Madman on a Drum (17 page)

“You got a pen?” I asked.

“A pen?” The agent searched his inside jacket pocket and produced a Paper Mate. I used it to twist the shoelace until it was tight around his thigh and the flow of blood ceased. I held it tight with both hands. Several sirens wailed in the distance. When a member of the law enforcement community goes down, people move fast. The tech agent leaned back against the seat and brought his hand to his forehead. He smeared himself with blood, realized what he was doing, took his hand away, and stared at the stained fingers.

“Oh, man,” he said. “My wife is going to kill me.”

 

“How's your agent?” I asked.

“He'll live,” Harry said.

“Gosh, that's funny,” I told him, but I really didn't think so, and Harry knew it.

“Bullet nicked an artery,” he said. “He lost some blood; he's okay now. I doubt he'll be out more than a couple of days.”

“How's his wife taking it?”

“She's upset.”

“Your agent thought she might be.”

“Yeah, but I think she'll get over it. They locked the door behind me when I left the hospital room.”

“Bullet wounds as an aphrodisiac—we should try that.”

“You first. Listen, McKenzie, I appreciate you taking care of my agent.”

“Least I could do,” I said. “It had to be the second kidnapper, you know. Who else knew where my car was parked?”

“Are you sure about the shooter's vehicle?”

“Blue Chevy Impala. Your agent got the digits
G
and
P,
but I can't confirm it. I was too busy crawling on my belly.”

“Not a Vibe?”

“Not even close.”

“The Walker has security cameras aimed at the front of their building and the Sculpture Garden. We're examining the tapes to see if they'll give us a lead. There are a lot of cameras in apartment buildings and businesses near the ransom drop. We're looking at those, too. Did you sign your statement?”

“I did.”

“We'll ask you to take a gander at some pictures later if we generate any, but for now, you can take off.”

“Where's my Audi?”

“Let me make a quick call.” After Harry hung up the phone, he said, “It'll be out front in a few minutes. Sorry about the damage. I hope your insurance company will cover it.”

“They didn't the last time someone shot it up. They did raise my rates, though. I now pay high-risk insurance.”

“This sort of thing doesn't happen very often, you know.”

“Really? It happens to me all the time.”

“I mean kidnappers trying to kill the mark after the ransom is delivered, after the victim is freed. Usually they're either too busy counting their money or running like hell. Honsa thinks that mentioning Scottie's name the way you did might have spooked him. He thinks the kidnapper ambushed you because he's afraid you can identify him somehow.”

“If I could, I would.”

“Think about it. If you come up with anything, you'll let us know?”

“Sure.”

“Please, McKenzie. Let us deal with this. Don't go out and play detective.”

“Who? Me?”

“I don't blame your insurance company. You are high risk.”

There was nothing about her appearance that I didn't like—riveting silver-blue eyes, short black hair, gentle curves that she refused to diet away. She looked like twenty million bucks. No, more. Enough to buy the Minnesota Vikings a decent backfield. I had known Nina Truhler for over two years. Yet there were still moments when I would look at her and feel my heart somersaulting in my chest as if I were seeing her for the first time. I liked to watch her; I was watching her now as she swirled and whirled behind the stick. To say she moved like a dancer would be a mere cliché and not a particularly accurate one. Her movements were more improvised than a dancer's yet remained fluid and assured, as if they were infused with an unshakable confidence, as if she couldn't imagine the possibility of stumbling or overreaching. Other men watched her as well. Nina was used to being stared at. It began when she was fifteen, and the only time it waned was during the third trimester of her pregnancy with Erica. I wasn't used to it, though. The two guys at the end of the bar drinking beer, they were beginning to annoy me. I told Nina so when she found time to chat. “That's sweet,” she said. Which annoyed me even more.

She planted her elbows on the bar and leaned forward. I thought she wanted a kiss. Instead, she asked, “Well? What happened?”

I told her the entire story. She interrupted only to say how deeply relieved she was to hear that Victoria was now safely home with her parents. Nina was smiling when I finished.

“You had a pleasant day, didn't you?” she said.

“Did I?”

“Everything that happened, even getting shot at, you enjoyed it, you know you did.”

“That's crazy.”

“The way you told the story, the way your face lit up while telling the story, it's like customers that I've served who get a thrill out of reliving how they won the big game, or who want to buy rounds because they closed a big deal.”

