Ragged Man (20 page)

“
Then why does he want the tapes?”

“
Maybe he likes Led Zeppelin.”

“
Not a chance. The only thing he ever liked about the music business was the money it made him.”

“
There is something wrong with money?” the big man asked.

“
There is if you make it on the backs of genuine collectors and fans who love the music for what it is.”

“
So what you’re saying is, it’s okay for you to make money on bootlegs, because you’re a genuine fan and collector, but not okay for Gordon, because he only cares for the money.”

“
Exactly, every bootleg I ever made—”

“
I thought you didn’t make bootlegs,” the big man interrupted.

“
I don’t. I might have. I mean I don’t anymore.”

“
Like Gordon doesn’t anymore?”

“
That’s not what I mean.”

“
What you mean is, you want my tapes to make bootlegs.”

“
What if I do?” Tom hated himself for being caught in his lie so easily.

“
Then I think you’d better plan on paying a little more money.”

“
I didn’t bring anymore with me.”

“
Are you going to bootleg them?”

“
I think you already wormed that out of me.”

“
In that case, I think we need a few moments of private conversation.”

“
Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of my wife.”

“
Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure she can be trusted and I don’t mind if you tell her everything you and I talk about, but when discussing something of this nature, I prefer it to be on a one to one basis. That way if things should go sour in the future, it’s my word against yours, not yours and your wife’s. Do you understand?”

“
Not really.”

“
It’s okay, Tom. I left my purse in the car anyway,” Sylvia said. Then turning to the big man she asked, “Ten minutes be enough for you, Mr. Storm?”

“
More than enough.”

Turning on her heels, Sylvia walked down the corridor, slapping the circular supporting columns as she passed them. The slaps echoed like gunfire down the empty corridor, each sound less loud than the one before.

Tom stole a quick glance to the big man standing next to him and felt a pang of jealousy when he saw those steel eyes glued to his wife’s backside. Dirty old man, he thought, but then who wouldn’t steal a look at Sylvia if given half a chance.

“
If she’s half as sharp as she looks, you are a lucky man.”

“
She’s working on her Ph.D. in French Lit.”

“
Nice.”

“
She hates Led Zeppelin.”

“
Too bad,” the big man said. Then without warning, he shoved Tom in the chest, slamming him into one of the columns that supported the covered corridor. Then Storm grabbed him by the neck and rapped his head against the column, stunning him. In seconds he had Tom’s hands behind his back, arms around the column, hands handcuffed together.

Tom started to yell and the big man hit him in the stomach, winding him. Gasping for air, Tom’s eyes bugged out and he barely saw Storm remove a roll of gray duct tape from a coat pocket. The big man grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up until Tom was standing erect. Then he covered his mouth and started winding the tape, affixing his head to the column.

“
If you could only see yourself,” Storm said.

Tom moaned.

“
Yeah, tell me about it.”

Tom’s eyes widened.

* * *

“
Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t make you a bootlegger. You must have known that someday, someway, you’d have to pay for your crimes.” Saying it made it sound just, but Storm knew it wasn’t so. Since seeing Gordon in Tampico he had changed. Once a man who lived by the rules, he had turned into a man who lived by the gun. He’d become an old west sheriff bent on vengeance. Part of him reveled in the new Sam Storm, and part of him was repulsed, but he had gone too far to turn back now.

The new Sam Storm wanted the woman. He wanted her on the ground in front of her helpless husband. He wanted to feel the husband’s fear and anguish as he saw his wife raped, then tortured. He wanted to taste her blood, smell her fear, swallow her terror, but alas it couldn’t be, he was going to have to follow her out to the parking lot and do her there, after he finished with hubby. He had to kill the bootlegger and his wife and be gone, before they were discovered by a happy collector, looking for a safe place to do a line or smoke a joint.

As his helpless victim watched, Storm removed an ice pick from his coat pocket. Then he took a CD out of his shirt pocket. Tom started to squirm, fighting against the handcuffs as Storm inserted the point of the ice pick through the hole in the center of the CD.

“
Live on Blueberry Hill,” Storm said, indicating the CD.

* * *

It wasn’t fair, Tom thought, he was going to be killed and his favorite Zeppelin concert, the first Zeppelin bootleg, was going to be part of the murder weapon. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

He felt a slight discomfort as the man inserted the ice pick into his left nostril, holding it with thumb and index finger below the shaft. Then he felt a brief stab of pain, when the man used the palm of his right hand to slam it into his brain. Then the lights went out for Tom Donovan.

Chapter Twelve

“
It’s not going to be the same up here by myself.” Rick Gordon hefted Judy Donovan’s suitcase into the trunk of her old Dodge. He meant what he’d said, the thought of being alone on the hill suddenly chilled him.

She stuck out her lower lip and blew the hair up from her eyes, but it fell right back, so she pushed it back with her hand. “I know,” she said, “except for spending last Christmas with Christina and the twins, I haven’t been out of this town for the last eighteen months.”

“
How’s your arm?” He stood by the trunk, but he didn’t close it. It was almost like she couldn’t leave as long as he held it open. There was something about her he was going to miss. She was different. Or maybe she wasn’t, maybe she was the same, maybe he’d just never noticed before, but he was noticing now, and her leaving, even though it was for only a short time, tugged at him.

“
Fine,” she said. “Hey, you wanna autograph my cast?”

“
Sure.”

She took a pen out of her purse, “Write away.” She offered the pen to him. She was trembling, just a little. He saw it in the slight shaking of the pen in her hand. He took the pen, feeling a slight tremor himself as he touched the writing instrument, then it was gone.

