Deadly Blessings (32 page)

“
What the hell happened
here?”

Unruffled, William turned to me with a
shrug. “What did I tell you?” Then, to Bass, he asked, “What took
you so long? I’d have bet you’d be over here before Candy hit the
bottom step.”

“
Okay, smartass. Why the
hell didja let her go?”

“
What did you expect me to
do? Tie her up?

“
You should have pressed
that issue about the money. About how much she gets, and how the
call-out thing works. You handled her with kid gloves, for Christ’s
sake.”

“
You
didn’t have to look into her
eyes.”

Bass waved dismissively in front of
William’s face.

I heard William mutter under his breath.

“
What?” Bass asked, “What
did you say?”

“
Nothing,” William said. He
walked around to the far side of the bed, where his coat
lay.

Bass gesticulated, talking loudly. “We’ll
hardly be able to use any of this,” he said. His voice reached
fever pitch. “Didja even think about that before you let her walk
out of here?”

“
What
about you? Did
you
see her? Did you hear
anything
she had to say?” William’s
eyes widened and I watched his body tense up. He hadn’t put his
coat on yet, and every muscle I could see had grown taut as he
faced Bass.

“
Uh-huh. And guess what? I
checked with Jeff. Perfect sound. Perfect visual. Couldn’t ask for
a better recording. And for what? Nothing. Shit. Can’t use any of
it because you couldn’t get her to cooperate.”

Someone banged on the wall again. “Shut
up!”

“
Bass,” I said, keeping my
voice low, “let’s talk about this later. You’re upset, I understand
that. But maybe we’ll find some way to use the tape after
all.”

“
Sure,” he said, propping
the door open while he spoke. “Some use.” He turned to William,
“Maybe you want a copy to keep at home; get your jollies with
it.”

“
Bass,” I said, “You’re
talking like an idiot.”

He took a step back into the room. The door
swung shut, but didn’t close completely. “What do I have here?
Nothing. Nothing.” He started to pace. “You two get to have fun
making goo-goo eyes and playing secret agent, and what do I get?
Expenses up the ass and no story to justify them.”

William shot a quick glance over to me,
apparently for an explanation of the “goo-goo eyes” comment. I
shrugged, like I had no idea.

Bass, not finished yet, kept pacing.
Shouting now. “I trusted you. I trusted both of you—”

The door banged open again, with a swirl of
cold air. “Is there a problem here?”

An enormous Hispanic man, six and a half
feet tall, minimum three hundred pounds, with slicked back hair and
one very long, very bushy eyebrow, took a couple of steps into the
room. His black leather jacket had sleeve patches near his
shoulders that said “Security.” The embroidered name on his chest
said, “Nick.” His round face moved slowly one way, then the other,
his eyes taking in the three of us angry people.

I could only imagine what was going on his
mind. What he might have thought this situation could be.

“
We got complaints.” He
gave us each the once-over. “Noise. And the owner here says that
you’re abusing room privileges.” He propped the door open with his
extended right arm. From beneath it, behind him, I saw the woman
from the front desk peeking at us.

“
Her,” the woman said,
pointing. “She isn’t the same girl who came earlier. That first one
left right before she came in here.” The woman’s voice, like a
rusty pipe, from a lifetime of cigarettes no doubt, took me aback.
“There was no trouble till she got here.”

The Hispanic man scratched his chin. “That
true …” he looked at Bass with pity, then at me with contempt,
“Ma’am?”

I’d about had it. “We’re getting ready to
leave. Right now, as a matter of fact. Will that be okay?”

Security-Nick glanced down at the woman,
“What do you say Ms. Carney?”

Right at the level of his armpit, she piped
up, “All right. Just as long as nothing’s broken.” She swiveled her
head, taking a quick survey of the room, as though making sure we
hadn’t played hot potato with any breakables. The still-made bed
appeared to fluster her; she blinked several times before
muttering, “I gotta get back to the desk anyway.”