“I didn't enjoy it.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I couldn't refuse to help Victoria and the Dunstons.”

“Of course not. You know Victoria and care for her. But what about all the others?”

“What others?”

“The other people you've done favors for.”

I tried to explain; Nina cut me off.

“You're always quick with an explanation, and it always makes sense—nearly always,” she said. “Still, you could just as easily find an excuse for
not
getting involved in other people's problems. Couldn't you?”

I took a sip of my drink.

“I've come to a conclusion,” Nina said. “You're committed to lost and hopeless causes, not because you're an idealist or a humanitarian or anything like that. It's about pride; it's about self-esteem. This Wild West– gunfighter, white-knight, Scarlet Pimpernel life that you've chosen, it allows you to prove that you matter.”

“Good try. Your Psych 101 professor would be proud. Except I don't agree.”

“Explain it to me, then.”

“I just like to be useful.”

“Isn't that what I just said?”

“You make it sound like it's an ego thing.”

Nina laughed at me. “Oh, honey,” she said. “Of course it is.”

“No, it isn't. I help people the way I do because it gives me a sense of accomplishment. It makes me feel that I haven't wasted my day. Not because it makes me a superior being or something.”

“If that's true, why not go back to the cops?”

“I've been too long going where I want, doing what I want, unaccountable to anyone. I'm not sure I'd be very good at taking orders, now.”

“Like you ever were.”

“Or doing things by the book. Besides, the other kids resent me for being so damn good-looking, not to mention rich. I doubt they'd let me play with them.”

Nina sighed like a stage actress playing to the upper balcony.

“Anyway,” I told her, “I don't think you'd love me if I had a real job, if I worked eight-to-five.”

“Of course, I would.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You know I would.”

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

“You came into my place because you were following a woman who was involved in a gunrunning operation.”

“If I recall, you were very excited by it. You went all Sam Spade on me, explaining how you knew she was cheating on her husband.”

“Well, she was.”

“What I'm asking, would you have spent time with me, would you have even spoken to me, if I had told you I was an accountant?” She didn't answer, so I asked, “Remember the second time we met, at the Minnesota Club?”

“That was the third time, but who's counting?” Nina said.

“You pushed a guy down a flight of stairs.”

“He was reaching for a gun. He was going to shoot you.”

“Probably he wasn't, but that's not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“You smiled while he bounced on every step until he hit the bottom.”

“Well…”

“You were having fun.”

“Nah-uh.”

“Last summer, we were attacked while you were driving down 94,” I said. “The guy smashed the back of your Lexus and threw a couple of shots at us. You told the story for months afterward, told anyone who would listen.”

“Did I mention how angry I was?”

“At the time, yes, very angry. Not so much later while you were telling the story.”

“You're saying that I find it all as much fun as you do,” Nina said.

“I never said it was fun.”

She took my hand and spent a few moments twisting it in hers. “What you do is dangerous. Maybe it's more interesting than working eight-to-five, and maybe that makes you more interesting. It's still dangerous, and I can't help feeling… You know what my greatest fear is? That one day Bobby Dunston is going to come knocking on my door…”

“That's not going to happen.”

“McKenzie, I look terrible in black.”

Actually, Nina looked terrific in black, but I knew what she meant.

I kissed her cheek. I said, “I'm not a cop, I'm not a licensed PI. If things get dicey, I can always walk away.”

“Except you never do. Ahh, nuts. I knew what I was getting into when I visited you in the hospital. Remember the cracked skull?”

“Epidural hematoma.”

“Whatever,” Nina said. She frowned at me, then she smiled, and then she kissed me, softly, without haste, on the mouth. It was a message kiss. It said, “You and me, kid. You and me.” At least, that's what I heard.

“We'll be closing soon,” Nina said. “Afterward, I'll be going to your house, and I'll be hungry.”

The end to a perfect day,
I thought.

 

The best egg rolls in the Twin Cities were served by a Vietnamese restaurant on Johnson Street in northeast Minneapolis. The beef lo mein was pretty good, too, so I called in an order for both, plus some cream cheese puffs. There were two Asian kids hanging in the lobby when I arrived to pick it up. One of them was wearing a Minnesota Timberwolves jersey, 21, Kevin Garnett's old number. They were studying the fish in a large, colorful tank with such intensity that I half expected them to announce, “We'll take that one.”

