The Hunting Wind: An Alex McKnight Mystery (25 page)

“I’ll have to muddle through despite your opinion of me,” I said. “Is there anything else you want to say to me? Or am I free to go?”

“That’s all you’re gonna do? Just walk out of here? After I dragged you down here like this?”

“I’ve had worse, Chief. Believe me.”

“Nobody’s here, McKnight. Maybe you want to take a swing at me.”

“If you’re going to shoot me,” I said, “you’re gonna have to do it in cold blood. I’m not gonna give you an excuse.”

“Shoot you? My, you do have an active imagination.”

“Sure,” I said. “And that’s why you’re making a point of standing across the room from me, with your hands free.”

I didn’t really think he’d shoot me. I was just trying to rattle him. The day before, I’d been wishing he’d get off his ass and find out what had happened with Randy. Today, I was hoping he’d spend all of his time thinking about me instead. I was on the case, and this was just part of the service.

Perhaps the man
would
have shot me if he’d thought he could have gotten away with it. Or if I
had
given him a good excuse. Or if he’d simply had enough guts to do it.

Hell, maybe he would have worked up the courage to do it, if he had a few more minutes alone with me. He would have shot me and then watched me die on the floor, and my last thought would have been how familiar the feeling was, to be looking up at a ceiling and feeling all of my blood flow out of my body. But one of his part-time men showed up at the door just then, breaking the spell. It was Rocky.

The chief offered me a ride back to my car. I declined.

“It’s two miles,” he said.

“It’s a nice day for a walk,” I said. “It’ll give me the chance to get to know the place a little better. Now that I’m going to be working here.”

A half mile down the road, I heard him behind me. I turned and watched his patrol car. He sped past me without the slightest glance in my direction.

Damn it all, I said to myself. I forgot to compliment the man on his house.

When I got back to the motel in Whitehall, I called Leon.

“I don’t have anything new on this PI, Whitley,” he said. “I’ve called his number a few times, but nobody’s answering.”

“He’s been hanging around in Orcus Beach,” I said.

“A good PI would have an answering service,” he said. “Or he’d automatically forward his calls to his cell phone.”

“I don’t know if Whitley would make the ‘good’ list,” I said. “If he’s working for Harwood, he doesn’t have very good taste in clients. We’ve got reason to believe that he broke into Maria’s house, too.”

“He broke into her house? That’s offensive, Alex. The man is giving private investigation a bad name.”

“I seem to recall the two of us doing the same thing,” I said. ‘Twice, in fact.”

“That was different,” he said. “We were wearing the white hats on both occasions.”

“Whatever you say.”

“So why did he break into her house?” he said. “Did he take anything?”

“No, he probably just went through her mail and whatever else he could find. You know, gathering information.”

“He could have planted a bug,” he said.

“That would explain some things,” I said. “Every time she spots him and calls the police, the guy disappears. I’ll check her phone when I go back over there.”

“Don’t be surprised if you don’t find anything,” he said. “It’s too obvious. The guy would be better off using a couple UHF receivers. They make them to look just like pens, or those little outlet adapters—you know, the kind where you plug it in and you’ve got three outlets instead of one? They put the receiver right in there. That way, you can hear everything that’s going on in the room. All the time, not just on the phone.”

“That’s gotta be against the law, right? I know they can’t prove he broke into her house, but if they catch him sitting there in his car, listening to her?”

“I’ll bet you he’s got a nice metal box in the front seat,” he said. “With a lock. He sees them coming, he just throws it all in there. They can’t open it without a warrant.”

“Leon, how do you know all this stuff?” I said. “Never mind. I’ve seen all the catalogs you get. I’ll look around her house and see if I can find anything.”

“Good man.”

“By the way,” I said, “we’re officially hired.”

“I’ll come down right away.”

“Leon, you have two broken ankles.”

“My wife will drive me.”

“Leon, you’re not coming down here. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

When I hung up, I pictured him sitting in his bed, banging the telephone on his head. I was sure he’d be driving his wife crazy for the next few hours.

