Sleuthing for the Weekend

by Jennifer L. Hart

  A hand reached into my coat pocket and extracted the cell. Then tossed it away. It landed with a clatter beyond the light. Damn, I really would have to get a new phone now. My neck muscles felt wobbly, but somehow I managed to roll my head down until I could see the hand wrapped around my arm, guiding me deeper into whatever dark space we were stumbling through.

  The feeling was somewhat familiar. A little like the drugs the nice nurse had given me when delivering Mac. But different. I squinted down at the guiding hand, trying to remember.

  It was covered in cat scratches.

  "You're not Eli-ja," I slurred.

  "I'm not," Wesley Cummings agreed. "Elijah's dead."

  "You stuck me with a needle?" My oversized tongue made speaking difficult. I didn't think I was drunk, though the effects of whatever needle he'd stuck in my neck were similar to intoxication. In fact, I felt relaxed, almost floating, as if my body had somehow detached itself from me. I was bobbing over to the left, and my body was just going on its merry way without me. Somewhere in the back of my head there was a grain of fear, but it was buried under layers of cotton batting. "With what?"

  "Special K."

  "The cereal?" That wasn't what I wanted to ask. I fished around in the murky depths of my brain until I found the right question. "Why?"

  I tried to focus on his face. The cat scratches on his hands stretched and morphed, broke open, oozing out over me, over the floor. His face elongated like a horse, a mean horse that was going to bite me. I shrank away, or at least I think I did.

  "You saw these." He pointed to the throbbing wounds on his hands, and again I shrank away.

  "I did? I didn't mean to." The sound came out as a whimper.

  "What's done is done," Horseface Wesley said to me. "I've done worse for him."

  "For who?"

  "The congressman."

  "He killed Lois." I shook my head, still not wanting to believe it. He seemed like such a nice guy. A good guy.

  "No, you pretty idiot. I killed Lois."

  "You did?" Even in my drugged-out state, I knew the incredulity in my voice wasn't exactly flattering. Even with his humongous scratches and horse-like visage, he didn't seem like a killer. More like my mother's accountant than a man capable of cold-blooded murder. "But she was so nice."

  "I wish it hadn't come to that. I went to her house, asked her to shut down that revolting site. Alan could have given her the money if she needed it so badly. Do you know what she said to me? That it wasn't about the money. She liked to be in control. I did my best to convince her, explained to her how such racy hobbies would hurt her brother's career. There are bottom feeders who have devoted their whole lives to bringing him down. They can't believe that a career politician could actually be a decent human being." He shook his head. "And the selfish bitch didn't care."

  "What did you mean you'd done worse for him?"

  "That cook he was having an affair with. She sent him the results of a pregnancy test. Alan never even saw that."

  "You killed a pregnant woman so your boss wouldn't have to pay child support?"

  "Alan needs to marry well. An illegitimate child would hold him back. Just like you would. I would have left you alone. But it's dangerous to leave a PI loose with sensitive information, like holding a tiger by the tail."

  Too bad he didn't know I was a lousy PI. "Why would you do all these things? Are you in love with him?"

  "I believe in him." We stopped under one of the watery overhead lights, and I saw the fire in his gaze. The fervent zeal of a rabid fanatic. "He can fix this country, fix the world if given a chance."

  I thought over his story. "Lois didn't die at home."

  "No. I killed her in Daniel O'Flannigan's office. He was supposed to be home with his daughter that night, not on stage with that stupid band. Of course, I didn't know that until after the fact."

  "You're babbling," I said to him.

  He frowned at me.

  I shrugged. "Happens with me. People like to tell me things. I'm very trustworthy."

  "Pretty soon you'll be very dead." He led me down some concrete steps and made me sit.

  There was something solid behind my head. I thudded it backwards against whatever it was a couple of times. "Why'd you want Daniel blamed?"

  The Horse Man tilted his head at me. "Because he'd seen me at Lois's. I couldn't take the risk."

  I nodded sagely. "You don't seem like a risk-taker."

  He stared at me for a minute then backhanded me across the face. It didn't hurt, even though I felt my lip split open on impact.

