Reset

by Kirk Dougal

  “No,” I answered. “I think they were killed by the same person.”

  Dutch sighed into the phone. Combined with the buzzing on the line, the noise sounded like a hive of bees snoring in my ear. “They both looked like message kills, a lot of blood, nothing taken, over the top brutal … That sounds like Big C.”

  “But Wheeler wasn’t looking into Big C. He was after Rose.” I heard the door open and watched Miss Thistlewood walk into the office with a cup of coffee. “I’ve got to go, Dutch.”

  “Keep me on the wire, RJ.”

  I hung up and turned to the secretary. “I wanted to check on a case with the police. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I’m sure there was no reason to call the bulls,” she said, walking slowly toward me. “You could handle anything, or anyone, you wanted to around here.”

  We stared at each other, our bodies only a step apart. Suddenly, the door opened and Chance walked in. He pulled up short when he saw us. “I can take another lap around the building if I came back too soon,” he said with a laugh.

  Miss Thistlewood smiled, small and secretive. “Mr. Dowland and I were just discussing his gun,” she said before she walked out the door.

  Chance whistled after she left. “I’m sorry, RJ. I rushed down when I heard you were here. Guess I should have taken the slow boat.”

  I waved my hand and reached for the coffee she had delivered. “That dame’s trouble on the hoof.”

  “Yeah, but what a way to take the fall,” Chance said and we both laughed. “What brings you down to see me?”

  “Wheeler,” I answered. “You told me once that you’d seen him before he disappeared. Was he going up against Rose?”

  Chance sat down and pulled whiskey and a glass out of a desk drawer. “Could be,” he said as he poured some into my coffee before filling his own. “Wheeler was wound tight the last time I saw him. He kept talking about the world not being safe outside. Must have been talking about outside the building because he mentioned a bird.” Chance took a drink. “I think he was scared.”

  “Did you ever see Wheeler with the Hull kid when he ran cons at the Ashford?”

  “No, but Wheeler hung around in the bar a lot, especially when the Wilson dame was singing. He could have hooked up with the grifters then.” Chance’s eyes opened wide. “You don’t think Hull anything to do with … I’d have never let them off if I thought they could do something like that.”

  I shook my head. “No, I heard Wheeler hired Hull to do some tailing on Rose. That might have been why the action was so hot around here.” I pulled out a couple of Luckys and tossed one to Chance. “Is that the trouble you were taking care of? Some of Rose’s boys?”

  “No. It’s quieted down since the last time we yapped but last night one of the guests caught someone trying to break into her room. I was talking with Mrs. Borget to see if she had any idea who it might have been.”

  I sat up straight at the name. “Evelyn Borget?”

  Chance nodded. “Yeah, that’s her. A tough lady. Fired a pistol and scared the mugs off before they made it into her room.” He smiled. “I can tell by the look on your face you’ve met Mrs. Borget before.”

  “We’ve had some business together.” I stood up. “I think I’ll go check in with her before I go. Sixth floor?”

  “612. Be careful, RJ.” Chance blew smoke out his nose. “And I’m not talking about Borget or Thistlewood. You go up against Rose, you play for keeps.”

  “Thanks for the advice.” I walked to the door but turned with my hand on the doorknob. “Chance, one last thing. Did you ever hear of anyone called Raven?”

  “You’re fishing for an old wive’s tale on that one,” he answered. “Ain’t no button man able to do half of what the stories say about Raven.” He flicked off some ash. “Still, I’ve found over the years that even in the biggest tale there’s usually a grain of truth.”

  I nodded. “When did you start hearing about him?”

  He let a long breath escape his lips. “I don’t know, six, seven years ago, about the time Rose started making his push against Big C.”

  I nodded as I left, smiling at Miss Thistlewood on the way past her desk. Her voice stopped me at the door to the hall.

  “It’s Sarah, by the way.” I turned to look at her and she winked. “My name is Sarah. And the next time you visit the Ashford, Rick, make sure your gun is loaded.”

