Lovers & Players (45 page)

Half-way up the second flight of stairs, a woman in a sloppy housecoat burst out of a door yelling in a foreign language. She was being chased by a skinny runt of a man wielding a leather belt. The two of them shoved their way past Max as if he didn’t exist.

He took a deep breath and made it up the rest of the stairs fast.

If Irena was smart, she’d move out of this dump tomorrow. She’d have enough money to do whatever the hell she wanted, although he should warn her not to do anything with the gemstones for a while. Who knew where they had come from? He should also tell her to take off Mariska’s diamond ring and put it away.

Then another question occurred to him–how
had
she got the ring? She must have stolen it, so did that mean she had been in Mariska’s apartment
after
she was killed? Had she taken the ring off Mariska’s lifeless finger? Or was she actually there when Mariska was stabbed to death?

At least it was kind of poetic justice that Mariska’s money–and where it had come from he didn’t even want to think about–was going to her mother, a woman for whose welfare she’d obviously cared nothing.

He made it to Irena’s apartment and knocked on the door. It swung open and her cat darted out, hissing angrily.

The stench of burned milk hit him as he entered, calling her name.

She was sitting in the one rickety chair watching her black-and-white TV. Her back was to him. The sound of the TV was too loud, and sparks were coming from the hot-plate in the corner.

‘Irena,’ he said loudly, ‘something’s burning.’

She didn’t move.

‘Can you turn the TV down?’ he shouted.

Still no answer.

He moved in front of her.

She was dead. A single neat bullet-hole right in the centre of her forehead.

I
t took him a while, but Chris finally managed to sober Jett up. After gallons of coffee, an icy cold shower, several Tylenols and a major sweat-out in the hotel gym, Jett started groaning. How could he have done it? What was the matter with him? He was one big fucking
loser.

‘Shit happens,’ Chris assured him, as they sat around in his suite. ‘You made a wrong move, and now it’s up to you to make sure it doesn’t happen again.’

‘I feel like such a dumb
jerk.
’ Jett groaned, pushing his hands through his hair.

‘Beating yourself up won’t help,’ Chris said. ‘You did it, it’s over, and as soon as possible you need to get to a meeting. It’s imperative you attend on a regular basis. Plus you’ve got to find a sponsor.’

‘I had one in Italy,’ Jett said, downing his fifth cup of coffee. ‘Any time I felt the urge I called this guy and he talked me down. It worked great.’

‘Yeah, well, what obviously does
not
work great is you
not
going to meetings,’ Chris pointed out.

‘I get it.’

‘I hope so.’

‘Guess I wasn’t thinking straight with all this stuff goin’ on,’ Jett said, trying to make excuses. ‘Y’ know, Gianna leaving. Amy not wanting to hurt Max.’

‘Like, you
do
?’ Chris questioned.

‘There’s no
way
I want to hurt him. What I
do
want is to be with Amy.’

‘That’s what you want, huh?’ Chris sighed. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Yeah, that’s it.’

‘You got anything to offer her, little bro’? You thought about that?’

‘Huh?’

‘If she leaves Max, what makes you think it’ll work out between the two of you? You’ve no steady job, no apartment. You don’t even have a car.’

‘Make me feel better about myself, why doncha?’ Jett said wryly.

‘I’m being real. Are
you?
’

‘What d’you mean by
that?
’

‘Gianna seemed great. Beautiful, successful, fun. Could be you’re making a big mistake.’

‘You don’t
get
it, Chris,’ Jett said earnestly. ‘I
love
Amy, and she loves me.’

‘Did she tell you that?’

‘No, but—’

‘She didn’t tell you?’

‘It’s early days.’

‘So what’s your plan?’

‘We don’t have one.’

‘Try this.’

‘What?’

‘How about you leave her alone for a while, let her make her own decisions,
then
see what happens?’

‘I don’t think I can do that.’

‘Look,’ Chris said, the voice of reason, ‘force her into doing something now and she’s likely to resent you. When and
if
she decides to leave Max, it has to be her move, not because
you
talked her into it. Then, later, if the two of you do get together…it won’t be so bad for Max.’

‘I suppose you could be right,’ Jett mumbled reluctantly.

‘I know I am. In the meantime, I think you should fly to L.A. with me tomorrow. It’ll give you a chance to get your head straight, put some space between you and this situation.’

