The Carrier (21 page)

“
We investigated a break-in
a few nights ago. Now it appears that the burglar was stupid enough
to order a pizza after he robbed the place. Sort of add insult to
injury.”

“
Oh—okay. What—we would have
no way of knowing if there—you know—”

“
Relax, you’re not in any
trouble. I’d just like to see if you keep a record of the
orders.”

“
We—yeah. How long ago was
this?”

“
Within the past week. We
expect the burglar knew the victim would be out of town for an
extended stay. The name used was Marcus and the address was 1704
Kelvin. Do you have a record of that?”

“
I should be able to find
that. Please hold just a moment. Won’t take long.”

The kid was into it now—like he was
busting the bad guys himself.

“
I really appreciate
it.”

He came back inside a
minute.

“
Monday night, Marcus to
1704 Kelvin.”

“
Is there a phone number
attached to that?”

“
Yes, sir. Yes, there
is.”

When Duane called Marcus’s
phone he got a message—
you have reached
Marcus Koneke. I’m not here now.

Marcus Koneke? Duane called
information to get an address: 1704 Kelvin 2E. Marcus lived just
upstairs.

CHAPTER 40

Duane knocked on the door. There was
no answer, so he picked the lock and walked inside. All these locks
were an absolute joke. The whole complex was one of the shoddiest
Duane had ever seen. Whoever had put these buildings up had cut all
kinds of corners. As soon as he turned on the lights in the
apartment, he was sure he had the right man. The pictures on the
wall were of a big, blond lunk with a short Black girl. Marcus
usually held the girl from behind while she put on a fake smile.
Sorry, man, she’s not in it for the long haul.

Duane got to work quickly. Unlike at
Danny’s place, here someone was likely to come home at any moment.
The living room was messy with papers littering the table and
clothes hanging to dry from a rack. The bedroom was a little
neater. The gold wasn’t in the apartment. He found a phone bill and
a few other documents, which told him the girl’s name was Saida
Brown. She called a few places in the 718 area code with some
regularity. She was taking some college courses in what looked like
a really pointless subject, and she liked to read novels about
women with SUVs and lots of jewelry. There was only one toothbrush
in the bathroom.

So there was nothing to do but wait.
Duane watched the news. Maybe there would be something useful, but
dead people in the Midwest were not likely to make the news in
Massachusetts. Finally, he heard heavy footsteps approaching. He
shut off the TV and walked behind the kitchen counter, taking out
his gun—Tony’s gun. Marcus entered the apartment and sank,
exhausted into the couch.

“
Where’s the
gold?”

Marcus popped up on his
feet. He was a very big guy.
So
what?

“
What are you talking about?
Who are you?” Marcus said. He was not a man who could fake
innocence very well. Duane held up the gun, not too rough
yet.

“
Sit down,” he
said.

Marcus sat back down on the couch. It
was covered in plastic. Duane guessed that was Saida’s
idea.

“
Just give me clear and
honest answers. That’s in your best interest. Where is the
gold?”

Marcus’s eyes gave a single flicker of
deceit, but it died quickly.

“
It’s gone,” he said
quietly.

“
Where did it
go?”

“
It’s just gone.”

“
Okay, who took it? You got
it in your car and drove it back here from Iowa. Then
what?”

Marcus said nothing.

“
You stashed it somewhere.
So you have to tell me where. Otherwise I’ll start to hurt
you.”

“
I lost it.”

“
Where did you lose
it?”

“
I just lost it.”

Duane believed him, but that wasn’t
good news for Marcus.

“
Your girl took
it?”

“
She—no. No, she
didn’t.”

Well, Marcus had a touch of deception
left in him after all.

“
What’s her name, and where
did she go?”

“
I don’t know. I’ve got some
of it.”

“
Some of what?”

“
Some of the
gold.”

Marcus reached into his
pocket.

“
Slow, you do it very
slow.”

Marcus took out a brick of gold and
tossed it on the ground toward Duane.

“
Did I tell you to throw
anything at me?” Duane asked.

“
I’m sorry.”

Duane picked up the brick. Things were
looking a little brighter. This was worth something like thirty
thousand dollars. Duane put it in the deep inner pocket of his
jacket.

“
Now. The girl,” he
said.

“
Her name is—Esther Jones.
And she left with the rest of it.”

Jesus, this guy was stupid.

“
Esther Jones? Where’d she
go, Marcus?”

“
I don’t know. I honestly
don’t.”

“
Where’s she from,
Marcus?”

“
California. Maybe she went
back there.”

“
Why’d she leave you,
Marcus?”

“
Had enough of me. And then
she just took the gold and left.”

“
Okay, this is really your
last chance to help yourself out. First of all, remember, she took
the money. She fucked you over. You don’t need to protect her. Now,
give me the address of her family.”

“
I don’t know the family
address—out in California. She’s got a sister named
Wendy.”

“
What does Esther Jones look
like?”

“
She’s a tall, blond
girl.”

“
Not a short, Black
girl?”

Marcus was all out of ideas. He turned
around and looked at the wall and the pictures of him with Saida.
Duane got him hard in the knee with his metal baton. Marcus toppled
forward onto the ground. He looked ready to throw up from the
pain.

“
Where is Saida Brown? Where
would she go?”

“
Look. All right. Hold
on.”

Marcus was scared and in pain, but
Duane knew he had to look out for the whole wounded bear act. He
really didn’t want to have to deal with a charge from this
animal.

