Stranglehold (16 page)

I started to slide down the side of the rental. Then Jane had her arms around me. “I'm going to get you in the car, and then I'm driving us to the hospital.”

“No, no hospital.”

“What? He could've killed you!”

I was having a hard time swallowing. “Your place. Your place.”

I leaned away from the car so I could open the passenger door. I managed to crawl inside and lay my head back against the seat. I don't know whether I passed out or just went to sleep. It didn't matter. I was out.

Strange room, strange clothes, strange memories. Moonlight through a window, silver and shadowed. I lay on a bed in a pair of pajamas I'd never seen before. My own animal smells; my own animal contours as I stretched. There was pain, and with the pain came memories. The parking lot and the brass knuckles and the gun. Three bumps on the left side of my head. The impulse to get out of bed was slowed by the fact that I was dizzy. I had to move carefully. I didn't even try to stand up at first. Just sat on the edge of the bed. I needed a bathroom and then I needed some coffee. A fragment of fantasy—me beating Craig Donovan to death. His face bloody, his eyes pleading as I sent him into the darkness.

The door opened. She was backlit and in silhouette. “I thought I heard you.”

“What time is it?”

“Just before four-thirty. You got about eight hours' sleep, anyway. How's your head feel?”

“How the hell did you get me into pajamas and then into bed?”

“I'm more resourceful than you realize.”

“You'd have to be.”

“But you didn't answer my question. How's your head?”

“Hurts. But I doubt it's anything serious.”

“I went online and checked for the symptoms of a concussion. You didn't seem to have them, so I put you to bed. There's a bathroom right down the hall. I'll heat up some coffee. You be all right?”

“Yeah. And thanks for taking care of me.”

“That's the most scared I've ever been in my life. I've never seen anything
like that before. I wanted to kill him. Even as mad as I get at my ex, I never seriously think about killing him. But this guy—”

“Believe me, I've been thinking the same thing. I hope I get a chance to pay him back.” Then: “I'll be all right. I'll see you in the kitchen.”

“You sure you don't need help?”

“I'll be fine.”

I knew I was feeling stronger. Something like pride was keeping me from telling her that I was dizzy. I was beginning to realize that Donovan had hurt my ego far more than he'd hurt my body. Even though I hated all the macho bullshit that burdens most men, I didn't like the feeling of being helpless and at somebody else's mercy. Jane had seen how weak I was. I didn't want to stand up and fall down.

“You sure?” She didn't sound sure.

“I'll be fine. I'll see you in the kitchen.”

After her silhouette vanished from the doorway, I stood up and stayed in place until the worst of the dizziness faded. Then I started the slow, careful process of getting to the bathroom. The cold water I splashed on my face brought me awake, the warm muzziness of the bed banished. I was pissed off. Oh, did I have plans for him. My anger overrode any pain I had. It was as if a TV minister had laid hands on me and I'd been reborn. I smiled at myself in the mirror for being such a clever bastard. At the moment my image of a TV minister seemed the wittiest thing I'd ever thought of. What a fine, swell, wonderful guy I was.

The smell of bacon and eggs lured me like a sea siren to my seat in a small nook by a line of casement windows. I would have bet I wasn't hungry.

Jane brought me a cup of coffee and said, “Food'll be ready in a few minutes.”

I took her hand. “I owe you for this. Thanks very much.”

She leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “Well, look at it this way, Dev. You gave me the most memorable night of my sheltered life.” She took her smile back to the stove and finished up our breakfast.

We went over everything again, of course. She still thought I should have called the police. But now that I was awake I began focusing on what Donovan had actually said about doubling the payment, and by eight o'clock tonight.

Jane said, “I wonder why Donovan came after you.”

“I left my card with his girlfriend yesterday. He obviously thinks I'm the point man now—that I'm acting for Natalie.”

“I keep wondering how Natalie's going to take it,” she said. “You know, when you tell her Donovan wants another payment.”

