The Boy With The Painful Tattoo: Holmes & Moriarity 3 (26 page)

By
people
I did not mean the homeless guy urinating against the wall of the building. He gave me a hostile look for barging into his bathroom without knocking. I averted my gaze.

Otherwise there was nothing but trash cans and empty cardboard boxes. Or boxes that I hoped were empty.

The opening to the alley was ahead. I ran for it, and darted out onto a street just in time to narrowly avoid getting nailed as a blue Mini sped past. I saw Ingrid, hunched over the steering wheel.

“Stop!” I waved my arms. Yelled to her, “Ingrid! Ingrid, it’s me!”

She never glanced my way, never slowed. I doubt if she even saw me. In fact, I doubt she’d have stopped even if she’d hit me.

I watched her bumper sticker—San Francisco State University—grow smaller and smaller. I turned. Saw Beck, still in pursuit, growing larger and larger. I ran.

A restaurant, a coffee house, a bar…anything would do. Eight hundred thousand people in this city and I couldn’t find where any of them hung out. I spotted a dry cleaners and crossed the street. I dived inside. The air was warm and chemical scented.

“Where’s the back?” I cried.

An Asian girl watering a dead African violet pointed speechlessly to the back, and I ran through the floating racks of plastic film-wrapped garments. I shoved out the emergency entrance, raced down another garbage-strewn alley. There was a trash dumpster next to a concrete wall. With a burst of desperate energy, I climbed—it took three tries—onto the dumpster, climbed over the cinderblock wall, and dropped down into what looked like a construction site.

It had to be well after five by then, and there were only a few workers in hard hats to look on in astonishment as I picked my way across the bulldozer-furrowed yard and went out through the chain-link fence.

I was now completely lost. It seemed the least of my problems. I kept running until the stitch in my side grew too bad. Then I walked—with many glances over my shoulder—and tried to phone J.X.

He picked up at once. “Where are you?” He sounded…hard to say. He sounded like someone who had warned himself not to start yelling the minute I called.

“I’m not sure.” I looked around. Liquor stores. Some kind of clinic I didn’t want to know about. Single room occupancy hotels. A long way from the Fairmont, that was a fact. “I was on Market Street. Now I’m not sure.”

“What the
hell
are y—” J.X. stopped and said very calmly, “Can you look around and give me a landmark?”

“Wait. I think maybe I’m on 6th Street? I’m looking at a closed adult theater called Pussy Katz.”

He made a faint sound that might have been dismay or disgust. “Okay. Now listen. As soon as we hang up, put your phone away unless you want to get mugged. Is there a donut shop or some place where you can wait safely?”

I looked around. “There
is
a donut shop, actually. It’s called The Donut Hole.” I feared that was not artistic license.

“Good. Go have a donut. I’m coming to get you right now.”

Three donuts and one very bad cup of coffee later, I dusted the sprinkles off my lips and walked out of The Donut Hole to collapse into J.X.’s Honda S2000.

The car interior smelled comfortingly of apple-cinnamon air freshener and John Varvatos fragrance. We sped away into the evening traffic and into that yawning and abysmal silence I said, “All that you have to say has already crossed my mind.”

J.X. replied tersely, but right on cue, “And possibly your answer has already crossed mine.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“And yet I’m not going to strangle you.” He glanced at me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Or will be. After a drink.”

“Are you sure? You look like…” he paused either out of tact or because words failed him.

“I look like a madman chased me through every godforsaken alley in this godforsaken town. Fortunately my tetanus shots are up to date. Although I’m thinking I should have opted for the malaria and yellow fever inoculations too. You can reassure Izzie that Beck is alive and well.”

He threw me another look, and this time his expression was shocked. “What the hell, Kit?”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

“I thought…I didn’t know what to think. You scared the hell out of me!”

“I’m sorry. Really. You have no notion how sorry I am.”

“I almost called the cops. I almost called Izzie.”

“Please don’t yell at me. Or at least, wait till I’ve had that drink.”

“You leave me an oblique message:
Out with Ingrid
. What am I supposed to make of that?”

