Head to Head (16 page)

I heard a board creak behind me but a second too late and only got a faint impression of a dark figure before something hit me in the back of the head. Everything went blurry, and I fell to my knees. Hands grabbed me around the waist and jerked me up, and I knew I was in trouble. I shook off my grogginess and kicked out at his groin as hard as I could. It was too dark to see my assailant, but I heard him grunt with pain. I twisted loose, got him again in the jaw, and clawed for the gun in my shoulder holster. Another guy grabbed me, but I landed a good punch to the face, which nearly broke my hand, before he got me a good one in the side of my head and my lights went all the way out.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been unconscious when I came to, but I knew I was on the lower-level boat dock close to the water and somebody was tying my wrist to a deck chair. I lunged up at him, yelling and fighting, and grabbed the guy’s hair with my free hand. He cursed and fought my hold, then slung me backward so hard, I went off the deck into the lake, chair and all. I hit cold water, pulling desperately to free my bound left hand as the heavy wrought iron chair sank quickly, taking me with it. My feet were free, so I kicked and twisted, pulling at the rope holding my wrist. The knots weren’t tight, and I knew I could work myself free, but panic threatened, anyway, stark and overwhelming, in that awful, dark silence where the fish had fed on Sylvie’s body. As I jerked and pulled, I could see the solar lamps on the deck above me, and a stream of bubbles burst from my mouth when I finally wrenched my hand free.

I shot desperately upward and broke the surface, gasping and choking. I sucked in air and grabbed hold of the pilings, and then I heard a voice, Nick Black’s voice, low and angry, answered by other voices before the sound of running feet thudded up the steps and receded into the distance. I got my elbows on the deck and tried to hoist myself out of the water, but then Black was there, right above me, hauling me out by the back of my shirt.

As soon as I hit the deck, I jerked away from him and scrabbled sideways. Breathing hard, hands trembling, head hammering, I pulled my weapon and held it trained on his chest.

“Get down, get down on your knees. Do it, do it!” My voice was hoarse, and I was shivering with cold, but I could see him better now. He held his arms straight out to the side, then went slowly down on his knees, as if he’d had some practice at it.

“Easy, easy, Detective. Don’t shoot me. I didn’t do this.”

“Get your hands behind your back! Now! Now, I said!”

Once he was flat on his stomach, I cuffed him, frisked him for weapons, and found him clean, then staggered sideways, a little weak-kneed, and leaned against the railing, looking around for his accomplices.

A moment later I ducked and shifted my aim to the shoreline when somebody ran into sight. He yelled, “Security! Drop your weapon!”

“Police!” I yelled back. “I need help over here!”

The guy splashed across the water and climbed onto the deck in exactly three seconds flat. It was John Booker. “What happened?” he said, holstering his gun and looking down where Black was on his belly at my feet. “Is he all right?”

“I don’t give a shit. He just attacked me.”

“No way, Detective. He’s with me. We came down here when we found your vehicle abandoned at the gate. Black wanted to make sure you were all right. I went in the front, and he took the back.”

I stared at him in disbelief, quivering with wet and cold and anger, still holding my weapon trained on Black’s back.

“Look at the surveillance tapes if you don’t believe me. We just got here minutes ago.”

I took Black in to jail, anyway. I had him finger-printed and thrown into a holding cell for assaulting a police officer. Nothing in my life had ever felt better than seeing him behind those bars. Booker’s story checked out, but that didn’t mean I bought it. Booker brought in the surveillance tape and ran it for Charlie; then one of Black’s slick lawyers, wearing tasseled loafers, showed up and had a private conference with Charlie. I wasn’t invited. I waited in the interrogation room, calmer now, except that my head still pounded and my hands shook. I kept them around a mug of hot coffee so no one would see.

As soon as Charlie walked into the room and I saw his face, I knew Nicholas Black was going to walk. I stood up and dared Charlie to let him go.

“It wasn’t him, Claire. He can prove it.”

“Yeah, right. He just happened to be there at exactly the same time somebody assaulted me.”

“That’s right. He was at the main lodge with the fuckin’ mayor of all people when security informed him your vehicle was sitting empty at the gate. Said he wanted to make sure you were okay, and he excused himself from the meeting as soon as he could, and the two of them opened the gate and drove down the hill. The guard named Booker went in the front door, but Black heard something and ran around the side deck, and that’s when he saw you struggling with a couple of guys. They ran, but when you got dumped in the lake, all he thought about was getting you out of the water.”

“Bullshit.”

“Maybe. The tape shows him coming in with the guard clear as day.”

