the parking lot.

  They were a little late, but I was still happy to see them.

  Chapter 17

  THE DRIVER OF the patrol car was a huge, bald black man, and his partner was a scrawny white guy with an odd-looking mustache that tilted at an angle to the right side of his face. They kept their distance as they asked a few questions and the white guy handed me some gauze to put on my forehead.

  The black officer said, “We had a complaint about a disturbance in the area. You fit the description of the assailant pretty well.”

  “Assailant! I’m the victim. Can’t you see this blood?”

  “There’s no law that says a victim can’t kick an assailant’s ass once in a while. Why don’t you come with us and we’ll straighten this out?”

  “Come where?”

  “To our station. There’s someone there who wants to talk to you.”

  “But I…”

  The big cop grabbed
me by the arm and spun me. I could have resisted. He was strong, but I was fast and better trained. No way I wanted to hurt a cop. Especially one who was just doing his job. I felt handcuffs across my wrist almost instantly.

  He said, “You have the right to remain silent and I hope you have the ability to remain silent for your own good.”

  Ten minutes later, I found myself in a holding cell in the same area where my brother had been the night before. I understood what the big black cop had meant when he told me to keep quiet. There’s a time to be a smart-ass and a time to shut your trap and listen. So far I hadn’t heard anything of value, but I hadn’t antagonized anyone, either. That was sort of new for me. I was starting to think these two cops were working outside their job description.

  When they dumped me in the cell and took the cuffs off, the cop said, “Someone will be here in a few minutes to talk to you. I suggest you listen up.”

  Then I found myself alone on a hard bench, confused about what the hell had just happened.

  I sprang upright on my bench when I heard the lock on my cell turn about fifteen minutes later. I wondered if these cops were bold enough to give me a beating right here in the cell. My whole body tensed at the idea.

  At least the gash in my head had stopped bleeding; one of the cops had given me a Band-Aid for it. A big Band-Aid. I considered rushing whoever came in the door and trying to escape. But I knew no one would ever buy the idea that I was arrested on bullshit charges. Come to think of it, I hadn’t actually been arrested. I guess you’d call it taken into custody. That started me thinking about why I’d really been picked out like this. Could there be a rat in the police?

  I felt myself lift off the seat slightly, getting ready to charge. But when the door opened my whole body relaxed back onto the bench. Standing in the doorway was my mom’s friend, Sergeant Bill Jeffries.

  The sergeant gave me a smile and shook his head. “You Mitchum boys have stirred up a lot of shit in the last couple of days here in Newburgh.”

  “Are you the man I’m supposed to talk to?”

  Sergeant Jeffries shook his head and motioned me to follow him. There were no handcuffs or searches involved as we hustled down the hallway. He led me through a door, which took us outside. He pointed to a cruiser and said, “Jump in the passenger seat.”

  I didn’t ask any questions but could tell he was headed back toward the Budstop, where my car was parked.

  Sergeant Jeffries said, “I don’t exactly know what’s going on here. You weren’t officially booked. I’m not asking any questions about it, but you’ve made some enemies in the Newburgh police department. You need to get out of Newburgh and stay away from this case. Let your brother’s lawyer do what she’s good at.”

  “Come on, Bill. You know my mom. You think she’d let me drop this case?”

  The sergeant chuckled and said, “Then you better start watching your ass more closely. There are a lot of bad people in this town.”

  Chapter 18

  BEFORE SERGEANT JEFFRIES even dropped me off at my car at the Budstop, my phone rang. I was surprised to hear Katie Stahl asking me to meet her. I raced through Newburgh, or, at least, drove as quickly as I could in my beat-up station wagon, to where Katie had told me she was waiting: Lise Mendez’s office.

  As I stepped through the front door, Lise called from her office, telling me to come in.

  As soon as she saw me, Lise said, “Is everything all right? What happened to your head?”

  My hand rose to the giant Band-Aid on my forehead and reminded me I still had a slight headache. “Just clumsy.”

  Katie smiled and patted the chair next to her. “We need your signature on a couple of forms for Natty.”

  “What kind of forms?”

  “I’m moving the retainer Pete had with Miss Mendez over to cover some of the expenses for Natty,” Katie said. “She wanted to make sure there was no question if anyone asked where the money came from. I’m also trying to get a fix on my cash situation in case Natty gets a bond hearing so I can help him out.”

  Lise said, “There are a couple of businessmen in town that will help with Natty’s bond as well. He’s very well respected here in Newburgh.”