‘I can’t—’

‘Yes, you
can
,’ Chris said forcefully. ‘I’m booking you a ticket, so get your ass over to your apartment and pack. I’ll see you at the house of horrors in the morning. We’ll take off from there.’

Max stumbled from Irena’s apartment, his heart beating wildly. This was the second dead woman he’d seen in less than a week. What the fuck was happening to his nice orderly
life?

A few days ago he’d had everything under control–everything except his finances, and now that problem was taken care of. But his personal life was a fucking
nightmare
. And it was all the fault of Vladimir Bushkin, the Russian prick with his threats and blackmail.

Because of Vladimir, two women were dead. Somehow or other he must have discovered that Irena was about to reveal his identity as the man who’d killed Mariska, so he’d silenced her too. This time with a gun.

Totally panicked, Max raced down the concrete stairs. He’d taken one look at Irena and fled, desperate to get out of her room and away from the devastating stench of death.

As he made his way rapidly down the stairs, he started going over what he’d seen. He hadn’t noticed any blood, just a small neat hole right in the middle of her forehead.

Maybe she
wasn’t
dead. He should have felt her pulse. Although why would he touch her?

Should he call the police? That was the big question.

Yes.

No!

How was he going to explain a
second
visit to Irena? What if they thought
he
had had something to do with her murder?

He had no alibi. Christ! He needed an alibi.

Amy. He’d go straight to Amy. Tell the police–should they ask–that he’d been with
her
all night.

Yes. That was a plan. Had to have a plan, otherwise he’d look guilty as hell. He could just imagine Detective Rodriguez’s smarmy face.
Tell me, Mr Diamond, why did you go back to visit Irena a second time? To kill her? Is that it? To stop her
telling us that you murdered your wife? Sorry, Mr Diamond–your
ex-wife.

Yes, Detective Rodriguez would go to town on this one.

I should call my lawyer
, he thought.

Why? I’m not guilty of anything. Best to keep quiet. Nobody knows I’m here. It would be foolish to open anything up
.

Aren’t you going to report a murder?

No. I’m not.

And as these thoughts flew around in his brain, he continued hurrying down the stairs, still clutching the canvas bag, sweating profusely, agonizing over what to do next.

‘I thought we stay all night,’ Famka said, making a disappointed face.

‘Why would I
ever
want to spend the night with two whores like you?’ Red Diamond said, getting off the bed and starting to dress.

‘Because you like us,’ Famka said, in her best girly voice. ‘Because we’re sexy and you like fucking us.’

‘Ask your friend why you’re not staying,’ Red said, indicating Sonja. ‘Your
blackmailing
friend.’

‘What you say?’ Famka said blankly, looking from Red to Sonja.

‘Didn’t she tell you?’ Red sneered. ‘Cut you in?’

Famka stared at Sonja. Sonja shrugged, as if she had no idea what he was talking about. Damn him. If the old fart said
anything,
she would deny it.

‘Cut me in on what?’ Famka asked at last, pouting just a little bit.

‘
She
’ll tell you,’ Red said, pulling on his pants. He was bored with both of them. They’d done their job and now he wanted them gone.

He walked over to the dresser, picked up his wallet and threw a flurry of hundred-dollar bills in their direction. ‘Out,’ he said. ‘Now.’

Half-way down the stairs, Max tripped and, before he could save himself, he began to fall, crashing down several of the concrete stairs on his knees. The shock and pain hit him immediately, while the canvas bag shot out of his hands and plummeted over the stairwell to the ground floor.

‘
Shit!
’ he muttered, grabbing the side rail and staggering to his feet. Could this day get any worse? His pants were ripped, he could barely stand, and the pain in his right knee was excruciating.

Somehow or other, he made his way down the rest of the stairs, reaching the bag just in time as a lank-haired youth was about to scoop it up.

‘That’s mine,’ Max said, breathing heavily.

‘Says who?’ the boy questioned. He was sixteen or seventeen, with sallow features and a sullen attitude.

‘It’s mine,’ Max repeated sharply. ‘I dropped it.’

‘What’s in it?’ the boy asked, his hand hovering near the handle.

‘None of your damn business,’ Max shouted, snatching up the bag and limping towards the door.

‘I should get a fuckin’ reward,’ the boy yelled after him.

‘Bullshit,’ Max muttered, crossing the street and reaching the safety of his car.

He leaned against the side of his Mercedes for a moment before he got in. Then he slid behind the wheel, placed the canvas bag on the passenger seat and stared at it.

