Bad Apple (22 page)

“Save your breath. I'm not interested.”

“Maybe you should be.” Bells looked up and grinned at her. “It was the only woman I ever did.”

Gina was suddenly restless. Her chest was heaving, and her face started going through contortions trying to settle on an emotion.

Bells pointed with his gun to the windows that faced the skyline. “Go look. Out in the backyard.”

Gina couldn't help herself. She stood up and started for the windows, though her eyes never left Bells. Tozzi got up to follow her before he got his arm yanked again. It was already sore.

Bells came up behind them, swinging the chain, as they stood at the window and looked down at the junky back lot.

“See that compacted car way back by the fence. That rusty thing. See it? About the size of a refrigerator.”

Tozzi spotted it right away, even though it was mostly covered by tall weeds.

“You see it, Gina?”

“I see it.”

“Margie,” he said.

Gina bit her knuckle. She tried to hold back her tears, but it was a losing battle.

“I put her in the trunk of an old Chevy and had her compacted.”

Tozzi felt queasy. “You kill her first?”

“Nope.”

Bells sounded proud of himself. Tozzi could just imagine the poor woman's screams as the compactor ground its gears, crushing the fenders and the roof before it got to the rear end. But who was this Margie? And why did he kill her?”

“I really didn't want to do it,” Bells said. “Swear to God. But you forced me, Gina. The two of you forced me. I kept warning her to stop playing games with me, but she didn't listen. And you egged her on.”

Silent tears rolled down Gina's cheeks. Despite her nasty attitude all day, Tozzi felt bad for her. He wanted to do something for her, but he was afraid she wouldn't want any comforting from him.

Bells stopped twirling the chain. He moved to Gina's side and wiped her cheek with the gun barrel. “I gave you plenty of chances, Gina. You can't say I didn't. But you kept on playing games with me, even after Margie was gone. All I wanted was a simple answer. That's all. But you kept telling me to go fuck myself. Well, now it's my turn to tell you to where to go. And make you go there.”

Tozzi was puzzled. “What's this all about? I don't—”

The gun barrel moved like a viper and slipped into Gina's mouth. She reared back, but the gun followed her retreat. Bells bore down on her until she was on her knees, the gun making her gag.

“Easy! Easy!” Tozzi yelled. He was tempted to take a poke at Bells, who was well within reach now, but he didn't dare, not with the gun in Gina's mouth. “Can't we talk about this, for chrissake?”

Bells's eyes were on fire. “Nothing
to
talk about, Mikey-boy. I've been fucked over by both of you. What's done is done. Now you die. Period.”

“C'mon, Bells. Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable is for jerkoffs. I have rules. I stick to those rules, and I expect other people to do the same.”

Tozzi glanced down at Gina, his heart pounding. She was choking on the gun, writhing, trying to get away from it, but it stayed right with her. “Bells, Bells, listen to me. I don't understand what your complaint is. Not with Gina. Who's this Margie? What's she got to do with anything?”

Bells suddenly whipped the chain around Tozzi's handcuffed wrist. He dug a padlock out of his jacket pocket and dangled it in front of Tozzi's face. “Put the chain around the radiator—that one right there—and lock yourselves to it.”

“But, Bells—”

“Put the chain on the radiator!”
Bells yelled as he jammed the gun farther down Gina's throat.

Tozzi fumbled with the ends of the chain, getting down on his knees and doing as he was told before Bells killed her. He looped it around the steam pipe and gathered the end links around his handcuffed wrist as fast as he could, then clicked the ends together with the padlock. Tozzi yanked on the chain with
the handcuffs to show Bells that it was secure. He and Gina were locked to the radiator.

Bells pulled the gun out of Gina's mouth, and she slumped to the floor, rolling over on her stomach. Tozzi touched her shoulder, but she pulled it away. She was sobbing with her face against the filthy wooden floor.

Bells went back to the kitchen. He pulled out something from under the sink and took it to the center of the loft. Sticking the gun in his waistband, he unfolded a large, aqua-blue plastic tarp. Tozzi didn't have to ask what that was for. To catch the blood.