  I laughed at him.

  He exhaled then stood up, looming over me. "That's right, stay here and keep laughing."

  "Can't," I mumbled. "Got to catch a train."

  He smiled then, a horse baring his teeth. "Don't you worry. It'll be here soon. Just stay where you are and wait for it."

  My eyelids drooped. "Train's coming? I won't miss it?"

  "It won't miss you." With that he left, taking the flashlight with him.

  I struggled to get up, to follow him. But the darkness swirled around me, and soon I couldn't tell which way he'd gone. I made it to my knees, swaying to and fro, not wanting to miss the train. My brows furrowed. He'd said he was going to kill me, but he'd just left me here. Not tied or locked away. As soon as the drug wore off, I could go.

  Why was it so important I get the train? They came by every few minutes. I could always catch the next one. Instead of sobering up, the drug seemed to be making things worse. I didn't want to move beyond the small pool of light I sat in. I could feel the monsters out there, and if I ran, they might see me. Might decide to chase me down and eat me.

  My heart thudded behind my ribs, adrenaline surging, combating the cereal in my veins. Bad, bad cereal. I hated cereal. Pop-Tarts would never make me feel bad like this. A girl could count on Pop-Tarts.

  I started to cry. I didn't want to die. Didn't want the monsters to eat me.

  "Mackenzie?" a voice called out.

  My tears slowed. "Hello?"

  "Where are you?" A bobbing light came into view, sweeping in hasty patterns.

  "Marco!" I called out then frowned. "Wait, let me try that again. Polo!"

  "Keep talking," the disembodied voice commanded.

  I could see a light bobbing my way.

  "Careful of the monsters," I slurred. Whoever was out there was right in the thick of their hunting area. The ground beneath me rumbled. "They might be hungry, and I'm fresh out of Pop-Tarts since the horse man gave me cereal."

  The light shone down on me, scalding my retinas until they shriveled up like eyeball raisins. "Ow."

  The thudding of footsteps then strong hands picking me up. "Come on, baby. Let's get you out of here."

  "Daddy?" I whispered and then for no good reason started to cry once more.

  "Mackenzie Elizabeth Taylor," he barked. His commanding tone, the one he trotted out for the most stubborn recruits, broke through the cotton batting. "You need to walk, right now."

  I nodded, and he put one of my arms over his shoulder, the other around my waist.

  "Reg!" That was Agnes's sharp tone. "Do you see her?"

  "I've got her," my father called out. Then to me: "That's a good girl. One foot in front of the other."

  We'd made it up out of that scary pit and across to the landing when the train rolled by.

  "Hey," I said. "That was my ride."

  The Captain turned me to him and hugged me hard. "Don't you ever do that again, you hear me?"

  "Not my fault," I mumbled.

  He pulled away, and I was shocked to see that there were tears spilling down his cheeks. "If that woman hadn't seen you heading down here…" He tugged me close for another hug.

  "Reg!"

  "Over here, Agnes."

  "She really does love you," I whispered to him.

  He looked startled. And then my mother was there, yammering on in that way she had. For once I didn't mind her fussing, just glad that the two
of them were there.

  I wasn't any more aware of the trip up than the one down. One minute we were in the dimness of the train tunnels, the next the bright March sunshine was in my eyes. I hissed like a vampire and shaded them.

  "Mom!" Mac flung herself at me, squeezing me with all her might. "What happened?"

  I held up a finger, trying to get used to the sensations of everything around me—the noise and the light and the voices. It spun and spun and spun like I was on a carousel, but not a normal carousel, one moving at light speed.

  I bent over and threw up.

  "She's drugged with something," my father told someone. "Been babbling nonsense since I found her."

  "Cereal," I spat.

  Mac had my hair bunched up in one hand. "Mom?"

  "My dad found me," I muttered.

  "Reg, call an ambulance." Agnes sounded beside herself with fear.

  "It'll take them forever to get here through the crowds," the Captain said. "Brett still hasn't found a place to park. We're better keeping her still and hydrated. Mac, go over to the nearest convenience store and buy water. Lots of water."