What was he going to do with the money and gemstones now? What the
hell
was he going to do?

Somewhere in her sleep Amy could hear banging, a doorbell ringing. Slowly opening her eyes, she realized the noise wasn’t part of her dream. Someone was hammering at her front door.

She groped for the bedside clock and noted it was almost midnight. Now, who would be pounding at her door so late?

Jett. It had to be Jett.

For a moment she lay very still, hoping he’d go away. But he didn’t. The incessant ringing of the bell continued until she was forced to get out of bed before he woke the people in the next apartment.

She reached for a robe and made her way to the front door. ‘Jett,’ she said firmly, not opening the door. ‘Go away.’

‘It’s
Max.
Will you please open up?’

Oh, God! Max had found out about her and Jett, and he was here to confront her.

For a moment she froze, not sure
what
to do.

‘Hurry up, Amy,’ he said, raising his voice.

Had Jett
told
him? Confessed? Or had Chris given him the bad news?

Okay. Don’t panic,
she thought.
I can handle this.

Taking a long, deep breath, she flung open the door. Max stumbled inside. He looked dreadful, dishevelled and unkempt, totally unlike the Max she knew. It was obvious that he’d taken the news badly. She wasn’t surprised.

‘I…I don’t know what to say,’ she began, searching for the right words. ‘It wasn’t planned…It, uh, just happened.’

‘I need to use the bathroom,’ he said, pushing past her. ‘I’ll explain everything in a minute.’

He hurried past into her bedroom, then she heard her bathroom door slam.

She stood in the hallway for a moment, nonplussed. What had he meant by
I’ll explain everything in a minute?
Wasn’t
she
the one who was supposed to be doing the explaining?

And was it her imagination, or were his pants all ripped at the knees? And
why
did he look all sweaty and mussed up?

Had he and Jett had a fight? That would be so bad–she couldn’t stand it.

Jett. She should call Jett and find out what had taken place. She could do it while Max was in the bathroom.

She ran into her bedroom and picked up the phone, keeping a close eye on the bathroom door.

‘Hey,’ Jett said, delighted to hear from her.

‘What happened?’ she asked, in a low voice.

Jett hesitated a moment. ‘Look, I didn’t
intend
to do it,’ he said, trying to figure out how she’d found out about his drinking. ‘It was just one of those things.’

‘It’s so
wrong
,’ she said furiously.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s not something I sat around planning to do.’

‘If
anyone
was going to tell him, it should’ve been
me
. And did the two of you get in a fight?’

‘Who? Me and Chris?’

‘What does
Chris
have to do with this?’

‘Well…uh…he helped me out. Y’ know, sobered me up, got me together.’

‘You were
drunk?
’ she exclaimed, horrified.

‘Isn’t that what we’re talking about?’

‘No,’ she said sharply. ‘We’re talking about you telling Max about us.’

‘Huh?’

‘He turned up at my apartment a few minutes ago, and he looks awful. You
did
get in a fight, didn’t you?’ she said accusingly.

‘Are you kidding me? We did
not
get into a fight, and I sure as hell
didn’t
tell him about us.’

‘Then how does he know?’

They both said it at the same time. ‘Chris!’

‘That
son-of-a-bitch,
’ Jett exclaimed.

‘How
could
he?’ Amy wailed.

‘I’m coming over,’ Jett said, making a quick decision. ‘We gotta face this together.’

‘No!’ she said helplessly. ‘If you come over it’ll only make things worse.’

‘There’s no way you’re handling it alone. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Hang in there, Amy. I promise you- everything’s gonna be okay.’

She put down the phone as Max emerged from the bathroom. Yes, he did look beat up, there were gaping rips in his pants legs, and one of his exposed knees was dripping blood.

‘I–I don’t know what to say, Max,’ she began. ‘I never meant for you to find out like this.’

‘Listen to me carefully, Amy,’ he said urgently, ignoring her words. ‘If anyone asks, I was here all night.’

‘Excuse me?’ she said, frowning.

‘All night,’ he repeated. ‘You understand?’

She was utterly confused. Did he know about her and Jett or not? And if he did, it was obvious he had something else on his mind.

‘I’m sorry to use you as my alibi,’ he continued, ‘but I witnessed something tonight, and if the police think I was there, I’ll get dragged into it, and that won’t be good.’

‘Witnessed
what?
’