I called Whitley’s number next. I got the same monotone recording asking me to leave my name and number. The guy had no future as a telemarketer.

“This is Alex McKnight,” I said. “I’m a private investigator working for Maria Zambelli. We know you’re following her, Whitley. And we know some other things, too. I’d like to meet with you and talk about it. She’s prepared to make your client a very generous offer, so let’s all be adults, eh? No more slinking around like juvenile delinquents. My partner says you’re making us all look bad.” I left my number and hung up.

Almost immediately, the cell phone in my coat pocket rang. I dug it out and hit the button.

“Alex, it’s Maria.”

“Maria, listen very carefully. Don’t say a word. Okay? Just say yes or no, I mean. You got that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, look at your phone, very carefully. Try taking the receiver apart if you can. If it’s one of those old-fashioned models, I mean. With the mouthpiece that comes off. Is it that kind of phone?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, try unscrewing it, see if there’s anything in there besides the transmitter.”

I heard the scraping of the plastic as she unscrewed it. A few moments later, she screwed it back on.

“No,” she said.

“Okay,” I said. “My partner thinks it’s more likely that he put a receiver in the room, anyway. Is there someplace you can go, like a closet?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Say a couple things and then say good-bye. Then go in the closet.”

“That sounds good,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it. Good-bye.”

A minute passed. Then her voice came back in a whisper.

“Do you really think he bugged the place?” she said.

“It’s a good possibility. Why else would he break in?”

“I don’t like this, Alex.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll look around when I get there.”

“Chief Rudiger stopped by,” she said. “What did you do to him?”

“We just had a friendly chat,” I said. “No big deal.”

“He wanted to know why I hired you. I told him I was scared and I wanted you to find Harwood for me. He didn’t seem to like that too much. I don’t think he’s real happy about me living in his house right now.”

“So why even stay?” I said.

“Let’s just finish this, Alex. Then I’ll get out of here.”

“No sign of our man in the Cadillac?”

“No, but it’ll be dark soon. I don’t like being here alone. I want to go out and get some dinner. I don’t suppose you’d want to join me.”

“Go do your usual thing at Rocky’s,” I said. “I don’t think I’d be welcome there. I’m gonna make one more call and then I’ll go out to your house. I mean, if that’s the way you want to do this. . . .”

“Yes,” she said. The woman knew how to whisper a yes. I felt it go right through me. I tried to picture her face.

Bad idea, Alex. Exactly what you don’t need right now.

“I’ll see you at the house,” I said. “Be careful.”

I hung up the phone and sat there for a long moment with her voice buzzing in my head. Then I called the hospital.

“Dr. Havlin, please,” I said. “I’m calling to find out about Randy Wilkins.”

I was on hold for a few minutes. Then the doctor came on the line.

“Mr. McKnight,” he said. “Mr. Wilkins is in recovery.”

“How does it look?”

“I removed the fragment,” he said. “Now we just have to wait. If he’s going to regain consciousness, it should be in the next forty-eight hours.”

I thanked the doctor and hung up.

Forty-eight hours, Randy. If I didn’t have other things to do, I’d go there and wait. I want to be the first person you see when you wake up.

It was dark when I left the motel. You shouldn’t have let it get so late, I thought. You should be at her house now.

Relax. She’s not even there. She’s at the bar, having dinner.

The cell phone rang. I picked it up and hit the button.

“Alex,” she said. “Where are you?” Her voice was low again.

“I’m on my way.”

“He’s here.”

“He’s where?” I said. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home,” she said. “It was just too weird being at Rocky’s. The way he was looking at me when he found out about me hiring you.”

“Are you in the closet again?” I gunned the accelerator. I was still a good twelve miles from Orcus Beach.

“Yes,” she said. “I just went upstairs and looked out the window at him. I used the binoculars this time. He turned the light on in his car for a second. I could see he was wearing earphones.”

“Okay, just relax,” I said. “I’m on my way.”

“He looked kind of big, Alex. And ugly.”

“Just sit tight,” I said. “I’ll be there soon.”

“What if he comes to the house again? What if he breaks in here?”

