by P. N. Elrod
The bell drew me on like a snagged fish until I was nearly on top of it. I was about to take a turn around the room to search for company when the ringing stopped, interrupted as someone finally answered the thing.
6
“HELLO?”
A feminine voice; flat, impatient. “I am hurrying…. No, it’s quiet here. … I tell you, I’m just finishing up. If you hadn’t called I’d be in the elevator now…. He’s down warming up the car. … All right, I’m on my way.”
She hung up with an exasperated sigh and moved off. I returned to the hall once more and went solid, regaining sight and better-than-normal hearing. The muffling quality of the carpet and the many intervening walls had prevented me from picking up her soft movements earlier. Now I crept to the edge of the doorway, peering around for a glimpse at my unknowing hostess.
Her back was to me as she busily shrugged into her overcoat. She al ready had her galoshes on; both struck a chord of recognition in me. For a few seconds I debated on how to make an approach without scaring her to death, finally deciding that it couldn’t be done. I simply rapped a knuckle against the door panel.
“Keep your shirt on, Chick, I’m c——” She froze in midturn. It was bad enough that I’d come out of nowhere, but I was still dressed for a dockside riot.
I put on a friendly smile and pretended hard that I was clean shaven and in a natty tux. “Opal, isn’t it? We met the other night.”
No bells rang for her.
“I’m here to see your boss.”
“He’s gone,” she blurted.
“I noticed. Where is he?”
“I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to things like that.”
Too much explanation coming too fast. “We’re not off to a very good start, are we?”
No comment to that one. Maybe I wasn’t her type—or Kyler had primed her with dire warnings to look out for a bloodthirsty monster. Her nervousness was understandable, but scaring women has never appealed to me. I could calm her down, influence the fear right out of her, but shied away from that all-too-easy ploy.
We stood in a well-furnished living area. Like the rest of the place, it was cleaned out. The only personal item left was her handbag, clutched protectively in white-knuckled fingers.
“Come on,” I said, deciding that any action was preferable to waiting.
“What?”
“Down to the car. Chick’s probably wondering what’s keeping you.”
The reminder that possible help was at hand wasn’t enough to encourage her to move. “But I …”
“Come on, Opal. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She took a tentative step forward on stiff legs, then balked. “No. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You’ll be all right. I’m just going to walk you to your car.” I moved toward her, slowly; she was faster and backed away. Since she was determined to keep a maximum distance between us, I used that to herd her from the room.
The elevator was something of a dilemma for her, being too small for comfort. She scurried to the end of the hall and took the service stairs instead. I followed, but not too closely. I didn’t want to crowd her too much or she’d trip and break something. She was wheezing badly by the time she’d reached the bottom landing. She burst into another short hall and out a metal door to the outside, going fast despite her short breath and slipping galoshes.
A new-looking DeSoto was idling across the narrow street, a heavy cloud of exhaust streaming from its tailpipe. Opal charged straight for it, screaming Chick’s name.
Chick must have been primed and ready for trouble; he came boiling out of the driver’s door, gun in hand. He wore a few visible lumps from last night’s encounter with Udo and Jüurgens, but they weren’t slowing him down. He recognized me instantly and got the gun up and aimed, but Opal plowed right into him, spoiling his shot. He cursed and shoved her headfirst into the front seat to get her out of his way, then brought the gun to bear again.
I was moving too fast to stop, grabbing the gun and pushing it to the outside with my left, throwing a desperate gut punch with my right. The breath whooshed out of him and he doubled and fell, nearly dragging me down, too. But I hadn’t hit him hard enough. He landed on his side and turned around just enough to sock me a solid one in the jaw with his free hand.
As socks go, it was a good one, because I felt it. I was already bent over and off balance, trying to wrest the gun away and making a lousy job of it. This one jarred me to my knees, leaving my butt up in the air. Chick seized the opportunity to awkwardly smash one of his size twelves into the seat of my pants. I sprawled, still managing to clutch the gun, and collected another punch in the ribs.
That’s when I lost my temper and put the pressure on his hand. He gave out with a yell right in my ear. I kept twisting until something snapped. The yell turned into an honest-to-God shriek, and he finally let go of the gun. I swatted it well away and staggered to my feet, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet and tried to belt me once more.
“Stay down, dammit,” I roared at him, slapping at his head the way you do an annoying bug. He suddenly dropped flat onto the pavement and stopped moving.
Oh, shit. Had I broken his neck? I knelt next to him to see.
Fingers shaking from exertion and sheer nervousness at what they might find, I checked his throat for a pulse. Thank God. His heart was working fast, but it was working. Good. One less thing to worry about. Even as I straightened, he began to moan, getting ready for the second round.
Opal’s initial screams had drawn a few people toward us. Three men stepped from the rest, trying to decide whether or not to interfere. They had me outnumbered, but I was a rough-looking customer. Maybe I’d had a good reason to accost an obviously respectable citizen and flatten him.
Opal had recovered and was sitting up in the seat. Once she’d realized how the fight had come out, she screamed again, nothing articulate, just earsplitting and attention-drawing. The three heroes made their decision, surging forward to protect her. Time to get the hell out.
