To Find a Killer
Page 20
The car hit bottom on the dip of an intersection. Something rubbed and the steering tightened. Burnt rubber and smoke drifted into the car. I couldn’t quite make the next turn and had to hit the sidewalk. A tire rolled passed, sparks shot up beside Lori’s window, and the brakes locked. Harry leaned against the dash, swearing words I had never heard before. The motor raced on high, so I switched it off. The Mustang stopped on the curb, it’s rear end blocking the sidewalk.
“Where the hell are we?” Harry yelled.
“Open your eyes and you’ll see. Half a block from the club. Lori, give me that gun. You two stay here.”
“Like hell we will,” Lori said as she slapped the gun in my palm.
Harry almost fell out of the car, his expression pained. “Tell me you are gonna fix my car.”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll go with you and make sure you don’t get yourself killed. Yo, look! The limo’s pulling away.”
“He isn’t in it.”
“How can you be so damn sure?” Harry demanded as we jogged toward the club.
“Street smarts!”
Harry flattened himself beside the door, crouched, then pushed it inward and slipped inside. I stepped through the opening, immediately moving to my right and dropping down as well. I could hear Lori behind me, her breath shallow and panting.
The entry was a curved series of steps, dark now with the only illumination coming from the mirror lights of the bar and scattered indirect lighting.
Harry tapped his chest, then pointed to a hallway beyond the bar. Lori’s hand came over my shoulder, pointing to a frosted door on the other side of the room. She got Harry’s attention and he nodded.
“That way,” she whispered against my ear. “Did you pull the slide to put a round in the chamber?”
I did before turning slightly to push her onto her butt. “Stay. Don’t let him out that door.”
Her lips puckered in a pout. She folded her arms and nodded. She knew I was excluding her. I quickly kissed those lips then ran across the darkened, deserted dance floor.
The frosted door had a degree of suction. I finally opened it and slipped into the shadowed lighting and chlorine smell of a swimming pool. A Grecian-type pillar shielded me as I tried to assess what I faced. A dozen or so naked men lounged around the pool, too engrossed in one another to notice my intrusion. I caught a glimpse of Henry as he stepped into the sauna. After jamming the gun into my waistband, I briskly walked to the door.
Steam billowed into my face as I entered. I stumbled into the bench. Two fat men clung to one another on the top bench. They stared at me then turned their heads to look across and down. Orange flashed. The two men screamed. I ducked then launched myself at the shadow form, one thought driving me: Get my hands on his scrawny neck and choke the life from him.
My fingers grabbed his short, curly red hair, as he attempted to dodge me. The gun barked again. The fat men screamed again. I couldn’t feel if I was hit, and didn’t care as my arm snapped around his throat just like I had seen Lori do to Turner. The two pale-skinned polar bears bumped us in their panic to leave the small room. I backed out, Henry tight in my grasp. The gun fired into the ceiling twice more as he twisted.
Pool-side, I threw him onto the ceramic tile and stomped his gun hand. His scream echoed in the watery canyon. Picking him up by the hair with my left, my right punch created a familiar crunching sound. I let go. Like a fish, he flopped to the tile and slithered into the pool.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I muttered and jumped in beside him.
My feet didn’t touch bottom. I opened my eyes and saw the his absurd slow-motion ballet as he sank. I kicked and shoved him out of the water, my hands on his throat. My fingers squeezed the narrow tube of flesh. Just as we started to sink again, he convulsed. His eyes glazed over before my face and I released him. I kicked away and let his body drift to the bottom.
At the pool’s edge, I reached for a hold and felt a strong hand clasp mine. Harry stared at me one understanding moment then hauled me up. The wet vest weighted me down. Water ran off my clothes and puddled in my shoes. Harry shoved me onto a bench.
“Ambulance is on its way.”
“He’s down there, Harry.”
“Lori just jumped in to drag him out. No one else watching had the balls.”
“He had a gun.”
“I remember. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Lori broke the surface of the pool, gasping and sputtering. “Harry! Give me a hand.” She lifted and splashed, pushing Henry in front of her.
Harry’s mighty hand fisted his shirt collar and slid him onto the tile. Four men crept closer to gawk. Harry looked them up and down, his disgust obvious. “Okay, assholes. I don’t need your help, but there is a lady present. Get some clothes on before the police get here!” They grabbed towels and ran for the door.
As if on cue, sirens sounded from just outside the building. Harry helped Lori from the pool. She shrugged at her wet clothes then pulled the blouse away from her curvaceous body. Her gazed settled on something and she started to bend down. Harry stopped her.
“The police need to find just Henry’s prints on it.”
She coughed and nodded.
I pushed up from the bench and stepped to Henry’s side. His mouth hung open, his sightless eyes stared at the pool’s reflections on the ceiling.
“Anyone know CPR?” I asked dully.
Harry looked all around. “Nope, guess not, Bob.”
Guns drawn, police entered the pool then lowered their weapons and waved the paramedics in. Of course, their expert CPR was ineffective. Harry pointed out Henry’s gun and one of the officers picked it up with a plastic bag.
Roy sauntered in, looked around the place and shivered. Some of the police agreed with his sentiments. He walked over and looked down at Henry as they covered him with a long beach towel. His hand pounded me on the back, half in congratulations, half in condolence. After glancing behind me, he stepped close and put one arm across my shoulder. Considering where we were, I frowned at him. He maintained his stance while they lifted the corpse onto a stretcher.
“Well, Bob, it’s been a bad day and it’s been a good day.” His hand slid down my back and deftly pulled the gun from my waistband. Slipping it into his own waistband, he stepped away. One finger tapped the front of the vest. “You can just throw that thing away. It’s been cut up, shot, and drowned. I think I’ll have to replace it.” He then cocked a finger at Harry. “You two watch over him. He hasn’t quite got this street thing figured out.”
Harry grinned back, but Lori bit her quivering lip.
“Hey, Roy!” Harry called out. “Think we could get a ride home. He wrecked my Mustang.”
“Go find some clean . . . ah, unused towels, and I’ll think about it,” Roy said before going out the door.
I took a step, before Lori’s hand on my arm stopped me.
“This may be bad timing, but I gotta ask. Now that the old fart’s dead, and you’ve got . . . well everything, will this be a quick ‘Thank you and good-by?’”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s over. You don’t need Harry and me any more.”
“That’s your opinion, not mine. Of course, like you said once, you and Harry have a choice. Mine is to see that Harry gets that new arm and a new car, not necessarily a red one, unless he wants it. And you can do whatever . . . well, whatever you want to dream. No more streets, no more threats. You can be safe.”
“And respectable?”
“Definitely. In fact, I’ll guarantee that.”
“And what will Bob Norris be doing while I’m being respectable?”
“Let me think about that.”
– THE END –
Author Charlie Vogel is a Navy veteran of the Vietnam War, a retired Coast Guard Reserve Petty Officer, and a retired Omaha, Nebraska police officer. He now spends his time enjoying life with his wife while writing and adding to his extensive book coll
ection.
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