He reached out with his left hand, to steady the cast, and the tremor was back, the instant he touched her. Sort of a pleasant jolt of awareness, like he’d just woken from a good dream and he knew it was going to be a great day. Then the pen started to move in his hand, almost as if it had a life of its own.

“
Friends forever. Longer than life,” he said as he wrote, surprising himself.

“
It’s nice,” she said, “but you didn’t sign it.”

“
You know who it’s from.”

“
But I’m not quite sure what it means.”

“
Neither am I,” he said and they both laughed, but he sensed she was tingling inside, as was he.

Then she said, “You’re sure you don’t mind watching the birds? They can be a lot of trouble.” And the spell was broken. The tingling stopped, but he still felt the aftermath, a pleasant feeling as he handed her back the pen.

“
Not for me. I’ll enjoy every minute of it.” Then he picked up the second suitcase. “What do you have in here, lead?”

“
Spent the day at Miles of Books. I intend to do a lot of reading while I’m laying on that beach.”

“
Does Miles have anything left?”

“
Nope, bought him out,” she kidded. “Good thing too, because he’s getting married, so he can probably use the money.”

“
Really, I thought he was a confirmed bachelor. Who’s the unlucky woman?” He wasn’t being flip. He thought Miles was sort of a dandy, the kind of man that would be more at home in upper crust London than small town Tampico. A stuck up snob, who acted like he was a cut above everybody else. He read a lot, knew a lot, and didn’t mind letting you know it. Rick didn’t like him very much, but it never stopped him from going into his store. It was the only bookstore in town and he liked to read.

“
Sarah Sadler, she teaches at RFK elementary.”

“
That proves it, there’s somebody for everybody,” he said, hand on the trunk, resisting, not wanting to close it. He bit his lip and curled his toes in his shoes, trying to take his mind off these new feelings shooting up and down his spine. The tingling was back and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

“
If that’s true, then there must be somebody for me.” She moved around to the driver’s side of the car, opened the door, but didn’t get in. She just stood there, hand on the door, like he had his hand on the trunk.

“
All of us, there’s somebody for all of us,” he said, thinking how stupid they probably looked, staring at each other like two teenagers. All of a sudden he felt awkward with her. Awkward like when he asked Ann out that first time so many years ago. He shuddered and closed the trunk.

She answered him with a smile. Then she slipped into the front seat, gently closing the door after herself. “See you in two weeks.” Then as an afterthought she added, “Is there anything you want me to bring back?”

“
Only a suntan,” he said.

She started the car and drove off, giving him a last wave, just before she made the first turn on the winding road down the hill.

He went over to his place, sat on the porch steps and watched the sun fade behind the pines. She was right in sending J.P. off to be with his father for awhile. As much as he missed him, he wasn’t his father. The boy needed to spend time with Tom. And she was also right in taking two weeks to herself. Two weeks on the beach in Waikiki would do her good.

She needed to get her mind off of her problems and live a little. But he was going to miss her and it tugged at him. He was in love with Christina. At least he thought he was. He loved the twins, he knew that.

But Judy was only a few minutes gone and already he missed her. However, he was glad both she and J.P. were going to be out of town for awhile. Something was going on that wasn’t right. If there was a wild dog on the prowl, then it was good they weren’t going to be up here. And if it was something else, then it was also good that they were gone. If J.P. really had stuck three or four slugs into it, it was wounded and dangerous. If it was a dog? He wondered what else it could be.

His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing inside. He pushed himself up from the steps and went to answer it. He knew it was bad news the second his hand touched the phone. The tears were coming from far away and he felt them as soon as he cradled the instrument to his ear.

“
Hello.”

“
Is that you Ricky?” he almost didn’t recognize her golden voice. She was crying and she was the kind of person he couldn’t imagine ever crying. Unless it was bad.

“
It’s me, Susan,” he said.

“
Danny’s dead, Ricky. Somebody killed him on the river. I should have gone. I should have. But he said he needed time for himself. He lied, Ricky. He was with someone else, but I don’t care, I just want him back. I can never ever see him again. We can never sing together again. It’s all over.”

“
I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. Can I do anything? Do you have anyone?”

“
I’m at my mother’s. I’ll be okay. I just wanted you to know.”

“
I’ll get a flight out today,” he said.

“
No, Ricky. That’s not a good idea. I think you should go away for a while. Warn Tom and Christina. I have a bad feeling.”

“
What are you talking about?” His hand tensed on the phone and he had a queasy feeling in his stomach.

“
Evan was murdered two days before Danny.”

“
Oh, no.” He sighed, sitting down.

“
It was the same man,” she said.

“
That’s not possible,” Rick said. “It has to be some kind of awful coincidence.”

“
They both had their heads cut off,” she said. “Sherry’s dead, too. I’m not even gonna stay for the funeral. I loved him, but I’m going to our place in Mexico till they catch whoever did it and lock him away for good.”

“
I don’t know what to say. I’m just so sorry.”

“
They think you did it,” she said. “The police found Evan’s records. They know all about you guys and the boots. They think you’re into more than the records. They think you’re into organized crime, you know, like the Mafia. They know you were in New York. They think you left there after you killed Evan and came here and killed Danny.”

“
That’s absurd,” he said, but his hands were shaking. He could see how they’d think that. Bootlegs were against the law and they had been pretty organized. It had always been one of his fears, that the police would jump to a conclusion like that. But this was so much more. How could anyone think they’d harm each other. They were all friends. He could no more raise a hand against Tom or Evan than he could against J.P.