The Scent of Murder (19 page)

“You better get going,” Tim said, as the hands of the clock on the wall hit ten.

I nodded. “You have the key to my house?” He demonstrated he did by holding it up. He was supposed to drop Zsa Zsa off at home. “I'll call as soon as I can,” I promised.

“I'll be waiting,” Tim replied.

I buttoned up my jacket and went outside. A scimitar-shaped sliver of a new moon hung in the sky. Over to the left, I made out the Big Dipper. As I got in the cab, I heard a cat hiss and another one answer. It was a good night for prowling. I had half an hour to get to the water tower by the Lincoln Square apartments, which was more than enough time. For once, I drove slowly and scrupulously, obeying all the traffic laws. I didn't want to risk getting pulled over by a cop right now. As I turned into the complex, I thought that the choice of this locale for a drop site seemed to argue for Amy's involvement. After all, she was familiar with the place.

As I drove along, I had to admit it was a good choice. The parking lots were full. Most people were in for the night. If anyone saw me, they wouldn't remember. I'd just be another tenant coming home after a hard day's work.

As per instructions, I followed the road up to the water tower. It was an old, rusted structure—a hold over from the days when the area had contained factories and warehouses instead of apartments. I parked in the lot and followed an asphalt path the rest of the way. The groundkeepers obviously didn't tend this area of Lincoln Square. The gravel surrounding the tower was dotted with potato chip bags, soda cans, and pieces of broken glass.

I looked around when I got to the top. If Toon Town was standing in the hedges down below—and I was positive he was—he would have a clear, unobstructed view of me, and there was no way I could see him. The wind was stronger here. It sent dry leaves skittering across the gravel and wrapped stray newspaper pages around the water tower's concrete base. I had to go around the tower twice before I found the girder that had a piece of duct tape stuck to it. Just as I had been told, there was a narrow space between where the steel girder and the concrete met. I wedged the packet in it and walked back down.

“I did what you told me to, you scum-sucking son of a bitch,” I yelled, hoping that Toon Town would show himself.

He didn't and, after a minute, I got in my car, drove out of the development, and over to the public telephone on Plum Street. I parked right by it. Then I sat and waited for the phone to ring.

F
ive minutes passed. Then ten. Then fifteen. I was supposed to have heard from Toon Town in five. I got out of the cab and checked to see if the phone was working. It was. I got back in the car and waited some more. I sat, suspended in an agony of anticipation, and chain smoked cigarette after cigarette, flicking the ashes out of the window as I watched a windblown beer can rolling around in the middle of the street, until it was crushed by a rap-blasting Caddy with tinted windows.

Forty-five minutes later, my throat was raw from all the cigarettes I'd smoked, and I was still waiting. It looked as if Amy was either dead or on the road with Toon Town, and I sure as hell hoped it was the latter. My legs ached, as I climbed out of the cab again—sometimes sitting too long makes my burn scars stiffen—and I limped a little as I walked towards the phone. I paused to rub my calves, then I fished a quarter out of my pocket, put it in the slot, and called Tim and told him what had happened.

“Jesus.” He repeated the word a second time. “What are you going to do now?”

I had my answer ready. I ought to have. I'd spent the last forty-five minutes sitting in the car, trying to come up with a plan. “I'm going to check out the house on Easton Street. If they're not there, I'm going to the police.”

“Why do you think they're going to go back there?” Tim asked.

“Because they seem to keep returning to it.”

“Maybe you should go to the police first.”

“Checking out the house won't take very long.” I hung up before Tim could say anything else. Then I got in the cab and drove over to the water tower.

I just wanted to make sure the packet had been picked up. It had. I jumped back in the cab and sped down the road, surprising a fat sheltie and his owner on my way out. The sheltie's indignant bark followed me as I made a left onto the main road. I clicked on the radio, then clicked it off, as I headed for the house that the Richmonds were selling. I knew I was playing a long shot, but I was hoping that Amy and Toon Town had stopped there to get their stuff before taking off to wherever they were going. If I were lucky, they might still be there. If they weren't, I was going to have to call the police and tell them what had happened—a call I wasn't exactly anxious to make. I imagined the conversation. No matter how I put it, I looked bad in every version I came up with. I decided it was better to think about other things.

I could see the clouds coming in from the west as I drove. A wisp of grey obscured half, and then all, of the moon's sliver. As I waited for the light to change, I wondered who was chasing Amy and how they knew about the diamonds. Had she told someone? Had Dennis talked before he died? And how did Melanie fit into all of this? I could think of several possible answers, none of which made more sense than any other one. Of course, Amy would know. Maybe she would even tell me—if she were still alive.