  *****

  I stood by the door to Room 612 and blew out a sigh. After reading the list of avatar names and talking with Dutch and Chance, I was more certain than ever that Rose and Raven were both Gardener. But that feeling did not mean this meeting with Evelyn would go any better than the last.

  The door eased back after I knocked and Evelyn peered through the opening. I don’t know what I expected but the roll of her eyes caught me off guard. “This is not a good time, Rick.”

  “Can I come in? I heard you had some trouble here last night.”

  Evelyn stared at me for a few seconds before she pulled the door back far enough for me to squeeze inside. I looked after I passed and noticed she held a revolver in the hand hidden behind the door.

  “You’re scared.” I looked her in the eye.

  “Yes, and don’t bother telling me not to be.” She walked into the sitting area of her suite and stuffed the gun underneath a pillow. She then turned to a half-packed suitcase and placed more clothes inside.

  “I’m not going to do that,” I said. “In fact, I’m going to tell you to be even more frightened than you are now. In fact, just leaving here may not be enough.” I grabbed her arm and pulled until we faced each other. “Get out of the game, Evelyn, or whatever your name is. It’s not safe for you inside The City until I get to Raven.”

  She reached up and rubbed a hand down my cheek before tilting up and kissing me. I fought the urge to wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tight to my body. Instead, I let her pull away before she buried her face in my chest.

  “I can’t do that,” she said. “I can’t just walk away. It's impossible for me to leave the game.” She leaned back so she could see my face. “You know you’re a bastard.”

  I tried to smile but the result felt more like a grimace. “When I was a little boy, everything was so cut-and-dried, so easy to imagine. But as you grow older, you figure out you’re not always the man you want to be. You grow up wanting to be a ball player or President. Then you realize maybe the best you can be doesn’t reach that high. Sometimes all you can be is the guy paddling to keep his head above the filth. Sometimes you swallow some shit. But that’s not what matters. What matters is that you keep paddling.” I kissed the tip of her nose. “Don’t give up on me, Evelyn.”

  She stared at me, a tear falling from the corner of her eye. “You really believe Rose is killer, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” I couldn’t lie to her like I had Gretchen.

  She backed up and, for a moment, I thought I had finally driven her away. Instead, she went to her clutch and pulled out an old skeleton key. “Take this. Go to the building directly behind Rose’s office and into the basement. Along the alley wall is a locked door. It leads to a private stairway that goes directly to Rose’s office. It’s his bolt route. That’s the only way you’ll make it alive past all his men on the second floor.” I glanced at her face and she stared back, finally giving a small shrug. “I needed what he could give me, but I guess I never trusted him. I took the key after Ted was killed.”

  The key felt heavy in my hand, weighed down by more than just the metal. “Evelyn, if something happens to me, get out of the game. Call Detective Jim Boulden of the New York City Homicide Department and tell him everything you know. He’s my partner and he will make sure you stay safe.” She nodded and I walked to the door. “I haven’t forgotten about Big C, Evelyn. When I’m done with Rose, I have plans for him, too. I promise.”

  Tears streamed down her face and for a moment I felt the hopelessness and despair that threatened to drown her. Her words were sof
t but final.

  “Goodbye, Rick.”

  Chapter 39

  I sat on the same bench the next morning, watching Rose’s office building over the top of my newspaper while the sun climbed above the skyline. Common sense told me to stay at home, to wait until later in the day once Rose had followed his normal routine and arrived at his refuge. But this close to the end of the chase, I could not wait any longer.

  After I left Evelyn the night before, I returned to my apartment and ate the eggs and toast Voice made for supper. He had tried to keep me calm, telling me stories of money stolen and cons gone bad. I contributed by telling him about cases I had solved, changing the details so the real world crimes fit inside the game. Tale after tale passed between us until he finally went into the other room, unable to handle my chain smoking and pacing. In the end, I slept fitfully for a few hours in my chair, waking up with a stiff neck and a gutful of anger.