“So who was Margie?” Tozzi was determined to at least satisfy his curiosity before he died.

Bells stepped on the stiff plastic to make it lie flat. “My wife,” he said without looking up.

Tozzi looked at Gina, who was still turned away, resting her head on the outstretched arm chained to the radiator. He was down on the floor on his side, his arm extended the same way. His wife? he thought. In cahoots with Gina? But the message on her answering machine . . .

“You look confused, Mikey-boy.”

“I am.” Tozzi strained his neck to look at Bells.

“Well, ask Gina. She'll tell you all about it.”

Tozzi tended to doubt that. He pulled out the beeper again and held it up in his fist. “It's not too late, Bells. Take the transmitter and go. It's your only chance.”

“Put that fucking thing away, will ya? Transmitter, my ass. You insult my intelligence.”

“You're being stupid, Bells. So you say you didn't shoot Petersen. Okay, fine, maybe you didn't. But what about Gibbons?”

“Who?”

“My partner. The agent you shot in Macy's. They'll get you for that one.”
If I don't get you first, you son of a bitch.

“How they gonna get me on that one, Mikey? Who saw it happen? Who's gonna testify? It was too crazy in there. No one will be able to point the finger at me. Except you and Gina.”

“And Stanley and Freshy.”

“Stanley, I don't worry about. And Freshy? He's stupid, but he's not that stupid.”

“And what about us? You really gonna kill us? They know you're the one who kidnapped us. They'll know it was you.”

Bells grinned. “I don't think you'll be in any shape to take the stand against me. Either of you.”

Tozzi sucked in his breath and wished his heart would cool it with the drum solo.

“Listen, you two, I gotta go and get some tape and plastic bags. I don't think I have enough, and I don't like running out in the middle of the job, ya know what I mean? Besides, this'll give you guys a chance to collect your thoughts, say a rosary, whatever you want. I'll be back in a little while.” Bells headed for the freight elevator.

“But, Bells, wait a minute.”

Bells had his hand on the wooden elevator gate. “
Wait.
I hate that word.
Wait.
I never wait for anything.
Do.
That's the word I like. Just do it. Do what you gotta do. Do the right thing.” Bells stepped into the elevator, and the gate rushed down, banging against the floor like a guillotine.

Bells yanked on the rope, and the rickety elevator started to descend.

“Have Gina tell you the story about her and Margie. You'll enjoy it.”

Tozzi looked at him through the wood slats of the gate. The floor was even with Bells's waist. “You can yell for help if it'll make you feel useful, but no one will hear you. Trust me on that. Others have tried. See you later.”

Bells's head sank into the pit. The vampire had made his exit.

Tozzi stared at the back of Gina's head. Her hair wasn't so blond or silky in this light. She was still on her side, facing away from him, but he could see the rise and fall of her back as she breathed. He gripped the chain and yanked on it, making it rattle against the steam pipe. He knew it was useless to try pulling on the chain, but he had to try anyway.

Tired squeaks and bumps rose from the elevator shaft. Maybe it would break down, and Bells would be stuck. But then he'd just turn into a bat and fly back up, Tozzi thought. After all, it was his belfry.

The freight elevator finally stopped at the bottom with a thud. Gina listened, staring at the brick wall, thinking. Her glasses were on top of her head, and the arm under her face was wet with tears, but she wasn't crying now. She just didn't have any more tears, not for Margie. She'd cried enough for that girl. They'd used to cry together. When Margie was alive, that's all they seemed to do, the two of them, cry. They cried when they were happy, and they cried when they weren't. They were so stupid. You can't make happiness. Gina knew that, but it was hard to disappoint Margie when she got an idea in her head. Gina knew that Bells was no damn good, and she'd warned Margie that it was nuts to try to do anything behind her husband's back. But Margie had been her friend since fifth grade. St. Elizabeth's in Bayonne. Gina never could say no to Margie, not when she started crying like that. The only thing Margie ever wanted in life was a baby; she'd even talked about it way back when they were in school. So many tears they cried over that. Enough tears to rust out a car.

