Abducted: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller (19 page)

Chapter 38

Monday Evening

I called McGarry and
explained. He said, “Esposito himself, huh? You must have really pissed him
off.”

“All he had to do,” I said, “was
just walk away.”

“He was too stupid to walk
away. Not your fault.”

“I know. But it's still a waste.”

“I'll be there in forty-five
minutes.”

The local cops arrived a few
minutes later. Alex identified himself and instructed them to secure the scene
and await the LAPD. The curious from the gym were milling about around the
edges of the crime scene, watching and hoping for an explanation. None would be
forthcoming.

It was a little before five.
While we were waiting for Frank, I called Mildred.

“I wasn't really going
anyway,” she said, when I explained that the danger was now past. “I'll see you
in the morning,” she said.

“If you want to take the time
off,” I said, “you've earned it.”

“And let the office go to
pot?”

I smiled. “Well, we wouldn't
want that, would we?”

“You know what would be nice,
though ...”

“What's that?”

“Some more of those Krispy
Kreme donuts.”

Mildred wasn't a dimwit,
failing to understand the gravity of what had just happened. She understood it
quite well. But she also understood the need for balance and perspective and
knew how to refocus things so that stress levels went down just a little.

“The closest Krispy Kreme
shop,” I said, “is five miles away in Burbank.”

“Once a week?”

I chuckled. “Okay.
Once a week.
How about on Friday mornings?”

“Perfect way to start a
Friday,” she said.

“Done,” I said. “But if you
start gaining weight, don't blame me.”

“Huh. I'm too old to gain
weight. And even if I did, you're too much of a gentleman to notice.”

“Too much of a gentleman to
say anything
maybe ...”

She was quiet for a brief
moment. Then, “You all right?”

“Yeah. I'm okay ... about
Esposito, anyway. If I don't find Monica soon, though, I may explode.”

“You'll find her. Be patient.
Do what you do best. Now that Esposito's out of the picture, you can focus all
your energies on Monica. You'll find her.”

The woman was a rock.
Kind and gentle, but tough as nails.
“Thank you, Mildred.
See you in the morning.”

Frank arrived with another
homicide detective. He noticed my shoulder wound. The bullet had torn through
my corduroy jacket and taken a layer of skin with it. Second time that had
happened in the last couple of months. I’d have to get another new jacket.

“
That need
attention?” Frank asked, nodding toward my shoulder.

I shook my head. “Just a
scratch,” I said.

Alex and I chatted with him
for a moment, giving him the short version. He asked us to give our statements
to the detective. The M.E. arrived just as we finished.

While we gave our statements,
Frank had been going over the scene, noticing all the details—my Jeep,
the Tahoe, the dead men, the bullet holes. He didn't have an eidetic memory like
Alex, but when he focused on a crime scene, it was like he took mental
photographs from every angle. He would file the photos away and a year later,
he would be able to access the file, look at the photos, and describe the scene
down to the minutest detail. It was a skill I envied.

Only when he finished
examining the crime scene did Frank rejoin Alex and me.

“Anything else that might
shed some light on what happened here?” Frank asked.

“I had people on Esposito for
a couple of days,” Alex said. “Evidently, he or his people spotted my people.
My agent said three guys in a black Tahoe showed up at his Malibu home around
nine this morning and left about ten minutes later. The agent didn't see what
was happening, but evidently one of the three stayed behind and Esposito came
out with the other two, dressed like the guy who stayed behind. He wanted to be
personally involved in the hit.”

“Okay,” Frank said. “I think
we've got what we need on this matter. How are you coming on finding Monica?”

I gave him an abbreviated
update.

“Branch is still looking,” he
said. “There just doesn't seem to be a trail to follow.”

“I know. That's why we
haven't found her yet.”

He nodded. “Well, anything
you need from
me ...”

“Thanks, Frank.”

“Okay,” he said, “we're done
here. You guys take care.”

We went to inspect my Jeep.
It was full of bullet holes. None of the bullets had hit the tires, so
technically it might have been drivable, depending on whether or not any slugs
hit any vital engine parts. However, it was nosed into the gym and the Tahoe
sat behind it. No way to back it out. And the Tahoe was going to be where it
was for some time yet.

“I'll get someone to drive us
back to your apartment,” Alex said. “Then we'll take my car to get you a
rental. Tomorrow you can have this taken to a repair shop.” He surveyed the
damage again. “I suspect, though, that your insurance will declare it a total
loss. You'll have to buy another one.”

“Okay,” I said, regretfully.
I loved my little black Wrangler. I’d just gotten it good and broken in. “You
get us a ride. I'll get everything out of it.”

I retrieved my extra gun from
under the seat, cleaned out the glove compartment, got our gym bags from the
back, and got my CDs from the console compartment. There was also a bowl and
some water bottles for Wilson in the back. I got everything and waited until a
patrol car showed up with Alex riding in the passenger seat. I shoved all my
stuff in and then slid into the seat.

