Dangerous Times (28 page)

She rolled the new one out. She lifted it
with an “Ugh!” and dropped it with a thud. Performing the same with
Frank’s suitcase, their weight seemed close enough.

Beverly heard pounding. She followed the
sound to the living room coat closet. She opened it. Her eyes
dropped to a mound of something covered with a damp raincoat.

Beverly lifted the raincoat. “Donald?” she
squeaked.

He looked up desperately, voice muffled
under the tightly wound layers of masking tape.

Bewildered, Beverly said, “I can’t
understand you.”

“That’s all right,” she heard from behind
her, whirling around to see Frank in her husband’s old
bathrobe.

Chapter
93

The music ended. Hicks ejected the CD.
“Helluva piano player,” he said of Bud Powell. “Died too young,” he
told Ty. “An’ one crazy dude, in an’ outta the sanitarium.”

“Look,” Ty nodded toward Staub’s shop. She
and Hicks sat quietly and watched a bay door rise open. Emily
walked out wearing a blue shop uniform, carrying a clump of
clothes. She stopped while the Ford backed out into the twilight.
She then waited while Kirk wheeled the car toward the locked front
gates.

“Damn…” Hicks said to Ty, “‘49 Ford, an’
sharp lookin’.”

“Yeh,” she smiled, “and prob’ly a
good-lookin’ suitcase in the trunk.”

• • •

Emily dropped the wet clothes on the back
floor, settled into the passenger seat and eyed the restored
interior. In his shop uniform Kirk slid out from behind the wheel.
He went to the front gates with his keys, reached through the
fencing, unlocked the padlock and swung the gates open.

Kirk was still uneasy about being followed
from the dock. He glanced up and down Pacific. The 5 p.m. Saturday
traffic moderately heavy, headlights brightened the arrival of
night; Hicks and Ty unnoticed, parked up the block in shadow.

Kirk got into the Ford and pulled out onto
the driveway pad. He stopped there, got out and locked the
gates.

He slid back in behind the wheel. Column
shift in neutral, Kirk put his foot on the accelerator and eyed the
battery indicator. He listened to the engine and said, “Sounds
good.”

Emily clicked the radio on. “No FM?” she
asked.

“If there was,” Kirk told her, “it wouldn’t
be the original radio.” He took his foot off the pedal and let the
engine idle. “About changing at my place, I left something
out.”

“Figured as much,” she said. Emily searched
the stations for something she would like. “To make things look
right,” she went on, “it makes sense Frank would’ve switched
wedding rings with you.”

“I don’t have one,” Kirk said. “I’m not
married to her.”

Emily found a ‘70’s station, her body moving
to the rhythm of “A Horse with No Name.” She said, “Oh, so then I
suppose your live-in won’t mind us showing up together.”

“Lisa’s working tonight,” Kirk said, “but
might not have left yet.” He paused. “It doesn’t matter what she
thinks.”

“Things that bad?”

Kirk shifted into 1st, rolled forward and
joined the avenue’s northbound traffic. He then went on to tell
Emily about Lisa and what kind of life he led at the Beverly
Cottages.

Up the block Hicks popped on the headlights
and pulled out onto Pacific.

Chapter
94

“Darn you,” Beverly choked tearfully.

Lisa lay alongside her, wearing only her
cashmere bathrobe. “Calm down!” she whispered sharply. Rolling on
her side she showed her back to Beverly. “Use your teeth and chew
through the tape. Get my hands free, then I’ll do yours.”

“Always telling me what to do,” Beverly
carped. “You’re nothing but a cold-hearted tramp!”

“Not now!” Lisa shot back, voice low through
gritted teeth. “And don’t talk so loud,” she warned her. “We get
our hands free, then rip the tape off our ankles.”

“Yup,” Beverly said, moist blue eyes on the
ceiling. “I get your hands free, you do your ankles and run off
without me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Lisa growled. She rolled
over and faced her. “Get on your side with your back to me.”

Beverly obeyed.

Lisa slithered down the bed and clamped her
teeth on the tape that bound Beverly’s wrists.

“Hungry?” Frank said, rolling his suitcase
into the room, still wearing Ray’s old bathrobe.

Lisa unclamped the tape and said, “Damn
it!”

“Where’s the drink you promised me?” Beverly
asked irritably.

Frank planted the suitcase next to her
dresser. He went to Lisa’s side of the bed and shoved his hands
under her.

“Leave me alone!” she writhed. Frank slid
her back up to the head of the bed. Then to Beverly, “Baby will
have her bottle soon enough.”