“Maybe the guard’s in on it with him. Ever thought of that, Charlie? He works for him, doesn’t he? Or maybe he hired those two thugs, then arranged it so he could show up and save the day at the last minute so he’d look like a hero. I’m telling you Black’s got something to do with this. I heard him talking to them, for Christ’s sake.”

“Go home, Claire. Get some rest. You got the wrong man this time.”

“Go to hell, Charlie.”

“I didn’t hear that. You’re tired. You’re upset. Go home and think it through. Then we’ll talk.”

I wanted to shoot him, so bad I had to hold my arm down to keep from drawing my weapon, but I didn’t. I left in time to see Black and Booker being picked up by a long black limousine. I was going to get Black for this. I was going to get him if it killed me.

It was midnight by the time I got home, damp and muddy and enraged. Dottie was waiting on my front porch with a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup. I loved Dottie like a sister, but I wasn’t in the mood for company. Actually, I wasn’t in the mood for anything, other than murdering somebody with my bare hands. I suppose Dottie was safe. I like her soup.

“Harve and I heard on the police band,” she said, jumping up and exhibiting wringing-of-hands concern. “Oh, God, look at you. Are you all right?”

“Well, I’ve been better.” Truth was, I wasn’t sure. I was still shaky and nasty with lake slime. I walked into the kitchen, more agitated than anything. Dottie followed. “Did Black do this to you?”

“Yes, but nobody’ll believe me.”

“I believe you.”

I could always count on Dottie, and I was grateful. Truly, I was. She was a good friend, but I wanted her to leave me alone. I needed to think, to relax muscles that were knotted hard. I needed that hot tub. “Thanks, Dot. I do appreciate your bringing the soup. But I’m not hungry. I’m real tired and, frankly, pissed off so bad I’m not going to be good company.” She nodded. She understood. “Let me help you get out of those filthy clothes. You’ll feel better if you do.”

I let her, and then I got in the shower and let hot water pour down on my face for so long that Dottie came back in to make sure assailants hadn’t gotten me again. I dried off, put on an oversized T-shirt and red tights, and slouched down in my trusty old vinyl recliner with my favorite pillow. Dottie was watching me like I was an unexploded cherry bomb. I sank my head into the pillow and closed my eyes. The old recliner was my security blanket. I’d had it so long, my body fit its contours, and it felt like somebody trustworthy was holding me in the palm of his hand.

Dottie moved into the kitchen and stirred the soup bubbling happily on my stove top. “I’m going to turn the burner down real low, but you’ll have to keep an eye on it. And I brought over a hot toddy, which will relax you. You’re going to need something to help you sleep after all this.” I opened my eyes as she came around the counter dividing my living room and galley kitchen. She was dressed in cutoff jeans and a big turquoise shirt and had her hair twisted up in a red clip. She was barefoot. She was always barefoot. She handed me a big white coffee mug and said, “I know you don’t want to talk about it right now, but I’m here if you need to. Ring the dinner bell, and I’ll come running. Sometimes talking helps.”

She meant the big black bell I had attached to a pole on the dock in front of my house. Harve had one just like it. We used it for emergencies, but more often if either of us wanted company. Fact was, at the moment, all I wanted was for Dottie to leave. I wanted to weep uncontrollably into my pillow. I wanted to rid myself of the abject panic I’d felt roped to that chair. Most of all, I wanted to shoot Nicholas Black between the eyes. “I can’t talk about it yet. I’ll come by tomorrow and see you guys. Tell Harve not to worry. I’m okay. I’m just angry, is all.”

“Okay.” Dottie got the message. But she was loving and nurturing, and it felt good when she put her hands on my shoulders. “Lean forward, and I’ll loosen up some of that tension before I take off.”

Dottie was a licensed masseuse, and I obeyed. The moment her fingers began to knead my shoulders, I relaxed and the whole sordid story poured out, almost against my will. She listened, made no comment, just made little comforting sounds. She was one hell of a listener. I guess that’s why I open up to her when I won’t to anyone else, not even Harve. Harve worries about me too much.

Finally, Dottie said, “Do you really think Nicholas Black would do something like that?”

“I heard his voice, and he was talking to the guys who jumped me. He was right there. Maybe he didn’t do it himself; maybe he hired them to scare me off. He hires people for everything.” I got up, my fury whipped up again, angrier than I’d been in years. I began to pace. I stopped in my tracks when we heard Harve’s bell echoing out over the water.

“Harve’s anxious about you,” Dottie said, heading for the front door. “I need to get back and fill him in. You’ll be all right. Eat some soup. Lie down and let the toddy work, and you’ll feel better.” She sounded more sure of it than I did.

