by Sue Grafton
The line went dead.
I closed my eyes. I’d left the junction box open and the trellis leaning against the side of the bungalow. Now my navy windbreaker was clearly visible inside the opening. I knew who was out there. My old friend Ned had come back from a trip into the world at large and he wasn’t going to appreciate finding me in his personal space. I looked down at the cat in my arms. He’d be better off fending for himself. Carefully, I steadied him with one hand while I unbuckled the harness. In the blink of an eye, he raced into the darkness in the far corner of the crawl space and disappeared.
I reached around behind me and carefully extracted the H&K from my waistband. I pivoted and pulled myself out of sight. For a moment, I sheltered in the lee of the pier, leaning against the cinder block while I gathered my wits about me. I leaned forward and checked the vent. Ned had moved away from the opening, but I was sure he hadn’t gone far. I pushed away from the pier and rolled forward until I was stretched out on my stomach with my arms extended in front of me. I gripped the gun with my right thumb wrapped around and touching the middle finger on the grip. I wrapped my left hand around my right with my left thumb lapped over my right thumb. The butt of the H&K rested on the dirt, which meant I could maintain a steady grip on it without tiring. I kept my right arm stiff, with my left hand pulling back slightly. This served to steady my hands and wrists.
The Heckler & Koch VP9 is manufactured from a stamped steel main frame with a polymer trigger guard. The high-profile fixed sights are fitted with two red rectangles on the rear sight and a white stripe on the drift-adjustable front blade sight. There is a lever on the left side of the pistol grip to both decock a cocked hammer or manually re-cock it for a single-action first shot. A manual firing-pin safety is located at the left rear of the slide. Putting it in the down position locks the firing pin, and flipping it up to the level position unlocks it. I flipped up the safety and pulled the slide back.
So far, the two of us hadn’t exchanged a word. He knew I was under the bungalow, but he couldn’t be sure where. I knew he was out there between the two bungalows, but I had no visual verification of his location. There’s something about human nature that inclines us to make eye contact when we’re having a conversation. I didn’t want Ned to stick his head in the opening because if I was forced to shoot, my target would be the top of his skull, a fatal injury in most cases. Let’s not even talk about the mess.
I was hyped. I focused on my breathing, clearing my mind of everything but the task at hand. My brain, for reasons of its own, suddenly replayed my phone conversation with Phyllis, almost word for word. We’d talked about Ned wanting his trinkets from the young girls he killed. I’d asked her if Celeste had given them to her, and she said if she’d had them, she’d have turned them over to the police as evidence. The implication was that the items were still in Celeste’s possession. I’d asked her twice if she knew where Celeste was. The first time, she blew me off, breezing right over the question to something else. The second time I asked, she told me Celeste had changed her name and location and, even then, had an unlisted phone number. She’d said she’d written it on a scrap of paper that she tossed in a U-Haul box six weeks before. At the time, she hadn’t unpacked everything so she couldn’t lay hands on it. I’d told her to keep the information to herself. All I wanted was to have Celeste informed that Ned was back. Shortly after that, Phyllis had invited me for drinks and that’s when she’d given me her new address. Ned, in the crawl space where I was now, had probably been scribbling down the information at the same time I was.
He’d beaten Phyllis senseless on the assumption that she’d found the scrap of paper with Celeste’s new name and location. He must have thought she was holding out on him. His subsequent tearing into her moving cartons suggested that he hadn’t gotten the answer he wanted and was forced to search. He must have been frantically hunting for the information when I rang her bell.
From outside, he said, “You know what I’ve got out here?”
I kept my mouth shut, sighting down the barrel.
“Can of gasoline. I was going to use it to set the Olds on fire, but I can use it just as easily to burn this place down.”
“My landlord has insurance so I don’t give a shit.”
“I think you will. Because even if the flames don’t get you, the smoke inhalation will.”
“Well, Ned, dear, I’m looking at a can of gasoline so unless you went out and bought a second one, you’re lying through your teeth.”
“If you think I’m lying, why don’t you put me to the test?”
“Because right now it’s your turn to guess what I’ve got.”
He sounded amused. “I know what you have. A fucking cat that scratched the hell out of me.”
“Aside from the cat.”
“Okay, what?”
“A gun.”
“Not relevant. Because you know what this is?”
I heard liquid splashing, the sound swiftly followed by the harsh scent of gasoline. I made sure the two red rectangles bracketed the white line on the barrel. “I don’t want to have to shoot you, Ned.”
I made a face at myself. What the hell was I talking about? This man was about to turn Ed and me into charcoal briquettes. Under the circumstances, shooting his ass was the only appropriate course of action. The first trick was to guess whether he was standing to the left of the vent opening or to the right. The second trick was to catch him before he got out his handy-dandy lighter.
I had to do my calculations in an instant. I figured that since I was prone and aiming for the vent opening, I’d be shooting at an angle that placed the bullet’s trajectory somewhere between his left hip and his thigh. The bullet would also have to tear through the bungalow’s wood frame, moisture barrier, plaster, and exterior stucco. My magazine carried nine rounds of 9x19 mm Parabellum that I thought would do the job. I shifted my sights to the left of the opening and squeezed the trigger. The barrel bucked neatly, the brass leaped up, and the bang was so loud, I knew my ears would ring for a week. There was a certain jaunty aspect to the hot dancing brass, at least from my perspective. I brought the sights back to the right side of the opening, breathed in, breathed out, and fired again.