I turned the radio back on and blasted 95.7 FM as loudly as I could, so I wouldn't have to consider the other possibility. Nevertheless, I could feel my heart fluttering in my chest, as I turned onto Easton. Small one-family houses. Ghosts and goblins in the windows. Jack-o'-lanterns on the porches. Carefully tended patches of lawn. Compact cars and minivans in the driveways. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Except for the house I was visiting. A jogger, his breath fogging the night air, passed me, as I turned off the radio. I didn't want to wake up the neighborhood.

I'd driven about twenty feet, when I saw it: Toon Town's Tracker. It was sitting in front of the house. Well, one thing lime-green has going for it: it's visible. I guess he hadn't figured on a life of crime when he'd chosen the color. Or maybe he just didn't care. I parked down the street so Toon Town wouldn't spot me, went around to the back, and opened the cab's trunk. I heard the sounds of television programs floating out into the night air, as I took out a baseball bat and a can of mace and, for a few seconds, I thought about the times Murphy and I had been a family. But that was in another lifetime. Now he was gone, and I was prowling around in the night. And even if I went back to that tight little world of couples and dinner parties and Sunday afternoon errands, it wouldn't be the same anymore. Too much had happened. I closed the trunk and concentrated on the task at hand.

I was glad for the clouds, as I cut across the adjacent house's lawn. It made me less visible—not that anyone looking out the window couldn't see me—but since there wasn't much I could do about that, I just hoped they weren't looking. And they probably weren't. Down in New York City, where I grew up, no matter what time of the day or night it was, there was always someone sitting on the stoop or gazing out the window. Not here, though. Here people pulled into their garages, walked in their houses, shut the doors, pulled down the blinds, and minded their own business. Most times, I didn't like that. It made me feel isolated. But right now, I was thankful for their way of doing things.

Ducking down and keeping to the shrubbery, I walked around the house. All the lights were off. Maybe Toon Town and Amy had gone to sleep. Poor dears. They were probably suffering from post-kidnapping exhaustion. I went into the house the same way I had before—through the kitchen window. I took the storm off, set it aside, lifted up the frame, held onto my bat, and wiggled through. Every sound I made, every creak of the wood, every squeak, every breath I took seemed to fill the whole house. I was positive that Toon Town must have heard me—how could he not have?—and I moved against the wall and gripped my bat with two hands and waited. But he didn't come. After a minute of pretending I was a statue, I decided he wasn't coming down the stairs, and I moved away from the wall. I began to feel a strange sense of exhilaration, as I tiptoed through the kitchen into the living room. This is what a cat burglar feels like, I thought, as I looked around.

The room was exactly the way it was when the real estate agent had shown me around a couple of days ago. I walked into the dining room. Nothing had changed here, either. If Amy and Toon Town were here, they were probably asleep in the second bedroom. They had to be. It was the only room with a bed in it. I could hardly wait to see Amy's face when I clicked on the light. I was moving towards the stairs when I heard something—something so faint I couldn't make it out at first. It sounded like a mew, and then I thought maybe it was a groan, and then I wasn't sure what it was. I held the bat tightly as I went up the stairs. The carpet absorbed my footsteps. I kept my back to the wall, my eyes glued to the second floor landing, but I couldn't see anything up there. All the lights were off. The darkness was too dense. By the time I was halfway up the stairs, the mewing had subsided. When I got to the top step, I stopped and listened.

Nothing.

Then I heard a long drawn out groan. Then a moment of silence. Then a thud and another moan. Then more quiet. I cursed under my breath.

It was a person, a person who was hurt. Amy? It had to be. I heard one more thud. It sounded as if she were banging up against a door or a wall. Had Toon Town locked her up? Where was he? Why wasn't he responding? He had to be here. His car was parked outside. But then, why wasn't he saying anything? I bit my lip and tightened my grip on the bat. I didn't like this. I didn't like this at all. Nothing was adding up. Maybe I should have called the police. Unfortunately, it was too late to do that now. Especially if Amy was hurt. She might be dead by the time I got back.

I hugged the wall as I crossed the landing. If Toon Town were here, I certainly didn't want to let him know. The only thing I had going for me was the element of surprise. I'd just made it past the bathroom when I heard another moan. I cursed silently and quickly moved on to the first bedroom. I peered inside. By now my eyes had gotten used to the darkness. No one was there. I hurried on to the second bedroom, paused right outside the door, flattened my back against the wall, and listened. I heard a whistling noise. The sound of someone staggering. Then creaks. The sound of bedsprings groaning. Someone was sitting on the bed. Another moan. Softer this time.

I took a deep breath, counted to five, raised the bat, and stepped inside.

T
he first thing I saw was a hunched-over shape sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Amy?”

But the moment the word left my mouth, I realized it couldn't be her. The shape was too big. And then I realized who it was. Toon Town. I moved a little closer and lifted the bat a little higher. I wanted to be ready for whatever was going to happen.