I forced my way into the waiting car, pushing Opal over. There was a bad moment fumbling with the gears before the thing finally responded. One of the men almost caught at the handle, but I hit the gas just in time. The door swung loosely shut as we lurched forward.
Opal made a lot of noise and attempted to crawl out the other door. I got a handful of her coat collar and yanked her back. She clawed blindly, fingers jabbing into my vulnerable neck. I gave her a rough shake to stop that nonsense. She did, but the distraction was nearly enough to smash us into an inconvenient wall. I got the wheel pulled around in time, but overcompensated. We missed the driveway and bumped violently over a high curb into the street. Opal bounced halfway to the roof, came down hard, and slipped under the dashboard with an outraged squawk.
I yelled at her to stay put as I fought to keep a straight course. We managed to swerve away from an oncoming car, miss a parked one, and pick up more speed. I’d need it. As far as those people in the street were concerned, I’d just kidnapped an innocent, albeit noisy girl, no doubt for some horrible purpose. They were probably calling the DeSoto’s license number in to the cops right now.
It had finally penetrated to Opal that this would not be a good time to make an exit. She crouched under the dash, holding on to the seat for balance and glaring at me, anger overriding fear for the moment.
“Your glasses are crooked,” I told her.
She straightened them automatically. “Where are you going?”
I surprised her and myself with a laugh. “Damned if I know, sister. Your boss has made this town too hot for me to be anyplace.”
“Let me out. I mean it. Let me out right now.”
“Uh-uh.” But I checked first before answering to make sure she didn’t have a gun to enforce her demand. More complications I did not need.
She climbed from under the dash, straightening her clothes with jerky, frustrated movements.
“Sit on your hands
,” I ordered.
“What?”
More slowly. “Sit on your hands, Opal. If you don’t, I’ll have to deck you just like I did Chick.”
She was smart enough not to argue. Grumbling, she squirmed around on the seat.
“Get them well under, put your weight on them.”
“Okay, okay.”
We were approaching a stop signal; she settled in just in time. The line of cars ahead indicated we’d all have a long wait. She simmered and looked longingly out her window toward escape, hut behaved herself until the signal changed and our turn to move came up. While I was busy with the gears and wheel, she wrenched her hands free and tried to get out the door.
I grabbed her arm at the last second and hauled her back. “Relax, sister, or it’s beddy-bye time.” The threat wouldn’t have fooled a ten-year-old, bur worked on her. She chewed her lower lip into a fine shade of pink with her small teeth.
“Please let me go.” Just beginning to understand her new situation, she was hard put to keep the whine out of her voice.
“That sounds like a good idea, honey. Where shall I take you?”
She came that close to blurting it out, but her mouth snapped shut before she could betray her boss.
“All right,” I sighed. “Then we’ll have to do it the hard way.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll find out.” Eventually, I located the perfect spot, coasting to a stop in front of a closed gas station with an outside telephone box. Opal squeaked when I took her arm again and tried to shrug away.
“Leave me alone.”
“At the first opportunity,” I promised. With a little forceful coaxing, I drew her out of the car, squeezing us unhappily into the phone box. She kept as far away from me as possible, which was not easy, given the circumstances. I blocked the door and fumbled out a nickel.
Escott answered before the first ring had finished.
“It’s me.”
“Are you all right?” he asked cautiously. It was a loaded question. Translation: had I killed Kyler yet?
“Just peachy. Kyler’s flown the coop, but it wasn’t a total waste of time. I’ve turned up a new angle.”
“What sort of angle?”
“Remember the other night at the Satchel? Kyler’s accountant, Opal?” Opal glared at me, her jaw working.
“Certainly.”
“I’ve got her.”
“You’ve—” He broke off as the implications soaked in.
“Yeah, and I want to bring her over, but you need to warn our temporary landlord to keep out of the way so he doesn’t get drawn into this mess. The fewer people she sees, the better. You know what I mean?”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Okay. I’ll come by in the same door that I used to leave. We’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“I’ll be prepared.”
We hung up, then I had to expend some effort to wrestle Opal back into the car without hurting her. She started to screech, leaving me with no option but to clamp a hand over her mouth and lift her bodily up and in. She ran out of breath before I ran out of determination. The street was momentarily deserted, but enough noise could change that in short order. I hauled ass out of there.
“This stinks and I hate you,” she announced, verging on tears.
“And you’re the light of my life, too. Now get under the dash.”
“What?”
“Just do it, Opal!” The tone of my voice got through to her. She ducked down, fast.
After a peaceful interval, she complained, “This thing’s digging into my back.”
“Then stop trying to sit up.”
“Why can’t I?”
“You don’t need to know where we’re going.”
“But I’m getting carsick down here.”
“Fine. If you puke, be sure to keep it on your side.”
“You …” But she was too nice a girl to use that kind of language. She tried another tack. “I can sit on my hands again. I promise I won’t make any trouble.”
I didn’t answer.
