Dead Giveaway (9 page)

“Erection?”
Jayne let out a whoop of laughter. “Thanks, but I think I'd better hang on with
love.
You want to take a break and beat me in a game of tennis?”

“Not right now, Jayne. I'm stuck filling an emergency order and Walker's in town at the warehouse.”

Jayne took on a serious tone. “Come on, Ellen, honey. We haven't played for a coon's age, and I need something physical to take my mind off Paul. Besides, it's not good for you to work all the time.”

“I know, but I've got a rush order. And . . .”

“You've got all day to fill it,” Jayne broke in before Ellen could think of another excuse. “I figured out that you're avoiding Vanessa, but you're going to have to face her sooner or later, living in the same building and all. You might as well take the bull by the horns.”

“Well . . . all right. Is eleven-thirty good for you?”

“It's perfect. Keep thinking about what rhymes with
love,
will you?”

There was a thoughtful expression on Ellen's face as she hung up. It was true that she'd been avoiding Vanessa ever since catching her with Johnny, but she hadn't realized that anyone had noticed, especially since she'd been too embarrassed to tell anyone about that night. No one, not even Johnny himself, knew the real reason why she'd bought out his half of Vegas Dolls and hired Walker to take his place. Falling for Johnny had been a terrible mistake. He'd never promised her anything and she'd been a fool to assume that he felt the same way she did. At least she wouldn't make that mistake again.

The phone rang again and Ellen grabbed it, but it was only a salesman peddling burial plots. Ellen told him she didn't plan to die and slammed down the receiver. With all these distractions, she'd never get anything done. Ellen pulled out the drawer on her workbench to get a list of her suppliers. It was ten fifty-seven and Walker ought to be at the art supply store by now. She had just begun to dial the number when the phone went dead. Then she heard a noise like a freight train outside the window and the whole building started to shake.

Ellen screamed as the banks of fluorescent lights flickered and went out. There was no time to run and no place to go if there had been. Boxes of mannequin parts flew from the shelves and broke open to reveal the arms she'd been missing, but Ellen was too busy scrambling for cover to notice. Then her huge oak workbench began to tip and a crushing weight pushed her down.

Jayne was the first one to reach the garage, the place they'd agreed to meet in the event of a building emergency. Since Jack had told them not to use the elevator in an emergency, she'd run down nine flights of stairs and she was breathing hard. They were to wait in an orderly fashion for the others to assemble, then, as a group, check on missing residents and assess the damage.

She paced, anxiously waiting for someone else to join her. She'd already broken one of Jack's rules by taking the time to stop off at Betty's floor, where Margaret Woodard had answered the door with a broom in her hand. A picture frame had fallen off the wall, shattering the glass, but that was the only casualty. According to the nurse, Betty had been watching television and hadn't even noticed the tremor. Jayne was glad they were both all right, even though she'd never liked Margaret Woodard. Perhaps it was her starched efficiency or the fact that she never smiled. Even though Jayne had stopped by to see Betty every day for the past two years, she still called the nurse Miss Woodard.

Just as Jayne was wondering what she should do, the elevator doors opened and Alan Lewis stepped off. She was so surprised she said the first thing that popped into her head. “If Jack were here, you'd be in deep trouble.”

“You mean because I used the elevator?” Alan grinned as Jayne nodded. “It's okay, Janie. I checked it out and the backup system's okay. Aren't you even going to ask me if I'm all right?”

“You look okay to me. How about Laureen?”

“She's fine. That big spice rack over the stove fell down and I left her cleaning up basil and oregano and God knows what else. How about you?”

“My coffee cup smashed and the studio's a mess, but nothing else broke.”

The door to the stairwell opened and Marc came in, followed by Hal and Vanessa, who was clinging uncharacteristically to her husband's arm. It was obvious that Vanessa had been in the process of applying her morning makeup. She had blue eye shadow on her left eyelid with none on her right.

“Any damage?” Hal asked.

Jayne shook her head. “Nothing to write home about. Your place?”

“Vanessa's makeup mirror fell off the wall. That's major damage, according to her.”

“How can you joke at a time like this?” Vanessa pulled away from him. “I could have been killed!”

Hal began to grin as he considered that possibility and Alan jumped in before he could reply. “How about your pinball machines, Marc?”

