The Twelfth Of Never: A suspense mystery romantic thriller (11 page)

The bright afternoon sun filtered in from the overhead sky
windows, sending rays across the open space of the top floor studio. Jenny
glanced around at the easels scattered throughout the room as sunlight danced
across the floor. She walked through the studio to a room in back where Benjamin
stored his supplies. Once inside the small enclosure, she tucked the brown
envelope behind a few crates. Jenny was about to walk out, then remembered the
two smaller envelopes still in her purse. She sat down on a wooden crate,
reached in her purse, and held the envelopes for a moment before sliding her
finger under the flaps and dumping the contents onto her lap. She just stared
at the pile of hundred-dollar bills and could do nothing more.

CHAPTER 10

The cherrywood paneling glistened with fresh oil. The low hum
of fluorescent tubes sent subliminal messages that the day was already too
long. Gideon sat at the end of the conference room table, staring at the empty
coffee cups and overflowing ashtrays that sent a foul stench into the room.
Everyone had left for home hours earlier. Gideon did not have a home to go to.
It had been nine hours since Delaney had breathed his last breath and Gideon
was not any closer to solving who did it than when he first walked into
Delaney's room at 1:39.

Gideon went over the details a thousand times, and still
nothing added up. No one noticed anyone talking to Rico other than the nurse
with the chart. No nurse admitted to being on rounds at that time. Gideon ran
his hand through his thick curly hair. The pounding in his head was fierce and
his body ached with every breath he took. He shook his head, trying to shake
away the exhaustion that was overtaking his body. Finally, in desperation he
picked up the coroner’s report on the assassination yesterday. Prints were run
through Langley, but turned up nothing. Gideon stared at the picture: the face
was someone familiar. He remembered Private Jimmy Hartwig from Oklahoma City,
who had joined the unit three weeks before Dong Ha. Little Jimmy, as the men
called him, was fresh out of boot camp with all the enthusiasm of a young
recruit. Gideon flashbacked to that night they'd captured a young Vietnamese
woman. Delaney's interrogation had gone non-stop for five hours until, without
warning, he took out his revolver, put it to the woman's head, and blew her
brains out. Little Jimmy became a man that night. He never left Delaney's side
and, Gideon guessed, followed him into the world of terrorism later.

Gideon tossed the report on the table. It did not matter
anymore. There were more pressing matters to concern his troubled mind. Once
more, he picked up the list of employees on duty on the seventh floor that day.
He looked at the graveyard shift, and then the day shift. It was the umpteenth
time Gideon sifted through the names as he tried to remember in his mind each
and every one. Something just was not right but he could not put his finger on
it. Then it hit him when he saw Cindy’s name on the list. She was the woman he
saw enter the elevator. It puzzled him that she’d come back when her shift was
over. Suddenly the door opened. Gideon put the list down, and then turned.

"Oh, it's you," was all Gideon said, as he reached
for the coffee cup, gulped it down. He glanced back at the sheets on the table.

"You still at it?" Jake asked.

Jake quickly walked over to the pot of coffee on the table,
picked it up and poured himself a cup. He reached for Gideon's cup and topped
it off. Jake stood leaning against the wall while lighting up another
cigarette, his third in the last half hour. It was late, and both men were too
tired to think straight anymore. All that kept either of them going was the
caffeine intake and even that was not enough.

"Thanks," Gideon mumbled under his breath.

"Don't mention it." Jake yawned and then took a long
drag on the cigarette while leaning his head on the wall. He looked around but
saw nothing. He was too tired to even care anymore.

"Talk to Rico's wife?" Gideon asked. It had been the
third time Jake left to talk to her that evening.

"It's not easy. Did I tell you she's expecting?"
Jake looked down at Gideon.

"You mentioned it." Gideon didn't want to say it was
the fourth time that evening. Instead he took a sip of the hot liquid, then
turned and asked. "You married?"

"No." Jake exhaled.

"They shouldn't allow cops to marry."

Jake glanced at Gideon, laughed, and then asked. "Why
would you say that?"

"Too much pain. If they don't divorce us, we end up
making them widows."

"You being cynical because of this?" Jake asked, and
then glanced around; he knew exactly what Gideon meant. He could not even find
a girlfriend to put up with it, much less a wife.

"Telling it like it is, that's all."

