Hot Rocks (13 page)

twenty-nine

Detectives Bannon and Sargent
left David and me sitting in the doctors’ lounge after saying they’d check the license plate number. Their attitudes said it would not be a high priority.

I stood in the doorway watching their backs as they walked through the exit. “I don’t think they believed me, David. Does my story sound as strange as Sargent made it out to be?”

“First, come over here and sit down. There’s nothing to be gained by trying to read their minds—especially from behind. But, since you ask, I was with you, and I’m not sure I believe it. You really think there was an army of homeless rushing the house to rescue us?”

“Yes,” I said. “You saw the man at my front door. And the thugs must have seen them because they took off.”

“But why? Why on earth would they save us? Do you know any of them?” His look said he found the whole situation doubtful.

I considered my promise to Bob not to give him away. Sometimes we have to compromise with ourselves. At that moment, my integrity took a hard hit. “If you promise to keep the secret, I’ll tell you about Bob Sandiford.” After he nodded and squeezed my hand, I told him. When I finished, his face bore the same skeptical look as Sargent’s.

He stared at his damaged hand, then said in a resigned voice, “Well, my finger
is
broken. That part of your story is verified.”

The clock ticked away several hours—or so it seemed. I suppose it was only a couple of minutes. Finally, I couldn’t stand the silence. “What now? I still owe you a beer.”

David looked up, a smile breaking through the gloom on his face. “Yes. You do, don’t you? Not one from your fridge though. I have reservations about hanging out at your place.”

“Me, too. Which begs the question of where I stay until this mess is over.” I paused, waiting for David to speed to my rescue. My knight didn’t rise to the occasion, so I said, “Look out, Motel 6. I’m on the way.”

We sat without saying anything for a moment while I wondered how much slack there was in my credit card. Then I felt David squeeze my hand again. When I looked at him, there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“There’s always my condo. I have an extra bedroom.”

Hallelujah.

He continued, talking fast. “We can swing by your place while the cops are still there. You can grab a few things, then we’ll have dinner. After we eat …” He shrugged.

I stared at him, wondering about that extra bedroom. My druthers were to stay out of it. The master suite was more to my
liking. “Sounds like a plan to me. What say we get started?” I hesitated, then plunged on. “I don’t have any clean pajamas.”

“So?”

“I might get cold.”

“Only if you choose to sleep alone.”

“Not a chance.”

_____

I awoke to sunlight filtered by the sheers over the window. Stretching, I felt luxurious and sated from a wonderful night with David. Without going into details, I’ll simply say he was everything I expected—and more. And we only bumped his bad finger once.

When I rolled toward his side of the bed, I found it empty. Instead of the man I wanted to cuddle, there was a note on his pillow.
Early rounds this morning. Cereal on the table in the kitchen. Coffee in the carafe on the counter. Thank you for a wonderful evening. See you tonight. Don’t get hurt today.

It wasn’t exactly a love note, but close enough for now. I’d have liked it better if he hadn’t reminded me there were people out there who thought injuring me was a priority.

I stretched again and considered switching to his side of the bed and going back to sleep in the fragrant aroma of his manly scent. But reality checked in, and I knew it was time to roll, time to find out why I had become such a target. I plumped the pillows and sat up, thinking, evaluating. It had to start with the death of Jacobs and the attack on me in his hotel room.

I had a white Toyota trying to turn me into Spam and three thugs wanting me to meet
the
boss
. The leader, Bruce, denied knowledge of the Toyota. Did this mean I had two groups on my tail? That thought didn’t give me an elevated sense of security. What was the story? I needed answers.

One thing was for sure. I wouldn’t find any satisfaction sitting in David’s bed—well, unless he came home early. I threw back the covers and climbed out, shivering in my nakedness. First a shower, then a bowl of cereal. After that … Hey, I’d think of something. I was Elizabeth Angeline Bowman, Private Investigator. Said so right on the badge I carried. The key word was
investigator
. With that reassuring thought in mind, I headed for the bathroom.

While standing under the hot spray, I considered where to start. After yesterday and the protection I received, Bob Sandiford seemed the best direction. I owed him my thanks, perhaps my life. Plus, I wanted to get his permission to bring David by to meet him. I thought they would hit it off, and David would know I hadn’t exaggerated about my newspaper vendor/bar owner/philanthropist.