Lisa’s eyes had gone to the nightstand.
“What did you do with the phone?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Frank said as
he sat alongside Lisa. He reached into his robe pocket and brought
the straight razor out. He held it up, blade closed.

“Ray’s,” Beverly said, facial lines growing
deeper. “Going to shave?” she asked worriedly.

“Or maybe he’s going to slit his throat,”
Lisa said to her.

Frank was unaffected by the remark. He put a
hand to his face and felt the two-day growth. “Can’t shave,” he
answered Beverly, touching the bandaged gauze on his cheek. “Don’t
want to open it up.”

“Too bad,” Lisa cracked.

Frank looked at her. “Blade was on the dull
side. Most likely because of Staub. All that tough meat.” He turned
to Beverly. “I found the strop in the cabinet under the sink and
gave it a good sharpening.” Then back to Lisa, “Like me to flip it
open and show you?”

“No,” Lisa said, “and stop playing around
with us!” she dared tell him.

“You’re right,” he said. “I should be
concentrating on a problem I have.”

“Oh, really,” Lisa groaned, “like we care
about your problems.”

“Don’t know what to do with Donald,” Frank
said to Beverly. “Should I leave him in the vacancy or put him in
here with you? Or how about putting him in your place?” he asked
Lisa.

“Is he alive?” Beverly gulped.

“Last time I looked,” Frank smiled.

“Bring him here,” Beverly told him.

“But then,” he said, “I’d have to stay alone
at your son’s cottage.”

“Don’t have to,” Lisa said, arching her legs
and revealing the prize under her robe. “Stay here in Kirk’s old
room,” she suggested warmly, thinking a change of approach might
lead to a way out of this.

“No,” Frank refused, “not with three dead
bodies stinking up the place.”

Lisa’s eyes went wide, and so did
Beverly’s.

“Any screaming,” he said, “or talking of any
kind, I’ll tape your mouths shut.”

Chapter
95

Kirk parked close to the corner of 10th and
Cabrillo. Emily reached in back for their clothes. “Got to have a
dryer here,” she said.

Kirk put a hand on her arm and stopped her.
“Washer works but the dryer’s down. Repairman’s due on Monday.”

“Darn it.” Emily got out and stood under the
streetlamp. She gazed at the property, the misty haze of the pool
seen through the fieldstone archway, the angled roofs rising up
pale under the security lights.

“Looks kind of scary,” she said, hugging
herself against the evening chill.

“Definitely scary,” Kirk said, coming up
alongside her, “but only if you have to live here.”

They started up the walkway. To give her
some warmth he put an arm around her and pulled her close. Emily
pushed against him, letting him know his gesture pleased her.

She eyed the BEVERLY COT AGES sign. “What
happened to the T?”

“Kids stole it on Halloween. I’m going to
get a new one soon as I can.”

“Halloween was a few months ago,” she said.
“How soon is soon with you?”

“Soon,” he shrugged.

“Uh-huh,” Emily smirked.

They continued through the archway. She
stopped poolside and said, “Looks like a bowl of dirty pea
soup.”

“I’ve been meaning to clean it,” Kirk told
her.

“Soon?” she smiled.

“Soon enough,” he said.

• • •

Hicks and Ty sat parked on Cabrillo, eyes on
the couple as they disappeared behind the fieldstone wall.

Phone to his ear Hicks listened to Tim
Burns: “Plate belongs to a John Allen Kirk. Address, one thousand
Cabrillo.”

“Thanks, man,” Hicks said.

“Using your car, are you?”

“Not with Fat Cap’s crew lookin’ for me,”
Hicks answered.

“To be sure,” Burns said. “I don’t know
where you are or what you’re up to, and it’s just as well. Cap’s
pinned a daisy on my tail, he has.”

“Sure ‘nough bet he did,” Hicks said. “Lemme
guess: Patrolman Bonehead Diaz.”

“Bonehead it is,” Burns laughed. “Spotted
him so fast, could have been dipped in Day-Glo.” He said, “Don’t
know your troubles but I can shake him if you need himself.”

Himself instead’a me, Hicks thought, Burns’
Irish jargon and brogue a comfort to him. “Thanks, man, but I’m
doin’ okay.”

“All right, then,” Burns said softly. “Adh
mor ort, old friend.”

Hicks heard the disconnect, gazed at the
phone and muttered, “Adh mor ort.”

“Add what?” Ty asked.

“Good luck wish in Gaelic,” Hicks said.

“Irish?”

“Irish detective I work with.”

“Ya trust him?”