  The sun crept higher before hiding behind clouds promising more rain. People scurried by me, turning their faces upward and then moving on, trying to walk one more block toward their destination before the sky cut loose. Two young men in clothes dirty enough to make anyone wonder their true color kept an eye on me from half a block away, quick glances telling me all I needed to know about their intentions. As the first streak of lightning lit up the street, the sidewalk crowd thinned and they shuffled forward, one a few steps in front of the other. Their eyes bore into the side of my head while I studied them from the corner of my eye, hunters tracking what they believed to be unsuspecting prey. When the near one had almost reached the end of the bench I turned and flashed open my jacket. The would-be mugger’s eyes dropped to the butt of my .45 and the blood left his face. I turned away, listening to the sounds of their running feet around the growing thunder. I smiled for a moment until I wondered if I played the same game as them, assuming I had Rose cornered, unaware, until he proved he had been waiting for me the entire time.

  A fat raindrop splattered on the newspaper as the Pierce Arrow pulled to the curb. There was no organized search for trouble by the guards this time. Rose exited the car and ran for the door before the limousine stopped, his wanting to stay dry taking precedence over his need for safety.

  As soon as the building door closed I stood and walked into the nearby diner, finally ready to have a cup of coffee and enough Luckys to choke a horse. Now that I knew the exact location of Rose, my patience returned.

  *****

  The rain had slowed to a mist by the time I entered the building behind Rose’s office. At one time a combination of apartments on the upper floors and a gallery of shops on the first, the building had seen better days. Although renters still filled the flats only two stores were remained open for business. I walked past them and the boarded up failures and found the entrance to the basement.

  The door creaked opened and I held my breath. Evelyn had not warned me of a guard but that did not mean none existed. A single bulb lit the walls at the back and I eased my way toward the circle of gold.

  Seated in an old wooden chair, his feet propped on a stack of boxes, the maintenance man slumped to one side, an empty bottle of gin in his lap. I walked past the snoring man and continued on to the wall closest to the alley. In the middle stood a door, the cobwebs across the frame speaking of the length of time since its last use. But when I slipped the key in, the bolt snapped over easily.

  A short hallway, by my guess crossing under the alley, led to a hard right onto a wide stairway with thick, heavy steps. I imagined this passage had been the delivery route to a speakeasy during Prohibition. A string of lights hung from the ceiling with cloth-covered wire, yellow bulbs turning the air a sickly color. At the top of the stairs I paused to pull my gun. Voices drifted from the other side. When the sounds faded, I opened the door enough to peer through the crack only to discover the entrance hid behind a hanging tapestry.

  I slid down the wall, moving to where I could see the room. When I finally made the edge, I held my breath.

  At the center of the room, two men talked near a table large enough to hold dinner for a dozen people with elbow room to spare. Rose stared down at papers and talked, his words too soft to understand. But when he gestured toward the desk a few steps away, the other man walked toward me. His face had already been set into stone in my memory. I waited until he pulled a drawer before I stepped out.

  “Hey, buddy, got a light?”

  The man whirled, hand flying to his suit pocket. I didn’t give him a chance to complete the turn. I pistol-whipped him across the temple, the barrel of my .45 leaving an ugly red gash, and he dropped to the floor.

  Rose turned, sweat dotting his pale face. He glanced at the wall where several shotguns lined a rack, looking back when I whistled.

  “Go ahead, Riley. I’ll send you straight back to the real world.”

  “You’re going to anyway, RJ. You were always a bastard, never cared about anybody but yourself and your games.” He let one lip curl into a sneer. “Of course, I would have bet good money you’d be dead by now, wasted away from DIOD.”

  “Not dead yet,” I said, moving to close the gap between us. Rose stared at the gun as I neared. He should have watched my left hand instead. I lashed out, catching him across the jaw and sending him to his knees. “I need answers from you, Riley, and you’re going to give them to me.”