  "My baby." Agnes took over hair-holding duty. "My poor baby."

  "S'okay, Mom," I tried to reassure her, to reassure them all. I hated worrying people.

  But it was no good. The ground wouldn't stop spinning, and it rose up to meet me.

  * * *

  I awoke in a hospital bed, an IV dripping some sort of clear liquid into my arm and my head pounding.

  "'Lo?" I called out weakly. My eyes seemed off, the brightness up way too high.

  "Red."

  I turned my head and caught Hunter's dark gaze. He was standing by the window, the late-day sun streaming in to cast him in silhouette.

  "What happened?" I croaked. My head still felt fuzzy, although not as bad as before, but my stomach hurt like I had the mother of all menstrual cramps.

  "Wesley Cummings drugged you and left you on the railroad tracks." Hunter's dark gaze roved over my face.

  I shook my head. "Didn't anyone see?"

  "He waited for the line to arrive and all the passengers to go on their way. The few who did notice you thought you were drunk and that he was helping you."

  I shuddered. "That was damn clever of him. After leading me down into the tunnel, anyone who found me would have believed I'd partied too hard, got stupid, and played chicken with the train."

  Hunter moved closer to the bed and poured water from a pink plastic pitcher into a cup. He held it to my lips. "Here. You need to drink."

  I took a sip. The cool liquid was amazing, soothing my parched throat.

  "Go slowly," he said, rubbing a thumb along my cheekbone. "You have a bruise here."

  "The weenie hit me." Calling him a name made me feel oddly better. Then I jolted as a new thought occurred. "Hunter, he stuck me with a needle."

  "I know. The doctor ordered a full blood panel."

  Tears welled. Java knew where that thing had been. My ordeal wasn't over, even though I wanted it to be. I wanted to feel as safe as when I'd heard the Captain's voice.

  "Red, I'm sure everything is fine. Don't borrow trouble. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it.

  Distantly, as though recalling a scene from a movie, I imagined Wesley telling me I wouldn't miss the next train. Right before he morphed into a horse. "What the hell was that stuff?"

  "Ketamine. The effects don't last long, and it's used as a recreational drug."

  "He killed Lois. And some woman who was carrying Alan Whitmore's baby." And he'd been damn close to killing me too.

  "I know about the pregnant woman. That's why I was undercover. Her body was found by a fishing boat on one of the harbor islands last week. We thought it was the Congressman or that someone close to him had killed her." Hunter's expression was full of regret. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have let him out of my sight."

  I shook my head. "It's not your fault."

  "I knew someone close to Whitmore was behind all this misery."

  "Have you questioned him?"

  "We haven't found him yet."

  I shuddered. He was still out there.

  "Don't worry. I will catch him. And you and Mac will have full police protection until we do."

  So, Wesley Cummings was still at large. I might have any number of communicable diseases thanks to that needle, and Hunter looked as though he'd let me down. This mood needed lightening, big time. "You're not going to lock me away in a safehouse or anything, are you? Because it's still St. Patrick's Day weekend, and I want to celebrate."

  One dark eyebrow went up. "You're in a hospital bed."

  "What's your point?"

  Someone knocked on the door.

  "Mom?"

  Her face was pinched tight and so pale.

  "Hey, babe. I was just trying to convince Mr. Black here that we should head out to party."

  Her lip trembled.

  I held out my arms. "Aww, kid, come here."

  She fell into them, shoulders shaking with sobs.

  "I'll give you two some privacy." Hunter got up and headed to the door.

  "It's not your fault!" I called to his retreating back.

  He paused, the muscles in his shoulders bunching, but didn't turn around. Yeah, he'd need to work that out.

  "Hey." I kissed the top of Macs head the same way I'd done when she was an infant. "I'm okay. Really."

  "I was so scared." She sniffled into my hospital gown.

  "I know, love. So was I." I held her for a minute, petting her hair in a soothing rhythm and murmuring nonsense. The act of comforting her was just as reassuring for me as it was for her.

  Finally, she pulled back and wiped her eyes. "If Grandpa hadn't found you…"

  I was still in awe over that. "How did he find me? The Captain, I mean."