Ned shrieked like a girl. He must have been thumbing the striker on his pocket lighter, which he dropped when he was hit. I heard it clatter to the walk with a sharp metallic note. Through the opening, I caught a glimpse of him clutching his right thigh, which must have felt like it was on fire.
I squeezed the trigger and fired again. This time, I had no intention of hitting him. I just wanted him to know I was sincere. I was also hoping someone in the neighborhood would call the police with a report of shots fired. I heard Ned stumble down the walk between the two bungalows. His breathing sounded ragged and I could tell he was working hard to suppress his sobs. From his gait, it was clear he was limping badly, dragging one foot, and probably bleeding through his trouser leg. Moments later, I heard the distinct sound of a car starting up and peeling out with a chirp.
Meanwhile, the flame from the lighter must have made contact with the puddled gasoline because I heard the liquid catch fire with the dull sound of a stove burner as it whumped to life. A cloud of black smoke appeared and with it, the wavering aura created by flames.
Gun in hand, I made a mad scramble toward the vent on the opposite wall. I turned over on my back and shattered the trellis with two savage kicks. Then I pushed my way through the opening into fresh air. Ed materialized from the dark and, in his infinite feline wisdom, streaked out right behind me.
26
IRIS AND JOEY
Wednesday, September 27, 1989
On Wednesday evening Iris and Joey settled down on their tiny patio, which was just big enough for two wicker chairs with a small table between. Because their apartment building was set back from the street, traffic noise didn’t bother them. The lighted businesses stre
tching off from the intersection made the scene as changeable and engaging as a wood blaze crackling in a fireplace. They never tired of watching the passing cars, the pedestrians, neighbors walking their dogs. Joey topped up her wineglass and paused to light a cigarette for himself and then one for her.
When the phone rang, he leaned back and snagged the handset from the planning center. The cord had been stretched so often, the coil had flattened in places. “Hello?”
He sat up. “Oh hey, how’re you?” he said.
As Joey listened, he got up and walked around his chair to the patio door. He carried the long phone cord with him so it wouldn’t get hung up on anything. He made a point of maintaining eye contact with Iris, who was trying to gauge the caller’s identity from Joey’s responses. He put his hand over the mouthpiece and pantomimed “Fritz” so she’d know who he was talking to.
Iris could hear Fritz’s miniature voice, like an agitated buzzing sound, but not what he was saying.
Joey’s focus sharpened. “Really?”
It was clear Fritz was excited. She could tell by the pitch of his voice and the rapidity with which he was speaking. She heard him crow once, completely smitten with himself.
Joey said, “I don’t believe it. You’ve got to be kidding. Tell me again and slow down, for god’s sake.”
Joey was doing the big rolling-arm gesture, urging her to join him. Iris stubbed out her cigarette, jumped up, and eased into the living room, where she crossed to Joey’s side. Apparently, Fritz was repeating the news, whatever it was. Iris tilted her ear toward the receiver just as Joey said, “How’d you get your hands on twenty-five thousand bucks?”
“I didn’t say I had the money. I have a plan for getting it,” Fritz said. “It’s foolproof. Well, almost.”
“Oh, shit. What plan?”
“Don’t worry about it. Not an issue. I got it wired.”
“Is this legal or illegal?”
“Let’s say it’s semi-legal. Close enough at any rate,” Fritz said. “No concealed weapons are involved.” He laughed at himself, enjoying the momentary superiority of knowing more than Joey did.
Joey put a hand over the mouthpiece and he and Iris exchanged a look of disbelief. Iris rolled her eyes and opened her hands as if to say, What now? Joey turned his attention back to Fritz. “What happens when your parents find out?”
“They won’t until it’s too late. Once the money’s paid, that’s the end of it, right? So how can they complain?”
Joey ran a hand across the top of his head. “Dude, you’re scaring me.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m just looking after you, Fritz, so hear me out. Let’s say you have the cash in hand, now what?”
“That’s why I’m calling. He left a message on the answering machine. He’s picking me up at the corner of State and Aguilar. Noon on Friday. I should be set by then.”
“I can’t believe you’d agree to get in a car with some faceless unidentified stranger.”
“I didn’t agree to anything,” Fritz said. “I didn’t even talk to him. Those were the instructions he left.”
Joey gave Iris the thumbs-up, both of them amazed that the plan was working so well. “What if he turns around and holds you for ransom or something like that? You could be in way over your head.”
“Don’t be such a dick. If he looks like a badass, I’ll toss the money in the front seat and take off on foot. What’s he going to do, run me down?”
“But once you’ve seen him, doesn’t that make you a liability? He can’t afford to have you on the loose. You talk to the cops, look at mug shots . . .”
Hesitantly, Fritz said, “I’m thinking this could be Austin.”
“Really. Well, that’s a changeup. What brings you to that conclusion?”
