Foul Deeds: A Rosalind Mystery (18 page)

“No, I will not speak with her. How dare you even suggest it. I can't believe he brought her here, to this house! He's a cretin—not a brain in his head. And why did he kidnap her in the first place?”

“I said calm down.” It was a man's voice. McBride could detect a slight German accent.

“I asked you why he took her in the first place!”

“She was the recipient of some information that could be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. I sent him out to retrieve it and things got complicated. He couldn't get it from her.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do with her now? Beat her up? Kill her? Is that your brilliant plan?”

“Look, she has no idea where she is. We've blindfolded her. He'll remove her to another location. But we want you to try to speak to her first. As soon as she tells us where the file is, we'll get her out of here.”

“I don't understand any of this. You've turned my house into some kind of gang headquarters. I told you in Europe: It's all over. You have to accept that.”

The cigarette dropped down from the balcony, landing a few inches from McBride's nose. He heard a door slam.

McBride continued to wriggle his way around the base of the house, moving through the shrubs. He got to the southwest corner and turned. There were no windows on this side until about halfway along, but as there were also no shrubs, the neighbours would have a good view of him if they were to look.

“This is foolish,” McBride said aloud, got to his feet and brushed himself off. He moved towards the front corner of the house, having made a decision. There was an arched rose arbour that jutted out from the front corner of the house. He started to walk through it, but just then, the front door swung open. McBride tucked himself back into the webbing of the a
rbour, which was still thickly tangled with thorny canes, withered leaves and dead roses. The woman appeared with a suitcase and a smaller vanity case. She was wearing a fur coat. She put her luggage down on the brick steps, took her cigarettes out of her purse and lit one as a man appeared behind her.

“Greta, please.”

“No, I'm not staying here. I won't be part of this. I'm going to a hotel today. I'm signing the probate papers at the bank tomorrow, and then I'm leaving. And by the time I leave, this house will be on the market, so you'd be wise to get your little band of thugs out of here, Carl.”

Bingo!
thought McBride.
Carl and Greta
.

A taxi pulled up in front of the house. Greta dropped her cigarette and stepped on it as Carl picked up her suitcases.

“No. Don't. I'm fine. I don't need any more help from you.” She took the bags from him.

“You can't just walk away, Greta, you know that. You've tried it before.”

But she did walk away. Down the front walk to the door of the cab. The driver opened the trunk of the taxi, got out briskly and came around to get her bags. She got into the back of the cab and pulled her fur coat close around her. The driver closed her door. She never once looked at the house. The car pulled away from the curb and drove towards Robie Street, where it turned left.

Carl stood on the front steps watching the cab vanish. Behind him appeared Matrix-man.

“Come downstairs. I think she's finally ready to talk.” Carl turned and quickly followed. The front door closed.

When McBride had first stood up and moved towards the corner of the house, he had intended simply to go to the front door, ring the bell, and take his chances on what would happen, but now he decided to see if Spiegle had been distracted enough to leave the front door unlocked.

He tried the knob and the door yielded. He stood on the threshold and listened. It was silent. He pushed it farther open, entered the house, closed the door quietly and stepped lightly through the front vestibule into the main hallway. There should be stairs leading down to the basement, either off this hall or off the kitchen, he thought. There were stairs going up to the second level just to his left—sometimes the basement stairs were located directly underneath. There was a door there and he opened it, but it was a large storage closet set in under the stairs. Directly corner-wise to the closet was another door set into the east wall. It opened onto a small water closet, just toilet and vanity. No stairs going down.

He decided to inspect the kitchen. He moved cautiously into the yellow, slate-floored room and went towards the three steps that led down to the side door. He was right, there were steps continuing on down from the entranceway. But as he began to descend, he heard voices from the basement level getting close. He moved back up to the kitchen. Now he could hear them moving up the stairs. He quickly retreated into the main hallway and let himself into the storage closet under the stairs. The hinges squeaked a little as he pulled the door towards him. He left it slightly ajar. He could hear the sound of scraping chairs as the two men pushed Sophie down into a place at the kitchen table.