“Yeah.”

“Do some yoga. That always calms you down and clears your mind. If you need us, call or ring the bell.”

“Thanks, Dot.”

She hesitated and searched my face. I couldn’t have looked too hot. “You want me to stay the night? Harve’ll understand.”

“No, no, I’m fine, really.”

I walked out to the front porch and watched her run along the path toward Harve’s house. Dottie ran everywhere, barefoot or not. She was the fittest person I knew from all that running and lifting weights. I vowed to start a new routine with free weights as soon as I calmed down. Even my kickboxing practice was going to get more rigid. I was tired of getting jumped and hit in the head. What was the matter with me? Where was my sixth sense? Where were any of my senses?

I walked into the kitchen and turned off the soup. Food just wasn’t going to cut it. I kept thinking about why Black would order such a thing. To frighten me, make me back off from him? Well, I’d be damned if I’d back off. Now I wanted to get him, and I would if it took the rest of my life.

I’d learned yoga when I lived in California, and it had helped me get through the mess I’d been in out there. I was too on edge to do anything else, and I was tired of pacing. Assault and near drowning have a tendency to shake me up. I had to calm myself down in my head, where I was reliving everything over and over.

I always did yoga on the dock, which stretched about fifteen yards out into the lake.
Old Betsy
, my trusty jon boat, was rocking at the end, tied to a piling with a dusk-to-dawn light on the top. I walked outside under a canopy of black velvet and glittering stars and began to feel better. I was safe at home. I had my cell phone clipped to my waist, right beside my Glock automatic. Usually, I didn’t do my stretches with my gun attached to my person. But hell, this was a special occasion.

About six feet wide, the dock expanded to twenty feet near my jon boat. I’d replaced the rotten boards and sanded them smooth so I could do my yoga poses outside, where I could hear the lapping of the water and cricket songs. I liked to exercise at night under the stars. I’d formed my own routine of poses in an attempt to strengthen and keep limber every muscle in my body. It took just thirty minutes, and it worked. I never missed a day. It helped me think. But I was adding weights to my repertoire tomorrow, without fail.

I warmed up with some easy standing poses, then slowly loosened up my legs with some downward-facing dog positions and warrior stances. My mind had a tendency to empty of thoughts during yoga sessions, and it was working admirably until I heard something behind me. I was out of my stance in two seconds flat, on my belly, Glock out of my holster and trained on the shadowy figure just behind me. Oh, God, not again.

“Don’t shoot; it’s me.” Nicholas Black stepped from the shadows into the light. “I want to talk to you.”

Stunned, I kept my weapon trained on him while I searched the dock and beach for his toadies. I didn’t see anyone. Lucky for Black, he had enough sense to keep his hands in the air. “What is this? If at first you don’t succeed? You here to finish me off, is that it?”

I could hear my own breathing, short, fast, belying my calm words. I cursed over finding myself in a vulnerable position. How the hell did he sneak up on me again? If this kept up, I was turning in my badge. “Get down on your belly, with your arms spread wide.” I started to say
Now!
but he obviously knew the drill and obeyed without further urging.

I patted him down for weapons and found nothing under his black T-shirt and jeans but lots of hard-packed muscles. “I’m not armed,” he said, and I again searched the lake and shoreline for accomplices. “How did you know where I live?”

He ignored my question. “Look, I need to talk to you, privately, confidentially.”

“Where’s your vehicle? How’d you get here without me hearing you?”

“I kayaked in.”

“You kayaked here from your place across the lake?” That was rich. I didn’t believe him.

“I do it for exercise.”

“Then do it for exercise while you get the hell out of here and off my property. I have nothing to say to you.”

“I have some information that you need to know. I want you to come with me.”

I actually laughed at that one. “Oh, sure, that’s gonna happen. Want me to help you attack me, too?”

“I didn’t assault you, and I can prove it. Come with me, and I’ll show you.”

“Prove it here, Black. I’m not going anywhere with you, and if you don’t clear outta here, I’m gonna run you in again. This time I can get you for trespassing.”

“I didn’t hurt you.” His cheek was against the wood planks, facing me and muffling his voice. “But I know who did. And I know why.”

I kept the gun trained on him, my eyes continually searching the darkness. “Is that a fact? Well, hey, go right ahead. Hit me with it.”

“Not here. Come out to the yacht, and I’ll explain everything.”

“You cannot really believe I’m that stupid, can you?”

