5 Windy City Hunter (3 page)

Terry’s face lit up as he said, “Ahh, Penelope, the Queen of Diamonds. Yes, she and your uncle are friendly, and he has tea with her often. I’m glad he made arrangements for you to meet her. She’s quite a, shall we say,
interesting
, character. She’s in 18F.” He pushed the elevator button for the 18th floor, and with a wink and a nod, he wished us good night.

The doors closed. I turned to Darby and said, “What a nice man. I think he’s Santa Claus. The real Santa Claus, only he’s retired now and working in a condo in Chicago.”

He laughed and said, “You have a vivid imagination, and I think it’s worse now that you’re pregnant.”

“Everything is worse now that I’m pregnant,” I said with a laugh. “I’m happy one minute, mad the next, and laughing like a hyena two minutes after that. The pregnancy books all say I’m overly sensitive and prone to anger in the fifth month, and I do seem to get irritated easily, but I don’t usually stay mad. It’s hard to keep my emotions in check though.”

“How’s Mick taking this new side of you?” he asked.

“He’s been handling it pretty well. He sticks around when I’m cheerful, but he hides out in his office when I’m cranky. We’re doing ok.” I looked at my watch and said, “Speaking of Mick, I’m supposed to call him at 7:30. Please don’t let me forget. I don’t want him to worry.”

“Will do,” he said as the elevator doors opened onto the 18th floor.

I held the doors open while he moved everything from the elevator into the hallway. There were three suitcases, two bags of groceries, a gallon of milk, two bags I had stuffed with snacks and cds for the road trip, and two small boxes of items Darby had brought along for the cooking competition.

He had the last suitcase in his hand when pounding footsteps caught my attention. I looked down the hallway, and a man in a gorilla mask was running full-tilt directly at us. I let go of the elevator door and jumped back as I yelled to Darby, “Look out!”

I didn’t know if I should laugh or be afraid. Darby jumped aside and stood in front of me as a protective measure, but the man never slowed down, tripped over a suitcase, and pitched head first into the elevator. He ended up in a heap in the corner just as the doors were closing.

We looked at each other in stunned astonishment. “Susan,” he said, “that was one of the craziest things I’ve ever seen. I don’t even want to know what that was all about. Here, you take the grocery bags, I’ll take the suitcases, and then I’ll come back for the rest.”

The condo was about halfway down the long hall. I noticed Penelope Fisher’s condo of 18F wasn’t directly across from our door, but was offset another three feet down the hallway.

Darby had the door open and was running his hand along the wall to find the light switch. I stepped up beside him and peered into the darkened condo. “Wait,” I said. “Look out the window.”

The outer wall was windows from floor to ceiling, and they weren’t covered. The view from this vantage point was spectacular. The lights from the nearby buildings, and the Christmas lights along the street below, together with the falling snow, made a beautiful scene. I started to step into the room.

“Susan, wait,” Darby said. “Let me get the lights on first. The living room is lower than we are, and I don’t want you to fall.”

His hand found the light switch, and the room was bathed in warm, soft lighting from recessed lights in the ceiling. I was grateful Darby had kept me from walking without being able to see the room clearly as we were standing on a narrow, raised hallway with no railing. A quick look around showed a coat closet to the left of the entrance, a bathroom next to the closet, and two open doors at the end of the hallway showing two bedrooms. Across from the bathroom were three steps down to the living area. The living room was to the right with a small dining area to the left. We could see into an even smaller kitchen adjacent to the dining area.

“Wow,” Darby said nodding his head in approval. “What a great bachelor pad.”

“It is pretty masculine, isn’t it?” I agreed.

The living room had beautiful hardwood flooring. Brown travertine tile covered the dining area and kitchen floors. The walls were painted in earth tones with two walls being a gray color, one beige, and the remaining walls seafoam green. The living room furniture consisted of one sofa and one chair, but they were overstuffed and looked comfortable. One end table, a coffee table, and an entertainment stand rounded out the ensemble. An abstract painting of scarlet, midnight blue, and yellow hung above the sofa and brought some color into the room. Opposite the sofa, a flat screen television was mounted on the wall above the entertainment stand.

