Dead Ringer (31 page)

“
Twin?”

“
Don’t act so surprised, you’ve already figured it out. And yes, you got Margo Kenyon. That was another mistake, dumping her body behind the bar. We never would’ve been involved if you hadn’t done that, never would’ve figured it all out. And before you think you can shut me up by pulling that trigger, you’d better wonder whether or not I wrote it all down and left it in an envelope with someone to go public with if anything happens to me or Maggie.”

“
Don’t make sense, nothing in it for you.” Horace tightened his grip on the gun.

“
Margo Kenyon inherited over three million dollars from her father when he died. We get to keep it, me and Maggie.”

Horace was stunned. They get to keep three million bucks if they keep quiet, but if something happens to either one of them, someone opens an envelope somewhere and tells the world about how fucking stupid he’d been, hitting cops’ kin. Yeah, Striker would leave ’em alone, at least until he found out who had that envelope.

He saw the payoff for the Twin sinking down a rat hole. No way could he do her now. Striker might even try to renege on the old broad and the kid. It wasn’t fair. Minutes ago he was looking at a fortune, now this clown and the woman were getting it.

“
So, you and Striker got it all worked out?” Horace moved in closer, stood above Gordon, pointed the gun at his head.

Gordon looked past him, said, “Jasmine, you’re not supposed to be up. Get back to bed.”

The kid was here? Horace snuck a quick glace over his shoulder.

And pain blasted through his hand.

Horace spun his eyes back toward the fag. The fucker was in flight, coming toward him like a killer bird. He tried to bring the Beretta to bear, but it was gone. Bastard had kicked the gun from his hand.

Then the faggot was on him. Hands circled his neck, claws dug in, cut off his air. Pain thundered from his groin, bastard had kneed him in the balls. No air, can’t breathe. He was falling backward, fucker on top of him.

Air, need air.

Horace jabbed a fist into the faggot’s belly, but he didn’t let go. He hit him again and still he held on, thumbs digging into his windpipe. Again, again, again, but each blow was a pale imitation of the one before. Horace had no power behind his fists. He was a two year old trying to stop a train.

His head pounded into the carpet as he thudded to the floor with the faggot still on top of him, hands still on his neck, still squeezing. Horace was getting dizzy. He was going to die here. Fucking faggot was killing him. He could feel his eyes popping out as he stared into the faggot’s cold glare. There was no mercy in those eyes, the faggot was going to kill him. No doubt.

Horace struggled a hand into a back pocket, fingers snaked inside, closed around Virgil’s knife. He was going to pass out, but first his thumb hit the button, flicked the knife open.

No strength for a good thrust, but he gave it his best effort, a swipe at the fucker’s chest.

The faggot jumped back.

Horace sucked air, wheezing like a sick dog, he couldn’t get enough.

All of a sudden, the faggot was on the other side of the room, his yellow Hawaiian shirt covered in blood.

Horace rolled over, pushed himself to his knees. His balls felt like they were going to explode, but he had to get up before the faggot came at him again. Fuck, the guy was strong. Horace climbed to his feet as the faggot ripped out a shivering scream. Not pain, one of those karate screams.

The bastard was coming at him again, rage in his eyes. No knife was gonna stop something like that. Horace dropped it, picked up a lamp. The base was a thick glass bowl stuffed full of sand and sea shells. Heavy as cement. He ripped the cord from the wall and smashed it into the charging faggot’s head. Fucker was so blind angry he never saw it coming.

The faggot went down like he’d been shot and Horace dashed to the door. No telling who heard that scream. He was outside in an instant. He thought about going back for the knife and gun, but a light went on down the way and it made up his mind. He ran.

* * *

Gordon came to with the mother of migraines. Everything was black. Something cold was pressed against his forehead. He tried to get up.

“
No, lay still.” It was Maggie’s voice.

“
I’m okay.” He opened his eyes. Concern was written all over her face. She looked like an angel. He was on the floor, head in her lap. Gay was looking over her shoulder.

