Quickly, I pushed myself up and stood leaning against the wall, huffing. I heard the lock slide back and clasped my hands behind me. The doorknob creaked and the hinges squeaked. The door swung inward, and this time three uniformed figures appeared in the doorway. Each of them held a flashlight and a gun. I used my foot to spin the flashlight around and pointed it at my visitors.
One of the figures, the one on my right, I recognized as the man who had come to see about the first person earlier. He had the same gun, the same posture. On the left was the shortest of the three. This one was several inches shorter than me, and though it was difficult to tell from the black clothes against the dark, I thought I caught the impression of hips and a narrow waist. My guess was a female. The figure in the middle was the tallest. A few inches taller than the other man, he was also much wider, fuller, stronger. The lighting was horrible, and I couldn’t get a clear look at any of them, but there was something familiar about the man in the middle. Something familiar and commanding. I guessed this man to be the leader.
“Not very nice what you did to my friend earlier,” the leader whispered hoarsely, lowering his weapon and holding it at his side, pointed at the floor.
The other two held their aim steady.
I shrugged my right shoulder casually. “So far I think you’re ahead in not-nice points. Either the stun gun or the cellar would have put you over the top. Together, it’s game over.”
He snickered. “Always so mouthy. I have to confess, I’ve always really liked that quality in a woman. It’s too bad we came down on different sides. Maybe we could have had something.”
I noticed the way the woman flashed a look at the leader at his comment. I filed the reaction away.
“Different sides of what, exactly?”
“I’m on a pretty tight schedule; I don’t have time to explain. And, what does it matter? You’re going to be dead in a few minutes anyway.”
“If I’m going to be dead anyway, what’s the harm? And if you’re planning to kill me, why the masks? It won’t make any difference if I see your faces.”
A wry chuckle from the leader now.
“You always have something to say, don’t you? And such a strong personality. I could have used someone like you, I think. It has been very difficult to find a partner.”
There was that look from the woman again. This time I was sure it was jealousy. It seemed a shame not to exploit it.
“Is it too late to join you?” I asked, adding a small amount of sultry to my voice.
Another chuckle, this one amused.
“Unfortunately, there are events in motion that cannot be undone. I wish things had turned out differently.”
“Events even you can’t undo?” I inquired, deciding to play to his ego. “Seems hard to believe.”
“How very unlike you, Zoe,” he said with a tsk, tsk sound. “Stroking the ego of a man. That’s a whole new low for you, I’d imagine.”
There was a sense of intimacy between us, and while I couldn’t really explain it yet, the woman had more than picked up on it. Still, I was playing on instinct, gambling everything. I had no real idea who this man was or how we knew each other.
“You know I’m resourceful,” I said. “I’ll do what needs to be done, even if it’s a bit out of character.”
“And what are you trying to do? Create an emotional bond between us, or appeal to my attraction to you in order to keep me from killing you?”
Another flash from the woman, this time I saw more than a little anger.
“We already have an emotional bond, and your attraction to me already has you regretting your decision to kill me.”
A small smile, though I couldn’t really see it. “So true.”
“Then why the rush to kill me?” I infused my tone with more than a little suggestion. “There’s always tomorrow. Or the next day. Or even months from now . . . if you grow tired of me.”
He laughed, and I knew it was familiar; I’d heard it before. Where? Who was he? I felt the same tickling sensation on the edge of my mind as I tried to think. Something obvious was eluding me.
“That’s more like the Zoe I know. Mmm, what I wouldn’t do for a night with you.”
The woman was barely containing her annoyance, jealousy, and anger now. I wondered if she could be pushed far enough she would turn the gun on him and pull the trigger.
“What’s stopping you?”
There was a long pause, in which I knew he was calculating his plans, testing them for any leeway he might be able to use to satisfy his desire. The woman seemed to tremble. Good. Progress.
“I’m afraid the heart of the problem is location. We’re wearing out our welcome here and need to get moving. Dragging you along simply isn’t an option.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Let your people take care of that. Take me somewhere else. Just you and me.”
Just you and me, so you can rape and murder me in private? Maybe not the best plan.
Again, I could see he was thinking about it. So could the woman. She’d finally reached her breaking point.
“What the hell?” she snapped. She did little to disguise her voice, and I thought it was also familiar, though I couldn’t place it.
Her voice agitated the tickling sensation I felt at trying to remember where I’d heard it before.
“Not now,” he said to her over his shoulder, maintaining his croaky voice.
She scoffed. “You want us to just leave then? Give you two some time alone?” She was being sarcastic.
I smiled at the leader.
After a moment, he said, “Yes, actually. Leave us.”
Another scoff from her, irritated, hurt.
Now the second man spoke. He used the same voice he had earlier. “That’s not a good idea. We don’t have much time.”
“I’m aware of that. You and the others continue on with the plan as scheduled, and I’ll take care of her. I’ll catch up when I’m through.”
I could see the other man thought the decision was an unnecessary risk, but he didn’t further argue the point. Instead, he backed out of the cellar, pushing the woman with him.