“Where is she?” I demanded.

“She's gone.” Toon Town lifted up his head. His voice sounded wet. He was lisping his words.

When I turned on the light, I saw why. His mouth was full of blood. There were dark gaps where his front teeth should have been. His nose was mashed down. One eye was swollen shut. It was the size of an orange. He was wearing boxers and a tee shirt. His arms and legs were covered with purple bruises.

I lowered my bat and asked him what had happened.

He lifted his right hand. His pinky was hanging down. He coughed. A bubble of blood and phlegm dribbled down his chin. “I got into a fight with a truck.”

“It must have been a big one. Did Amy do this?”

Toon Town made a gurgling noise I thought might have been a laugh. “What do you think?”

“I think someone beat the crap out of you.” I pointed to the open closet door. “And locked you in there.”

“Very good.” He shifted his position. Then he grabbed his side and groaned. “Shit. I think I got some busted ribs.”

“I wouldn't be surprised. Where did Amy go?”

He formed the next words carefully. “They took her.”

“Who's they?”

“I didn't see. They came in when we were asleep.”

“How many are we talking about here?”

“I don't know. I told you I was asleep.”

“And they beat you up and stuffed you in the closet and took Amy?”

“Yes.”

“Where are the diamonds?”

“They took them too.”

“So why would they want Amy?”

Toon Town coughed. “They didn't tell me.”

The wind was picking up outside. It rattled the windowpanes and tossed the cedar branches from side to side. “And you don't know anything.”

“That's right.”

I studied Toon Town's ruined face. “You're lying.”

“Why should I do that?”

“I don't have the vaguest idea.” I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, while I thought. “Amy took more stuff from her father's apartment, didn't she?” It was the only explanation that made any sense.

Toon Town didn't answer. He didn't have to. The way his body stiffened up told me everything I wanted to know.

“How much money did Dennis Richmond have in his apartment?”

Toon Town didn't say anything.

“It must have been a lot.”

Toon Town coughed again. A line of blood-colored saliva dripped onto his sleeve. He didn't notice.

“Amy knows where it is, right?”

Toon Town tried to shrug. He ended up clutching his ribs and groaning instead.

“This kidnap thing was a scam, wasn't it?”

Toon Town studied the wall in back of me.

“You guys thought you'd get me to give you the diamonds and then you'd leave town.”

“We were gonna call and explain from the road.” Toon Town's tone implied that that would have made everything all right.

“Why didn't you just come in and get them?”

“We were afraid we'd be spotted.”

“By whom?”

Toon Town went back to studying the wall.

“The people who beat you up?”

Silence.

“You know, I get a better response from my cocker spaniel than I do from you.”

Still nothing.

“Fine. I'm calling the cops.”

“Don't,” Toon Town rasped.

Something at last. “Why shouldn't I?”

“I know where Amy is.”

“Where's that?”

He turned the corner of his mouth that could still move up. “Someplace where no one is going to find her.”

“So why shouldn't I call the police?”

“Because I won't tell them.”

“Why's that?”

“I want my money.”

“I hate to tell you this, but you're in no position to get anything right now.”

“I am if you drive me.”

“You're crazy. You should be in a hospital.”

He gestured towards his face. “I'll take care of this later.”

“Do what you want. I'm phoning.” I started to leave. I didn't have to worry about Toon Town going anywhere in the condition he was in.

“Don't waste your time. I won't tell the police where she is. I won't tell them anything.”

I turned back. “They'll make you.”

“How?” He managed a sneer. “I'll call my lawyer from the ER room. He'll be there before they read my X-rays.”

“If anything happens to her, you'll be charged as an accessory.”

“But it won't matter, will it? Because by then, it'll be too late for Amy.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're not that stupid, are you?”

I tightened my hands around the bat's neck, then loosened them. Cracking Toon Town's head open was a luxury I couldn't afford. “You really are scum,” I hissed.

He grimaced and clutched his side again. “Look, this is the deal. You drive me to where I want to go. You get Amy and I get the stuff.”

“What about the people that took her? You think they'll just hand everything over to you?”

“I think that's something you don't have to worry about. Now, are you going to help me or not?”

I said yes, even though I knew Toon Town was lying through his teeth, because I figured I didn't have much of a choice.

“Good.” Toon Town tried to stand up. He got an inch off the bed before he sat back down. His face was beaded with sweat from the effort. I didn't see how he was going to stand up, much less walk down the stairs.

“I don't think you're going to be able to do this,” I told him.

“I don't care what the fuck you think,” he growled. “Just help me get dressed.”