“
No, you’re not.”

“
Where’s the girls?”

“
Still at the movies. It was a teenage vampire kind of thing, we left in the middle and it’s a good thing we did, you were bleeding all over everything.”

“
I’ll call 911,” Gay said.

“
No,” Gordon said.

“
We have to get you to a doctor. You’ve lost a lot of blood and that cut on your chest is going to need stitches.”

“
Don’t feel it,” Gordon said. But he was beginning to.

“
It’d be quicker if we took him to the hospital,” Gay said.

“
No, call Jonas. He’ll know what to do.”

“
Gordon!” Maggie said.

“
No doctor, no police. Call Jonas. Tell him what happened, he’ll fix it.”

“
I don’t think so, Gordon,” Maggie said.

“
It’s the only way. I’ll be alright.”

“
I’ll take over, so you can make that call.” Gay sat down and Maggie shifted Gordon into her lap. He fought to stay conscious as Maggie went out to the kitchen and the phone. In a few seconds, he heard her talking to Jonas. Heard her explaining how she was still alive and why she’d called. Then he closed his eyes.

Chapter Twenty

“
I thought you were gonna take the kids to your house.” Maggie pushed her hair out of her eyes. She was in Jonas’ kitchen in his apartment above the Whale. She leaned on the counter by the sink. She was tired.

“
I decided it was a bad idea. It didn’t seem safe, not after what happened tonight.” Gay whispered, so the girls in the other room wouldn’t hear. She’d gone to pick them up right after they’d delivered Gordon to Jonas’. She’d only been back a few seconds, when Maggie whisked her into the kitchen. “How’s your friend?”

“
He’s going to be alright. The doctor’s with him now. It doesn’t look like a concussion.”

“
What about the knife wound?”

“
Fifteen stitches, he’s going to have a scar.”

“
So, what’s the deal, are these guys some kind of crooks or something?”

“
No.” Maggie laughed. “Gordon used to be in the FBI. Jonas, well I don’t know, but I know he’s got a lot of friends and that he doesn’t like cops.”

“
That’s obvious,” Gay said.

“
Yeah, I can see how it looks like something out of a bad movie,” Maggie said. Jonas had a doctor waiting for them when they showed up with Gordon. A young guy she’d seen working the pinball machines downstairs in the Whale. He didn’t make any noises about getting Gordon to a hospital or calling the police.

“
They just put him to bed and started working on him, like it’s something that happens every day,” Gay said.

“
They’re close.” Maggie turned, looked out the window over the sink.

“
Checking to see if anyone’s outside?”

“
That’s the dumpster where he left her, right down there. God, I’ve been so stupid. I feel like this whole thing is my fault.”

“
Nonsense. None of it is,”

“
Especially tonight, I should’ve stayed home.”

“
Then that would be you cut up, or worse, Jasmine. And you guys might not have been so lucky.”

“
She’s right,” Jonas said, coming into the kitchen. “Gordon’s drugged up and mumbling, but he’s a tough old bird, it’ll take more than a scratch across his chest and a bash to the head to do him in. Doc says he’s going to be right as rain, but he’s stuck in bed for a few days.”

“
Thank God.” Maggie favored Jonas with a weak smile. “What are the girls doing?”

“
Television in the den, music videos,” Jonas said. “They think my place is cool, but they’re distressed that I don’t have any Sugar Frosted Flakes and they’re upset about not having their schoolbooks. What’s the fifth grade coming to, school’s supposed to be fun at that age, isn’t it?”

“
I’ll go and get the books after I get back from the liquor store with the cereal.” Maggie started for the back door. It opened on a landing, the steps went down to the alley behind the Whale.

“
Where do you think you’re going?” Gay said.

“
The liquor store’s only a couple blocks away.”

“
You’re not going alone,” Gay said. “And especially not down there.”

