The Good Die Twice (12 page)

“You know better than that, Simon. Einstein
is pickier than a prom queen at a homecoming dance.” Dagger leaned
over and whispered to Einstein, “Say you’re sorry.”

Einstein held his foot up and waved the stick
like a peace flag. They all laughed.

Dagger shooed Einstein to his room. “What
have you found out, Simon?”

“You’re gonna love this.”

Dagger explained to Sara, “I asked Simon to
put out a few feelers about Rachel and Robert Tyler. Simon knows
more people in town than anyone else.”

“Yeah, and I charge triple-time on Sundays.”
He leaned his hefty body against the desk. “Well, at first I heard
all about the pretty model swept off her feet by a millionaire
widower. He flooded her hotel rooms with yellow roses whenever she
was on a shoot. They were featured in every tabloid paper you can
think of. She had dated the Prince of Belgium or something, went to
the Oscars with some heart-throb actor. But when it all came down
to it, Robert Tyler was the one who captured her heart. It was a
picture perfect couple.”

Dagger sat on the arm of the leather sofa,
arms crossed. “Why do I hear a BUT coming?”

Sara added, “I have to say it sounds too good
to be true.”

A rolling thunder of laughter started deep in
Simon’s chest. “Oh, I guess you can say that. The down and dirty
word from the streets is—Rachel and Eric Tyler were knockin’ boots
two days before her wedding day.”

CHAPTER 19

“Eric Tyler?” Dagger laughed.

Sara’s dark eyebrows scrunched over in
thought. Puzzled, she turned to Dagger and said, “Knocking
boots?”

The two men chuckled. Dagger explained to
Sara Simon’s delicate terminology for sex.

Sara blushed. “Two days before her wedding?
What happened to the sweet, flawless model? I thought she loved
Robert?”

“That’s the flaw I was telling you about.”
Dagger asked Simon, “What’s the word on the street? Did she marry
the old man for his money?”

“She was always seen wearing designer clothes
and jewelry and driving expensive sports cars before her marriage,”
Simon replied. “So it’s hard to confirm if she was after his money.
Most agree she liked to live in the manner to which she had been
accustomed.”

Worm rubbed his eyes. He had been searching
the Internet for any information on Rachel Tyler. There were still
fan clubs out there holding out hope that Rachel was still alive.
Several close-up shots of Rachel filled the screen. She had the
longest lashes Worm had ever seen, and the mole below her right eye
seemed to be her trademark. He could picture her being a high
school prom queen, maybe the princess of a European monarchy,
probably the secret love of every serviceman whose locker was
plastered with pin-ups. Worm printed out the pictures.

No matter how beautiful he thought Sara was,
no matter how unique her exotic features, Rachel was even more
beautiful. She was tall and willowy, with long, corn-silk hair. Her
eyes were the color of jewels, and her lips heart-shaped, pouty.
Despite all of her country girl charm and prom queen sweetness, she
had a certain look in her eye and a slight parting of her lips in
the perfume ads that screamed out sultry, sexy. And her eyes
smoldered with every dirty little thought reserved only for a girl
from the wrong side of the tracks. Yet she wasn’t. She could be all
things to all men. And she had touched Worm where no woman had ever
touched him before. He had to find out everything he could about
her.

He let the phone ring, regarding it as a
pain-in-the-ass interruption. But soon relented and was immediately
sorry he picked it up.

“Sheila, you told me to find out everything I
could on Sara.”

Worm’s modest apartment was just off Taft
Avenue, above a flower shop owned by his uncle. Furnishings were a
mixture of hand-me-downs from his mother and aunts. Friends had
joked that his décor was early flea market. Worm moved the phone to
his other ear and separated his notes on Rachel.

“So? What did you find out?” Sheila
demanded.

“I’m still working on it. Since Sara was
home-schooled, there are no high school records. Her parents died
when she was six. Just let me work on this at my own pace. It isn’t
easy trying to trace someone who uses an alias.”

“Alias? Maybe she’s a fugitive.”

Worm could hear Sheila sucking on a
cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a huff.

“Not a fugitive, Sheila. But Native Americans
have a given name. You know, like Little Foot or Big Bear. I did
find out her grandmother’s name so I’ll have a place to start.”