Jake reached for the cup on the table and took a sip of
coffee. He grimaced, before putting the cup back down. The coffee was as thick
as Mississippi mud.

"You've been looking at that list all night. Why don't
you give it a rest?"

"There's something missing."

"Like what?" Jake asked. He flipped the chair
around, then straddled it and glanced up at Gideon for a moment before looking
back at the list.

"I don't know exactly," Gideon replied, shrugging
his shoulders. His head ached. Colby wanted answers he could not give, and he
was too tired to think straight anymore.

"It came right from Personnel. They verified it against
the punch cards. Everyone who was on duty is on the list." Jake reached
over and snapped his finger, hitting the sheets in Gideon's hand.

"I was in the lobby about twenty minutes before Delaney
died. There was this woman in a nurse's uniform who walked in." Gideon
stopped for a moment, remembering the face that was embedded in his mind.

"Just because she walked in doesn't mean anything."

"The elevator stopped on the seventh."

"So, maybe she worked up there. Maybe she didn't?"
Jake said as he disregarded what Gideon was getting at.

"Her name was Cindy Malone." Gideon set the list
down and looked up at the clock.

"I remember her," Jake added. A baffled look crossed
his face as he picked up the list that lay on the table and stared at it for
the longest time. "She's not on here," Jake turned to Gideon.

"I know."

Jake watched Gideon. "She was on duty yesterday, we
talked. Cute blonde with the prettiest eyes."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I remember the blondes." Jake said, and then
glanced down at the list. "She got off on the seventh?"

"Positive."

"I think she goes back on duty tomorrow morning. The
shift change was at eight. She'd finished rounds when I got here this
morning."

"Why would she come back?" Gideon asked, with a
puzzled look on his face. "Are you sure she's a blonde?"

"Yeah, about five one, with the most intense bedroom blue
eyes you ever saw." Jake closed his eyes, smiled to himself when he
remembered the young girl.

"That's not the Cindy Malone I saw get on the
elevator."

"What did she look like?" Jake asked.

Gideon reached in his wallet and handed Jake the picture of
the sketch.

"Do you always carry a composite?" Jake mocked.

"No, it's a picture I've had for a while," Gideon
replied, disregarding the remark. "The woman looked like this, except the
hair. It was shorter."

"Who is she?" Jake asked.

"If only I knew." Gideon jotted Cindy's name on his
yellow tablet with a few notations about checking her out.

Jake laughed. "Let me get this straight. You carry this
picture around and you don't know who she is?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Gideon snapped.

"Well, what do you want to talk about, the autopsy
report?"

"No, we already know he didn't die of natural
causes." Gideon leaned back on the chair and stretched his arms behind his
head, as he yawned.

"We have lots of prints," Jake added as if Gideon
did not already know.

"Yeah, and I bet none matches the guy we're looking
for."

"What makes you so sure it's a man we're looking
for?" Jake snapped.

Gideon ripped the page off the tablet and tossed it in the
wastebasket that was already filled to capacity. He glanced up at the clock
again. It was too late to do anything more.

"I'm calling it a day," Gideon said.

"You got a place to stay?" Jake asked. He smashed
the cigarette butt and then glanced up at Gideon.

"I've got a flat I'm using for a few days."

"You can come home with me, I have an extra bed. Besides,
I could use some company tonight, if you know what I mean."

"Rico the first partner you lost?" Gideon asked.

"Does it show?"

"Like I said, it never gets easy."

"Don't you usually work in pairs?" Jake asked.

"Not always. I prefer working alone."

Gideon gulped the last of the coffee, and then tossed the cup
in the wastebasket. He got up slowly. The day’s events clearly had an effect on
his tired body. Gideon reached for the lists that were scattered about, tossed
everything into his briefcase, and reached for his jacket.

"Aren't you coming?" Gideon turned and asked.

Jake tossed the half-filled cup of coffee into the wastebasket
and then got up and followed Gideon to the door. Both men knew tomorrow would
not be any better. There were no leads: all they had were three dead bodies, a
girl who came to work but was not on duty, and a trail that was getting colder
by the hour.

* * *

Louis Mendez spent the day dodging his bookie, Carlos. Louis
had avoided his apartment, the pool hall, and all his old haunts for the last
two days. He was slowly running out of holes to hide in. The one place he did
not have to worry about seeing Carlos was when he was working as a janitor at
the hospital. He was already ten minutes late when he pulled into the
underground garage, parking his red-hot ’57 Chevy in back of the lot, away from
all the other cars.

