Текст книги "Before The Killing Starts"

Автор книги: James Harper

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Chapter 33

'This is where we get to the bit you're not going to like,' Ellie said

He wished she wouldn't keep saying that. He was already feeling very uncomfortable with what he'd heard so far. The supposedly simple task that she'd given him of finding Dixie had turned into something very different. He wished she'd just get on with it and let him make his own mind up about what he did and didn't like.

'Do you have any idea how difficult it is to store stuff temporarily after 9/11?'

He shook his head.

'Immediately afterwards they removed all the lockers in airports and train stations. Then they relaxed a bit and brought them back but most of them are biometric so they work with your fingerprint. The biggest problem is that you can't leave stuff for any length of time. They clear them out after twenty-four hours.'

'I can see how that would give your everyday rip-off artist a problem.'

She ignored the jibe.

'I put the money in a locker at the train station to begin with, but I needed to store it somewhere that would allow me to be away from it for more than twenty-four hours.'

Suddenly Evan realized where this was going, but he didn't want to hear her say it.

'I asked Sarah to keep it for me for a few days.'

Her words hit Evan like a slap around the face. His guts twisted violently. If he hadn't already been sitting on the bed his legs would have crumpled. He felt as if he'd been given something—something that he wanted more than anything else in the world—only to have it snatched away before he could grasp it. If he could believe her—and he knew it was a massive if—he had proof Sarah was alive. And then, a fraction of a nano-second later, came the news that she'd been dragged into Ellie's sordid drug dealer rip-off scam. And he knew as sure as hell that she wasn't about to tell him she picked the money up again two days later, no problem.

'You've gone a funny green color,' she said. There was even a hint of real concern in her voice.

He gave her a what did you expect? look. Like she'd just told him she'd seen Sarah at the mall. No big deal. Not that she'd just given her a few million dollars of stolen drug money to hold onto.

He snorted. 'I feel a lot worse than just turning green.' He stood up. He felt a bit shaky on his legs and he was far too hot. He took off his jacket and threw it on the bed. He crossed the room and stood over her as she sat in the armchair. She shrank backwards into it.

'I didn't have any choice. Honestly . . .' Her voice was whiney now. He wanted to get his hands around her neck and squeeze until the horrible noise stopped. And the breathing too. Seeing her eyeballs pop would be good too.

'Tell me you went back and picked the money up again a few days later, no problem.'

She tried to stand up but he pushed her back down into the chair. She clasped her hands together in her lap. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

'Tell me, Ellie,' he shouted.

He looked down at the top of her head level with his stomach. He didn't even feel like saying: while you're down there. . .

'No,' she said quietly, 'that isn't how it went.'

He spun round and stamped over to the window to stop himself from slapping her.

'What happened?'

'Dixie came after the money.'

'For himself or for the people you ripped off?'

For himself, I think.'

Evan swallowed a lump the size of his fist. He felt sick. He didn't know exactly where this was going, but he knew it wasn't anywhere good. There wasn't going to be a happy ending any time soon.

'Dixie found Sarah,' Ellie said. Her voice wasn't whiney any more, just dead. Resigned. Helpless. Hopeless.

'How?' His voice sounded the same. A please tell me your very worst news voice.

She shook her head, still not looking at him. 'I don't know. Does it matter?'

'Not really—apart from the fact that he manages to do in a couple of days what I couldn't do in five years. But no, it doesn't alter the outcome.'

'He made her tell him where the money was.'

Somehow he managed to not think about the implications of that statement immediately, because what she said didn't make sense.

'What do you mean? You said she had it.'

'She wasn’t happy with it lying around the apartment'—he laughed ironically at that—'so she moved it to a self-storage facility.'

'So why the hell didn't you do that in the first place?'

She shrugged helplessly. 'I don't know. I didn't think about it. Those places are big. Who puts a single bag in one? I was more worried about who might be coming after me.'

He looked at her and felt a rising tide of disgust inside him. He didn't want to hear any more of this. It was only going to get worse. He refused to even think about what the ultimate outcome might be.

'You said he made her tell him where the money was. How?'