I said wearily, “I have no idea. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to think. I don’t know why I let myself get dragged into it.” I proceeded to tell J.X. everything that had occurred that afternoon.

The car swerved twice during my recital. J.X. said very little, but I already knew that was a bad sign. The more quiet he got, the more upset he was.

He said at last, when I finally ran out of words, “If you were going to involve yourself in this, why didn’t you just accept Lorenson’s offer?”

Good question. “I didn’t like Lorenson, that’s part of it. He’s responsible for this whole mess. Partly. He used his precious collection to try to manipulate and control his family, and I don’t blame them for finally getting fed up. But I
didn’t
intend to get involved. Period. It just sort of…happened.”

“Because you
like
playing amateur sleuth.”

“No. I really don’t.”

He shook his head without answering.

“Don’t do the silent head shake at me. Please. That’s really annoying. And not fair because it wasn’t my intention to get involved in this mess. It’s crude and stupid and violent and not an interesting crime at all. It’s not anything like what I would write.”

He looked at me in disbelief. Did the silent head shake again. Said, “We have to talk to Izzie as soon as possible.”

“I know. But if we could just wait until I—”

“No.” His voice was harsh. “Kit, do you not understand you just turned yourself into an accessory after the fact? I can’t
believe
you would do something so reckless. Criminally reckless.”

“
The hell
. I’m not trying to hinder or prevent their apprehension. It helps all of us if I can figure out what Ladas did with the coins. And that’s all I’m trying to do. Beck still thinks I’m central to this, and take it from me, nothing that happened today would change his mind.”

“Ingrid confessed planning the robbery to you!”

“No. She had knowledge of it, sure. But plan it? She couldn’t plan her way out of a tea party.
She’s
an accessory,” I said. “An accessory before the fact.”

“Jesus. Christ.”

“I’m trying to find a way out of this.”

“By getting more deeply involved?”

It’s not that I didn’t see his point. But I didn’t like being yelled at after my already awful afternoon. “You know, I hate to be critical of your friends, but it’s been a goddamned week since I found Ladas’ body in our basement. And the coins are still missing and Beck is still running around threatening to kill me. At least, I assume that’s what the plan is.”

J.X. sucked in a sharp breath. “I know you’re under a strain, Kit. But that doesn’t excuse you from—”

“Oh, spare me. Which reminds me of something else. What the hell did you say to Jerry?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. “You heard the phone message,” he said finally. I thought he sounded guilty, but he wasn’t much prone to guilt, so it was probably chagrin.

“I sure did. I was there when he called. What did you say to him? Because, again, I hate to criticize, but you didn’t help matters.”

“I told him anything he wanted to say to you could be communicated through me.”

I sat up straight. “You told him
what
?”

“That if he had anything to say to you—”

“I heard you. I just can’t believe you said something so…so over the top.”

“You don’t understand the psychology of a stalker.”

“I don’t even know that Jerry
is
a stalker. He could just be pushy. He could just be socially inept. Now you’ve pissed him off and he’s going to go write a bunch of terrible reviews of my books.”

J.X.’s jaw tightened. He said, “He
is
a stalker. I asked Izzie to pull his jacket. His juvenile records are sealed, which right there tells you there’s a problem. Even without those records, Knight has a long history of complaints filed against him for harassment and stalking—as well as one conviction.”

“He was
convicted
of stalking someone?”

J.X. said grimly, “His creative writing professor.”

“He wants to be a
writer
?” I think that might have been the most horrible news yet. On the bright side, he hadn’t asked me to look at his work, so there was still something to be grateful for.

“Apparently so. Anyway, he served a year in jail. Mostly because he was suspected of poisoning the woman’s dog. It wasn’t proved, but it influenced the jury.”

I thought of the picnic basket and swallowed. “Fabulous.”

“Don’t worry. California has the best anti-harassment laws in the country. But the best way to deal with the situation is starve the monster.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means Knight feeds off your reaction to him. He knows he makes you uncomfortable and unhappy. There’s a bullying component to all stalking. But if he can’t reach you, or on the occasions he does reach you, you give him nothing, he’ll eventually lose interest and move on.”