It took me a good ten minutes to get his pants and shirt and shoes on. I inhaled his odor—acrid sweat, sour breath, and blood—as he leaned up against me. He was heavy, and I kept stumbling under his weight. The process of getting him out of the room and down the stairs seemed to go on forever. Progress was measured in inches. By the time we were halfway down the steps, my arms and legs were trembling with the effort of holding him up. His breathing sounded ragged. When we got out the front door, my shirt was soaked in sweat. I propped him against the wall, told him to wait, and ran to get the cab.

“Now what?” I asked, after I'd helped him into the front seat and settled myself behind the wheel.

“Now we go to Amy's house.”

“She's there?”

“No. I have to get something.” Toon Town put his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. A moment later, his jaw went slack. He'd fallen asleep. I studied his face. His skin was grey. His cheekbones jutted out. His mouth was a black hole. I could have been transporting a corpse.

It had started to rain. I turned on the windshield wipers and pulled away from the curb. Their swish formed a duet with the whistle Toon Town made every time he exhaled. I clicked on the radio, but I couldn't find anything I wanted to listen to, and I finally clicked it off. I spent part of the ride over trying to figure out what had happened and wondering if I were doing the right thing. Unfortunately, since I couldn't answer the second question without answering the first, I abandoned the effort as a waste of time. Except for an occasional semi lumbering along, 690 and 81 were deserted, and I made good time getting to Gerri Richmond's house.

“We're here,” I told Toon Town, as I turned right at the stone pillars and threaded my way up the narrow, winding path to the cul de sac where Gerri Richmond's house sat. As I got close to it, I could see that the lights were off. The house was dark. There were two cars in the driveway, though. Maybe Gerri Richmond was out with a friend. Or maybe she was asleep, although it was early for that.

Toon Town grunted and opened his eye.

I pulled in behind the Mercedes. “Now what?”

“I need a list of the Richmond property holdings.”

“Excuse me?” I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Toon Town groaned as he sat up.

I turned towards him. “You're fishing. You don't know where the fuck Amy is, do you?”

A line of blood worked its way down his chin. He wiped it off with the back of his hand. “I know she's in one of the places on that list.”

“I don't suppose you'd like to explain how you know?”

“No.”

“So what are we supposed to do? Go to all of them?”

He glared at me. “You want to see her again, you'll stop asking questions and do what I tell you to.”

Ordinarily, I would have told Toon Town to shove it, but this time I shut my mouth and did what he said.

“I'm just supposed to ask Gerri Richmond for the list?”

“That's right.”

“And she's going to hand it over?”

“That's up to you.”

“What happens if she calls the cops?”

“She won't, if you explain the situation to her correctly. After all, she has a stake in this, too.” Toon Town closed his eyes again. He didn't open them when I got out of the cab.

I turned my jacket collar up, scurried for the door, and pressed the bell. The first bar of “Für Elise” floated out into the air. Gerri Richmond opened the door a moment later. Her eyes were unfocused. Her blond hair stood up in tangled clumps. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I saw glints of grey among the blond. Her makeup was smudged. Her silk shirt was stained with spots of something dark, but the double strand of pearls around her neck gleamed pure and unsullied.

“We buried Dennis today.” She was slurring her words. She'd been drinking. “Did you know that?”

“Your stepson told me.”

She waved her hand around. “Everyone came. Everyone who was anyone. We had a police escort to the cemetery.”

I interrupted. “We need to talk about Amy,” I told her. “She's in trouble.”

“She's always been in trouble.” Gerri turned and walked away. “From the day she was born.”

I closed the door and followed her. She wobbled as she walked. We went through the darken hall into the den. The light from the street lamp threw our shadows on the walls.

“Serious trouble,” I emphasized.

She stopped and turned around. “The police think she killed Dennis. Do you?”

“No.”

“Well, I'm not so sure.” I could hear the rain pattering on the roof and the windows. Gerri Richmond cocked her head and listened to it for a minute before speaking. “They never got along. Even when she was little, they never got along.” She shook her head. “Have you ever made a mistake?”

“Lots of them,” I answered impatiently. Time was short. I could hear the clock ticking away inside my head.

“A really big mistake that you couldn't take back? That you couldn't undo?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Amy is mine.”

Maybe that explained why Amy turned out the way she had. If my mother felt that way about me, I sure wouldn't want to stick around—actually she had and I hadn't. The window blinds were up in the house across the way. Someone was in the kitchen stirring something on the stove. I wondered what the meals in the Richmond family must have been like. Not pleasant, I was willing to wager. I regarded the room. The white, overstuffed sofas seemed to float in the dark. Gerri Richmond collapsed on the nearest one. I sat next to her. The coffee table in front hosted a bottle of Stoli, a glass, and a large number of wadded up Kleenexes. It looked as if Gerri had been sitting here for awhile.

She was reaching for her glass, when I told her that Amy had been kidnapped.

She froze. “I don't understand.”

When I told her why she began to laugh.