“Sure,” Tommy said, sounding less than convinced. “And maybe I might know what tomorrow’s winning lottery numbers are. C’mon, kid, isn’t there another angle that doesn’t involve somebody who would like to test your death insurance to the max?”
“Know Cinema Leone?”
“Yeah,” Tommy said, his voice warming back up. “I got fond memories of that from-dusk-till-dawn Hitchcock marathon that ran there last summer. Shame what happened to Old Man Nicholls …” Then he blinked and realized. “By the Great Spirit … he’s part of your case, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. Far as I can tell, he was the first one to get done by the Berserker.”
Tommy let out a breath as I finished off my salad. “And you’re sure that it’s not random?”
“Looked that way at first, but no,” I confirmed, wiping my mouth. “This Jason Voorhees clone is working from a hit list and it’s got something to do with that old movie house.”
Tommy leaned back in his seat and hmmmed.
“That means you know something I don’t?” I asked, pushing my salad bowl away.
“No, it means ‘hmmm’.” Tommy got up again. “I can do a little poking around to see what’s been going on with the cinema. But if you want to get close to Vitorini again, you’re going to have to ask somebody else.”
“Anybody you’d recommend?”
“De Soto.”
I felt the room turn into a meat locker at the name. “No, no, no, no—”
“Ah–ah,” Tommy said, wagging a finger at me. “You said you wanted to arrange a meet with Vito, that’s how you do it. And it’s not like De Soto won’t make you pay for the privilege, right?”
I didn’t have any snappy comebacks to that. When the subject of Ramon De Soto came up, my brain went into fight-or-flight mode.
Tommy sniffed the air. “That burger oughta be done by now. You are getting money for the Townsend job, right?”
“Huh? Oh,” I said, shaking myself out of my fear, “yeah, the Townsends should pay me the rest in a couple of days. I’ll settle the tab then.”
Tommy nodded and went to get my food. Meanwhile, the ice ball forming in my stomach was telling me that I might want to appreciate every bite of the food coming my way.
Chapter ten
No good deed
The Tombs wasn’t the only place I needed to go to that day. While it was still daylight, I figured a return visit to the Thricin family would be in order. Sure, they would still be pretty shaken up from last night, but maybe somebody saw something which could help put me on the track of which player I was dealing with on the other side of the chessboard.
Imagine my surprise when I saw a couple of black-and-whites in front of the house as I walked up to it. I had my Stingray stashed at a Walgreens three blocks away. The plan had been for me to inquire after the family and see what kind of info I could get for my “client.” That plan just got a lot more complicated with the uniforms in the picture. There was no way word of what I was about to do wouldn’t get back to Morgan.
“Just happened to be driving by,” a familiar voice said behind me. “Really?”
Ramirez was standing right behind me with her arms crossed across her rather attention-grabbing chest and tapping her foot on the sidewalk. She looked like a fed-up housewife who’d caught her husband cheating on his diet plan.
“Nice to see you too, Mel,” I said, the sarcasm running heavy in my voice. “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better today, thanks for asking. Good to hear you’ve had a great morning too.”
Ramirez just gave me a disgusted sigh and looked pointedly aside. I tried to ignore how cute that made her look.
“Isn’t this a bit of overkill for a random animal attack?” I asked, waving my hand towards the prowl cars.
“That’s the thing about live witnesses,” Ramirez said, uncrossing her arms. “They tend to contradict whatever pet theory you might have with fresh details.”
“What kind of fresh details?”
“Madre de Dios!” Ramirez spat out, throwing up her hands in disgust. “Do the words ‘ongoing police investigation’ mean anything to you, Bell?”
“Yeah,” I said without missing a beat, “they tell me how soon I’ll have to deal with a prick like Morgan again.”
“Don’t start,” she warned, jabbing her forefinger in my face. “Morgan wants to throw your lying ass into jail on obstruction of justice charges. I had to do a lot of talking to make sure that didn’t happen first thing this morning.”
“So I can expect him bright and early tomorrow?” I asked, inching my way towards the house.
Ramirez knew enough of my tricks to put herself between me and where I wanted to go. “No, you can agree to be interviewed by yours truly. After all, heat of the moment, maybe you forgot a few details that your mind has just now got around to telling you about.”
I sighed and thought about it. It’d be nice to have one less excuse for Morgan to lock me up. On the other hand, if this was now an official attempted murder investigation, I wasn’t likely to get a better chance than this to talk to the Thricins.
“Tell you what,” I said. “Give me a chance to talk to Mrs. Thricin alone and I’ll sit for that interview right after I get done.”
“And why would I do that again?” Ramirez countered, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Maybe she’s willing to tell the guy who saved her life something she didn’t want to share with the guys who got there after the party.”
I could almost hear the wheels turning in Ramirez’s head. They were busy weighing the possibility of finding out something useful against the fact that I was a lying, scheming son of a bitch with his own agenda.
“I sit in on the interview you have with Mrs. Thricin,” she said at last. “Any leads you get from what she says, you share them with me. I find out that you kept one piece of critical info from the department, I’ll lock you up myself.”