“Okay, I'll talk, but I want food first. I'm starving.” The sound of her voice unsettled McBride.

“There was some leftover Chinese takeout from last night. It must be in the fridge.” The voice was Carl's.

“That's fine,” Sophie said. “Just rice would be fine. Heat it up in the microwave if there is one.”

“Do it,” Carl ordered, apparently of Matrix-man.

There was the sound of the fridge opening, a cupboard door, dishes being moved, and then the microwave beeping and turning on.

“And I need some tea,” Sophie said. “Then I'll tell you what you want to know.”

“Put on the kettle.” Carl again. McBride could hear the water running into the kettle then cupboard doors slamming as they looked for tea.

“I don't see no tea.” This was Matrix-man. McBride recognized his voice.

“
Any
tea.” Sophie corrected him. “It's probably on the kitchen counter in a canister or something. If you untie me and take off this blindfold, I'll find it and make it myself.”

“Don't be stupid,” Carl said. “We're not going to untie you and we're not going to take off your blindfold. You'll have to put up with these discomforts until you lead us to the file. Then we'll take you home.”

“First I want the rice and I want tea. Now, please…Did you find the tea?”

“For Christ's sake, find her some tea!” The kettle began to whistle at the same moment the timer on the microwave started beeping to signal that the rice was hot.

McBride took advantage of the racket in the kitchen to push the closet door open a little wider so he could hear them more clearly.

There was the sound of the plate being set on the table.

“Oh god,” Sophie said, “it smells good.”

“It's just rice.”

“Will you untie my hands so I can eat. I'm not going anywhere.”

“We can untie one hand. We'll keep your other hand tied to the chair.”

“But first—please—I'm desperate to use the bathroom.”

There was a silence while Carl considered what to do.

“Alright,” he said, annoyed. “Take her. There's a toilet just off the front hall by the stairs. I'll go down to the bar in the basement and see if there's any tea there.”

Matrix-man roughly hauled Sophie to her feet. Her hands were still tied behind her. He began pushing her towards the kitchen door that led into the hall.

McBride could hear the sound of a cellphone ringing and Carl's voice as he answered growing fainter as he disappeared down the basement stairs.

“Are you planning to untie my hands? I really don't think I can manage in the bathroom otherwise.”

“Look, you want to go the bathroom, right?”

“That's right.”

“So I'm taking you to the bathroom. So shut up.”

McBride realized that Matrix-man had no idea where the bathroom actually was, so he was quickly tucking himself in behind the coats when the closet door opened wide. He stopped breathing.

“Nope. Closet.” He returned the door to its almost closed position. “Okay…what's this? Jackpot! Toilet.”

He had opened the powder room door, which was just around the corner from the closet. McBride could see Matrix-man's back through the narrow opening of the closet door as he faced into the bathroom. He was so close McBride could have reached his hand out through the closet door and touched him.

“Listen up princess,” Matrix-man said to Sophie, “I'm going to untie your hands, see. And then I'm going to move you backwards to the toilet. Don't even think about removing the blindfold or you'll get a nice little reminder to be good like I had to give you last night.” He turned Sophie around and untied her hands.

McBride could see part of Sophie's back. Then, Matrix-man turned her so she was facing him again. Her eyes were covered by a tightly wrapped black strip and her left cheek was badly bruised.

“Okay, now back up…Stop. Okay, now the toilet's just behind your legs. Can you feel it?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, thank you!”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good girl. Nice and polite. No more smart mouth.”

Matrix-man stepped back to the bathroom doorway and then leaned on the frame so he could ogle Sophie while she peed.

“Oh, thank god,” Sophie said in relief as she sat down on the toilet. “Eighteen hours is a long time to hold it.”

“I kind of have to go myself,” Matrix-man said. “Maybe you could help me out—you know—take my dick out for me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“I doubt if I'd be able to find it.”