She looked at him like he was an idiot. 'How do you think?'

Her strode across the room and stood over her again. He reached down and grabbed hold of her hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her head back until she was staring into his face.

'We don't all live in a world where people routinely torture other people to get what they want. Pardon me if I'm finding it difficult to get my head around it.' He threw her head back against the chair and walked away.

'You want to know what these people are like?' she said. 'Here, look at this.'

She started to unbutton her blouse. Evan stared in astonishment. She got it open all the way down and then took hold of one of her breasts and lifted in up. She got hold of the bottom of the cup of her brassiere and pulled it halfway up over her breast. In the crease of flesh between her breast and ribs he saw a four inch long adhesive bandage taped to her skin. For a split second he wondered if she was going to ask him to rub some ointment in.

'They were going to slice my breast off.' Her voice cracked as she said it.

Now that would be a waste. She had very nice breasts.

'That was after they were going to cut off my nipple'—Evan wondered if she was going to show it to him in case he didn't know what one looked like—'with some gardening secateurs.' She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her other hand.

He shuddered at the thought. Women might have better nipples than men, but men still have them, and he had no problem imagining the horror of having one snipped off.

She pulled her brassiere back into place and buttoned herself up again. He wondered if the demonstration had been strictly necessary. It also made him wonder what had occurred to stop them following through on their threats. They'd released her—there must be conditions attached.

So far he'd managed to hold off thinking about Sarah being tortured. But Ellie's graphic demonstration was too much. He imagined Sarah tied up and helpless, straining against her bonds, screaming and sobbing as some maniac snipped off the end of her nipple. He felt light-headed at the thought of the dark red blood gushing out, her helpless screams music to the ears of her tormentor.

It was suddenly way too hot in the room. His head felt like it was about to explode. His mouth was dry, his throat scratchy. He swallowed the ball bearing caught in his gullet.

'I've got to get a glass of water,' he said.

He took a couple of quick strides across the room to the bathroom and slammed the door after him. He filled the sink with cold water and buried his face in it. If it had been deeper he'd have stuck his whole head under the water. He pulled the plug and watched someone else’s pubic hair swirl round and round until it disappeared down the drain. He poured himself a glass of water and downed it in one swallow, before slumping down on the toilet seat. He rested his head in his hands and forced himself to calm down. When he felt a bit better he poured himself another glass and carried it back into the room.

Chapter 34

'Do you know . . . what happened?' Evan asked, as he came out of the bathroom.

She took a deep breath and nodded, a small smile on her lips. 'She's okay. I've seen her. She's badly shaken up but she's okay.'

Thank God for that. He felt his whole body slump and relax, like a large lump of Jell-O that hadn't quite set. He let out a massive breath and dropped onto the bed. Couldn't she have told him that in the first place, instead of all the warnings about you're not going to like this.

'So Dixie's got the money. That's why you want to find him.' He laughed. 'You think he'll give you some of it if you ask nicely?' Thinking back to the display he'd just been given he imagined she could ask very nicely indeed if she had the mind to.

'No, he hasn't got it.'

'I'm getting lost here,' he admitted.

'You underestimate your wife.'

He was glad she called her that, rather than ex-wife which is what it felt like now, although he was starting to wonder what he did feel any more. It certainly seemed like he didn't know the first thing about her.

'How so?'

'She gave Dixie the key but she told him the wrong storage facility. He took her along with him when he went to pick up the money. They were stopped at a traffic signal and she jumped out and got away. He couldn't just leave the car where it was and chase after her. Plus he thought he had the right address so he wasn't too concerned. What was she going to do? Call the cops?'

Evan was impressed. He wouldn't have thought Sarah would have had the presence of mind to give him the wrong address after he'd beaten her up at the least, if not actually tortured her. And then to give him the slip as well. That's my girl. Or was.

'I can see you're impressed,' she said.

He couldn't help grinning. 'I'd never have believed it.'

'It's obvious who wore the pants in your household.'

He thought that was a bit below the belt. He didn't want to take anything away from what Sarah had done but even so . . .