I wondered if Bob had a cell phone. Did he think he could get through life without one? If that’s how he thought, I would strongly suggest he change. We couldn’t work together if I had no way to contact him other than driving past his corner. How was he to keep rushing to my rescue if I couldn’t call him?

When I opened the bag I’d thrown together at my place the previous evening under the protection of a uniform, I realized I’d either have to make another trip or go shopping. Under the best of circumstances, I’m a lousy packer. However, with the evening’s expectations driving me, I’d done worse than usual. Of course, that depended on where I stayed. I had enough for the day, but hoped I’d have to acquire a change for the next day.

I dressed, then went to the kitchen, smiling when I saw the cereal on the table—Fruit Loops. My macho doctor-lover ate
Fruit Loops
? Bet he never prescribed those for his patients.

thirty

After giving myself a
sugar overdose on David’s cereal, I filled a travel mug with coffee and headed out to find Bob. I hoped it wasn’t too early for him to be on his corner. If he wasn’t there, I could try the bar, but felt pretty certain it would be closed. Judy told me there were sleeping accommodations in the back, but didn’t say Bob used them. My impression from her was he maintained those for his homeless friends. In short, I had no idea how to find him if he wasn’t selling papers.

I considered killing time by cruising past my house first. If the way was clear, I could slip in and pick up another change or three of clothing. Then, if David suggested I stay over, I’d be ready. That sounded like a plan more to my liking, so I blessed it and made a left turn.

When I reached my neighborhood, I started five blocks out and circled, closing the radius with each trip around the area. I didn’t see any cars that held ominous-looking thugs on surveillance or any white Toyota Avalons with gold trim. A couple of Camrys and three Corollas, even two Priuses, but no Avalons. Kind of disrupted my illusion that I lived in an upper middle-class neighborhood.

Satisfying myself there were no thuggeries about to take place, I pulled into my driveway. Big mistake. As I slid out the door, a large sedan coming fast slammed on its brakes, blocking me in. Caught with one foot on the ground and the other inside the car, I was at a disadvantage fumbling behind me at my purse. Someday, I’d learn to carry that blasted gun where I could get to it. However, it was probably to my advantage that I didn’t pull it. A man stepped away from the edge of my house holding either a howitzer or a semi-automatic pistol. From my vantage point, it looked more like the former. Once I tore my eyes away from his hand and up to his face, I recognized Gerald.

Two others jumped from the white Mercury that blocked my driveway. I groaned as I recognized Bruce. My best guess was the third man would be Lodo. Shit. Déjà vu all over again. My opinion of the key word on my badge—
investigator
—sailed downhill as I realized I’d fallen into a trap like the ditziest heroine in the lowest budget movie. If I escaped this one, I vowed to change my hair color to platinum blond. Might as well appear the way I behaved.

“Good morning, Ms. Bowman,” Bruce said.

Apparently, he’d recovered from his flight the previous night and again displayed his gentlemanly persona.

“Good morning, Bruce,” I said, proving I could also be gracious. “I see you didn’t injure yourself when you dashed out my back door.” Never hurts to rub it in a bit.

“No, but it’s kind of you to notice. Now, can we pick up where we left off? You were about to join us on a trip to chat with the boss.” He waved his jacket pocket like in the movies, then scanned the neighborhood. “You’re not expecting any guardian angels this morning, are you?”

Instead of answering, I stared at him. I assumed the pocket waving was to convince me his hand held a pistol. Probably the same one he had the previous night. I could well remember the business end of that one. Ominous.

When I inspected the man beside Bruce, I saw the same hand position. Non-surprises filled the day. And Gerald, who I knew had a cannon suitable for taking out tanks and fortified positions, now had his hand in his pocket. Guess they were bashful about neighbors observing my abduction. I have days when I’m not the brightest bulb in the marquee, but that day was not one of them. That day I was brilliant. Only used a few seconds to make the right decision. “Your car or mine?”

Bruce smiled. “Mine. Lodo enjoys the feel of the Mercury, and you know the rule. Driver gets his choice.” The pocket wave again. “Shall we go?”

“By all means.” I marched toward his vehicle, acting like we were off to a business brunch. Maybe they’d relax around a woman acting like a compliant wimp.

A moment later, I was in the middle position of the backseat squeezed in tight between Bruce and Gerald, the muzzles of their guns pressed into my sides. Guess they thought pinning me with their bodies meant I couldn’t escape.

“Hey guys,” I said, “you get any closer, and I’ll have to name my firstborn after you. Which do you prefer, Bruce Gerald or Gerald Bruce?”