That was as straight a deal as I was going to get. I nodded.
I’d gotten halfway through my greeting when Nicole Thricin gave me a hug. I suffered awkwardly through it until she broke away and apologized. After that, she invited us in and offered us coffee. We both took her up on it.
“As you can imagine, I’m taking the day off after last night’s ordeal,” she said as she handed us our mugs. “I’ll have a pile of work waiting on my desk tomorrow morning, but …”
She was different from the frightened woman I’d met the night of the attack. Today, she stood tall in a light pink designer blouse; her straightened hair was brushed into a perfect bob and her makeup was neatly and firmly applied.
She sighed a bit before going on. “You know, it’s a shame that it takes something like … this … to appreciate your regular life.”
“What about your kids?” I asked.
“I talked it over with Mark last night,” Nicole said with a wistful expression. “We decided that it’d be best if they gave school a try today. Sure, they’ll tell a lot of wild stories about last night maybe but …”
“You want them to know that the world still works,” Ramirez said in a gentle tone.
Nicole gave her a quick nod. “Yes, Officer, that’s it. I never want them to think that something like what we went through is … normal.”
“I know you’ve been over this with the authorities quite a few times already,” I broke in, “but I was hoping you could tell me something more about what happened last night.”
Nicole’s expression tightened. She looked reluctant to say anything.
“I was face to face with that animal, Mrs. Thricin,” I added, stretching out a gentle hand turned palm-down. “I just want to make sure that it never comes back to your house again.”
A taut but grateful smile appeared on her face at that. Then she gave me a more definite nod. “It was just an ordinary night for us at the start. We
were watching that new version of Alice In Wonderland when there was a knock on the door.” She frowned. “Come to think of it, those knocks were quite a bit heavier than what you’d usually expect … almost like someone was trying to bash through the door with their fist.”
“So you answered the door,” Ramirez said. “And …?”
“I couldn’t describe the man who was on the other side,” Nicole went on. “Not because of what happened next, you understand. It’s just that he was so … ordinary looking. You might remember, Officer, that I had a great deal of trouble describing him for your sketch artist this morning.”
Ramirez nodded.
I leaned forward. “Were there any details about the man that stuck out? What he was wearing? Did he have a vehicle of some kind?”
“He was dressed like a deliveryman but I didn’t see any kind of vehicle,” Nicole said, tapping her chin in thought. “Then again, I thought they looked like some kind of auto mechanic’s coveralls at the time, so maybe I’m misremembering it altogether.”
Or maybe our would-be everything-but-the-kitchen-sink hitter was using low-quality Glitter that didn’t give a consistent-enough camouflage to maintain the human illusion up close. Worth remembering for later.
“Did he say anything?” Ramirez asked.
“Like I said, Officer,” Nicole responded, her hands starting to shake a bit, “he only had one thing to say—‘You.’ That’s when …” She suppressed a shudder. “That’s when he tried to barge his way into the house.”
“Tried?” I asked.
“I always carry a stun gun with me, even at home,” she explained. “Political life can be a bit … rough and my husband isn’t always in town. I jabbed it dead center in his chest as he moved forward and …” She cleared her throat. “I had to use it once before and they just went down like a sack of potatoes. Couldn’t get up either. But this time … I could tell it hurt him because he fell back a couple of steps. But then his eyes got this … fire in them. I got so scared, I slammed the door in his face and locked it.”
“And that’s when he knocked down the door,” Ramirez said.
“Not straightaway,” Nicole corrected her. “It was a stout door with an iron frame. Anyone else trying to knock it down would have been breaking their own bones instead. It gave me enough time for me to get my kids and reach my phone to dial 911.”
“Did you have the phone on you when you got to the shed?” I asked.
“It … it slipped right out of my fingers when that … that thing burst into my house,” Nicole told me. “Would you believe that it managed to—”
“Wait,” Ramirez said, raising a hand. “Every time you get to this part of your story, you always describe your assailant as a ‘thing’ rather than a ‘man.’”
“I know, I know,” Nicole exclaimed in exasperation. “Obviously it was the same person I saw at the door, but I swear it was a … a thing. You said to tell you the story how I remember it; that’s how!”
“We don’t mean to upset you, Mrs. Thricin,” I interrupted, cursing Ramirez for pushing too hard. The story made sense to me, but I couldn’t explain to the good sergeant that the tazer shot must have interrupted the Glitter flow and allowed Nicole a good look at the Berserker. “We’re just trying to be clear on details. Would I be right in saying that this is the part where you and your kids fled to the shed?”
“With that monster right on our heels,” Nicole confirmed. “It was a minor miracle that it didn’t take down that door like it had the front one. You … you pretty much know the rest, Mr. Vale.”
Did I ever. “Okay, thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Mrs. Thricin.”
Nicole gave a short bark that didn’t pretend to be a laugh as we all got up. “I’m the one who should be thanking you, Mr. Vale … for the lives of my children, if nothing else.”
“Just glad I got here in time,” I said, letting the stone truth shine through.
“I believe you said that you were a private investigator, Mr. Vale?” Nicole asked as we approached the shattered front door.