“I'm wondering the same thing.”

“Do blackmailers usually do stuff like this?”

The conversation amused me suddenly. “Well, I looked it up in
Blackmailing for Dummies
and they said that it's always a possibility.”

“
Blackmailing for Dummies
. You must have quite a library.”

“I hope you get a chance to see it sometime.”

“Boy, is Natalie going to be pissed. If I didn't love Susan so much, I could almost enjoy seeing Donovan treat Natalie like this.”

Just then a jagged slice of pain cleaved my skull. I must have winced because Jane said, “Let me get some Tylenol.”

I didn't argue.

When she came back, she served us breakfast and I swallowed the capsules. French toast, eggs, and bacon. I allowed myself to feel fat and lazy for a few minutes. But then the pain reminded me that I had things I needed to do.

“I need to go, Jane. The food—everything . . .” I rose and took a few steps toward her. I took her hand. “Thanks. I really owe you.”

“You're leaving now?”

“It's almost five-thirty. I want to get ready to go see Natalie and Wyatt.”

“Nuts,” she said. And laughed. “My mother said that I was a very spoiled child and that that was my favorite word whenever I didn't get my way.”

I took the linen napkin, dipped the edge of it in her glass of water, and then wiped away a tiny button of egg yolk on the side of her lovely mouth.

“Oh, great,” she said, “I'll bet that looked sexy, whatever it was.”

I raised her gently to her feet. We were both in pajamas. As we kissed I felt her warm yielding body shifting against mine. I think we were both in a kind of trance as she led me back through the house. When we passed one door she said, “That's the master bedroom. Where I had to sleep with you-know-who. The guest room all right?”

“Fine.”

And it was fine indeed.

I walked into the headquarters' office at 6:47. Ben was already there drinking coffee from a large McDonald's container and studying his computer screen with enough concentration to levitate it. Without looking up he said, “Couldn't sleep. Kristin called me late last night and said she was at a club where a reporter told her there'd be a big story about internal problems in our campaign.” Then: “By the way, you're off the hook. She told me she met this guy last night and she's in love.”

I took my own McDonald's coffee container to the desk I'd been using. “I take it the story ran.”

“Yeah and it's long. I haven't finished it yet.”

I logged onto the newspaper Web site and started reading. I was only a quarter of the way through when my head started pounding again. Words could hit just as hard as Donovan's brass knuckles.

“I wonder how long this guy has been dating Duffy?” Ben said, referring to the reporter.

“It sure as hell reads like that, doesn't it?” The bastard had done a good job. The infighting between Susan and Natalie, how Natalie
treated her staff, and citing four well-known and embarrassing moments from Susan's past.

“It doesn't get any worse than that,” Ben said.

“The hell it doesn't.”

I gave him a quick version of what had happened last night and Donovan's demand for a double payment. “The son of a bitch might do anything, Ben. That's the hell of it.”

“He's a sadistic bastard.”

I was on my feet again. “Now I have to go talk to Byrnes and Natalie.” I walked over and picked up my coat.

“You remember any prayers?”

“Yeah.”

“If I had to face Natalie, I'd say a whole lot of them.”

The grass on the endless lawn of the Cooper mansion glittered with frost that was only now beginning to dry off. As I pulled closer I could see that the flower beds had been covered. Except for a border collie sniffing at the base of a tree I didn't see anything moving around the place. As I passed the garage I noticed that all four of the doors were closed. I parked in front and took my time getting to the door. The cold air felt good, though the weather report said rain was expected by mid-afternoon.

Winnie answered the door. “They're just finishing breakfast. I'm sure there'll be plenty for you.”

“No thanks. In fact, if you wouldn't mind, I wish you'd let me sit in the study and tell Wyatt I'd like to talk to him at his convenience.” I'd decided to talk to Wyatt alone first. He'd never studied drama.

“You look very serious this morning.”

“This is important, Winnie. All I can tell you is that the whole campaign is starting to come apart. I need to talk to Wyatt.”