That produced strange looks from both of them, but they did scoot over a bit—not much, but enough to allow a deep breath. I took one.

Bruce leaned away from me far enough to say, “Gerald, check her purse. We wouldn’t want her to get hurt by trying anything silly.”

Gerald followed instructions and displayed my pistol, pepper spray, and handcuffs. “Looks like we tied into one tough lady.”

“Facsimiles,” I said. “I got them at Toys R Us.”

“Uh-huh.” That came from Bruce, who didn’t seem to believe me. He switched topics. “I’m sure you understand you have to wear a blindfold. A professional like you probably has a photographic memory. The boss doesn’t want you to know where we’re meeting. He’s a nut on his privacy.”

“Of course,” I said like it was a situation I encountered every day. “Not too tight though. I’d hate to miss anything he says because you gave me a headache. That’s happened in previous kidnappings, you know.”

He gave me a look that said I was a kook, but played the game. “I understand. Your comfort is my most important consideration.”

The world went black as he slipped a sleep mask over my eyes. Then I felt him fumbling behind my head. I assumed he was adding a blindfold. Probably afraid I had X-ray vision or something. When he finished, I knew I’d have no clue where we were going. Total darkness.

To add insult to injury, I felt cold steel slip around my wrists. Handcuffs. I wondered whether they were mine, and if the key was in my purse.

The car careened along as I tried to keep count of rights and lefts versus time spent without turning. That proved to be as impossible as it sounds. Soon, I’d lost track of time and location. For all I knew, we could have been in Palm Beach or in the middle of Homestead. About the only thing I was sure of was we hadn’t traveled too far east—there’s an ocean out there—or west—the Everglades gets in the way. Had to be north or south. An advantage or disadvantage of living in South Florida, depending on your needs at the time, there’s very little land east or west. However, in the north-south axis of the tri-county area, there were still lots of places where
the
boss
could live.

One problem I had with keeping track of our trip was my mind kept leaping to what would happen when we stopped. I feared it was no mistake my abductors made no attempt to hide their faces. It might be an indication I’d soon be swimming with the fishes—or feeding the alligators. On the plus side though, was the fact they chose to blindfold me. Doubts swirled.

thirty-one

After an indeterminate amount
of time, the car slowed, pulled onto what I took to be a driveway, then moved at a few miles per hour. I began timing the off-road strip by counting Mississippis. I reached twenty before we came to a stop after bouncing over what felt like two speed bumps. A grinding sound followed—garage door, I thought—then the Mercury lurched forward again before stopping and the engine dying.

“Home,” Bruce said. “Now, Ms. Bowman, watch your step as we go into the house.”

From the other side of me came a chuckle. “Not possible. The blindfold stays on. She can’t watch anything.”

I held out my wrists. “I walk better with both hands for balance. You can take these off.”

“Wish I could. But certain protocols must be followed. If you prefer, I could cuff your arms behind you.”

“That’s okay,” I said, chuckling. “I’ll live with what we have.”

Gerald laughed. “You gotta like this chick. She’s got balls.” He hesitated, then broke out in louder laughter.

Bruce joined Gerald in the mirth. If Lodo had a reaction, it was lost to me.

“Yes, she is gutsy,” Bruce said. “Now, Ms. Bowman, you’ll have to trust me. Lean on me, and I’ll keep you from falling. When I tell you to step up or step down, do it. There are stairs to negotiate. We’re in the garage, and you’ll have to step up to enter the house—one step. Next, we encounter three down. We’ll go up again, four of them. Don’t worry about remembering. I’ll prompt you as we come to them. And,” he hesitated, “if you tell the boss what he wants to know, we’ll have the same situation coming out. If not, you won’t have to concern yourself with stumbling.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to give me a forecast of what happens if
the boss
is not happy with my answers.”

“Remember when you were in school and the motto was
Cooperate and Graduate
. Graduation for you will be my dropping you at your house. No cooperation, no graduation.” His words carried a note of finality.

I forced a smile. “Well, graduation sounds like the best alternative. Lead on, McDuff.”

“Yeah, we’d better get in there. Undoubtedly, the boss heard the garage door open and is waiting for us. He wasn’t in the best of moods when we left this morning. He’s still upset that I didn’t deliver you last night.”