  “Answers?” he asked, holding a hand to his face as he spoke. “Is this some new way to humiliate your opponents before you kick them out of the game?”

  I shook my head. “I’m a cop,” I gestured up, “out there. So you can either answer my questions here or I’ll send you out and make you answer them for real.”

  “A cop?” The sneer returned as he wobbled to his feet. “You’re probably dirty. Besides, you’ll never find me.”

  “What makes you so sure? I could just plug you and grab your watch.” Gardner did not react. For the first time since I saw him outside the Eagle Club, doubt crept into my mind about his guilt. Unless he had become a much better poker player over the years, his face told me he had no idea about finding the IP tag to locate players.

  “Time yourself with it, for all I care. You’ll see just how short your life can be.” He spit out the words with conviction but his gaze kept dropping to my hands.

  “Why’d you do it, Riley?” I asked, pressing ahead. “What did Ghost ever do to you? He didn’t deserve to die like that.”

  Rose stared at me for a few seconds and then leaned against the table for support. “Tim’s dead? How?”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. You know how you killed him. That’s why I’m here, to get you out of the game to pay for it.”

  Rose shook his head, each waggle a little harder than the one before. “No, no way, RJ. I haven’t seen Tim in ten years. He asked for help to find you and I turned him down. I couldn’t.” He looked away.

  I blinked but decided to plow ahead. “I don’t believe you. You’re the guy who never played the games, never understood the attraction. Now all of the sudden you’re a sleeper on top of the food chain on the inside and I’ve got a string of murders in reality that tie back to our past.”

  “Raven.” The word slipped from his mouth.

  “Gee, suddenly you’re smart. We’re the only two left that knew about Raven and what I did to him. You’re the only one who could make the connection to me. Now you’re murdering people for the only thing you love more than yourself: money.”

  Rose chuckled but the sound bordered on a cough, squeezed out of his lungs by a rotten life. “Money. There’s no doubt I’d do a lot for money. But not murder, not in the real world.” Looked away and his voice dropped. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t kill someone?” I asked. “Haven’t you gotten used to the blood playing the big boss man?”

  He shook his head and glanced up at me. “I can’t leave the game. I’ll die.”

  This time my conviction cracked. “How?”

  “Non-functioning Obsessive Compulsive
Disorder.”

  I blinked, seeing him for the first time. “All your little schedules.”

  Rose shrugged. “They were little to start with but they kept growing, getting longer, becoming more intricate. Eventually all I had was the routines, the incessant, repeated actions. I couldn’t even break them long enough to clean up, go to the bathroom, eat.” He reached down and took a gulp of the brandy sitting on the table. “Tim found me on the street once. I'd been stuck there for hours, counting the bricks on the side of a building, over and over, starting at one end and then returning to the other. I kept coming up with a different answer each time I counted and I couldn’t leave until I had it right.” He looked up at me. “I couldn’t leave!”

  In that moment, I finally understood why Riley had always been on my back during our days with The Kindred, always treated me like a disgusting bug to squish. He had noticed the first hints of DIOD in me, long before anyone else, and he recognized the same uncontrollable urges in himself. My growing addiction to the games became a constant reminder of his increasing addiction to his disease, his weakness.

  “I’ve still got eight dead bodies,” I said, “Not just dead inside the game—dead in the real world. And one of them was our friend.” I tried not to think about the fact Ghost might have been my only friend. “You and I are the only connections to Raven.”

  Rose shook his head. “You’re forgetting about someone. You’re forgetting about the real Raven.”

  “He’s dead. He was headed for full DIOD long before I was.”

  “That’s what I thought, too. But he’s not.” Rose slammed his fist into his palm. “He’s not dead. The day Tim found me, he dragged me off that street and got me back to my apartment. He talked me into trying one of the games as a way of taking my mind off my problem. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was able to live without being held captive by all the routines. I felt like I was alive again.

  “But when Tim brought me back out, reality rushed in. Life crushed me. So I started spending more and more time immersed in the games.”