Ramirez gave me a look, but I ignored her. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“If I’m not out of bounds for doing so … I’d like to retain you,” Nicole went on. “May I ask what your rates are?”
“Typically, they’re eighty dollars a day plus expenses,” I said as we paused in the doorway. I did my best to disregard the burning stare directed towards the back of my neck by Ramirez.
“If you can give me an additional day, would a five-hundred dollar retainer be adequate for you to work for me?”
“Mrs. Thricin, with all due respect,” Ramirez protested, suppressed panic cracking through her voice, “the department takes your safety and that of your family very seriously—”
“While I don’t doubt that for a moment, Officer,” Mrs. Thricin conceded, “the fact remains that your department was too far away to help me last night. Having Mr. Vale supplement your efforts therefore makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Ramirez gave me a look that I knew too well. She gave it to me whenever she thought I’d pulled a fast one on her.
To give myself some cover, I gave Nicole a chance to change her mind. “Are you certain that you want me to look into this for you, Mrs. Thricin? We both know that we’re dealing with a dangerous customer.”
“I’d much rather you find out who did this before he finds us again,” Mrs. Thricin said, clasping my hands with her own.
What could I say other than “Yes”?
Ramirez, on the other hand, had a lot to say as soon as we were out of earshot of the lady of the house. Most of it was in Spanish and, judging from her tone, none of it was complimentary.
“You planned this!” she accused me as soon as she had run out of vile things to call me. “A little face time with the Señora and suddenly Bellamy Vale’s current financial situation improves!”
“Look, I’m as shocked as you are,” I said, meaning every word of it. “If you and the rest of the boys and girls in blue hadn’t turned up, I’d have become one with the wallpaper. So Mrs. Thricin asking me to find that beast again, despite the fact that I’ve proven to be lousy in a fight against him, was the last thing I had in mind.”
“I notice you didn’t take the time and trouble to point all this out to your new client,” Ramirez said, gesturing towards the house.
“Money’s money,” I said. “I’m sure hers’ll spend just as well as anybody’s.”
“Ahh, cabrón!” Ramirez muttered. “This case makes no sense: first a wolf, now a man and an animal …”
We didn’t say anything else to each other as we walked back to her car on the corner. By the time we reached it her mood had changed. “Look, Bell … just promise me that you won’t go out of your way to get yourself killed by this animal. We fight, sure, but that doesn’t mean that I want to see you be my next homicide investigation.”
“Can you promise me not to tell Morgan about how Mrs. Thricin’s my new client?”
“Well, seeing as I was already never going to mention how you talked me into granting you your own personal interview with Mrs. Thricin in the first place …”
“Yeah,” I said with a nod. There was no upside for her in telling Morgan anything other than the fact that I had come by for a visit. He’d be suspicious, but there’d be nothing he could prove without pissing off a councilwoman.
“Guess we should get that interview out of the way,” I said.
Ramirez pulled out her smartphone. “Give me a minute to remember how to get this thing to record and we’ll be out of each other’s hair for the day.”
Chapter eleven
Prime suspect
It was getting close to sundown by the time I wrapped things up with Ramirez. I had her drop me off at a bus stop about a block from the Walgreens. A quick hike later, I was back behind the wheel of my Stingray. I had a lot
to think about during the ride home.
One thing the texts and my own information agreed on: Berserkers don’t do subtle. They were the Big Bad Wolf a real long time before the Big Bad Wolf came knocking on Grandma’s door. Then again, maybe that wasn’t the right metaphor. Red Riding Hood’s nemesis was smart enough to eat and impersonate her grandma before making his play. This Berserker was more like a mugger—smash and grab and squash. His first victims had been done on public streets. Yet with Mrs. Thricin, he had made a home invasion play that deviated from the established MO. Why the big change?
I could understand it if he did it to throw someone tracking him off his trail. Brutal doesn’t mean stupid. But he’d had a good cover with the rogue-wolf story that the authorities had bought before this last attack. Surely taking down a member of the council out in the open wasn’t that much more complicated than doing it to an old theater owner or city worker. So, yeah, maybe somebody was tracking him before I caught his scent … somebody who had decided to slip me a hint by impersonating Ramirez.
Could it have been Hermes? He had both the info and the means to pull it off. But seeing at how pissed he had got at Zian for giving me the edge on the Thricins, that didn’t seem to fit either. My guess was that he’d stopped having to answer to anybody a long time ago. Why bother pulling an act on my behalf?
Then there was the Glitter as described by Nicole Thricin. Like anything else, quality on Glitter varies for any number of reasons: source material, manufacture, individual components in the recipes used to make it. Valhalla, I knew, had access to a decent supply of the good stuff, yet here was this guy walking around with stuff that kept his form shifting like the fog closing in around me. It was easy enough to rule out a good many of the major players on the basis of that alone. Somebody had gone to the trouble of getting this man-monster to my side of the border, somebody with either enough pull or the right access to get him here with what he needed to do the job.
Hostile Takeover (Vale Investigation Book 1) Page 10