Behind her I heard Natalie's voice. “Winnie, why is the front door open? There's a draft in case you hadn't noticed.” I could see past Winnie into the morning shadows of the hall that ran through the center of the house. Natalie was somewhere back there. “Did you hear me, Winnie? Now close that goddamn door.”

“We have a caller, Natalie. Mr. Conrad is here.”

“Here?” she snapped. “What the hell's he doing here?”

She came into the light like a heat-seeking missile, ready to hit her target. She wore a black dressing gown that had a train like a wedding dress. She came up to me like a punk ready to fight. She looked perfect. “Do you have any idea what time it is? And we don't receive visitors unless they call first.”

Winnie had stepped aside as if afraid of violence.

“Natalie, I could give a shit about your rules. I want to talk to Wyatt in the study, and I don't want you in there with him. And I don't want you listening at the door.”

I moved so fast she had to back up. She made noises that were not exactly words. Finally she shouted, “Wyatt! I want you to call the police!”

A few seconds later Byrnes appeared, walking fast. He wore a Western shirt and jeans. His feet were bare. Before he reached us he said, “What the hell's going on?”

“I want him arrested.”

“Oh, for God's sake, Natalie, what the hell are you talking about?” To me he said, “Why're you here so early?”

“Have you read the paper this morning or gone online?”

“No, why?”

“They're moving on us. Right now they're just talking about internal squabbling with our campaign. But obviously somebody in our camp is talking to this reporter. I'm pretty sure it's going to get a lot worse.”

“You bastard,” she said. “This is all your fault. You and Ben. I don't know why I ever hired you. You're the most incompetent people I've
ever worked with.” She stabbed a finger in my direction. “You're a fucking joke!”

It was a good exit line. She whipped her train around her and stalked to the sweeping staircase. She had learned her Scarlett O'Hara well.

Byrnes sighed and shook his head. “Well, you may as well come in. Natalie's already going to have my head anyway. Winnie, would you bring us coffee in the study?”

“Of course.”

I followed him into the study. His bare feet slapped on the parquet floor. He was swearing under his breath the whole time.

When we were inside, he walked over to one of the mullioned windows and opened it from the bottom. He pointed to a leather wing chair. I sat and watched him dig something out of his desk. I wasn't sure what it was until he was standing next to the open window. He tamped a cigarette from a pack of Winstons. “My secret vice. I only smoke one when I'm really stressed. And this morning sure as shit qualifies. It's going to be hell around here.” He stood by the window, exhaling into the fresh air. I half expected him to stick his head outside and smoke.

He took seven or eight drags, inhaling each of them. Then he licked his thumb and forefinger and squeezed the flame out between them. “My father taught me that trick. Picked it up when he was a cowboy—a real one, not a pretend one like me.” He sounded bitter. He closed the window, locked it, and walked back to his desk.

But he wasn't done with the smoking ceremony yet. From a different drawer he pulled one of those small battery-powered fans. He turned it on. It sounded like the biggest horsefly that had ever lived. He went back to the window and began covering the entire area with swipes of the fan. Then he shut it off, brought it back to the desk, closed the drawer, and sat down.

“She hasn't caught me yet.” His smile was sour. He was a prisoner of her wealth and power like everybody else. The stranglehold.

“I assume something bad has happened, Dev, or you wouldn't be here so early.”

“Craig Donovan paid me a visit last night.”

“What did that bastard want?”

“You mean aside from working on my head with brass knuckles?”

“I want to kill that son of a bitch. He swaggers in here and makes his demands. You can see how much he's enjoying himself. No matter how low Susan sank when she was running around, I don't know how she ever hooked up with him. He's a psychopath. I resented giving him a damned dime. But then it's not my money. Natalie thought she could buy him off the one time and he wouldn't come back for more.”

“He's already come back for more.”

“What the hell're you talking about?”

“He wants double the amount. Another full payment.”

“He's crazy.”