  “By businessmen, do you mean drug dealers?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I thought about it and shrugged. I couldn’t believe how lucky my brother was to have two people like these women in his life. An attorney who was going above and beyond the call of duty and a young woman who trusted him enough to post a bond on a homicide charge. Whatever choices my brother made, he was doing all right in at least one department.

  I filled out the paperwork and chatted with the women for a few minutes. Katie stood, slipped on a cute leather jacket, and got ready to leave.

  The manners my mother had beaten into my brother and me demanded that I stand as well.

  She gave me a quick hug. “Thank you for everything you’re doing.”

  “I really haven’t accomplished anything yet. But I’m not giving up.” I didn’t tell her that now I was prepared to take drastic measures to help my brother and find my friend’s killer. You can only put up with bullshit for so long, and I was at my limit.

  Once Katie had left, Lise looked at me and said, “I thought I said I didn’t need any help on your brother’s case.”

  “I’m not doing it for you.”

  She shook her head and looked down. “I hope to make some progress at the evidentiary hearing scheduled for next week. If the gun gets thrown out for any reason, your brother will be free to go.”

  I leaned in and said, “I heard you represent all the drug dealers in town.”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “Because you represent my brother, Pete, and Alton Beatty.”

  “Alton has me on retainer. But that’s really all I can say. Why? Is there something I need to know?”

  “Did Pete or Alton ever tell you about some kind of big score they made in the city?”

  “As I said, ethically, I can’t tell you anything a client has discussed with me. That being said, typically, my clients don’t call me unless there is some kind of problem. I don’t hear about the successful business transactions.”

  I thought about how she could discuss this so casually and blurted out, “Does what you do for a living ever bother you?”

  “You mean upholding people’s rights?”

  “I mean figure out ways for felons to get back out on the streets.”

  Lise said, “Like your brother?”

  She hit the target on that last comment. I had no real retort other than to bow my head and say, “Touché.”

  There was an awkward silence that one of us needed to break.

  Lise said, “Natty told me you were in school to be a Navy SEAL. He said it was all you ever wanted to be. How does a SEAL recruit become a paperboy and PI?”

  “I had all the skills. I could run. Was great with weapons. I took karate since I was eight so I knew how to move. There was just one thing I underestimated.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Swimming. I could swim, but not the way I needed to. Upstate New York is not the best environment to become a great swimmer.”

  “You didn’t know that going in?”

  “I thought I’d get better going through the school in San Diego. Turns out, with everything we had to do, I couldn’t keep up. The instructors cut me slack because I could do everything else. That’s how I made it until the end of the course. Ultimately, I had to give up that dream and make a new one. I wanted to help people. Contribute to society. That sort of nonsense.” I gave her a smile. “That’s why I became a PI. Paid or not.”

  Lise said, “Not that I’m interested, but what’s your next move looking into Pete’s death?”

  “I didn’t see Alton Beatty’s car at the Budstop on my way over here, so I think I’m going to go get some rest and track him down early tomorrow afternoon. Maybe scare a few answers out of him.”

  “He’s not t
he simple redneck he pretends to be.”

  “Neither am I.”

  Lise said, “Be careful out there. Newburgh is a dangerous place.”

  “You’re the second person today who’s told me that.”

  Chapter 19

  WHEN I START to concentrate on a case like this, I often lose track of time. The only thing I remember to do is my paper route early in the morning. I got up before dawn, like I do every single day, and delivered my papers. I do it not only because I get a regular paycheck, but because I know that I’m the lifeline to a number of elderly residents around Marlboro. It makes me get up every morning. I like to say hello and chat for a few seconds if one of my customers happens to be outside. I needed a regular, uneventful morning like this.

  By midday, I was back in Newburgh and looking for Alton Beatty. The condescending little turd needed to have some answers for me or this would be an unpleasant day. It didn’t take long to track down his Cadillac in the parking lot of the Budstop.

  By now I had switched modes completely. I wasn’t only a private investigator, I was the brother of a guy falsely accused of murder. My mom was depending on me. That meant something. At least to me.

  I stepped through the side door of the bar. I didn’t see the big bodyguard, but Blade’s head snapped up as soon as I came into view. Alton was sitting in a booth reading a New York Times. He hopped to his feet as soon as he saw me.

  He said, “Don’t you know that it isn’t polite to drop by without calling first? You Yankees sure don’t have the manners of us folks from the Midwest. Why are you bothering me again? I told you everything I knew yesterday.”

  I glanced around the room quickly and noted that Blade stepped around the bar, ready to take action. “Where’s your big bodyguard?”

  “At the doctor having his fractured jaw fixed. I ought to bill you for the damage.”

  “Or invest in a better bodyguard.”

  “You’re wasting my time, Mitchum. I got things to do. What do you want?”