Текст книги "Before The Killing Starts"

Автор книги: James Harper

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Chapter 20

Ellie sat in a chair in Chico's office in a silky, pink robe. She felt ridiculous. Juan and José had been sent back to her hotel to pick up the rest of her stuff and somebody had found this stupid pink robe lying around for her to wear. She couldn't even start to wonder why on earth they had something like this lying around. She was just thankful to be out of the basement and covered up. Her whole face throbbed from the slap Juan had given her, she was sure her foot was broken and the cut under her breast stung like hell. Apart from that everything was just fine. Opposite her Chico looked relaxed and at ease. He had a drink at his elbow and was studying her phone. He'd taken off his roman collar which she thought must be a good sign. Evan's business card was sitting on his desk between them along with a piece of paper on which she'd written down the money's location.

'Looks like you got two missed calls from Evan while we were downstairs having our little chat,' Chico said, looking up suddenly. She dropped her eyes and pulled the robe closer around herself. She needed a shower. Their idea of cleaning her up was a pack of wet wipes and she was sure she could smell dried piss rising up from her lap. She'd seen his nose wrinkle a minute ago although he tried to hide it, pretend he had an itch.

He took a sip of his drink and picked Evan's card up from the table and compared the numbers. He nodded to himself.

'So what's going on here?, he said, pinching the skin between his eyes and the bridge of his nose. 'We've got this guy Evan Buckley looking for Dixie in Kelly's Tavern. He leaves his business card with the bartender. Juan and José try to have a word with him but he gets a lucky break and gets away. They go back to the bar and pick up the card and—surprise, surprise—they find you sitting outside waiting for something. Or somebody. You tell them you've never heard of the guy and now, the next thing we know, we've got two missed calls from him on your phone.'

He shook his head as if in amazement at the strange ways of the world. He waited a second but then carried on before she could think what to say.

'Maybe when Juan and José get back we need to go back downstairs and carry on from where we left off.'

It was as if she was back already. She could feel the cold metal of the secateurs against her nipple, imagine the razor sharp blade slicing easily through soft flesh, imagine the little lump of bloody tissue that used to be her nipple dropping into her lap, blood spurting everywhere—she knew it would spurt for Christ's sake, even if they didn't. She felt sick and dizzy. She swallowed and reached for his drink without thinking and stopped, her hand hovering above the desk. He pushed it towards her. She hesitated a moment before picking it up and draining it in one gulp.

'I can explain.' She put her hand over her mouth and coughed as the spirit hit her chest. 'At least I can explain some of it.' Her mind was racing. What the hell was she going to say? 'I don't know what's going on one hundred per cent either, but I'll tell you what I do know.'

Chico leaned back in his chair and opened his hands wide towards her. She noticed he had a number of fresh cuts on his palm. Served the bastard right. 'Please do,' he said, 'and it better be good.'

She swallowed thickly; she could do with some more of that Tequila. 'I used to know the guy from years ago, a friend of a friend.'

Chico nodded like it sounded reasonable so far.

'Then I ran into him by chance just the other day. And we got talking about old times and then he told me he was a private investigator now and I asked him if he was doing anything exciting and he said no, just looking for some guy.'

Chico nodded some more but the look on his face said that it was already starting to sound suspect.

Ellie leaned forward, angling her body towards him. 'I said really? Anyone I might know? Just making conversation. You can imagine my surprise when he said it was Dixie.' She put her hand to her mouth, her lips parted behind it.

Chico had stopped nodding and she wondered if she'd overdone it with the non-verbal stuff. His dark eyes drilled into her. She shifted in her seat but held his gaze. Do not look away.

'And what did you say?'

'I told him I'd never heard of him.'

A frown creased Chico's forehead. 'Really? Why was that?'

'Because I didn't know what Evan wanted with him. I wasn't going to say anything that might drop Dixie in trouble. I didn't want to end up being a snitch without knowing it.'

Chico stiffened at the mention of snitch, his eyes narrowing to slits. It probably wasn't the best choice of words, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

'He didn't say why he wanted to find him?'

Ellie shook her head. 'No. I asked him but he wouldn't say. Some BS about client confidentiality.'

He nodded in a whatcha gonna do? way

'So what happened next?'

'We said our goodbyes and went our own ways. Except I was curious what he was up to, so I followed him. That's why I was outside Kelly's bar.'