The only Christmas decoration was a tall artificial tree with white and gold ornaments. The small, white twinkle lights had come on at the same time as the overhead lights, and the tree fit perfectly with the bachelor vibe.

“Let’s check out the bedrooms,” Darby said. “You can take the master. I don’t need as much room as you do.”

I punched him on the arm. “Stop it,” I said laughing. “I’m not showing much at all, and I’m sure I don’t need as much room as you do.”

It was true. I wasn’t showing much and only had a small baby bump. My doctor had allowed me to play racquetball with no restrictions for the first five months. It was only in the last two weeks that I had started playing at a slower pace and working on shot placement rather than powering the ball around the court. The continued exercise helped to keep up with my increased appetite, and I hadn’t gained any extra weight.

He laughed as he peeked into both rooms. “Really, Susan, you go ahead and take Uncle Jack’s room. You’ll be more comfortable in there, and the smaller room is fine for me.”

He carried my two suitcases into his uncle’s bedroom. The bed was a king-size, four-poster cannonball bed with a simple white comforter and a mountain of pillows. Two nightstands, a matching dresser, and an armoire completed the outfit. Once again, the room was sparse and masculine, but also inviting. I liked Uncle Jack’s style.

Darby took his suitcase into the spare bedroom. I stuck my head around the corner of his room and said, “I’m going to use the bathroom. I’ll only be a minute.”

“Ok,” he said. “I’m going to check out the kitchen and see what’s in the refrigerator.”

Several minutes later, I came out of the bathroom to see Darby coming out of the kitchen with a puzzled look on his face.

“What?” I asked.

It hit us both at the same time, and we said in unison, “The boxes!”

We had been so busy looking around the condo, that we forgot we left the bags and boxes in the hallway down by the elevator. Darby couldn’t afford to lose the boxes. I didn’t know what was in them, but he said they were items vital to his success in the cooking competition, and it would guarantee a baking disaster if he didn’t have them.

We both ran to the door and out into the hallway. It suddenly became very confusing.

A man was stepping away from Mrs. Fisher’s door. It appeared as if he had just come out of her condo and was making sure the door was closed behind him. He and I made eye contact, and I almost smiled. It was the good-looking, somewhat scruffy, man who had been in the small black car at the gas station on the south side of the city. The same man who was watching the man in the Cadillac. The same man who gave me the
I’m watching you
sign with his hand. What was he doing outside of Mrs. Fisher’s door, and what were the odds of my seeing him again like this? There was no sign of recognition when the man looked at me and Darby, so I held back my smile.

He wasn’t the only one in the hallway. A matronly woman who appeared to be in her fifties was nearly to Mrs. Fisher’s door when we burst out of ours. She didn’t give us or the man a second look, she simply moved past us and used a key to open Mrs. Fisher’s door. Only then did she turn to look at us, and for a brief moment, all four of us stood staring at each other. The woman flipped the lights on in Mrs. Fisher’s condo. Because we were looking through the doorway at an angle, we could see the open hardwood floor space at the bottom of the three stairs. Sprawled in a pool of blood was an elderly woman, who I assumed to be Penelope Fisher.

The woman stepped back from the doorway, looked at the three of us and opened her mouth. It took a few seconds, but a blood-curdling scream came out.

Darby grabbed my arm, opened our door, and we darted back into the condo. My heart was racing and my knees were weak as I walked down the stairs and plopped onto the sofa.

“What was that?” I asked Darby in disbelief.

“Susan, I think that was a murder,” he said. “I’m calling the police.” His face was white. Not only had we just seen a probable crime scene, but the woman was a dear friend of his uncle’s. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed 911.