The cashier asked my name, and I said, “McKenzie.”

At the sound of it, Number 21 pivoted toward me. There was an expression on his face that said he knew me. I didn't know him, so I blew it off. A moment later, he pulled his pal out of the restaurant. That should have told me something. It didn't.

The cashier filled my order; I paid and left. Stepping through the door, I noticed that the kids were standing next to a battered Chevy Malibu across the street and down the block. Neither was looking at me. I went to the Audi, started it up, checked for traffic, and pulled into Johnson Street. As I accelerated away I heard two soft pops that reminded me of a small-caliber pistol. I glanced in my rearview and saw Number 21 standing in the middle of the street and gesturing wildly.

Was he shooting at you?
my inner voice wanted to know.

Of course not,
I told myself.
You're just paranoid after everything that's happened today.

 

I was checking the scores on ESPN—the Twins were making yet another run at the Central Division championship, and normally I would have taken time to watch or at least listen to the game, except hey, I'd been busy. My house phone rang. Usually that meant that someone wanted me to donate money to one worthy cause or another; my friends nearly always call me on my cell. Then I realized that my cell was on the bottom of the Mississippi River.

I answered. Bobby Dunston was on the other end. “I've just seen the ballistics report,” he said. “The FBI's been very good about sharing.”

“What in the hell are you doing reading ballistics reports?”

“The bullet the FBI dug out of your upholstery was a nine-millimeter. It matched the slug they removed from Scottie Thomforde's chest. Which means it was the second kidnapper who came after you at Parade.”

“Should you be working, Bobby?”

“I want to find the man who kidnapped my daughter. How 'bout you?”

“Bobby…”

“I'm not working. Jeannie Shipman dropped by to give me an update.”

“Your young, beautiful, smart-as-hell partner?”

“That's the one. McKenzie, I want you to know that I don't think this is over. Watch your back, man.”

“Screw my back, Bobby. Watch your own. Take Victoria and the rest of your family and go to my lake home for a few days. You have keys. Tory could use the vacation. I bet everyone else could, too.”

“Tory is tough.”

“No, she's not. She's terrified and putting up a front to hide it, mostly from herself.”

“I already spoke with the department's psychologist. We'll be getting her therapy, getting her help. The rest of us, too.”

“That's later. Right now, get out of here. Go up north. Teach Victoria how to fight. Teach her how to shoot a gun. Teach her to chop down a damn tree. That clump of birch behind the shed can go. Give her a chance to regain her confidence, her self-esteem.”

“You just want us to do your yard work.”

“There's that, too.”

“For your information, I'm taking the girls to see their grandparents in Wisconsin tomorrow morning. Hopefully, the media won't find us there. Once Victoria was back, I guess people decided it was safe to talk about the kidnapping. The phone started ringing thirty minutes after Victoria came home and hasn't stopped. There are TV trucks parked in front of the house right now. I've been directing reporters to the PR guy at the department, but they're not satisfied with that. They want to interview Tory, and I won't let them.”

“I wouldn't, either.”

“The Feds want to debrief Victoria one more time; then we're leaving. In a couple of days maybe the media'll move on to something else and we can get back to normal.”

I didn't think that was likely, but didn't say so. “Did she tell the FBI anything they can use?” I asked.

“Not much. Only two men were with her. She never saw their faces; they always wore masks. She remembers hearing the name T-Man, but no others. The one called T-Man received several calls on his cell phone. Victoria thinks the caller might have been a woman because the T-Man said ‘babe.' You know, McKenzie, she did everything right.”

“I know.”

“The way she looked out for her sister, that took courage. God, I'm proud of her.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“Several times.”

“Tell her again.”

“What makes you think you know anything about raising children?”

“Because I don't have any of my own.”

“I want the bastards who hurt my daughter.”

“I know.”

“Remember what we talked about in the kitchen?”

“I remember.”

Bobby paused for a moment; I heard him sigh. He said, “I want to thank you, McKenzie. For everything.”

“I thought you already did.”

A moment later, he hung up the phone. A funny thing happened when he did. I began to weep. My hands shook, and my body trembled uncontrollably. I couldn't stop. I understood the cause of it. The release of tension and all that. Only it seemed to go on and on, right up until Nina arrived. And then it was smiles the rest of the night and into the morning.