Chico was quiet for a moment while he gave her story some thought. Ellie hoped he couldn't see how nervous she was. Sweat was running down the middle of her back and had already soaked into the ridiculous pink robe.

'Why did you tell Juan and José you'd never heard of the guy?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know—I panicked, I suppose. I couldn't tell them anything they didn't already know, so I didn't say anything at all.' She shrugged again. 'It was a mistake. I'm sorry.'

Chico smiled at her. 'That's okay, everybody makes mistakes. But why's he calling you now? That's what I want to know.'

Ellie shook her head helplessly. 'I don't know. I told you I don't know exactly what's going on.' She paused a second and then took a gamble. 'Do you want me to ring him back?'

She held her breath and prayed she'd read him right. If he said yes, call him back, she was finished. He'd overhear the conversation and know that she'd twisted everything round. Then it would be straight back downstairs for her. Down to the naughty basement until she could be trusted again. Sayonara left breast.

'No, I don't think so,' he said eventually. 'You might spook him.'

Ellie shook her head. 'No. I wouldn't. I promise—'

He held up his hands and patted the air to quieten her down.

'I don't mean deliberately. But you've had . . . a rough day'—he gave her a little smile—'and you probably won't sound like yourself. Why not text him instead?'

So, under his guidance, she sent Evan a text: Just seen your calls. Can't talk. Text me.

The reply pinged back almost immediately: Where were you? Where are you now?

She showed Chico the reply and he told her what to say: Long story. I'll explain later. Meet me at hotel tomorrow morning at 9?

Ellie hoped that Evan wouldn't be able to make it, but the reply came back: Okay. See you then.

Her heart sank.

'We'll look forward to it, Mr Buckley,' Chico said with a self-satisfied smile.

Chapter 21

Evan got to Ellie's hotel just before eight in the morning and headed straight up to her room, even though he was an hour early. It wouldn't hurt to catch her off guard. It would give him an advantage if she was still in her nightdress. Everybody felt stupid talking to a fully clothed person when they were dressed for bed. Who knows, it might even be some black, see-through item, not that he'd have schtupped her if she'd begged him after the way she acted in the bar the other night.

But it was Evan who got the surprise when it turned into déjà vu all over again. After he didn't get a reply to his knock on the door he just went ahead and tried the handle. It was unlocked. He stepped into the room and looked around. At first he thought nobody had been back since last night. The mattress was still leaning up against the wall, the drawers from the dresser still lying empty on the floor. But then he noticed her clothes were missing. He couldn't see the suitcase either. She'd obviously been back to the room, seen that it had been trashed and cleared out.

So why arrange to meet him here? Maybe she'd come back after she'd made the arrangement and couldn't be bothered to change it. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his cell phone. That must be her now.

'Where the hell are you?' he snapped, without looking at the display. 'I'm getting pissed off with this—'

'Good morning to you too, Evan,' Guillory said.

Evan's mind went blank for a moment. He recognized the voice but he couldn't place it.

'I take it you were expecting somebody else,' Guillory said and laughed. 'At least I hope you were.'

The sound of his laughter made it click.

'Ed? Yeah, sorry about that.'

In the background Evan could hear what sounded like breakfast cereal being poured into a bowl. It reminded him that he'd skipped breakfast to get here early and now she wasn't even here. There was the sound of milk splashing into the bowl. It sounded fresh and ice cold and made his mouth water.

'What's that? Cheerios?'

'Uh huh,' Guillory said through a mouthful of food. Evan swallowed drily and waited.

'Isn't it a bit early in the day to be getting so pissed?' Guillory said when he'd finished chewing.

Evan rolled his neck in a figure of eight, massaged it with his fingers and let out a sigh.

'Easy for you to say, sitting there having a leisurely breakfast, although normally I'd agree with you, but this one—'

'Don't let the bastards grind you down.'

Evan snorted. 'That's very constructive, thank you—'

'Pleasure.'

'What are doing calling so early anyway? I'm surprised you're out of bed.'

'Who said I'm out of bed?' A long yawn came down the phone line. Evan was glad he wasn't there and didn't have to look at all the little bits of cereal stuck in his teeth, probably little pieces of nuts as well, not to mention his furry, white tongue, because there was no way the guy could hold a bowl, a spoon and his phone and cover his mouth as well. It didn't stop his stomach grumbling though.