“That was a pretty good punchline, Sophie.” McBride's voice came from the closet. Matrix-man spun round like lightning, only to be met hard in the face by McBride's fist. He dropped to the floor. “And so was that,” McBride added.

Sophie reached up and wrenched her blindfold off. She stood up from the toilet gaping at him in astonishme
nt.

“Quick. He's out cold. Let's get him into the closet.” McBride hauled him towards the back of the closet by the shoulders and Sophie jumped into action and pushed his legs in. “Grab a coat, Sophie. We're getting out of here.”

She quickly pulled what must have been Greta's camel hair off a hanger and put it on. She was already wearing a pair of Greta's slippers, since she had arrived at the house with only one boot. McBride forced the closet door closed against Matrix-man's feet and turned the skeleton key in the lock. He stepped hastily into the bathroom and dropped the key into the tank of the toilet.

“Let's go,” he said.

They crossed the hall to the front door and just as McBride opened it, a voice stopped them from the kitchen doorway.

“Not so fast.” It was Spiegle—with a revolver.

“If you were smart, Spiegle, you'd let us go,” McBride said. “You're only going to get yourself into a lot more trouble now.”

“I'll be the judge of that,” Spiegle responded.

“No, I'll be the judge of that. Now drop it.” It was Arbuckle. He had entered the house via the side door and was now standing in the middle of the kitchen with his gun trained on Spiegle. Flanking him were two sergeants. Spiegle glanced at them over his shoulder, but shifted his eyes back towards McBride and Sophie and raised his gun.

When I'd had my realization in the shower
about the location of
“the house,” Harvie had contacted Arbuckle for me; he joined us as we devoured some breakfast. We quickly discussed the layout of the King residence. I was able to recall the side entrance I had used during my coffee meeting with Daniel. It seemed to me to be the entrance that offered the most options and the best protection. Arbuckle then made what I thought was the unusual and elegant decision to approach the scene not with blaring sirens and bullhorns, but in absolute silence, so the thugs wouldn't panic and possibly kill Sophie. In the interest of silence, I also decided to leave Molly home, under the watchful eye of the cat, knowing that if she got within scent or sight of McBride, she'd want to let everyone in town know about it.

Arbuckle swung the plan quickly into motion and within half an hour, Harvie and I found ourselves sitting in Old Solid a couple of doors down from the King house. We had just observed Arbuckle and two hand-picked sergeants enter the building by the side door, and we were anxiously waiting to see if they would find Sophie.

“What's going to happen?” I said to Harvie.

“You know what Hamlet says to Horatio, Roz, ‘
If it be now, tis not to come, if it be not to come, it will be now, if it be not now, yet it will come.
'”

“
The readiness is all
,” I said, finishing the line with him. “I'm just going to creep up to the house and see if I can find out what's going on.”

“Best to wait,” he cautioned. “The police just went in a couple of minutes ago.”

He was right. We sat in silence for a few seconds, then the front door of the house opened slightly. I caught a glimpse of McBride, but then he stopped and turned back, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“That was McBride!” I said. “Did you see that? I can't stand it. I'm going to try and get close to the front door.” I got out of the car and started sprinting towards the house.

Harvie was suddenly at my side. “Not without me.”

We went quickly and carefully and got to the front steps without incident. I crawled up close to the door and leaned in towards the opening to listen. Harvie crouched close to me.

Then I heard McBride say, “You heard the man, Spiegle. Don't do anything foolish. Drop it now for your own good.”

Clearly they were in the midst of some kind of standoff. Harvie and I looked at one another.

Suddenly a hand was gripping the slightly opened door, the fingers on the outside. It was Sophie's hand. Through the narrow opening I could see the long camel coat she was wearing—it went almost to the floor. I was trying to figure out how to let her know that I was right there, when all at once she flung the door open and threw herself out onto the steps, landing at my feet. This was followed closely by a loud gunshot, which must have been Spiegle attempting to stop her. Harvie and I quickly grabbed her and hauled her off the steps.