At least the interruption had silenced
Bass’s tirade. William hoisted the briefcase and we started to
trudge out the door. The Security man restrained William with a
hand on his arm. “Whatcha got in there?”

“
Personal stuff,” William
said.

“
Drugs?”

“
No,” we all said in
unison.

Oh, I bet that made us look innocent.

“
Why don’t you let me take
a look for myself?”

“
You have no jurisdiction,”
I said, standing closer to him. I had no idea if he had
jurisdiction or not, but I thought it sounded authoritative enough
to bluff.

His wide face split into a grin. A mouthful
of crowded, yellow teeth. “You know, we can make this easy, or we
can make this hard.”

Visions of the place
swarming with police, because Nick here thought he had detained
some big-time drug dealers, made me shudder. Just what we’d need,
the
Midwest Focus
staff, a ménage a trois, headlining the morning news. Updates
at four, six and ten.

“
Fine,” I said.

William bounced the case on the bed, and
snapped open the latches. Nick began to inch forward, keeping an
eye on me and on Bass as he kept a hand poised over his right hip.
It didn’t look like he had a gun, so he either had pepper spray, or
it was total affectation on his part. Whatever. I’m sure Bass and I
looked like we could take him and he was real worried.

When he spied the cameras, each fitted into
their respective gray Styrofoam casings, I watched his big black
unibrow shoot up. “Ohhh …” he said, turning toward our little
group, and shaking his head. “Man … That’s sure some kinky shit,
but Ms. Carney downstairs runs a nice little place here, you know?
She don’t want none of this seedy stuff going on. You take your
cameras someplace else from now on, got it?”

Too tired to fight, too tired to argue, I
said, “Sure.”

He walked with us down to the parking lot, a
bit more amiable now that we weren’t drug dealers and looking at me
with something akin to disbelief. Generally I didn’t mind my
wholesome image. But I hated to think that I came across as
incapable of inspiring passion as the look on this fellow’s face
seemed to convey. So much for my Mata Hari aspirations.

William handed him the key. “Turn this in to
old Ms. Carney for me, would you, Chief? Spare her having to deal
with us any more.”

As Nick trotted off, William turned to us.
“I’m outta here.”

“
What about the
de-briefing?”

“
Not tonight, Bass.” He
made a dismissive gesture similar to the one Bass had given him
upstairs.

“
Listen, Armstrong, you
screwed up big time in there. This is no time to be getting high
and mighty with me.”

“
I told you, Bass. Not
tonight.” He spoke very slowly … I caught the glitter in William’s
eyes, a reflection of the overhead neon and anger. Definite
anger.

“
You’d better grow up,
junior, if you want to succeed in this business.” Bass said,
waving a finger up near William’s face. “And don’t forget, I gave
you a second chance, too.”

William took a step back, but I sensed
spring-coiled tension in the movement. He spoke quietly. “There’s a
difference between succeeding and exploiting. There are some lines
I won’t cross.”

Bass snorted. “Well, when you’ve been in
second place for as long as we have, maybe you’ll grow a set of
balls.”

The insult seemed to stun William, and for a
moment I thought he might punch Bass. I think he might have thought
about it too. He looked at me, blushed, then handed me the suitcase
and headed to his car without a backward glance. I followed him.
“Will,” I said. “Do you want to go somewhere?” I asked, knowing my
words sounded weak even as they tripped over my tongue. “To talk
about all this?”

He’d eased into the space created by holding
the driver’s side open just a bit, and now had both hands on the
top of the door. His right hand gripped the ignition key. “Right
now, I just want to go home.”

“
Isn’t there anything I
can—” I placed my hand over one of his.

He pulled away with a sharp movement. “Alex
…”

I felt like an idiot. So I said nothing.

“
If I stay a minute longer,
I’m going to punch that little jerk’s lights out.” He shot me a
smile; not a happy one. “And then where would I be? Two lawsuits in
the same year, one sexual harassment, one physical assault. That
wouldn’t look so good on an unemployment form, would
it?”

