Death of a Pirate King - lanyon Josh - Страница 49

There was a place on Colorado Boulevard that was supposed to be open from six in the evening to eight in the morning. I rang them; they were still in business and accepting customers. I thanked them and went outside to see whether the customer was still alive.

He was breathing, which is always a good sign.

As gently as I could I picked him up, placed him on the towel, wrapped it around him, and put him in my car. I drove to the emergency clinic, the cat purring on the seat beside me.

“What’s his name?” the young man at the front desk asked as my towel and cat were whisked to a back room.

“Uh…John Tomkins,” I said.

“That’s different,” the receptionist said, writing it down.

“He was a pirate,” I said. “I mean Tomkins. I don’t know about the cat. Would you have any idea how long this might take?” I needed to call Jake before it got too late.

He shook his head, his expression politely sympathetic.

I sat down to wait, picking up a battered copy of Cat Fancy. Just the name… I was not -- had never considered myself -- a cat person. And I didn’t plan on starting now. Yet here I was, watching the clock and reading an article on nutrition for young cats.

After about ten minutes, the vet came out. “It looks like a dog got hold of him.”

I couldn’t imagine where Tompkins found a dog to tangle with. “Is he…uh?”

He waited.

I gestured, which I guess was supposed to signify animation -- or maybe what the hell was I supposed to do next.

“He’s alive,” the vet supplied -- and I was astonished at the relief I felt. Mostly, I told myself, because I didn’t want to hear what Natalie would have to say about the damned cat getting itself mauled.

The relief vanished in the wake of a nine hundred dollar bill for testing, X-rays, stitches, etc. The only good news was they were going to keep Mr. Tomkins overnight, so I wouldn’t be tempted to strangle him.

I took my bloodstained towel and my bloodstained credit card back, bade them good night, and returned to Cloak and Dagger.

By then it was eleven thirty, which was way too late to be calling married friends at home, but I didn’t have a choice.

I rang Jake up on his cell. It went straight to message.

I said, “Can you call me when you get this? It’s…” A matter of life and death? I didn’t want to be melodramatic, but it sort of was. And no sort of about it. “Urgent,” I compromised.

I clicked off, went back downstairs to check the security gate and all the locks -- jeering my own unease. Why did I keep putting myself in these situations when they obviously scared the hell out of me?

As I returned upstairs the phone was ringing. I picked it up.

“What’s wrong?” Jake asked. His voice was sleep-roughened, but he sounded alert.

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’ve set myself up to go sailing with Paul Kane tomorrow. I’m pretty sure he’s going to try to kill me.”

There was a very long silence, and then Jake said, “He’ll have to take a number.”

“Look…” And then I couldn’t think of what to say to him. I knew what I was asking -- I’d known before I ever tried to set myself up as bait -- and I knew it might just be too much to ask of anyone.

“You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” Jake said, and I could hear the fury, although he kept his voice low.

“Murder? No, I couldn’t leave murder alone, Jake. And I’ll tell you what: I don’t know how safe it would have been for me to leave it alone, because your boyfriend has settled on murder as the quickest and easiest way to resolve his problems.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fine. If I’m wrong, I’ll just go for a pleasant sail and come back slightly drunk and slightly sunburned. But if I’m right --”

“You think he’s going to attack you in broad daylight? There’s a crew on board, for chrissake.”

“There was a house full of people at that party in Laurel Canyon. I don’t think crowds intimidate him. And I don’t think he’s planning to shoot me. He’s going to need it to look like another accident. He’ll try to shove me overboard or push me down the stairs or something. Put something in my drink maybe.”

Jake said in choked tones, “That’s nearly as brilliant as your plan. What is your plan, by the way? Besides getting yourself killed?”

“It’s the simplest thing in the world. You come too. And you stop him from killing me. And then you arrest him.”

“On attempted murder? How the fuck does --” He abruptly lowered his voice. “Even if we get him on trying to take you out, how does that prove anything else?”

“Why would he try and kill me if it wasn’t because --”

“I can think of a dozen reasons,” Jake said.

“That hurts,” I said after a pause. He was joking -- sort of -- and that had to be a good sign, right? I added, “Anyway, I plan to wear a wire. I bought some gear at Radio Shack --” I stopped. He was laughing.

It was one of those wheezy, near-silent Muttley laughs. When he managed to speak, he sounded slightly hysterical. “You’re insane,” he said. “How did I never notice this about you before?”

“I’m not insane. This is very simple, very straightforward. Provided he doesn’t kill me, it’s foolproof.”

He said very quietly, “Listen to me carefully. Don’t get on that fucking boat tomorrow. I am not going to back you up on this. I am not going to let you manipulate me any more than I am going to let Paul manipulate me. You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do here?”

Now that threw me. Talk about ego-centric. “You think this is all about getting you to come out?”

“That’s what you’re asking of me. And you know -- you know -- I cannot do this. I will not do this.”

“You’d rather that he got away with murder?”

“He didn’t kill anyone!”

In the wake of that cry we were both silent.

I heard him cover the receiver and speak to someone, then he came back on the line. “I’ve got to go. We’ll talk about this later. Don’t -- I repeat -- don’t get on that boat. Don’t do anything stupid. Do you understand?”

And I did. And I believed him.

“Jake…” I wasn’t sure how to say it. “I’ve set something in motion now that I can’t stop. He’s going to come after me, and it would be better if I could control the circumstances of it.”

“You think a boat in the middle of the ocean is controlling the circumstances?” His voice shook both with anger and something not so easily identified. “You just told me your heart is worse, and you pull this stunt. Are you out of your goddamned mind?”

By now it was clearly a rhetorical question.

I said, trying for patience, “This way I know where and I know when he’s going to try. I won’t have that opportunity again. I won’t have any control over it after tomorrow. And if I don’t show up, he’ll know that I know --”

He cut me off, and I almost didn’t recognize that low voice as Jake’s. “I know you’re trying to do the right thing. I know this is partly my fault for letting Paul bring you into this. But I am asking you…” His voice dropped lower. “I am begging you, Adrien. Don’t do this. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you -- but don’t ask this. I can’t help you this time.”

“There isn’t anyone else I can ask, Jake.”

The click of the receiver was soft but definite against my ear.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Are you really intending not to drink or eat anything this entire trip?” Paul asked lazily.