It was Louis's job to clean at the hospital. The job required
no skills. It was a job Louis relished, giving him time to study racing forms,
and pick tomorrow's losers. His addiction made him a castaway in a city that
hated losers. As soon as he hit a winner Carlos would be paid and his credit
line increased. But until then, he had to stay low.

Louis made his way to the janitor's supply room in the
basement. It was not until the door swung closed and Carlos had Louis pinned to
the wall that he realized his troubles were not over. The yellow, orange, and
purple silk paisley shirt was all Louis focused on; he feared looking into
Carlos's eyes. Carlos could always tell when he was lying.

"Louis, you avoiding me?" Carlos said softly. Then
the brass knuckles sent Louis doubling to the floor gasping for air. Carlos
stepped back and admired his handiwork, while waiting for the excuses he knew
would come.

"No, Carlos." Louis struggled to talk. "I been
busy," he gasped for a moment. "I look for you, but no find
you."

"You lie to me?" Carlos bent down and grabbed Louis
by the scruff of the neck, and then quickly slapped the shaking man across the
face.

The young man crouched in the corner. "I got a sure
winner for tomorrow's race."

"Louis, you play me for a fool?" Carlos turned and
raised his hand as if speaking to an audience. He then quickly turned to the
man on the floor.

"I pay you." Louis raised his hands, shielding his
face from further blows.

"We friends," Carlos quickly added as if to ease
Louis's mind. He then turned around to the man in the shadows.

"What you want of me?" Louis knew Carlos never let
anyone off on their debts, and feared he would be made an example of.

"You got five big ones?"

"No," Louis said pathetically. He knew Carlos was
onto him. "Carlos I promise, tomorrow I pay," he begged.

Carlos shook his head. "It’s not good enough."

"Please Carlos, I good for it. I no stiff you."

"Louis, tell you what," Carlos said with a smile on
his face, he glanced at the dark corner, and then turned back to Louis. "I
have a friend," he pointed to the corner of the room. "He wants a
favor. You do it, I give you time. Two days."

"What he want?" Louis asked. He knew now they were
not alone, but could barely make out the man in the shadows. Louis feared he
was Carlos’s henchman, the one who broke arms and legs for a living.

Carlos tightened his grip. "You do cleaning up on the
seventh floor?"

"Yeah," was all Louis could muster up to say. He
listened intently, hoping in the end he would not lose his job for what Carlos
asked.

"There's a meeting room up there?"

"Two," Louis corrected.

Carlos turned to the stranger, and then continued. "Bring
me garbage from each. You understand?"

"And for this, you give me two days?"

"One, if you ask more questions."

"Okay, okay Carlos, no questions. Where you want
it?"

Carlos turned again to the stranger and then back to Louis.
"Just bring it here. Drop it off and leave. Don't look back." Carlos
twisted Louis' shirt, and then continued. "For this you get two
days."

Louis eagerly agreed. It was an easy task for two days’
extension. Louis picked up the mop, and then pushed the cart out of the room
and made his way up to the seventh floor. He would start there tonight and work
his way down, hoping to get it all behind him as soon as possible.

The hospital was quiet. It was well after one in the morning.
Patients were all tucked in for the night, and only a small crew was on duty to
maintain order. No one paid any attention to Louis as he mopped the floor and
made his way down the halls. The meeting rooms were the last rooms to be
cleaned. He did not vary his routine or call attention to himself. Carlos and
the stranger would be waiting for him in the basement where they would turn
over the treasures he found.

Louis did not know what he expected, but when he opened the
meeting room, it looked like it did every night after an all-day session. He
quickly emptied the wastebaskets of coffee-soaked garbage that reeked of stale
cigarette butts. The containers of Chinese carry-out were open and their
contents coated the garbage he dumped into bags. All he was told to do was take
it downstairs. Not to scrutinize its contents. And that was exactly what he
did.

* * *

Jake's apartment was on the Lower East Side. It was a part of
the city that was overrun in recent years by lowlifes, but Jake did not care.
His grandparents still lived there along with his parents. It was a place he
hoped to raise his own family someday. Jake's tiny apartment was on the second
floor, but what Jake forgot to mention to Gideon was the second bed was a sofa.