I nodded, bit my lip. As he reached out to
grab the door handle, pulling it shut, I took my hand off the car’s
window frame. Seconds later, I watched his red tail lights turn—the
opposite direction the gray van went.

Bass sidled up next to me, his breath making
short cloud puffs ahead of him. “Where’s he going?”

“
Home.”

“
Damn,” he said. “I wanted
to go over this now.” He stamped the ground.

“
He already told you not
tonight.”

“
Yeah …” he let the word
hang there, and I realized Bass knew even less what to do next than
I did.

The night’s stillness and the cold of the
evening brought everything into sharp focus. Bass, his hands shoved
deep into the pockets of his charcoal gray overcoat, shifted his
weight from side to side, whether from impatience or cold, I didn’t
know. I got the distinct impression he waited for me to give him
direction. Maybe he finally felt a little remorse over his
ridiculous behavior up in the room.

“
Beside the hair care
segment, I don’t know that I’ll have a story for this week’s show,”
I said, mostly to break the silence.

“
No shit, Sherlock.” Bass
danced a bit more.

A beat-up Chevy pulled into the lot,
cruising into an open spot near the bright, all-window office. Only
the guy got out. Young. White. Good-looking, with a solid build. An
athlete. Late teens. When he opened the car door, the interior
lights illuminated his female passenger, a slightly plump brunette,
with straight, stringy hair, who blinked and grimaced until the
door shut again. Twice tonight, I’d caught glimpses of people who
would no doubt prefer to remain invisible. And right now, I
wouldn’t mind fading into the background, myself.

“
Actually, I don’t know if
this story will be ready, ever.”

Bass looked up at me, not in anger, not in
impatience, but in utter denial. “Then you better start figuring
out what will be ready. I’ve got a twenty minute spot open for next
Friday. Twenty minutes—one feature. And that sucker’s got your name
on it.”

The young guy emerged from the motel office,
wearing a triumphant grin and shaking a room key high in the air
toward the car where his companion waited. He gave us a look of
quizzical disinterest and motioned her out, like a dog trainer
holding a treat aloft for his eager charge. She didn’t disappoint,
squirming out of the car to join him. Giggling, she attempted to
take his arm. He leaned away, shaking her off. When she frowned and
stopped walking, he said something to her. She gave a glance back
at the car, as though having second thoughts, then gave a little
shake and followed him again.

A maid emerged from a far
corner of the motel, pushing a cleaning cart. She headed directly
to the room William and Candy had occupied, and entered, presumably
to tidy up. Not much work for her in there tonight. I found it
curious that she didn’t knock first. I couldn’t imagine why she’d
want to risk catching tardy patrons in
flagrante delicto
.

I wondered what Bass and I looked like to
the young lovers and the maid, or to anyone peering out the motel
room windows. Maybe an odd-couple romance? Or maybe some chick
trying to weasel a raise from her boss? I shook my head, grimacing
at the thought.

Soft shushing sounds forewarned me seconds
ahead of a cold blast. “Let’s go,” I said, hunching my shoulders
against the wind.

Bass followed me across the wide avenue.
Traffic had slowed markedly. I kept my head down as we crossed.
Bass talked. I ignored him.

Until he said, “Use what we have.”

I’d just cleared the evergreen dotted berm
we’d used for concealment. My shoes made a tap-tapping sound on the
asphalt parking lot. I stopped. “What?”

“
You have to get your
friend Sophie to agree to cooperate.”

“
Ain’t gonna happen,” I
said. “She’s convinced that both Milla and her brother were killed
by someone in the organization. And after hearing this Katrina
tonight … well … If they’re right, Sophie would be stupid to appear
on TV. It’d be like signing her own death warrant.”

“
Don’t be so melodramatic.
This is what William talked about, isn’t it? The ‘net’? We’ll use
as much as we can.”

“
Yeah, right. With no
release?”

“
We’ll claim First
Amendment. Broadcast all of it, but edited for time, you know. It’d
be like exploding a bomb in a lake, and all the dead fish float to
the top. Right?”