“
Okay, you see her in the
picture. So that’s what she looks like,” Marcus said.

“
Where’s she from. Do not
lie?”

“
She’s from New York—New
York City.”

“
Not California?”

“
No.”

This was progress. It felt like the
truth. But it wasn’t too much of a betrayal to admit that Saida was
from a city of eight and a half million people.

“
You have an address for her
family back in New York?”

“
An address?”

“
Yes, is there
a—”

Marcus made a leap for Duane. It was
an awkward, desperate thing, not the massive charge that Duane
feared. Marcus stayed low and seemed to be going for Duane’s legs.
But Duane took a step back and kicked him in the face. Were they
making too much noise? He would be able to slip out the window—gone
the back way if cops came in the front. There was only one window
in the apartment. That couldn’t be legal. There were so many code
violations in this place—it was just wrong whoever let it happen.
He hoped they weren’t paying too much rent.

Now Marcus was crying.

“
Kill me, now. I don’t
care,” he said.

“
I’m not going to kill
you—now. Tell me where she is, and I’ll let you live.”

The offer didn’t make any sense, but
it was surprising how often it was a useful thing to say. Marcus
made an inarticulate sound—there’s nothing worse than a big man
sobbing.

“
What did you
say?”

“
I said—she left me.” Marcus
got himself back under control. “She never loved me.”

“
Then why don’t you want me
to find her?”

“
Jesus. I don’t know. I love
her.”

That was the truth. He loved the girl
that had betrayed him. There were ways to turn this
crank.

“
If I don’t get the money
back, I’m going to kill you. You do get that?” Duane
said.

“
Yeah. That’s why I told you
to kill me.”

Duane had seen this bluff before.
There were people in the world who wanted themselves dead—that’s
pretty obvious. But no one liked getting kicked in the face over
and over.

“
Put your hands behind your
back,” Duane said, pulling out his duct tape. It was probably a
good idea to get Marcus under control before he needed to do
anything really difficult, and Duane was willing to bet that the
fight was out of the big man, at least temporarily. For now he was
all about self-pity and martyrdom. Marcus hesitated, but he put his
hands behind his back. Duane wrapped the tape around Marcus’s
wrists quickly. He came to the end of the roll sooner than he
wanted, but it was enough for the time being. He took out the baton
again.

“
Tell me where to find her.
Tell me anything you can think of that would make it easier for me
to find her. Just start talking. If you don’t, it’s going to
hurt.”

Marcus let out a scream, higher
pitched than you’d expect, almost like a woman. Duane hit Marcus
over the head with the pipe and stuffed a sock—a lady’s sock—in
Marcus’s mouth. Then he secured it in place with a pair of
pantyhose that he tied behind Marcus’s head. Marcus didn’t move for
about a minute, but he was breathing.

“
Sit up.”

Marcus slowly worked himself upright,
and Duane held out a pencil and a takeout Chinese menu.

“
Write down her address in
New York.”

Marcus looked up confused; his arms
were taped behind his back. Duane felt stupid and gave defenseless
Marcus two more shots to the knees.

“
Okay, now bring your arms
under your body to the front.”

It was some ugly gymnastics, but
Marcus managed to get his taped hands in front of him.

“
Do you know how to write?”
Duane asked.

Marcus nodded.

“
Good. You look stupid, so I
asked. You need to tell me where Saida went.”

Marcus started to write,
slowly, holding the pencil in a hand that was bound at the wrist.
The note looked like what a first grader would write under a
picture of a rainbow, except it said
NoNoNo.

The hardest case Duane had ever had
was a Peruvian woman who just spat in his face through the whole
thing. She spat right through a mouth full of duct tape. He hadn’t
gotten anything out of her. It hadn’t ended well.

“
NoNoNo? Do you want me to
kill you? What about Saida? What should I do to her?”

Marcus, again with great
difficulty, started to write. He wrote carefully for nearly two
minutes. He seemed to think it was very important:
You are going to hell.

“
Yeah, maybe.”

Duane didn’t have this guy
pegged for a tough nut, but you never really knew. People liked to
say the biggest guys were always the biggest pussies, but that
wasn’t an absolute rule. He honestly didn’t know what to do. Was he
going to improvise some serious pain on Marcus? Small knives on
teeth and nipples? He just didn’t feel up to that, and it wasn’t
clear there was any more to learn. Duane felt pretty certain that
the money was with the girl, and the girl hadn’t told her boyfriend
where she was going. Top would tell him he had to be thorough, but
you know what
,
fuck
that
guy. Duane clubbed Marcus savagely on the side of the head
until the big man stopped moving.

Maybe it was time to leave. He didn’t
have to kill Marcus—did he? For what reason? He could just leave
and do his own research on Saida Brown. And then this sad bear
would call her up and warn her—even though she was the one who
screwed him over. Or maybe he’d call police and spill the whole
thing. You never knew with a guy like this. He had to get rid of
Marcus.

Duane hated a mess, but at least he
didn’t have to clean it up. One quick pop, and then take off. He’d
be long gone by the time the cops arrived. But maybe it would be a
better idea to strangle the guy—quieter. No, that was a bad idea.
Don’t enter into a contest of strength with a polar bear. Even if
the polar bear is unconscious and has given up on life, it’s not
going to be easy.

As he was making up his mind he heard
a sound from behind him—low and careful. A female voice.

CHAPTER 41

“
Put down the gun. I will
shoot you if you don’t.”

It took Duane two seconds to place the
voice, and then he put down his gun.