“
I’ll be okay, I’ve got my trusty Sigma.” She turned, raised her sweatshirt, so Gay could see the gun tucked between her Levi’s and the small of her back.

“
Where did that come from?” Gay said. “Do you know how to use it?”

“
I stole it.” Maggie wondered if Nick had noticed it gone yet. “And yes I know how to use it.” She went to the back door, opened it.

“
I’m still going,” Gay said.

“
Just be careful,” Jonas said. “Gordon will have my neck if anything happens to you two on my watch.”

“
Nothing’s going to happen,” Gay said.

“
You can help make sure.” Jonas left the room, returned after a few seconds. “Take this.” He was holding out Nighthyde’s gun. “It’s easy to use, just point and pull the trigger.”

“
I know how they work.” Gay took the gun, pulled her blouse out from her jeans and stuffed it between them and her back, like Maggie. “God I feel like we’re Bonnie and Clyde.”

“
Thelma and Louise,” Maggie said.

“
Whatever.”

At the liquor store on the corner Maggie said. “You go in and get the milk and cereal, I’ve got something I need to find out from information.” Maggie started toward a phone booth in front of the store.

“
What?”

“
Horace Nighthyde’s address.”

“
You’re kidding.”

“
It’s my only chance. I have to convince him it’s all over. Gordon was right about that. It’s the only way.”

“
Yeah, and look what happened to him.”

“
He said Nighthyde was listening to him when he took a chance and knocked the gun out of his hand.” She picked up the phone, dialed information and got the phone number. At first the operator didn’t want to give out the address, but when Maggie pleaded, saying she just needed it to address a birthday card to her stepfather’s brother, the operator gave in.

“
God you’re good, you sounded just like a little girl.”

“
It’s easier to bend the rules for children.” Then, “He lives in Lakewood, on Daneland.”

“
You never were going to get the schoolbooks, were you?”

“
No.”

“
What if this Nighthyde character doesn’t listen to you?”

“
He’s not gonna shoot me on his front porch.”

“
I’m going with you?”

“
I know.”

“
Let’s go get the cereal.”

Inside the store Maggie picked up the Frosted Flakes, a half gallon of milk and a bottle of Sutter Home Cabernet. “To celebrate with when this is all over.”

“
Big spender,” Gay said as they were at the check out.

“
Yeah, I guess I’m not used to all the money yet.” Maggie bagged her purchases. “In fact, I hope I never get used to it.”

“
You’ll do fine,” Gay said.

“
You think?”

“
Look out.” Gay pushed Maggie aside as a young Asian man burst through the doorway. He was wearing fringed jeans, not Levi’s, and a black leather motorcycle jacket with the sleeves cut off. Tattoos peppered his arms. It would have been a head on collision, but, thanks to Gay’s fast reaction, he only brushed against Maggie. “He didn’t even apologize.”

“
Yakuza copycat,” Maggie said. “Japanese type Mafia.”

Back at the apartment Gay said. “We’ll have to stop and get gas, Gordon’s Ford is almost out.”

“
Take mine.” Jonas fished a set of keys out of his pocket, handed them to Maggie.

“
Wow, a modern version of the monkey poop green, 1966 VW I drove for years,” Gay said as she got in the passenger side of Jonas’ car.

“
Bright red, new and improved.” Maggie took off the hand brake, started it.

“
Much bigger than my old Beetle. It’s like a pregnant Bug.” Gay pulled on the shoulder harness.

“
At least it’s not an automatic,” Maggie said.

“
Yesterday you seemed so lost, but not now. You’ve changed.” Gay fiddled with the GPS as they took the on ramp to the 605 Freeway.

“
I don’t feel any different.”

“
You are.”

Fifteen minutes later they turned off the freeway. Another couple of minutes and Gay said, “Daneland, that’s it, that’s the street.”

Maggie turned, drove slowly, found the address, parked in front. “Lights are off. No car in the driveway. Doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”