“He said, ‘This is a voice from your past . . .’ Almost has to be him, don’t you think?”
“I thought you were convinced he was dead.”
“I said if he was alive, he’d be in touch. Didn’t I say that? Well, now he’s been in touch.”
“You’re saying Austin’s behind this whole blackmail scheme,” Joey said, stating it as a fact instead of a question, curious to see if Fritz would confirm.
“Okay, yeah. I guess I am saying that.”
“I hate to remind you of this, but Austin swore he’d come back and kill anyone who blabbed about Sloan. That’s you, isn’t it?”
There was a moment of silence.
“Why would he come back to collect twenty-five grand and then kill me?”
“Why wouldn’t he? That gives him the best of both deals. You deliver the money and he takes you down. Mission accomplished.”
“Actually, that did cross my mind and it’s one of the reasons I called. I want you to come with me so the guy doesn’t get any ideas.”
“Me?”
“Like an insurance policy. It would keep things on the up-and-up.”
Iris got Joey’s attention and waved an index finger back and forth vigorously.
Joey said, “I’m not sure about this. It sounds risky.”
Fritz’s voice jumped half an octave. “What do you mean, you’re not sure? You said anything you could do to help. This is ‘help.’ This is what I need.”
“Why don’t you ask Bayard?”
“I guess I’ll have to call him if you won’t help. I was hoping you’d say yes.”
Joey said, “Let me see what Iris says. She’s out right now but I’ll talk to her as soon as she gets back. You’re at home?”
“Right. Call me as soon as possible. I’m counting on you, buddy.”
“Fine. In the meantime, see if you can talk Bayard into it.”
“Thanks a fuckin’ bunch. I should probably mention that Bayard doesn’t believe it’s Austin’s voice on the machine. He thinks it’s yours.”
“Well, that’s stupid on the face of it,” Joey said. “Where’d he get that idea?”
“I let him listen to the message.”
“Dude, you’re nuts. Why would I do that to you?”
“I don’t know, Joey. Why would you?”
“Yeah, right. Up yours. I’m done with this conversation.”
Once Joey hung up, he and Iris stared at each other, trying to absorb this unexpected turn of events.
Iris said, “So what’s this big hot scheme of his?”
“You heard the same thing I did. This is Fritz being coy for once. What a dork.”
Iris shook her head. “That message was a mistake,” she said. “You shouldn’t have set it up that way because now we’re stuck.”
“Wait a minute. So far we’ve threatened Fritz, but we haven’t done anything. Once we take the money, we’re guilty of grand theft or theft by deception or some damn thing.”
“That’s the point. The money is the point,” she said. “It’s like when a jury awards you . . . what’s it called? Damages. I’m entitled to compensation for the pain and suffering I’ve been through.”
“Forget pain and suffering. You were stoned. You don’t have a clue what went on.”
“Not so. You’re wrong. The tape brought it all back. What they did was humiliating.”
“Get off of that for a minute. Let’s stay in the here and now.”
“Would you shut up? You sound like a therapist. You forget we’re not ‘taking’ the money. He’s giving it to us.”
“But under duress. Extortion’s a crime.”
“Joey, we knew that from the get-go. Why worry about it now?”
“Okay. So we didn’t think it through.”
“Not ‘we,’ Joey. You didn’t think it through because you didn’t believe we’d succeed.”
“Hey, you didn’t either, so don’t put it all on me.”
“I don’t understand what you’re so worried about. W
e come up with a plan and it works. Why is that so hard to accept?”
“Because until now, we’ve always had an out. Just drop the whole thing and take a walk. No harm, no foul. This is the point of no return. If we pick him up on that corner, then he’ll know it’s us.”
“So what? Good news for him. He’s dealing with his pals instead of some tattoo-covered loser.”
“It doesn’t work that way. We’ve been lying through our teeth, pretending to be his friends while for all practical purposes, we’re robbing him at gunpoint. We can’t do this.”
Exasperated, Iris said, “Okay. Shit. We don’t pick him up and he never knows it’s us. What does that buy us?”
“He can give the money back. He can tell his parents it was all a big mistake.”
“And he corrected this big mistake by doing what?”
“I don’t know. He got the money. He went to the place where the guy said he’d pick him up and the guy’s a no-show. So Fritz brings the money back, every dollar accounted for, they put it back where it was, and that’s the last they hear of it. Extortionist never contacts them again. Problem solved.”
Iris blinked. Reluctantly, she said, “That’s actually not a bad idea.”
“It gives us an out and no one’s the wiser.”
“What about all the time and energy we put into this?”
“A pipe dream. Who cares? We had fun. Fantasy revenge without any consequences.”
She thought about it, tilting her head this way and that.
Joey said, “Please. Do this for me. We’re not crooks. We’re just a couple of lunkheads, harassing some twerp who did you wrong ten years ago. Now we lay it by and it’s done.”
Iris said, “Shit. I was ready to rock and roll.”
“We do this and we’ll be caught. I can feel it in my bones.”
She sighed. “All right. Crap. I agree. You were brilliant to come up with the idea of creating a phantom suspect. We’ll be out of it and that private investigator will be chasing her own tail. Good luck with that.”