“They're okay. The one I was playing flashed a tilt, so the building must have taken a real jolt. Does everyone have power?”

Alan nodded. “We're running off the emergency generator. Did you go out to check the building?”

“That was the first thing I did. There's minor damage to one of the retaining walls, but that's easy to fix. Our phone lines are dead, though. And our cell phones won't work. I tried both of mine.”

The door to the stairwell opened and Clayton and Rachael rushed in. Moira was right behind them, a smile on her face. “None of us have any damage, but wait till Grace hears! She says nothing exciting ever happens up here on the mountain. Did anyone see what happened?”

“Laureen did,” reported Alan. “She was looking out the kitchen window and saw a solid wall of snow slide down the mountain.”

Clayton nodded. “An avalanche, then. Or an earthquake that precipitated an avalanche. Rachael and I were . . . well, we weren't looking out the window, but we both heard a loud, rumbling sound.”

“And then the earth moved, didn't it, Clay?”

Vanessa's eyebrows raised slightly, but then she decided to let Rachael's comment pass. Surely it couldn't mean what she thought it meant. “I bet they blew up a bomb at the Nevada test site.”

Hal assumed his long-suffering look. “The Nevada test site shut down years ago.”

“But they could still have a bunch of bombs down there. Maybe one went off by accident.”

Hal snorted. “Try using that little brain of yours. If they'd set off any kind of thermonuclear device, we'd all be crispy critters.”

Just then the elevator doors opened and Laureen stepped out. “Sorry I'm late. Who's missing?”

“Grace is,” Moira answered, “but she left for work early this morning.”

“How about Betty?”

“Betty and Margaret are fine,” Jayne informed them. “I stopped off on my way down. Should I go up and check on Ellen?”

“Not until we find Jack. He's the one with the master plan.”

Alan led the way to Jack's security office and pushed open the door. The sight that awaited them was total destruction. The bank of closed-circuit television monitors had toppled off the shelf and shards of glass were everywhere.

“Careful where you step,” Alan cautioned. “Jack? You in here?”

There was silence for a moment and then they heard a moan. Jack lay behind his desk in a pool of blood. His lower leg was bent at a grotesque angle and his face was gray with pain.

“Oh, God!” Vanessa took one look and grabbed Alan, blocking the doorway.

Laureen pulled her away and shoved her into Hal's arms. “Shut up, Vanessa. And hang on to your own husband for a change.”

“But Jack's dead! We're too late!”

Hal pushed his wife forward none too gently. “Dead people can't moan. Now get in there and make yourself useful. You told me you had some nursing training.”

“Only two weeks.” Vanessa looked panic-stricken. “And all we learned how to do was empty bedpans. I can't deal with this, Hal. The sight of blood makes me sick!”

Alan made his way past the group at the door and grabbed a chair cushion to protect his knees as he knelt down by Jack. After a moment, he motioned for Laureen. “Bring me all the blankets you can find, anything we can use to keep him warm. Rachael? Go up to Betty's and tell the nurse that Jack's got a compound fracture of the left fibula and send her down here on the double.” Alan took one look at Vanessa's white face and added, “Take Vanessa with you before she faints.”

Vanessa looked dazed as Rachael grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room. The rest of them crowded around Jack as Alan covered him with blankets.

Clayton swallowed hard. He'd seen the jagged edge of bone that stuck out of Jack's shin and he felt a little faint, too. “Should we carry him to the bedroom?”

“Leave him right where he is. He'll go into shock if we move him.”

“But won't he bleed to death?” Jayne's face turned almost as gray as Jack's as she stared down at the blood on the floor.

“There's still a little bleeding, but it's slowed. Go find a big pillow and some adhesive tape. We'll have to line up his leg. Lucky there's a nurse in the building.”

“We're also lucky we've got you.” Laureen squeezed her husband's arm and turned to the others to explain. “Alan was a medic in the army.”

“Will Jack be all right?” Moira asked the question that was in everyone's mind.

“I think so. His ABC's check out.” Since Moira was looking at him blankly, he explained. “ABCs. Airway, breathing, and cardiac function.”

“I'm here.” Margaret Woodard bustled into the room and everyone moved back a step as she knelt down next to Alan. It seemed to take forever to the anxious group, but at last she turned to look up at them. “Is there a shortwave radio? He's got to be hospitalized as soon as possible.”