“Really, I won’t. I’ll even keep my eyes shut.”
“Better if you stay put.”
“You—you won’t think so in a minute,” she gasped.
Alarmed, I checked on her. A person doesn’t turn that shade of light green voluntarily. She was gulping, too. I hastily pulled to the curb and rolled down my window to give her air. “Better?”
She shook her head, her eyes desperate. Damnation. I leaned over and opened the passenger door. She crawled forward and got her head out just in time. I gripped her collar to keep her from bolting, but it wasn’t really necessary. When she finally finished and I pulled her back onto the seat, she was exhausted and puffing like a beached fish, tears streaming down her swollen face.
“You all right, kid?” I found a handkerchief and offered it. She glared and wrinkled her nose. “Go on, it’s clean.” I pushed it into her hand.
“Why don’t you leave me alone?”
Just blow your nose.”
She did, several times.
“You can keep the handkerchief,” I said, suddenly inspired to generosity.
“Will you please let me go?”
I ignored the subject. “Feel better now?”
Sniff. “I guess so.”
“Good. Get back under the dash.”
Her mouth popped open and as quickly snapped shut. She looked ready to burst into real tears now, not just the by-product of being sick. “You’re mean.”
“Yeah, I cheat old ladies and kick dogs all the time.”
“This stinks. Vaughn’s going to get you for this.” But she got back down and I resumed driving.
To keep her mind off getting carsick again, I asked, “How’d you come to work for a guy like him, anyway?”
She scowled as though I were a total idiot. “I’m a great accountant. You ask me anything about numbers and I know it.”
Off the top of my head I asked: “The square root of pi, what is it?”
“Pi is a transcendental number, you can’t take its square root. Ferdinand Lindemann’s already proved that. Since it’s an irrational number its numerical representation can only be an approximation of its value, and those numbers’ square roots will also be approximations. That’s algebra, anyway. I can do it, but accounting’s better. In a correctly balanced ledger, numbers are always sensible and clean.”
I gulped, knowing that I’d seriously underestimated this little gal. “Ah … whatever you say, but doesn’t it bother you how Kyler makes the money you’re adding up for him?”
She shrugged, indifferent.
“Or that he kills people?”
“Will you let me go? I won’t tell on you.”
“No.”
She crossed her arms, resting them on the seat cushion, and stared at the door handle. “This stinks. Vaughn’s going to get you good for stealing his car. He’ll get you good for doing this.”
I shot her a look. Somewhere along the way I’d missed something and it was just now catching up with me. “What’s fifty-six times eighteen?”
“One thousand eight,” she replied in a bored tone.
“Fifty-six divided by eighteen?”
“Three, remainder two or three point one one one one …”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Told you I was good,” she said smugly.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three years, four months, and eleven days.”
“Now you’re just showing off.”
“Am not. That’s the truth.”
I tried a few more sums and the answers poured out of her as fast as she heard the questions. It kept her occupied until we reached Coldfield’s building. I backed the car deep into the alley shadows. Just as I cut the motor, Escott opened the side door for us. I urged Opal to come along, aware that I sounded like a dog owner working with an especially difficult pet. Hugging her purse, she finally climbed out, and I
guided her inside.
“Opal, this is Charles … Charles, Opal,” I said once he’d locked the door.
“Delighted to meet you again, miss,” he responded, with a slight inclination of his head.
She pouted at him, suspicious. “You were at the Satchel. You didn’t have a black eye then.”
He glanced at me. I gave him a “be careful” expression. “Yes. That’s where we met.”
She put a disapproving twist to her lips, but decided not to hold it against him. “We only just met here; the Satchel was where I saw you,” she stated, then pointed a finger straight at me. “He won’t let me go. Will you?”
He instantly came out with a thin but charming smile. “Won’t you come inside and warm yourself first? It’s much too cold for traveling right now.” He gestured upstairs, managing to get her there with no more fuss.
She glared at the sparse furnishings and kicked at the empty packing crate that served as a table. “This stinks.”
I told Opal to be quiet and read a magazine. We backed out the door, but kept it open to make sure she left the phone alone.
“Jack …” he murmured from the side of his mouth. “I know. At first I thought she was just acting cute, but it’s no act.”
“And you’re certain she’s his accountant?”
“Oh, yeah. I don’t know how, but she’s some kind of a genius when it comes to numbers.”
“Even if she is a bit wanting in the social graces. You’re sure about her being the new angle you mentioned on the phone?”
“Mostly she got dragged along for the ride, and now I’m kind of stuck with her, but I think she may know where Kyler is.”
“In which case it should be easy enough to persuade her to part with the information.”
“I was thinking maybe you could charm it out of her with that Ronald Colman act of yours.”
Instead of bristling with his usual reply to the joke, he said, “You really don’t want to hypnotize her, do you?”
No use trying to hide anything from him; he was too damn sharp. This was a talk I’d been dreading, but would have to have sooner or later. Cod knows, I owed him an explanation.
“Something’s happened,” he said. He was trying to make it easy, but I was wincing inside.