“He won’t,” I said. “He knows you’re there.”

“Maybe he
wants
me to be here this time,” she said. “Alex, I’m scared.”

The signal wavered. Goddamned stupid piece of crap. “Maria, are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“Do you want to call the police? If you do it from the closet, he won’t hear you. They’ll be able to catch him this time.”

“I thought they can’t do anything to him. You said that yourself.”

“They can put him through the wringer,” I said. “But ultimately, no, they probably can’t charge him. My partner thinks he probably has a lockbox in his car to hide everything.”

“Even if they could,” she said, “we still couldn’t find Harwood.”

“Probably not.”

“Unless you think there’s a way,” she said.

“There may be,” I said. “I could talk to him. I could ask him real nice.”

“I probably don’t want to know what ‘real nice’ means.”

The signal went out, came back, went out.

“Maria?”

“I’m still here.”

“Which way is his car facing?”

“It’s facing . . . south, I think. I’m terrible with directions, Alex. If you’re coming up the street to my house, he’s facing so that he’ll see you coming.”

“That figures,” I said. “All right, just make sure the doors are locked. I’m gonna try something here.” I had just left M-31 and was racing up B-15 along the shoreline. I caught up to a station wagon pulling a boat on a trailer. The driver was taking it nice and slow, so I blew by him.

“I’m gonna go back to the window and take a look,” she said. “I’ll keep talking like nothing is happening. In fact—”

“What? What is it?”

“I’m going to keep him occupied, Alex.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m gonna make sure he keeps listening.”

I heard a door open. Moments passed. “Is that you?” she said. Her voice was normal now.

“Maria, what are you doing?”

“I’ve been thinking about you,” she said. “I know we haven’t spent much time together yet. But I can’t help wondering.”

I didn’t say anything. I let her talk. The road curved suddenly. Two wheels slipped over into the sand. I touched the brakes, swerved hard to the right, and then snapped it back to the left.

“Can I make a confession?” she said. “I was thinking about you while I was taking a bath today. Which reminds me of a story. Do you want to hear it? It happened when I was a lot younger.”

I was pushing eighty miles an hour now. Two lanes running along the edge of the world, water on one side, pine trees racing by in a blur on the other side.

“When I was eighteen years old, my whole family came out here to the lake for the summer. The water was always so cold, even in the middle of July, but at night it didn’t seem so cold. It felt warmer than the air. So some nights when everybody else had gone to bed, I would sneak out onto the beach in just my bathrobe. If I was brave enough and I was sure nobody was around, I’d take my robe off and jump into the water.”

I kept driving.

“One night, after I had been swimming for a little while, I got out and ran back to where I had left my robe. But it wasn’t there.”

There was a long pause.

“Maria?”

Nothing.

I looked at the phone. The signal was gone.

“Oh no, you worthless piece of shit.” I picked it up and shook it, as if that would really make it start working again. “Come on, don’t do this now.”

I tried calling her number, but it wouldn’t send. The stupid little display kept saying the same thing:
LOOKING FOR SERVICE
.

“I’ll give you service,” I said. I was about to smash it against the dashboard, then stopped myself and tossed it onto the passenger’s seat.

I concentrated on driving the truck, on getting there as quickly as I could. I saw the sign welcoming me to Orcus Beach, passed Rocky’s place, turned left at the comer, gunned it down the access road, across the little bridge to Maria’s street.

I didn’t turn. I stopped the truck at the boat launch and got out. The sudden quiet was unnerving. Just the thin sound of the waves lapping and the lingering hum of the road in my whole body.

Okay, Alex. Let’s be smart. If you walk down the road, he’s gonna see you. It’s a dead end, so there’s no way to come from behind. Unless . . .

The beach.

I stepped down over the boat launch onto the sand and rocks. It was rough going, especially in the dark. The only light came from a half-moon hidden behind clouds and the even dimmer light from the houses along the shore.

I made my way north, behind the line of houses. I knew Maria’s was almost at the very end. The next to last, if I remembered right. I had to go all the way down, at least a half mile.

I thought of Maria on the beach. In her bathrobe.