'So what happened next? He had the key.'

Now she grinned. 'He had one of the keys. They give you two. She called me and I went and picked her up. Then we drove to the right facility, picked up the money and moved it to another one. It's easy; they're all over the place.'

'So you've still got the money.'

She nodded. He thought her face might split in two if she grinned any wider.

'What about Sarah?'

The grin melted away. Evan's stomach clenched without permission. He pushed himself off the bed and stood over her. His hand itched to slap her.

'What about Sarah? Where is she now?'

She shook her head, a helpless gesture. He bent down, took hold of her shoulders and shook her, his fingers digging into her flesh.

'I don't know.' She blinked in quick succession. He wondered suddenly if she was going to cry. He'd give her something to cry about if she kept this up much longer. 'She said she'd call me and then ran off.'

He let go of her arms and stood up.

'I'm not surprised after you put Dixie onto her—'

'I didn't put Dixie onto her,' she screamed, 'he found her.'

'Maybe she doesn't want to be found again.' He walked over to the bathroom door; felt like punching a hole through it. 'So you don't actually know where she is.'

'I just told you—she's going to call me.'

'Yeah, right. And even if she does, you won't tell me anything until I've found Dixie for you.'

She shrugged as if to say: that's the way it goes.

'Unless you're going to beat it out of me, of course.' The smugness was back with a vengeance.

She was a little too full of herself for his liking but he was between a rock and a hard place. It was the fact that she knew it that really got his goat.

'Why do you want to find Dixie anyway? I'd have thought he was the last person you wanted to meet.'

The mention of Dixie wiped the smile off her face about as fast as Chico's secateurs would have done, but without it being so much fun. He could feel her get wary, see it in the way she deliberately leaned back into the chair, spread her arms and pretended to be casual.

'I need to come to an . . . arrangement with him.'

'Do a deal, you mean.'

'Yes.' She leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees and clasped her hands together. Earnest, you-can-trust-me face. Nitty gritty time. 'I'll split the money with him. In return he leaves me alone. I can't spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.'

'And Sarah.' He raised a questioning eyebrow as if to say: sorry to bring up such a trivial matter.

'Yes, and Sarah.' Her tone of voice implying: what sort of a person do you think I am?

They stared at each other a few beats. Evan felt as if he was being asked to decide on Dixie's behalf whether it was an acceptable proposition or not. He'd not met the guy yet, but as far as he was concerned, he'd have been happy for him to take the lot and give her a swift kick in the cooter for good measure.

'Why are you so worried about him?'

The look on her face suggested she was having a problem believing anybody could be so stupid. He wanted to slap that one off too.

'You were quite happy having the drug dealers after you. Or were you going to do a deal with them? Offer them half of their money back?'

She laughed out loud at that.

'You haven't met Dixie have you? There's a world of difference between a guy like him and a bunch of wetback drug dealers. I was willing to take my chances on them never finding me, him, not so much.'

Evan supposed it made perfect sense but there was one small matter that was giving him a problem.

'And I'm meant to help you in setting up this deal? Breaking I don't know how many laws in the process.'

She shrugged and as much as a shrug can say anything, it said: it's your choice.

'The door's right over there.'

That's what came out of her mouth. What Evan heard was: good luck finding Sarah.

He felt like throwing the glass of water in her face.

Chapter 35

He knew when he was beaten. There'd never really been any doubt that he'd do whatever it took. He wasn't about to just up and walk out, even though it was a very different kettle of fish to when she'd first come to see him. Well, actually it wasn't—it was exactly the same, it was just that he'd been let into the secret now.

He picked his jacket up off the bed and pulled it on. He remembered the other thing he'd wanted to ask her. It felt as if he'd been in the room with her for about three weeks. He got his wallet out again and pulled out the other piece of paper he'd found in her diary.

'What's this about?' he said, holding it out to her.

She took it from him. 'Where'd you get this?'

'Same place as the photo.'

'Remind me to keep everything under lock and key when you're around, will you?'

'Says Little Miss Trustworthy.'

'Anyway, it's not important.'