Gina stared at the furniture on the other side of the loft. The armchairs cast long shadows across the turquoise plastic tarp spread out on the floor. Outside, the sun was setting, throwing a warm wavy orange light through the windows. It was going to
be dark soon. Bells would come back, and . . . that would be the end of that. Gina didn't want to cry anymore, and she didn't want to panic, not in front of Mike, but as she thought about it, her breath became short and her chest got tight. She couldn't stop thinking about Margie out there in the trunk of that compacted car. She wondered whether Bells would decide to put her in a car, too, and dump the block of metal in the backyard next to Margie. Or would he just cut her up and wrap up the pieces like a side of beef the way he'd said? She closed her eyes against the nausea.

Her arm was falling asleep under her head, so she wiggled her fingers and squeezed her fist a few times to get the blood circulating. She didn't want to move too much, though, because that was the arm that was handcuffed. She didn't want to have to deal with him right now, and she knew that if she moved too much, it would give him an opportunity to say something and try to be nice again. Why do men always try so hard to be nice? Because they're trying to get something out of you, of course. But why were they always trying to be nice to
her?
she wondered. She was a bitch, for chrissake.

She could feel the heat of his body lying behind her. They were almost in the spoon position, except he was keeping his distance. Because he'd finally caught on that she was a bitch, no doubt.

Of course, that didn't stop him that day after the christening up at her place.

Well, maybe she wasn't so much of a bitch that day. She did kind of like him then. Kind of. Well, more than just kind of. She did like him. A lot. And she kind of thought he was interested in her, too. And not just to get laid. Although that was on her mind, too. It had been an awful long time.

But afterward, when they'd gotten off the couch and started
wandering around the living room, picking up their clothes, it was awkward. It was like, now what? Then the phone rang, and he heard Bells on the answering machine, and she could feel him getting weird on her. At the time, she'd thought he was jealous, but then later on after she found out from Freshy that he and Mike were in business together and they were trying to get a loan from Bells, she figured the bastard wasn't there because he really liked her. He was there because of Freshy. It was almost like networking. Cementing the relationship. Getting tight with the family.

Now come to find out, what he was really doing was spying. A cop worming his way into people's lives so he could pick up information on them. She meant nothing to him. He was just using her.

Except at the time, he was pretty nice. And he seemed genuine. He was tender. He was fun. Cops don't take acting lessons, do they?

She turned her head just enough so that she could see him out of the corner of her eye. The sunlight was blinding, and she had to shade her eyes.

The jerk was staring at her. “You okay, Gina?”

She turned over and sighed. What the hell did he want from her now?

“Are you all right?” he repeated.

“Don't talk.” She knew she sounded bitchy, but she couldn't help it. She always sounded bitchy.

He blew out a sigh, and she felt his breath on her neck. He yanked the chain again as if this time it might come loose. What, by magic? He was only doing it for her benefit. To show that he cared, that he was worried about her, that he wanted to rescue her. She wished to hell he'd just give it up because she wasn't
impressed. Besides, every time he did it, the handcuff just pulled on her wrist and irritated it even more than it already was.

The radiator hissed. Gina reached up and touched the pipe. It was hot. Well, at least they wouldn't die cold, she thought. Then she worried about getting burned.

“Don't touch the pipe,” he said. “You'll get burned.”

She clenched her jaw and touched it again, out of spite.

He sighed again, exasperated with her. Why didn't he just tell her she was a bitch? That was what he was thinking.

She felt him fidgeting. He was straining his neck, looking all over the place. “You see anything like a piece of two-by-four or a length of pipe, anything like that?”

She just looked at him. “Why? You gonna build an addition?”

He made a face. “Maybe I can break the pipe and get us out of here.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. That's the other thing men always do. Fix things. Men need their tools. She wondered what kind of “tools” Bells had up here. Butcher knives, or Black and Decker kind of stuff?

“Is there anything lying around over on your side?”