He sat up, and I retrained my aim to the midpoint of his forehead. It felt good. I’d been fantasizing about this scenario since I’d left the sheriff’s office. He actually smiled. “Put the gun away. Believe me, I have enough sense not to make any sudden moves. I can prove I’m innocent, and what I’m going to tell you will help you solve Sylvie’s murder.”

“Cut the crap. If you have something to tell me, tell me right here, right now.”

“We have to go now. Tomorrow will be too late. There are people waiting out there you need to interview. They’ll be gone before daylight.”

“Not if they had anything to do with using my head for a boxing bag, they won’t. What people?”

“This has got to remain confidential, for reasons you’ll find out when you talk to them. They can tell you things you have to know to solve this case. And I want it solved.”

“What people?”

“I’m going out on a limb to come here tonight. People can be hurt if certain things come out. And don’t ask me what people, dammit!” He shook his head, a little testy himself. “What happened to you tonight was inexcusable, and I want to prove to you that I had nothing to do with it.”

“Sorry, Jack, you’re just shit outta luck. I’m not stepping foot on your yacht tonight. We’ll just go back to the station and have a little tête-à-tête in the interrogation room. Won’t that be fun? Stand up. Keep your arms out to the side.”

Obeying, he rose without effort, light on his feet. He was in good physical shape, too. Anybody who could kayak twenty miles across the water had some upper-arm strength and stamina. “I was afraid you wouldn’t listen. Charlie’s due to call you any minute now. What time is it?”

“Time for me to arrest you again. Maybe this time it’ll stick. You know, trespassing on private property, Peeping Tom, stalker, stuff like that.”

“I’ve already talked to Charlie about this. I had a feeling you wouldn’t go with me.”

“Gee, you’re a bright boy, now, aren’t you?” Frowning, I watched him suspiciously until my cell phone rang. I pulled it out with my left hand and flipped it open.

Charlie’s voice sounded in my ear. Impatient. Annoyed. “Get out to Black’s yacht, Morgan. Right now. He’s ready to give a statement, and he’ll only give it to you. Alone. He’s sending somebody to pick you up. Be expecting them.”

“Yeah, he’s already here, and I’ve got my gun pointed at his head. You’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere alone with him.”

“Then call a backup and ride over with them. Bud isn’t back from New York, which makes me wonder what the hell he’s doing up there. Winin’ and dinin’ that model, probably. That trip’s gonna cost the department a helluva bundle.” Wow, Charlie, thanks for the concern. He was more worried about Bud spending a couple of thousand than about me getting worked over. “Just get to Black’s fuckin’ boat and find out what he wants to say. Nothing else is gonna happen to you. He gave me his word. Do it and report back to me as soon as it’s done.” He hung up.

I stared at Black. “Charlie might trust you, Black. You like to buy people off with your money. Maybe you’re Charlie’s biggest campaign contributor. Maybe he owes you and is willing to turn his head and let you slide now and then, but make no mistake, I can’t be bought. If you think I’ll let you off if I find you’re involved in this at all, you’re nuts.”

“Maybe that’s why I want to talk to you, Detective. Charlie’s a good guy, but he plays politics. I can’t risk that, not with this information. And I haven’t bought off Charlie, either. We’ve been friends for a long time. He knows I’m not capable of killing Sylvie or hurting you. That’s why he doesn’t mind ordering you to talk to me. Like I said, people can get hurt.”

“And like I said, what people?”

This time he hesitated a long moment. He looked out over the lake a second and considered. I waited, pretty sure he was getting ready to pull something. I kept my finger on the trigger. If I lived to be a hundred, he would never get the jump on me again. “Jacques Montenegro is on the
Falcon
. He wants to talk to you. It’s important. It’ll clear up some details that’ll help you find Sylvie’s killer.”

Well, knock me over with a feather. He got me again, because that was the last thing I expected. I guess there was some hanky-panky going on between Black and the Cajun boys, after all.

“Now can you see why I came here tonight? Why he wants a private meeting alone with you? It won’t be good for any of us if his presence at the lake gets out.”

“Right, and it especially won’t look good for you. Being Montenegro’s host and benefactor, and all. It might even indicate that you have some serious Mafia ties, right? No wonder you’re slinking around in the middle of the night.”

Black said nothing, which pretty much meant I was right. And was I ever tempted now. Man, was I tempted. Just the intrigue alone was enough to make me want to go see Montenegro. Even Al Pacino wouldn’t have me offed at a meeting set up by the local sheriff. At Black’s request, at that. I’d be safe enough, and if I didn’t turn up tomorrow morning, heads would roll. Montenegro would know better than to pull anything cute, and it was certainly in Black’s interest to get me home safe and sound.