He shook his head. 'Were you aware that's the answer you give to every question you're ever asked?'

Her eyes narrowed. 'Maybe you shouldn't ask so many questions.'

He started to point out that he wouldn't get very far in his job if he didn't ask lots of questions but she talked over him. It made him feel like he was married again and his next turn to talk wasn't until next week.

'Questions about things that don't concern you.' She put her fists on her hips. It made her look pissed, just like it was meant to, but he wasn't sure if she knew how much it hitched her breasts up and pushed them towards. Body language mixed messages, he thought, and considered reaching out and squeezing one of them playfully with a cheery Parp, Parp.

'Did I ask you to rummage through my personal belongings and interrogate me about everything you find?' she carried on. 'Did I?'

He really didn't know what to say to her. No answer would’ve worked, so he didn’t try one. He just wanted to get away from her.

'No. I didn't think so,' she said in that supercilious tone of voice that took him straight back to when he'd known her years ago.

He took the piece of paper back from her.

'I'll keep it anyway. I'm sure I'll find out the significance at some critical point in the future when I'm being attacked by another couple of Mexican hit men.'

He studied it again, making sure his lips didn't move as he read it.

'MacQuaid's is obviously another bar.' He looked at her expectantly and she nodded wearily.

'It's one of the places I used to meet Dixie. Okay. Happy now?'

'Who's 'J'?'

She just shook her head.

'Okay, I'm going to assume that two days ago you had to meet somebody called 'J' at MacQuaid's. Either that or you sent somebody else to look for him there.'

'Jesus Christ, Evan. Why's everything got to be connected to everything else? I suppose if you'd found my grocery list you'd be expecting to get it all served to you for your dinner in one go. It's just a few notes to myself.' She sounded almost as sick of talking to him as he was of her.

He didn't believe her for a second. He laughed, putting the piece of paper back in his pocket. 'That's an even worse assignment than I got. At least I got a whole name. Some other poor sap had to go in and say pardon me, I'm looking for somebody called 'J'?'

'I have to use the bathroom,' she said, not bothering to respond to his complaint. 'You don't have to wait for me. You've got work to do.'

She gave him a tight little smile.

For once in his life, he bit his tongue and headed off to try to find the elusive Dixie. Sadly, he got the impression that if he just sat still long enough, Dixie would find him.

Ellie went into the bathroom and waited until she heard him close the door before coming back out. Her eyes flicked all round the room and came to rest on the water glass that he'd left on the nightstand. She crossed to the closet and found a plastic laundry bag in the bottom. She carefully picked up the water glass, dropped it into the laundry bag and put the whole lot in her handbag.

 

Chapter 36

Chico heard the ping of his phone. He looked at the message and laughed out loud, despite himself: I've lost him. We met up with a guy called Evan Buckley. The two of them gave me the slip. What do you want me to do? He knew Dixie's hand at work when he saw it, although he wasn't sure he knew what he was trying to achieve. He ought to feel insulted that Dixie thought it would fool him. Unless he'd sent it as a joke.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the headrest. The whole situation made him sad more than anything; he was really going to miss the guy. After his initial rage had subsided, he'd started thinking about all the good times they'd had—or at least he'd thought they were good times—and how things were going to be very different in future. He'd miss the humor, although now he thought about it there'd always been a hard caution in his eyes even when he was laughing. He'd miss the confidence, the loose, wary way he had of carrying himself and the fact that you only had to tell him something once. And every time he looked at Ricardo he'd think it all over again. He opened his eyes and looked at his shredded palm and laughed softly to himself—if he'd been a younger man he'd have been reminded every time he knocked one out too. He shook his head at how much things had turned around in the space of a few days.

It was obvious Dixie had done something with that idiot Crispy. It made him wonder why he kept him on. How had he ever thought Crispy was up to the job? Had Dixie killed him or just put him out of action somehow? It didn't really matter one way or the other. The end result was the same—Dixie was out there without his minder. The fact that he'd done something with Crispy and was using his phone also meant he knew Chico was keeping tabs on him.