Several stumbles later, Bruce settled me onto a soft leather chair in what felt like a spacious, multi-windowed room. Either
the
boss
was using a sunlamp or the sun streamed in. Thinking of the time—mid to late morning—I assumed the windows faced east. But what did I know? Since the blindfold remained in place, it could have been a sunroom with windows on three sides, a tanning salon, or a gazebo. We hadn’t walked across grass, but could have negotiated a breezeway without my knowing it. I had considered counting my steps, but threw the idea away. What purpose would it serve?

“Ms. Bowman. So nice to have you as my guest,” a new voice said. “Would you like something to drink—water, maybe a soda? I assume the hour is too early for anything alcoholic. You need only name your choice, and Lodo will do your bidding.”

The speech was well-modulated, a bit gravelly. It reminded me of the bass-voiced types who do voiceovers or read scripts to the ostensible movement of an animal’s lips. If there was an accent, I didn’t find it.

“A diet soda would be nice,” I said, playing the game. “And removing this blindfold and the cuffs will make my day much brighter.”

My host chuckled. “A wonderful play on words. I enjoy a person who understands the art of repartee. I should have brought up the visual impairment. Lodo, get Ms. Bowman a diet cola while I apologize for my bad manners.” There was a distinct change in his tone—from one speaking to a guest to one commanding a servant. He continued. “Bruce, take off her blindfold and the handcuffs. I’m sure Ms. Bowman will be more comfortable without them.”

“Yes, sir.”

I felt someone fumbling with the knot behind my head, then the sleep mask lifted. Light flooded in, blinding me. The first thing that came into focus was Bruce standing in front of me with a handcuff key in his fingers. A moment later, my hands were free. Next, I saw Gerald leaning against a doorjamb, a revolver cradled in his large right hand. So much for my initial thought of making a break for it. My internal alarm cranked up a couple of notches. The situation did not bode well for my spending the night with David as I preferred.

“Thank you,” I said, rubbing my eyes, then my wrists. I’ve always believed you are as you act. If I didn’t let them see my fear, I wouldn’t be afraid—or something like that.

“You’re welcome. You realize they must be replaced when you leave.”

I looked for the voice, but saw only a speaker above the door. Mr.
Boss
was not in my presence.

Lodo entered from outside and handed me an iced soft drink in a plastic cup, then assumed Gerald’s position at the door. I took the opportunity to study Lodo, memorizing his features. African American with a shaved head. Brown skin tone, not dark. He towered above me. I figured about six-two with a body that bulged his clothes—and not from fat. Attractive guy except for a nasty scar on his cheek. Looked like he came in second in a knife fight. Or maybe he won, but only after receiving a mark for life. If he decided to give up his career in crime, he fit the profile of a professional wrestler.

I scanned from Lodo to Gerald to Bruce. Not a trio to make a girl’s heart go pitter-pat—except in abject fear.

A quick look around told me my luck continued its downslide. We were in a room with cement walls, fluorescent lighting, and one door, against which Lodo leaned. The lighting reminded me of a tanning salon—brilliant. That explained the sunlight I thought I felt when we entered.

My three roommates wore sunglasses. I assumed it was not to hide their identities since we were well past that stage.

I squinted at Bruce. “How about a pair of shades for me?”

“Sorry, Ms. Bowman,” the speaker above the door said. “Your eyes will adjust in a few minutes. I’ve often found that studying a person’s eyes tells me more than their words.” He hesitated. “If you’ve finished examining the place, you know there is no way out except through Lodo. And I assure you, Lodo is an impenetrable obstacle. Also, inspect the area carefully and you’ll see there are enough cameras to ensure I have a clear shot of your face at all times. The eyes, remember?”

“So, you’re sitting someplace comfortable while I swelter here with your friends?” I said as I followed his suggestion. I did a quick count and spotted eight lenses before I quit. I had heard that the camera puts five pounds on a person. That meant I was in danger of gaining a quick forty.

“Don’t overact, Ms. Bowman,” he said in a colder tone. “It doesn’t become you. The room is seventy-two degrees. My employees are there to make you comfortable. If you need something, you need only ask. Of course,” he interrupted himself by chuckling, “I reserve the right to say no.”

“First thing you can do is show yourself. Second is tell me who you are.”

“It’s bad manners not to please a guest, but I have to refuse you on count number one. I have no intention of letting you see me. Enjoy your view of Bruce, Gerald, and Lodo. I’m sure you’ve memorized their features by now. As for who I am, I’ll meet you halfway. You may call me Mr. T.”