'What do you want anyway?'

'Seems to me you're confusing me with that other caller again. Anyway, ignoring your rudeness, I've got the information you wanted.'

'Sorry, you're right. Fire away, you don't have to type it up.'

'Uh uh.'

'What do you mean, uh uh?'

'I was thinking I'd call your bluff on all those drinks you've promised me. What are you doing at lunchtime?'

'Drinking on duty? That's not like you.'

Guillory let out a quick stutter of a laugh. 'I'll explain when I see you. Why don't you pick me up at twelve thirty?'

Evan's phone pinged to let him know he'd received a text. Maybe Ellie had tried to call him while he was wasting time shooting the breeze with Guillory. Probably hadn't noticed he had a call waiting because of the noise of all the crunching and slurping coming from the other end of the line.

'Gotta go,' he said. 'I'll pick you up later.

He ended the call and checked his messages. He was right; Ellie had just texted him.

I'm picking up breakfast. Doughnuts or danish?

That was what you called good timing. Guillory could shove his cheerios where the sun don't shine. Danish, he texted back, his mouth salivating again. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all, for a selfish, manipulative bitch. He sat down in the armchair and crossed one leg over the other, but he couldn't get comfortable. He jumped up again and walked over to the window. He stuffed both hands deep into his front pockets and leaned back on his heels. It was quiet outside, hardly any traffic. He turned to face the room again. The mattress caught his eye. He might as well put it back on the bed. He was surprised the maid hadn't been in. He grabbed hold of the corner and pulled it away from the wall and manhandled it onto the bed frame. It was quite heavy and substantial which surprised him in a cheap place like this.

He took a minute to get the mattress straight on the bed, fixed the covers and looked at his watch. Where the hell was she? How long did it take to pick up breakfast? He started to turn back to where the mattress had been propped against the wall, see if there was anything that had been hidden behind it that he might have missed the night before. A sudden noise behind him made him jump and spin round; somebody was outside the door. Not before time, he was starving. He took a step towards the door and stopped, heard footsteps on the other side, but moving away, and then the sound of a key in a lock further down the hall. Damn.

He turned round and looked where the mattress had been and smiled to himself. Idiot. There was nothing there, of course. Just dull wallpaper and some scuffed paintwork. What had he been expecting? A message for help written in lipstick on the wall? Blood? A dead body? He started to laugh then stopped abruptly as it suddenly struck him.

Doughnuts or danish?

That was it. That was what had been niggling him, making him antsy, stopping him from settling. Listening to Guillory munch his way through breakfast had put him in the wrong frame of mind, made him to listen to his stomach, not his gut, which wasn't the same thing at all.

Doughnuts or danish?

Ellie had celiac disease, he remembered now, how could he forget? She had to eat a one hundred per cent gluten-free diet. One sniff of a doughnut or a danish would set off a whole bunch of unpleasant symptoms from canker sores in her mouth to depression and anxiety, pains in her bones and joints to little green men climbing out of her vag for all he knew, the fuss she made about it. The thought of her stopping to pick up doughnuts or danish for somebody else to enjoy while she watched was laughable.

She hadn't sent the text.

He ran to the window and looked down at the street. Nothing had changed since he looked out five minutes ago, no cars that weren't there before. He moved to the side of the window to get a better view to where his car was parked further down the street. He watched a car back into the space behind it. It looked similar to the one the two Hispanics had been driving but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't see the license plate from this distance or see through the windshield because of the angle.

He watched it straighten up, the driver making a meal of it, a feeling of dread rising up inside him. The doors opened. Any lingering doubts evaporated as the same two guys climbed out and looked around. One of them pointed to Evan's car and they both smiled, walked up to it and peered through the windows. Did they think he was hiding under a blanket in the back? Then the smaller guy, the one called José, pulled something from his pocket and crouched down by the front tire. Evan caught the glint of sunlight on a blade and watched, mesmerized, as if it wasn't his car that was being casually vandalized, as José pushed the knife through the side wall of the tire. There was no hiss of escaping air, he was too far away, but he had no trouble seeing the tire slowly deflate as José worked the blade free again, the car settling gracefully onto the wheel rim.

José straightened up, snapping the knife shut and pocketing it, as they crossed the street towards the hotel.