While he talked to the dispatcher, I couldn’t help but wonder who the man was who had been in the hallway? Was he the murderer? If so, why didn’t he run? He didn’t appear alarmed when the door was opened, and we saw the body. Had he been in the condo, and did he already know Mrs. Fisher was dead? If he was watching the guy with the pink shoelaces and the man in the Cadillac earlier today, did they have anything to do with this man, and did they know Mrs. Fisher? Were they accomplices?

My mind was in overdrive, and I was upset, yet exhilarated. This was a lot of excitement to have walked in on.

“Susan!” Darby snapped.

“What?” I snapped back.

“Aren’t you listening to me?” he asked. He was frowning and seemed exasperated. “I’m going to slip out and grab the boxes and bags if they’re still there. I want to get them before the police get here and think they’re evidence or something.”

I nodded my head. “Be careful. What if that guy coming out of Mrs. Fisher’s condo was the murderer?” I asked with my eyes wide.

He opened the door and peeked out into the hallway. “No one’s out here,” he said softly. “I’ll be right back.”

The door shut behind him, and I quickly ran up and opened the door just enough to stick my head out. I wanted to watch to be sure he was ok as he made his way down the hallway. Where were the other tenants? The scream that came out of that woman was enough to wake the dead, but no one had come into the hallway to see what was going on.

Darby reached the bags and boxes and was gathering them up into his arms when Mrs. Fisher’s door opened, and the man – the possible murderer – stepped out. He saw me with my head sticking out of the doorway, and I have no idea what possessed me to speak, but I blurted out, “We called the police. You won’t get away with this.” I ducked back into the condo and slammed the door.

A terrible thought came into my mind. I had just left Darby in the hallway with a murderer who now knew we were on to him. I panicked and looked around for something I could use as a weapon.

I opened the closet and grabbed an umbrella. Holding it up and gripping it tightly, I opened the door and rushed into the hallway. I promptly plowed into Darby as he was reaching for the doorknob. He wasn’t fazed, but I bounced off of him and the packages he was holding and fell backward onto my rump. The murderer was still in the hallway and rushed over to help me up.

“Susan, what are you doing?” Darby asked. “Are you all right? Why do you have an umbrella?”

“Are you ok, lady?” the murderer asked as he tried to grab my arm and help me to my feet.

“I’m fine,” I said indignantly and yanked my arm away from him as soon as I was up. I was embarrassed and mad at myself for overreacting.

Before any of us could say anything more, the elevator doors opened, and a large entourage of people emerged. A man in jeans and an overcoat seemed to be leading the charge. Darby pushed me back into the condo and shut the door. He set the bags and boxes down, and headed to the kitchen with the milk.

“You know,” he called out, “they’re going to want to talk to us, but there’s really nothing we can tell them, so it should only take a few minutes. We’ll wait until they knock on the door.” He walked into the living room, gave me an affectionate look and said, “Thank you for coming out with the umbrella in case I needed help.” I felt myself blush. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?” His look turned to one of concern.

“No,” I said. “I’ve had a few tumbles on the racquetball court, too. My doctor says the baby is well protected from a few jolts here and there. But I told that murderer guy we knew what he did, and we called the police. Then I got scared and thought he might attack you.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Susan, you’re going to have to get your imagination under control. I don’t think for one minute he’s the murderer. He didn’t act like one, and he didn’t run. He even stayed put when the police showed up.” He checked his watch. “It’s 7:15. Why don’t you call Mick and talk with him now? If the police come over here and take longer than we think, you’ll be late calling him, and we both know how that will go over.”

I nodded and went to the bedroom to make the call. My purse was on the nightstand.  I fished out my cell phone and Mick’s number in England. He and his fifteen-year-old son from a previous marriage were in England visiting Mick’s parents who had been living abroad for two years now. They were planning to move back to the states next year in time for the baby’s birth. I had never met my in-laws, and I was both excited and anxious for when they came home.