“I’ll post someone outside, just in case,” he said.
The leader nodded.
When the man reached the stairs, he finally lowered the gun and turned around. He was careful never to expose himself to the threat, even though this threat (me) was unarmed.
Once his partners were gone, the leader turned and pushed the door shut. It latched, but it was unlocked. He tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants and reached for the mask, pulling it off. Then he turned around.
I’d told myself to expect the face I would see, to show no surprise. I hoped the dark had hidden what I’d been unable to keep private. Seeing that face felt like a sucker punch to the gut. The tickling sensation I’d been feeling morphed into a sharp sting that reached out and smacked me as I recognized the man standing before me.
“Joe.”
24
Pezzani smiled as he moved toward me, tucking the ski mask into the back pocket of the black jeans he wore. “I thought you’d be more surprised.”
I shook my head. “You might have been nominated for the Oscar, but you wouldn’t have won.”
That was the most bogus thing I’d ever said. His performance all along had been award-worthy, but his finale in the parking lot outside his condo had been a work of art. I’d had absolutely no idea any of it had been the least bit false.
I struggled to keep my breathing even.
“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “If it wasn’t an Oscar, maybe an Emmy. It was good, you have to admit.”
“It was good, but not great. I do have to compliment you on one thing, though. You took an awful lot of risk.”
He laughed. “I thrive on risk. A born gambler, I get off on the high. Even losing is a thrill.”
“Did you seek me out from the beginning, or did I come along later?”
“Actually, you have dear old mom t
o thank for all this.”
It was easier to keep a straight face with this revelation. I still didn’t know how it all fit together, but I am never surprised to hear about my mother stabbing me in the back.
“That sounds about right.”
Pezzani shook his head. “Bridget, you know, she’s a real piece of work. But she’s fucking brilliant with money. And when she’s high, she’s quite the talker. Few months back, she told me a story that was just too good to pass up.”
“She’s got a vivid imagination.” I didn’t doubt for one second whatever story she’d told Pezzani had been absolute truth.
He chuckled. “Well, she certainly likes to ride high. But no, turns out this story was very true. I had it verified myself. After that, it didn’t take me long to see the benefit of getting close to you.”
“What benefit would that be?”
He shrugged. “There’s been quite a bit of heat lately. I was trying to figure out the best way to clean up the messes and get out. Then you came along. At first, I thought I could use you to help with one mess, maybe two.” He laughed. “But you just kept pushing, kept digging, kept turning up where I didn’t plan for you to be, right in the middle of everything.” He spread his hands, smiling. “You became the perfect fall guy for the whole thing.”
“Fall guy?” I repeated. “That was your big plan? That doesn’t even make sense. What, exactly, did you want me blamed for?”
“I had a list of people I needed to get rid of. I’d originally been toying with ideas of how to kill them myself, but everything seemed too messy or obvious or connected to me. What I needed was someone else to kill them. Even better if the police didn’t look into those deaths very closely. What kinds of deaths don’t the police look into? Natural causes and . . . self-defense.
“That little story your mom told me? It was the one about how you shot your father dead. With that history, and being so familiar with guns, I guessed you wouldn’t be afraid to pull the trigger again. So, all I had to do was set it up so these ‘messes’ I needed cleaned up would come after you. Then you’d knock them off.” He grinned. “It worked perfectly. You’re a deadly shot. Well, almost perfect, anyway. Like I said, you just kept pushing. Things got a little out of hand before I could have you finish the job. I had to kill the last of them with the gun we took from you.” He shrugged. “It will look like you managed to kill and fatally wound your captors before they killed you.”
It was a bit frightening to think his plan had worked as well as it had. Maybe all the pieces didn’t fit perfectly, but I was the one and only suspect in at least two murders. And I had killed at least one of his “messes” in self-defense. Who knows how much worse things could have been if I’d sat back quietly and played along. I’d probably be in prison by now. Of course, even I could appreciate that irony; if I’d been in prison, I wouldn’t have been standing in a cellar somewhere with the man who’d kidnapped and planned to murder me.
I grinned at him. “You don’t work security, do you?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “That’s a consult-based gig. I am in security, and I consult with several businesses around town. Including Home Depot. That’s how I happened to run into you that day. Also King Soopers. I was there when you came for your interview. The managers were quite impressed with you, by the way. It’s a shame you got the boot.”
“Actually, I quit.”
“Whatever. It took a little bit of planning, but I knew Wolf Security had done business with White Real Estate in the past. If I could create a threat on one of their properties, I figured it would be enough for them to call us in. Even better if it was one of your properties and I could have the chance to meet you.” He grinned. “That part worked out better than I’d hoped.”
I really, really hate when people explain to me just how easily I’ve fallen face-first into whatever little trap they’ve laid for me. And it’s always that much more insulting when they do so with such self-satisfied glee.
“Anyway,” Pezzani went on, “the mess I needed cleaned up was my full-time business, which had recently fallen under increased police scrutiny.”
“That business being?” I had a guess. If my mother was connected to Pezzani, that significantly narrowed the possibilities.