Alex drove me to Alamo. I
rented a Jeep Wrangler. They didn’t have a black one. I had to settle for
silver. We went back to my apartment.

“You hungry?” I asked as we
went inside.

“Starving.”

“I'll call Papa's and have
them bring a pizza and some salad.”

While we waited for our
dinner to be delivered, I bandaged my shoulder wound and then I called my
insurance company and explained what had happened. I gave them the Jeep’s
location. They said they’d have it picked up and taken to a repair shop. An
adjuster would look at it tomorrow and make a determination. They’d get back
with me.

We were in the middle of a
pepperoni pizza and an antipasto salad when someone knocked on the door. Wilson
barked and went to the door, sniffing at the bottom of it in an attempt to
discern the identity of our caller. He looked at me and wagged his tail as I approached
the door.

I opened the door and Heidi
smiled and said, “Hi, Jake.”

Heidi was wearing a pair of
small red shorts and a pink tank top that revealed quite a bit of her more than
ample bosom. Her shoulder length blond hair was silky and framed a nearly
perfect face: prominent cheek bones, full lips, straight teeth, a nose that fit
her face, and blue eyes that made the sky jealous.

“Hi, Heidi. Come in.”

She paused to greet Wilson
and then noticed Alex sitting at the table.

“Hi, Alex,” she said.

Alex stood. “Heidi,” he said,
smiling.

“You two know each other?”

“We met when I came to visit
you at the hospital,” Heidi said. “You were still out of it.”

“Evidently,” I said.

“Would you like to join us?”
Alex asked. “We have plenty.”

“That salad looks good,” she
said.

I got her a plate and she sat
next to Alex.

“Any progress finding Monica?”
she asked cautiously.

I explained our lack of
progress. I also explained about Esposito.

“Just this evening?” she
asked incredulously.

“Couple of hours ago,” I
said.

“Wow,” she said, and took a
bite of salad. “I can't believe you guys. Someone just tried to kill you. You
killed them instead, and now you’re eating pizza like that sort of thing is a
normal occurrence. That requires some level of mental and emotional toughness that
I can’t even conceive of.”

Alex was trying to
concentrate on his pizza and salad but wasn't having any luck. Heidi is a
serious distraction.

She could sense Alex's
interest. She looked at him more closely, as if inspecting him, and noticed the
bullet hole in his shirt. “Is that a bullet hole?” she asked, alarmed.

Alex looked down for a second
and then brought his eyes back up to Heidi’s. “Yes. But I was wearing Kevlar
under my shirt, so I’m okay.”

“Kevlar,” she repeated.

Alex nodded.

She looked at me and then at
Alex again. “You just got shot and it doesn’t seem to concern you.”

Alex shrugged, having just
taken a bite of pizza.

“Are you as tough as Jake?”
she asked.

He nearly choked on the bite
of pizza in his mouth. After he managed to swallow it, he said. “No one's as
tough as Jake.”

I gave a snort of derision
and said, “That’s not true. And Alex is plenty tough. And smart.”

She felt his bicep. “Not bad,”
she said, and smiled, somewhat seductively, I thought.

Alex made some lame comment
and I zoned out, worrying about Monica.

After a few moments, I don’t
know how long, I heard Heidi say, “Well, I need to go. I know you guys have
work to do. Nice to see you again, Alex.” Her standing up to leave brought me
back to the moment.

“Yeah, nice to see you,” he replied.

“Maybe we can go out sometime,”
she said. “Get something to eat, see a movie?”

“Sure,” Alex managed without
wetting himself. “That'd be great.”

“Got a pen?” she asked.

Alex gave her one.

She wrote her number on the
pizza box. “That's my cell. Call me.”

Alex managed to say he would
and Heidi left.

“I think she likes me,” Alex
said.

“Amazing.”

“What, that she likes me?”

“No, that as soon as she's
gone you can speak in an articulate manner.”

“Hey, you're no Don Juan
yourself.”

“That's true. But I don't
slobber all over myself when a pretty girl talks to me.”

“I didn't slobber. Did I
slobber?”

“Almost.”

“Besides, she didn’t just
talk to me. She felt my bicep and she asked me out.”

“Yes she did. And you said
you’d call her. And since she’s my friend, you
have
to call her. And then you have to go out with her—the
hottest woman you could ever hope to go out with.”

“Hey, I’ve been out with hot
women before.”

“Hot. Not sweaty. There’s a
difference.”

Chapter 39

Tuesday Morning

The rain that everyone
thought we'd have on Monday finally came early Tuesday morning. Wilson and I ran
anyway. I pushed myself to complete the four miles faster than I had been doing
in the past week. I didn’t have my full strength, stamina, or speed back yet,
and it was starting to annoy me. So we ran hard. Wilson loved it.