Or did he? Was he jumping to conclusions based on what Alvarez had told him? It was the reference to the investigator that puzzled him. Ellie had claimed that Buckley told her he was looking for Dixie. Chico was well aware that the golden rule was don't believe a word the bitch says, but now Dixie—if it was him who sent the text—had brought Buckley into it again. Who the hell was he? Was he was working with Dixie? Or with Ellie? Or were all of them in it together? It made his head hurt thinking about it all.

He knew he wasn't going to get anywhere just sitting around thinking about it. He had to make something happen. There was no reason why he shouldn't carry on with the texting game. He needed to think of something to say that might worry Dixie (although that was easier said than done). He leaned his elbows on the desk and dropped his chin to the heel of his hand and stared at his phone.

It came to him in a flash of genius. He tapped away with one finger, a satisfied smile on his lips, and after a couple of minutes sent a reply that he hoped would give Dixie something to think about: No problem. Come back here. We've got Ellie. We're picking up the money now.

He couldn't help laughing to himself as he hit send. Two can play at that game. Like all good lies, it was as full of the truth as it was full of shit. It would give Dixie a couple of things to think about. It would be interesting to see what he would do. Come back to rescue poor Ellie? Not if he had any sense. But the fact that Dixie was out there on his own, most likely going after the money himself, meant they had to get things moving.

He opened his desk drawer and got out the piece of paper that Ellie had scrawled the details on. The writing was shaky which wasn't surprising since she'd almost had a breast sliced off, but it was still perfectly legible. He imagined that would make most women's handwriting suffer. He must be getting old; back in the day he'd have just got on with it, rather than give her a little scratch. He swallowed thickly. Well, maybe not so old, he thought, feeling something stir appreciatively south of the border.

He almost felt sorry for the woman whose name and address was written on the paper. She had a nice name, an old fashioned biblical name, the sort of name he'd have given his daughter if he'd had one, although he knew his wife would have insisted on Maria. (Ricardo would never know how close he came to being called Jesús.) Chico was something of an Old Testament man himself, particularly when it came to crime and punishment. There were some great ideas in there that had sadly slipped out of favor—the death penalty for bestiality, for instance, or for being light in your loafers, had a lot to recommend it, although death for screwing a woman on the rag was a bit harsh.

He tried to think back to his studies at the seminary, tried to remember what the name meant in Hebrew. Was it princess? He couldn't remember, it had been almost fifty years ago, but it didn't sound right. Maybe something else, then. It didn't matter. He laughed to himself and wondered if any of those old Hebrew names meant stupid or dead meat. She probably had no idea what she was getting herself into when she agreed to look after a bag for her friend. She'd have caught on pretty fast if she'd looked inside, that was for sure. She was collateral damage, that's all, which was the Army's fancy way of saying: Into each life some rain must fall.

He turned to look at Juan and José and felt another twinge of pity for her. She didn't deserve these two. José in particular, leaning against the wall, picking at his nails with his knife. There was something evil that lived behind his eyes, something you didn’t want to look at.

'Go see this woman,' he said, giving Juan the piece of paper, 'and get my money back.'

'I thought Ellie was getting it.'

Chico shook his head sadly like Juan was a dog he couldn't teach to beg. 'You didn't really think I'd let her go and hope she'd get it and bring it back like a good girl, did you?'

Juan's face creased into a frown. 'So why did you let her go?'

'Because she's our best chance of finding Dixie, dickbrain,' Chico said, forgetting about the cuts on his hand and slamming his palm on the desk. It started to bleed again. 'She might not want to give the money back, but I get a feeling she's happy to hand him over—or kill him herself if she gets the chance. If they're in this together, she doubles her share at the same time.'

'What about the friend?' Juan waved the piece of paper at him, a look of hopeful expectation on his face. José stopped picking at his nails.

'What do you think?'

Juan's face split into a massive grin. He drew his finger across his throat. José sniggered obscenely behind him, the sound of the knife snapping shut loud in the room.

'Knock yourself out,' Chico said, 'but don't let him'—he gestured towards José with his chin—'stretch it out too long. She hasn't done anything to deserve that.'