  She sniffled. "I bugged you. Well, technically you bugged yourself. You know that tracker app I installed on your phone? I can use that the same way you were using it to track the bugs."

  My brilliant, crafty daughter had saved my sorry carcass.

  "When you didn't call in, I looked up the tracker app on my laptop. Dad and I were stuck in traffic. Agnes and Nona were out treasure hunting with Hunter's sister, Kate. I couldn't get ahold of them or Hunter. Grandpa was the closest to you. The signal went dark when you were in the train tunnel. Must have been the signal strength being interrupted by being underground. I knew you were heading for the Blue Line, so Grandpa went there first."

  "The Captain to the rescue," I muttered. And that was after I'd screamed at him in the street like an old fishwife. Then my eyes widened. "Where's my phone?"

  "I don't know." Mac glanced around. "You didn't have it when you came in. Why?"

  "I slipped a bug into Wesley Cummings' pocket after the graveside ceremony."

  Her big blue eyes widened. "I have the master program on my laptop. I just need to get home."

  I grabbed her arm before she could dash off. "No. Mac, tell Hunter. Have him go get it and take it to your boss. I don't want you out of earshot until that lunatic is caught, understand?"

  She nodded and then pulled away. "I'll tell Hunter."

  Exhaustion swamped me, and my eyelids fluttered shut. "Okay. I'll just wait here."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  "At the end of the case, work is work and family is family. Don't get emotionally attached, and you'll be all right." From The Working Man's Guide to Sleuthing for a Living, an unpublished manuscript by Albert Taylor, PI

  "So there's no treasure?" Nona asked with disappointment.

  "Nope, they made it all up as a gimmick to help promote the bar." Agnes leaned back in her lounge seat, her expression a mix of disgust and something more. "I can't believe Reg would go along with something so…dishonest."

  We were gathered on the roof of one of the downtown buildings with the entire Black clan. One of the perks of the senior Mr. Black having been so high up in the force before his retirement was that he had ins with many of th
e building owners along the parade route. The squat brick three story was just high enough to get us a bird's eye view of the St. Patrick's Day parade streaming by on the street below.

  "Grandpa didn't know," Mac jumped to his defense. "Michael O'Flannigan cooked the whole thing up. Len said so. He's up on charges of fraud now."

  Her gaze slid to me as she spoke, catching my shudder.

  "It's a good thing that man is locked up." Kelly Black joined us, carrying a tray of pigs in a blanket, which she offered to me first. "You poor thing."

  My mother eyed me as I took three of the offered snacks but didn't comment. Apparently, I was still too pathetic with my black eye and possibly contaminated bloodstream.

  "And to think that nice girl was doing all sorts of kinky stuff with her brother-in-law. With his wife's permission." Nona knocked back her cocktail. "Goes to show you, it takes all kinds."

  I shifted in my chair, uncomfortable talking about Lois's tendencies. I'd made the mistake of googling the words domination and clothespins last night. Some things you just can't unsee.

  "What I want to know is why Kate decided to set you two loose on the North End yesterday." I raised my voice so that the junior Ms. Black would hear me.

  Hunter's sister sauntered over, drink in hand, and plopped down on the end of my lounge chair. "Hey, I've got student loans to pay off. A little treasure wouldn't go amiss."

  Hunter's nieces, dressed in green leotards with fluffy tulle skirts and black-and-green-stripped leggings, ran screaming across the roof. Ramona tripped and went down hard. There was a breathless pause as Hermione fell on top and tackled her.

  "And they say boys are rough," Kate grumbled.

  "Don't just stand there, Kate." Kelly Black handed a startled Mac the tray of pigs and clapped her hands like she was shooing cats. "It took me days to make those outfits."

  The door to our rooftop retreat opened, and Hunter strode in.

  "Ughie!" The little girls screamed their nickname for Uncle Hunter and then scrambled to tackle him, Kate hot on their heels.

  He grinned, swooped all three of them up, and spun them around. After setting them back on their feet, he met my gaze and nodded once.

  All the tension went right out of my body.