That sounded fine in theory, but I knew a bit about stalking too, thanks to
A Run in Miss Butterwith’s Stalkings
. And inflaming the harasser as J.X. had done with Jerry sometimes escalated the situation.

Not that doing nothing worked either.

Which was why I’d had to conveniently and permanently dispatch the stalker in
A Run in Miss Butterwith’s Stalkings
. A real-life solution was unlikely to be so tidy.

* * * * *

“What if you and I took Gage to the zoo this Saturday?” J.X. suggested as we were cleaning up after dinner.

It had been a quiet meal. J.X. and I had both been preoccupied. Him no doubt with my accessory-after-the-fact status, and me with my potential-stalker-victim status. He hadn’t mentioned phoning Izzie again, but I knew that he was only biding his time till I was in a more reasonable frame of mind. Or maybe he had phoned Izzie while I was enduring my long and very hot shower. That was possible too. One thing I had learned about J.X.—well, two things, and I’d already known them, but I was being reminded of them daily—he was stubborn and he was used to always thinking he was right.

Two fairly annoying qualities. Which I knew first hand—since I shared them.

“I know,” I said. “What if you took Gage to the zoo and I was a really good sport about not getting to spend Saturday with you?”

He sighed. “Kit.”

“I’m just thinking of Gage,” I said. “He’s going to enjoy the two of you going to the zoo a lot more than if I tag along.”

“You wouldn’t be
tagging
along. It would be you and me taking him. That would be the point.”

“I realize that’s the theory. And I appreciate what you’re saying. More than Gage will. It’s just that I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”

“Wouldn’t it help to try to get things back to normal?”

“Maybe. But going to the zoo is not normal for me.”

He said, smiling but stubborn, “I really think it would be good for you to get out of the house. Let’s change the subject. Let’s do something fun. Something relaxing.”

Yes, because there was nothing more relaxing than going to a crowded amusement park on a weekend when it would be packed with frazzled adults, screaming children and caged, desperate animals.

It was my turn to sigh heavily. “J.X., I know you’re keen on me and Gage bonding, but could you maybe soft-peddle it for a while? I’m not really a kid person. And I kind of need to take this at my own speed.”

“I feel like it’s important that we start the way we intend to go on.”

“So do I,” I said. “Which is why I’m asking you not to turn this into a test.”

“A
test
?” No vestige of a smile now.

“That’s what it feels like.”

“It’s not a test. It’s a chance for you to show a little interest in someone besides yourself.”

It stung, but I let it go. “On your timetable.”

“If I don’t push it, it’s not going to happen.”

“It’s not going to happen this Saturday, that’s for damn sure.”

“Right,” J.X. said. “I should have remembered. You’ve already planned a busy weekend feeling sorry for yourself.”

I saw his eyes flicker the instant the words left his mouth, saw his realization that he had said too much. I saw his regret, but it didn’t stop me from firing right back, “Nah, that was last weekend. This weekend I’m busy having second thoughts.”

J.X. sucked in a sharp breath. He opened his mouth and I felt a surge of ferocious glee.
Yes, say it. Go for it. Let’s get it over with now before I convince myself that it might really work this time. Say it.

Instead, he exhaled unsteadily, and said, “I’m sorry you’re having second thoughts. In that case, maybe it would be a mistake to encourage Gage to get too attached.”

I could see he was truly hurt but trying to dial it back, and I wanted to meet him halfway. Part of the trouble was I had learned how to argue from David, and we had developed ugly habits. We didn’t fight a lot, but we always fought mean.

I said, “You don’t have to worry about that. All the giraffes and cotton candy in the world couldn’t soften that kid.”

J.X. turned and walked out.

That was a jolt. Neither David nor I ever walked away from a fight. Not while the other had any blood left to pump from his still-beating heart.

I stared after J.X.

I couldn’t stand the idea that I had hurt him. I wanted to go after him. Except I didn’t think I was in the wrong, and if I went after him that was going to appear like I was relenting. And I wasn’t. I had no intention of going to the zoo. Or anywhere else until I was good and ready.