“When are you going to see her again?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Are you coming back to the office?”

Worm pulled his glasses off and rubbed his
eyes. He signed off AOL and accessed his word processing program.
“Have too many leads to follow, Sheila. I’m sure Linda can get your
coffee. Gotta go.” Worm hung up and smiled. He opened a new
document. At the top of the page he typed:

RACHEL TYLER

The Death of America’s Sweetheart

CHAPTER 20

Dagger drove up the long driveway to the
house, the wind riffling through his long hair, the beam from the
motorcycle’s headlamp bathing the tree-lined road in a spray of
light. Sara hadn’t answered the intercom from the front gate so she
was either in the shower or not at home. He didn’t like the fact
that the gate had been left open.

He drove into the garage, noticing briefly
how bright Einstein’s aviary was. The timer on the fluorescent
bulbs should have decreased the light in the room. Right now, the
lights should be completely off except for a nightlight. It was
close to midnight and way past Einstein’s bedtime.

Maybe Einstein was sick and Sara was with
him, that’s why she couldn’t answer the intercom. But if that were
true, why was his skin tingling? Why did it feel as if the hairs on
his arms were standing on end?

The garage door closed as he made his way up
the sidewalk. From the outside, everything looked in order. The
electric blinds on the windows were closed. Everything was quiet.
But something didn’t feel right. Slowly, he pulled his gun from his
ankle holster and opened the kitchen door.

Lingering odors from the shrimp and steak
Dagger had grilled earlier hung in the air. A coffeecake was
sitting on a rack on the counter. Dagger touched the cake. It was
cool. He listened for music, the running of shower water. Nothing.
What bothered him most was that he didn’t hear Einstein.

He kicked into mercenary mode. Clicking off
the safety on his Phoenix Raven .25 semi-automatic pistol, Dagger
pressed his back to the wall and slowly made his way to the living
room. A man sat at his desk going through the drawers.

“Hold it right there.” Dagger leveled his
sight on the man. “Hands up and back away from the desk.”

The pudgy-faced man at the desk regarded him
briefly, then went back to his work.

“Are you deaf?” Dagger yelled.

From behind him, a voice said, “You
first.”

Dagger felt a searing pain across the back of
his head. Then everything went dark.

The gray hawk circled the Tyler mansion one
last time, passing the East Wing where Edie was arguing with the
nanny on why Eric Jr. shouldn’t be taken out of his bed when he
cries at night. Robert Tyler was reading at his desk, steam
drifting up from a cup next to the phone.

The hawk landed on the railing outside Nick
Tyler’s room. The air was cool, a welcome change from the humid
temperature during the day. From a side window which was cranked
open, residuals of a strong floral odor could be detected by the
hawk’s keen scent. It bowed its head, one eye scanning the dark
recesses of the room looking for movement. Nick wasn’t home. There
were no signs of the three men who had met with someone in this
house a couple days ago.

Satisfied that everything was secure, the
hawk opened its wings and glided off the balcony. Its wing beats
were long and powerful, and in a matter of a few minutes, the
reservation was within view. Flying over the skylights, the hawk
noticed the lights on in the aviary, saw several figures in the
living room and heard voices, loud and threatening. It sensed
danger, smelled blood, heard sounds of distress.

Landing outside the opened second floor
balcony door, the hawk changed shape and Sara stepped nude from the
balcony and into her bedroom. She dressed quickly, opened her
dresser drawer, and felt for her Sig P-245 compact pistol. The
voices grew louder and she heard books clattering to the floor.
Stealing a glance outside her bedroom door, past the catwalk and
down into the living room, she saw Dagger. His hands were tied and
the rope looped around the catwalk railing. He was suspended like
some calf prepared for slaughter. Blood was trickling down the
front of his tee shirt.

Sara recognized the men. The balding man with
the cratered face and the thin, beady-eyed lech were the ones who
had killed Rachel. The third man, the one the size of a football
player, had been at the Tyler mansion the day of Nick’s party. The
brute now loomed over Dagger.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, where is
the earring?”

“Go to hell.”

The football player jammed his fist into
Dagger’s stomach producing a painful groan.