As I ran, I began to be aware
of a feeling clawing its way into my consciousness. I realized it had to do
with the
Durranis
. Mrs.
Durrani
was an angry woman. I understood her anger. Her son had embraced a radical form
of their religion and had then been killed while betraying his country. She was
angry
about
that. Angry at his betrayal, and probably
angry with
whoever
—from her point of
view—was responsible for his death. She probably didn't know who killed
him, so her anger was generalized, but she was still angry. And on top of that,
now her husband was dying. She had a right to be angry. But there was something
about the way she looked at me. And then, there was the automobile accident
that cost one of their men his life and the other one a broken nose and an injury
to his throat as well, which was why he croaked like a frog with a serious case
of laryngitis. The accident had happened last Monday, the day Monica was taken.
An angry mother, one employee dead and another injured on the same day Monica
was taken. Coincidence? Possible. But how probable? I didn't know. Was I
grasping at straws? There wasn’t anything else to grasp.

After making the coffee for
Mildred, I hung around the office for a while, opening mail, answering email, and
returning calls from prospective clients. Actually, I was waiting for Mildred.
I wanted to make sure the black Tahoe hadn’t spooked her.

At eight thirty, Jessie
called.

“Jessie,” I said, “got
something for me?”

“I do,” he said. “Talked to
one of our guys in New York who knows both families. He says they wouldn't
waste their time or resources on something like that. Especially given the time
that has lapsed. He said if they were going to retaliate, it would be against
the CIA, not against the marine who pulled the trigger.”

“Okay,” I said. “I don't know
why, but somehow I find that reassuring.”

“Yeah. If you can't have
faith in the integrity of East Coast crime families, who can you have faith in?”

“Exactly. Hey, thanks, for
checking for me.”

“No problem. Where does this
leave you?”

I explained about
Emal
and the Hammer of Righteousness. I also told him about
the
Durranis
.”

“Want my take on it?” Jessie
asked.

“Absolutely.”

“If I were in your place, I'd
take a closer look at Mrs.
Durrani
.”

“That's what I decided this
morning while I was running.”

“If you decide to go in and
you need help, call me.”

“Thanks, Jessie. I appreciate
it.”

“When you get Monica back,
say hi for me.”

“You bet.”

A few minutes later,
Emal
called.

“Mr. Badger,” he said.

“
Emal
.
Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”

“Our friend Thomas stressed
the importance of a timely response.”

“I appreciate it. What have
you got?”

“My source says neither the
Taliban nor anyone within its ranks is seeking revenge against any marine snipers.”

“And your source would know?”

“My source would know.”

“Okay,
Emal
.
Thank you.”

Mildred arrived, and Wilson
went to greet her and collect his morning cookie. After she put her purse down,
she came into my side of the office and put a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts on my
desk and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“You went all the way to
Burbank in the rain for donuts?” I said.

“I figured that after last
night's festivities you might need a little extra sugar. What's the rain got to
do with it?”

“Some people don't like to
drive in the rain. But that’s neither here nor there. Thanks for the donuts.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Why
are you still here?” she took a donut for herself.

“Because I was concerned that
after last night's
festivities
, as
you refer to them, that you might need some reassurance.”

“Well, aren't you sweet? But
remember, I went to bed most nights for thirty years having heard about the interesting
and unique homicide of the day.”

I shrugged. “Sometimes I
forget that there's a difference between the way you look, like a sweet little
old lady, and the way you are, a tough old broad.”

“A tough old broad who
brought you donuts,” she said.

“Thank you.”

I selected a donut, took a
bite, and smiled.

I got to Alex's office in my
rented Wrangler about ten. He was doing paperwork when I arrived. He put it
aside and asked, “So, what's on tap for today?”

“I want to visit the
Durranis
again.”

Alex drove. In spite of the
rain, we got there a little before eleven. The same big guy with the broken
nose and damaged voice answered the door again.

Alex had his ID out again,
just in case he’d forgotten who we were ... well, who Alex was.

“I remember who you are,”
broken nose croaked. The
Durranis
had called him
Ullah
, but I thought of him as broken nose. “I will tell
Mrs.
Durrani
that you are here.”

He closed the door and we
waited on the small porch watching the drizzle. I was happy that the porch was
covered.

When the door opened again,
broken nose growled, “Follow me, please.”

We did, and he led us up to
Mr.
Durrani's
room. Mrs.
Durrani
sat next to his bed feeding him soup. She looked at us, put the soup down, and
gently wiped her husband's mouth and chin.

“How can I help you today,
Agent Watson, Mr. Badger?” she asked.

“I need to ask a few additional
questions,” I said.

“As you can see, my husband
is very weak today. He cannot answer your questions.”

“Actually,” I said, “I was
hoping to ask you a few questions.”

She studied me a moment and I
thought I saw something in her face. Amusement? Perhaps. Curiosity? Maybe it
was resentment.

“Very well,” she said. “We
can go back downstairs.”

I looked at Mr.
Durrani
. He had fallen asleep.