Hal nodded. “There's one in the next room. Jack showed it to me. I'll call for help.”

Alan and the nurse slipped the pillow under Jack's leg. When they straightened it, Jack cried out sharply and sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Hold on, Jack.” Alan's voice was gentle. “We'll work as fast as we can.”

They had just finished securing Jack's leg in its pillow bandage when Hal rushed back into the room. “They'll be here in less than twenty minutes to airlift Jack out. I told them exactly what you said, Alan, a compound fracture of the left fibula. Let's go up and check on Ellen. If she's injured, they can fly her out, too.”

“Go ahead.” Margaret Woodard gestured for Alan to go. “I'll stay with this one.”

Jayne frowned; Margaret Woodard's attitude irked her. Jack came to see Betty at least twice a day; yet she referred to Jack as “this one.” The woman was a cold fish, no doubt about it.

There was an uneasy silence as they rode up to the eighth floor. After seeing Jack's condition, no one wanted to speculate. They all knew Ellen worked with power tools and might well have been using them when the avalanche hit.

Jayne was in the lead as they reached Ellen's unit and she waited anxiously for Alan to unlock the door with the master key he'd taken from Jack's office. They stepped in and Jayne called out, “Ellen? Are you here?” Jayne frowned as there was no answer. “Let's check the workroom first. She told me she had some things to finish before she met me for tennis.”

There was something eerie about walking through someone else's home without being invited, and Jayne shivered as she pushed open the workroom door. They found even more damage than in Jack's security office. A heavy workbench had toppled and lifelike pieces of mannequin anatomy were strewn all over the room.

“Ellen? Where are you?” This time they heard a muffled answer.

“I'm under the workbench.” Ellen's voice was faint. “I think I'm all right, but there's not much room under here.”

Clayton took charge. “Come on. Everyone over here. Let's lift it so she can get out.”

“Stop!” Jayne ran forward. “From that end, the weight'll shift. It's a classic cantilever and you have to lift along the axis.”

Marc turned in surprise, then he nodded. “You're right, Jayne. Alan? Come over here. I'll show you where to lift. Clayton, you take it from the middle and I'll handle this end. Straight up now, on the count of three. You ladies get ready to help Ellen out.”

In less than a minute, Ellen was freed. Bruised and shaken, she wasn't seriously hurt. “Is everyone else all right?”

“Except Jack.” As usual, Jayne spoke without thinking and she winced at Ellen's anguished expression. “Don't worry, Ellen. Just a broken leg. They're coming with a helicopter.”

“Thank God!” Ellen drew a sigh of relief, then looked around at the debris and started to giggle. “It looks like a morgue in here. Something about the sight of those heads over there is doing me in.”

They followed Ellen's gaze and even Hal began to smile. It did look like a morgue. Several mannequin heads had rolled out of their boxes and one was sitting on the stomach of a torso.

“I'm glad you can laugh about it, Ellen.” Jayne put her arm around Ellen's shoulders. “I would have been scared straight out of my hide.”

“I didn't have time to be scared when it was happening, but it was awful being trapped. I knew I couldn't get out by myself and I kept wondering what would happen if . . .” Ellen swallowed hard. “Well, it's over. No sense thinking about it now. I'm just glad you didn't panic, Jayne. How did you know about the cantilever business, anyway?”

Jayne shrugged. “I guess Paul must have talked about it. The whole thing looked a little like a bridge he designed.”

“I'd better call Walker and tell him I'm all right. He's probably at the warehouse by now.”

Alan stopped her as she reached for the phone. “The lines are down, Ellen. We had to use the shortwave to call for the chopper.”

Just then, the sound of helicopter blades whirling became audible and Alan led Ellen toward the door. “Let's go out and tell them we're okay. They can call Walker for you.”

Everyone was relieved as they rode down on the elevator, the aftermath of surviving a disaster relatively unscathed. The last one off, Ellen hung behind a little. She reminded herself that they were all alive and nothing was damaged that couldn't be fixed. She really ought to be thankful. But as she stepped out into the frigid air and watched her neighbors rush through the snow to the helicopter, she couldn't seem to shake a premonition of trouble ahead.