Sara wanted to flee, to shift back into the
hawk where she could escape danger. But the cold, solid feel of the
gun in her hand gave her a sense of security. And Dagger was in
danger.

Sara saw Einstein fly over to a perch by the
birdbath. “WHERE’S THE EARRING. AWK.”

“Einstein,” Dagger yelled. “Shut up!”

The football player shifted his attention to
the macaw. “What’s your name, bird?”

“AWWWKK, EINSTEIN’S THE NAME, BRAINS IS MY
GAME. AWK.” Einstein paced nervously, tap dancing on his perch, his
head weaving and bobbing.

The man laughed. “Is that so? Well, why don’t
you tell us where the earring is?”

“IN THE BOX. AWK.”

“Einstein, I told you to shut up!” Dagger
moaned.

The large mass of muscles glanced quickly
around the room and immediately spotted the box on the table. He
lifted the lid, then smiled. “Well, what do you know? That parrot
is an Einstein.”

“You know,” the balding man said, “that damn
bird’s worth at least five thousand dollars. It’s a scarlet macaw.
Might even be an endangered species.” He made a move toward
Einstein.

Sara stepped onto the stairway. “I wouldn’t
touch him if I were you.” She pointed the gun at the big man
closest to Dagger, the one who seemed to be in charge.

The big man barked, “I thought you checked
the upstairs rooms.”

“I did.”

“Obviously not good enough.”

Sara placed both hands on the gun. “I just
learned how to use this so please forgive me if I miss an arm or a
leg and accidentally hit your head, heart, or other vital parts of
the anatomy.” Smiling sweetly, she slowly moved the gun to the man
holding the earring.

The football player chuckled. “Well, well.
Aren’t you a fine looking piece of ass.” Turning to the thin man he
said, “Go get that bitch.”

Sara’s steady arm fanned the gun over to a
new target—the rope tied around Dagger’s hands. To Sara’s enhanced
eyesight, the target was no farther than a foot from her. She fired
once, cutting the rope and sending Dagger sprawling to the floor.
She called out his name as she threw him her gun.

The men watched in amazement as Sara swung
herself over the railing and twenty feet down to the living room
floor with the agility of the wolf.

“Hey!” The bald man let out a cry as a bullet
tore through his shoulder and embedded in the door to Dagger’s
bedroom. That left it two against two.

The thinner man leered as he circled Sara,
looking for the right opportunity to get in a good hit. Sara had a
feeling he had more than murder and mayhem on his mind. There was a
glint in his eyes, a scent of sweat, musk, a man in heat. And all
it did was motivate her, anger her at how they had torn her house
apart, how they had hurt Dagger.

He made a dive for her and came up with a
handful of thick hair. Sara drove a knee into his groin, turned and
high kicked her foot, planting it on the side of his head and
sending him sprawling over the sofa and onto the coffee table.

When the intruders made a run for it, Sara
started to take off after them. But Dagger grabbed his stomach and
doubled over.

“Dagger, are you okay?” She turned quickly
and helped him to the love seat.

“I’m fine. You have to follow them, Sara.
Find out where they are staying.”

“But you should see a doctor.”

“Go now,” Dagger ordered, wiping his mouth
with the back of his hand.

“AWK, GETTING AWAY, GETTING AWAY.” Einstein
squawked.

With rapid wing beats, the gray hawk kept
pace with the car carrying the three men. This part of town was
void of streetlights but it wasn’t too dark for the hawk to
see.

They are heading in the direction of
downtown
, Sara reported.

Startled, Dagger practically fell off the
couch.
Jezzus, Sara, can you give me a little warning? It
sounded as if you were right behind me.

I’m sorry. It’s not like I can ring a
doorbell
.

Neon lights bathed the street below in
psychedelic colors. The car had entered Interstate 65 and was
headed north. The hawk focused on the car and tried not to be
distracted by the lit billboards.

They are making a phone call. I can hear
the dialing
.

“Yeah, I’m here,” she heard a deep voice
say.

It sounds like the man who was beating on
you. He isn’t saying whom he’s talking to. He’s only reporting that
he has the earring.

When are they going to hand it over?

All he mentioned was meeting someone
tomorrow
.