Chapter 22

Evan didn't hang around to see what they wanted. He got out of the room lickety-split and ran down the corridor, ignoring the elevators, until he made it to the stairs. There was every chance one of them would be coming up the stairs while the other one took the elevator, so he went up instead of down. Two flights up he stopped and waited, his chest heaving. It couldn't have been more than a minute before he heard one of them come panting up the stairs. He heard the sound of the door opening and as soon as he heard it swing shut again he half ran, half jumped all the way to the bottom.

He crashed through the door into the lobby and skidded across the floor just as it crossed his mind that one of them might have stayed downstairs. That would have been the sensible thing to do. He realized too late that he hadn't heard the elevator. His head twisted round at a noise behind him but it was just an old guy snapping his newspaper as he folded it. Apart from that the lobby was deserted.

He pushed through the front doors, bounded down the steps and ran for his car. He didn't remember about the slashed tire until he was half way there. How the hell could he forget in two minutes? He stood in the middle of the street, unsure which way to go, looking back and forth between his car and the hotel. The blast of a horn made him jump as a taxi swerved past him.

It pulled up outside the hotel and an old woman started to slowly get out. He ran towards it. The woman was waving her stick in front of her trying to get up from the sagging back seat. He was tempted to grab hold of it and haul her out. He looked round, back into the lobby. The elevator had started on its way down again. It didn't mean it was them. Should he wait or should he run off and not waste another second? The old woman had got her feet on the sidewalk and her hand was on the top of the door. She planted her stick on the ground and heaved herself up. She stayed there, teeter-tottering for what felt like forever, before collapsing backwards with a loud shout into the cab again. Her feet flew up and Evan was treated to a view up her skirt, her pantyhose dirty and wrinkled, God knows what horrors lurking further up.

He looked round again. The elevator had stopped on the second floor. He turned back to the old woman and offered her his hand. She grasped it with that old-person grope, the fingers cold and bony, the nails yellow. He pulled her out—a little too harshly from the look of surprise on her face—and led her onto the sidewalk. She nodded her thanks to him and started to dig in her bag for her coin purse. The elevator was still stuck on the second floor.

She found her purse and pulled out a five dollar bill; handed it to the driver. The fare on the meter was eight dollars and change. She squinted at the meter and dug in the purse with those bony fingers again. A solitary dollar bill emerged and was handed over. Evan could see it was the last one; only coins left. Behind him in the lobby the elevator pinged. He watched the doors open, ready to run if it was them. He could see a young couple; both of them looking down at their cell phones, somebody else behind them, but couldn't see who it was.

The young couple seemed oblivious to the fact that the doors had opened, like when they walk down the street texting and expect everybody to move out of their way. They suddenly burst apart, barely even any shock on their preoccupied faces, as an arm was thrust angrily between them and a man forced his way past. It was Juan or José, Evan couldn't remember which one. He turned back to the cab. The driver waited, his arm extended wearily, palm upwards, as the old woman dug coins out, one by one, inspected them carefully before she handed them over.

Evan wanted to kick her in the butt, but made do with pushing her roughly out of the way. She let out a startled squawk as he jumped into the cab and slammed the door shut.

'I'll pay the rest of it,' he shouted. 'Just go.'

The driver stared at him, mouth open, not comprehending what was happening.

'Go,' Evan shouted, as Juan or José burst through the front doors. 'I'll pay her fare.'

It finally clicked with the driver. He shrugged and pulled into the traffic. Behind them, the beaner leapt down the steps and collided with the old woman, spinning her and sending her sprawling. He stepped over her and stood staring at Evan's face in the back window of the disappearing cab, his hands bunched into fists at his sides.

'Damn,' the driver said as Evan turned to face front.

'What?'

'She's got a suitcase in the trunk. I forgot all about it watching her trying to get out.' He laughed at the memory. 'I'll have to turn round and go back.' He started to slow, looking for somewhere to turn.

'No,' Evan shouted, 'you can't.'

The driver gave him an annoyed look in the mirror, like he didn't want to be told what he could and couldn't do in his own cab.

'Just get me a few blocks away from here. Make a couple of turns. Anywhere,' Evan said before he could say anything. 'I'll give you twenty bucks. You can take the suitcase back later.'

The driver was silent for a few beats. Evan watched his eyes in the mirror; saw him thinking back behind his eyes. 'Whatever you say,' he said finally and picked up speed again.

Evan twisted round in his seat and looked behind them but the beaners were nowhere in sight.