“Ecstasy.” He said this as if it should have been obvious. And it turned out I’d been on the right track. My mother is a partier, but it was annoying to learn she was more involved than that.
“I dabbled in manufacturing,” Pezzani continued, “but the truth is, it wasn’t worth the headaches. Every time we got set up somewhere, we barely got a batch made and we had to move again. Distribution is much less hassle. We find a place we can use for several days, maybe as long as a week, then put the word out. The kids call them raves. I call them paydays. It hasn’t been difficult to find a place, and with two major universities and all the community colleges, not to mention the high schools, there is no shortage of paying customers.
“For several years, I had a permanent location. A partner and I opened the club, originally thinking it would be a sound business investment, Fort Collins being the party town it is. Then we were approached with another business opportunity and branched out, started selling X. Everything was great until my idiot partner got ripped on the shit and plowed into a minivan full of middle-schoolers last year. Cops started sniffing around, got wise to the business expansion, though they couldn’t prove anything. They settled for a bunch of charges that would get his liquor license yanked. Which meant mine, too. No more club.” He shook his head. “Fortunately, my partner isn’t a problem anymore. Still, I have plenty of messes to clean up. It’s time to move on. Too much heat around here.”
“My mother doesn’t constitute a problem?” I honestly wasn’t sure what I felt at the thought that she might be on Pezzani’s hit list. Now that I was thinking about it, I hadn’t seen her since I’d picked her up at the courthouse a week ago. For all I knew, she could already be dead.
Pezzani shrugged. “As big a pain in the ass as she is, she’s too valuable. No one can do with money what she can. And that’s the whole point: money.”
I realized it was relief I felt at hearing Pezzani had no intention of killing my mother, even if only a small degree. No matter what else she’d done, she’s still my mother, and apparently that counts for something with me.
Her arrest Sunday night made a little more sense now. No one had said as much, but I now suspected she’d been at one of Pezzani’s raves when the police had busted her. And if Pezzani’s business was under increased scrutiny, as he claimed, it wasn’t surprising the police had crashed the party. Her party habits likely also explained how she and Pezzani had gotten together in the first place. I didn’t think she would have volunteered to work with him, or sought him out, but if he’d threatened to expose her, she would have complied. Hiding the extent of her darker habits from her legitimate business partners has always been a driving force in her life.
Pezzani was standing only a couple feet in front of me now, the flashlight held in his left hand and pointed straight up. The light from the beam was enough to illuminate both our faces. I studied his and saw nothing of what I expected. I had hoped to find he was crazy; it would have explained some, if not all, of his behavior. Instead, I saw he was perfectly sane, totally in control and aware of his behavior, his decisions conscious and deliberate. I thought that was worse.
He stepped even closer, and I saw the dark gleam of desire in his eyes. He hadn’t been kidding about his attraction to me. I was sweaty, dirty, and blood had begun seeping through the shoulder of my shirt. But none of that seemed to slow him down.
“I should have pushed you a little harder that night before Pengue showed up at the house,” he said. “That would have been so much more . . . comfortable . . . than this.”
He leaned toward me, his gloved right hand on my cheek, and kissed me. Then he stepped forward, and I felt the gun press against my abdomen. I knew it was now or never. I had to make a move.
More than that, I wanted to make a move; I didn’t want him touching me an instant longer.
As if I was getting into the kiss, I shifted my weight to my left foot. Then I did several things at the same time. I lifted my right knee, bringing it up forcefully into his gonads. I also brought my right hand around in front of me and snatched the gun out of his waistband. Finally, I brought my head down hard against his, stunning him.
“What?” he gasped in a tortured whisper.
“You didn’t double lock your cuffs.”
I swung the gun, bringing the butt of it down against his temple with a sharp crack. He crumpled to the floor in a pile, inert.
Stepping back, I put some distance between us as I brought the gun up in my right hand. My left was hanging mostly useless at my side. After a pause to catch my breath, I squatted beside him and felt for a pulse in his neck. He had one.
Satisfied I’d only incapacitated him and not killed him, I held the gun in my left hand while I searched his pockets with my right. I found the handcuff key I was hoping he had and freed my other wrist. I finished my search, pocketing the cell phone and keys I found, then rolled Pezzani onto his belly and, after stripping off the black sweatshirt, handcuffed his hands behind his back.
I examine the weapon, ensuring it was fully loaded with the safety off, then chambered a round and stood. Pezzani hadn’t had any additional ammunition, nor did he have an extra round in the chamber, so I was limited to the fifteen shots in the magazine. Keeping my ears open for sounds beyond the heavy door, I again held the gun in my left hand, standing well away from Pezzani, and examined the phone with the other. I saw what I’d expected: no bars. Cell reception is usually poor in cellars.
“Hey, boss!”
I jumped as the guard outside pounded on the door and yelled. My heart hammering against my ribs from the scare, I quickly pocketed the phone and transferred the gun to my right hand.
“Everything all right?”
“Yes!” I snapped in an imitation croak. “Don’t bother me!”
The Trouble With Murder Page 30