“With my life,” Hicks told her. Then said,
“Just found out our boy’s lyin’ about no memory. Name’s John Allen
Kirk; knew where to go for his car an’ knows where he lives.”

“Had me fooled,” Ty said as Hicks pocketed
the phone he had taken from Kirk. “That’s Frank’s phone ya took
from’im,” she worried. “Eddie could be GPS’n it.”

Hicks fastened his eyes onto the side
mirror. “Don’t matter,” he said. “Bet your uncle would’a been smart
enough to plant a tracking device on my car. No reason he should
trust us.” Then added, “An’ prob’ly’s got one on May Kuan’s.”

“Yeh,” she said, “didn’t think’a that,” and
she studied the street of parked cars. “Anybody’s followed us, they
wouldn’t show ‘til the money showed, right?”

“Right,” Hicks said. “Gotta stay alert an’
watch our backs.” He turned from the side mirror and looked at her.
“I’m gonna see what’s goin’ on with our boy.” Then said, “You stay
put an’ use your phone if you need me.”

Ty dipped into her purse, pulled out her
phone, followed by her gun, and placed them both in her lap.

“Hammerless .38,” Hicks said. “Ever use
it?”

“Frank taught me.”

Chapter
96

Donald appeared in the doorway of Beverly’s
bedroom, mouth taped, wrists taped behind his back. He exchanged a
look of apprehension with the two women on the bed.

Frank stood behind him, dressed now in
Kirk’s clothes, bottle of Johnny Walker Red in one hand, Russian
pistol in the other. He prodded Donald to the near side of the bed,
where Lisa lay. Frank slipped the gun into his waistband and walked
around to Beverly’s side.

She said, “What’re you going to do to
us?”

“You’re in good shape for a woman your age,”
Frank told her, “but your memory seems to be slipping.” He lifted
the roll of masking tape off the nightstand and fanned her face
with it. “Memory coming back?” he said.

Beverly pressed her lips together and
nodded, blue eyes tearing.

Frank looked at Lisa. “Good girls keep their
mouths shut.” Lisa gave him a hard stare. “Long as you understand,”
Frank told her. Then to Donald, “I don’t know why it’s so hard to
keep women quiet.”

Frank kept his eyes on Donald. “Now I know
who you remind of,” he said. “The Pillsbury Doughboy.”

He set the tape down on the nightstand and
uncapped the scotch. He slid an arm under Beverly and propped her
up. “Refreshment time,” he said.

Wrists taped behind her, Beverly sucked at
the bottle he held at her lips. She guzzled as much as she could.
Frank pulled it back. “Now lick the top,” he told her. She thrust
her tongue out and licked it.

He gave her another swig and glanced at
Lisa. “Show Donald your tongue,” he said to her. Lisa slid her
tongue out. Donald turned away.

Frank took the bottle from Beverly’s lips,
pulled his arm out from under her and let her flop down. Capping
the bottle he set it on the nightstand. “Nice pair of tongues,
don’t you think?” he asked Donald.

Donald shrugged, red-faced with
embarrassment.

“You’re going to have a wonderful time,”
Frank said to him, “after we get your pants off.”

Chapter
97

In the bathroom of his Cottage Six, Kirk
changed into his usual clothes, thinking Ty’s husband was in his
other pair of boots, Levi’s, and one of his black snap-button
shirts. Son of a bitch, he thought then; marine jacket was probably
on Frank Moore’s back.

Kirk snapped the last onyx button of his
black shirt. He heard Emily call from the living room:

“I’ve got the wall heater nice and hot. I’ll
dry our shoes in front of it.”

Frank Moore’s shoes, Kirk grumbled to
himself, glad he didn’t have to wear them anymore. He opened the
bathroom door. “Leather’s like our own skin,” he called back with
concern for Emily’s shoes. “Don’t put ‘em any closer than you
yourself would stand.”

Kirk turned to the hamper, took Staub’s 10mm
Colt off the lid and jammed it into the back pocket of his
Levi’s.

He looked in the mirror and faced his
two-day growth of beard. He reached for the shaving cream and felt
a pang of hunger. Emily had to be as hungry as he was, he
thought.

Kirk decided to take her to Beverly’s. He
would shave after they had eaten; hoping his mother hadn’t gotten
too drunk to make her Saturday night meatloaf.

• • •

Hicks stood at the back of Cottage Six. He
heard the back-and-forth of Kirk and Emily’s voices, something
about shoe leather. He unbuttoned his overcoat, pulled his .38 from
under his suit jacket and put it into the pocket of his overcoat.
Buttoning the coat Hicks saw the rooms go dark and heard the slap
of the screen door.