Grave Robber for Hire (10 page)

“Anything missing?” Tyreal asked.

My booze buzz was drifting off. “No. Nothing I can see. I have jewelry in the bathroom; worth a few grand, but none is missing. Wouldn’t thieves have taken those?”

“Yes.” He bent and retrieved a shoe from under the bed. “If they took nothing,” he pointed to my laptop that was open, “and left that open, then whoever did this was chasing information.” He fetched something else from under the bed, held a red lace and embroidered bra up to the light and whistled. “Like you to model this. But first did anyone else know you were here?”

“You, Claudia Reese-Jones, and Josey Richards, but Claudia and Josey didn’t know my hotel.”

“You might have been followed.”

Shit. “Could have.” I went to my laptop and hit the on button. On contact, my fingers buzzed and tingled. I pulled them away and rubbed them together. “I had shut this down. Someone turned it on, and it’s just down-timed off.”

Tyreal pressed enter, causing the last page opened to come on the screen, my appointments and notes. He pressed a few buttons. “They’ve looked at sites you recently viewed and checked your files.”

I flicked shut a journal. A jolt of ooze tingled up my hand. I snatched it away as if stung by a bee. “Yuck.”

“What.”

“Evil ooze, it’s also on the computer. I don’t know how else to explain it. The same ooze I felt from Josey Richards. She’s been in this room.”

Vig flashed over and touched the computer keys and the journal and rolled his lips back from his teeth. “Her.”

Tyreal headed for the door. “Get changed. I’ll shoot down to the lobby and retrieve my bag. Be back in five.” He left so fast I didn’t have time to answer. I pulled out
new and very dark blue jeans, and simple blue blouse. All the better my dear for breaking and entering. Changed, I walked from the bathroom and found Tyreal waiting with his bag.

“Good clothing choice. Pull your hair into a tight ponytail. We’ll stop at a shop and buy you something to cover that glow in the dark blond mane of yours.”

Down in the car-park Tyreal eyed my car. “You hired a pea?”

I passed him
Frogger’s key. “I call her Frogger. I’m over the limit by a billion percent.” I looked at the car. “It’s a wee bit more compact than I expected. You might need to slide the seat back and chop off about eight inches of your legs before you get in.”

He opened the driver’s door, and I got to watch a six four man built more for a Cadillac, bend, fold, and slide into the minuscule space. He groaned and dragged his legs into the well. “Why do they make cars this small? Hope we don’t have to make a fast get-away, it’ll take me ten minutes to jam myself in.”

“I fit.”

“Because you’re no bigger than a pea.”

Vig had followed us down. Appearing deep in thought, he scrambled into the back and looked about as comfortable as Tyreal did.

“This seat is wet.” Tyreal cut his gaze to me. “Tell me it’s water.”

“I got soaked by rain, then err—fell in a puddle.”

“I’m starting to think shit like this happens to you all the time.”

Vig nodded. I moved my hand so he could see my middle finger, pointing at the ceiling.

Tyreal drove to a small set of shops, pulled into a loading zone and kept the car running. “I’ll see what I can find.” He ran into a largish seven-eleven. A couple minutes later he returned with a clear plastic bag with a black garment inside.

“Ooh, pre-wrapped. Is it silk?”

“Smart-ass. It’s a size fourteen boy’s hoody. Has a pouch in the front for your hands.”

“Classy.”

“When I buy clothes for a woman I go all out. Cost five ninety five.”

We parked a block from Josey’s house. Vig flashed out as Tyreal killed the car engine, and I took off my jumper.

“Shame you’re not stripping for a different reason.”

“Think you’d be up to anything in this car?”

He looked around the car. “I could kick out the windshield.”

“I’d lose my deposit.” The hoody slipped on and was too big but I pulled the hood up.

Tyreal leaned over and tucked in some hair. “Zip it up tight.”

I did as asked and we got out of the car, locked it, and walked at a fast but causal pace to Josey’s house where Viggo was peering through the window like a peeping Tom. He turned.

“Her no here.”

The house was dark except for a soft yellowy light in the entry.

“Hide behind the tree. I’ll knock and pretend I have the wrong address if the door
is answered by anyone else.” Tyreal knocked a few times, cracked the brass knocker, and without realizing shoved Vig aside as he peered through the window. Vig threw his hands up into the air and stormed over to me. A minute later Tyreal pulled something out of his pocket. I saw a few hand movements then the door opened.

“Quick, let’s go.”

“Handy trick.”

“Can be.”

Viggo tugged the sleeve of my hoody. “No learn. Should stay away.”

Once we were inside the entrance
foyer, Tyreal closed and relocked the door. “I wasn’t prepared for a break and enter, so I grabbed these at the store.” He handed me a thin LCD flashlight. “Only use it as needed. The less the better.”

My heart fluttered with a goofy mix of fear and cheap thrills, or it could still be booze buzz. Either way, I was pumped and ready to play super animal rescuer. Viggo’s eyes darted around, his hand tense on my shoulder.

Tyreal flicked his flashlight around the walls. “Where did you hear the animal?”

I pointed down the hall. “I was in the living area and heard chains and a moan from under the floorboards.”

“Cellar. Not that many around in this area but she must have one. Look for a door.”

We started searching. Our small flashlights weren’t much use, so luckily the night was fairly moonlit. Conveniently, the one tiny light Josey left on helped illuminate the downstairs. We met in the kitchen.

“I found nothing. You?”

He looked down and thumped his boot on the wood. “Not a thing, but there is definitely a large cavity underneath this floor.”

Just then we heard a moan and a soft sob.

Tyreal’s gaze locked onto mine. “That’s not an animal. That’s a person. Gotta be a door, keep looking.”

We broke apart and started searching again. I hit the laundry and glanced around the utilitarian space and white-goods. Nothing, unless the opening was accessed from outside. I opened what I thought to be the back door and discovered a cupboard with shelves lining the two sides—empty shelves. Who’d have nothing in a cupboard? In my house, every accessible space bulged with stuff. I stared at the rear wall, clicked on the flashlight, and pointed the beam at the wall’s edges.

Whispers of black mist wavered, flicking tendrils toward the light.
Oh crap
. The evil was here and waiting. Goody, goody.

“Tyreal
—laundry. Now.”

Viggo pulled on my shoulder and pointed to the wall. “Leave, bad.”

“I’ve got to stay.”

I heard soft thudding as Tyreal ran. “What?”

“Point the flashlight to the back wall. Around the edges, what do you see?”

“It’s a wall.”

“No black mist around the edge, oozing out?”

He looked down at me and scowled, “No.”

I puffed out a breath. Lucky me, only I got to see the evil shit and probably Vig. “I think that’s a door. If you look closely there’s a seam.”

Tyreal peered closely at the edges. “You’re right.” He pressed around, but nothing happened.

I pushed under his arm and felt around the edge. An agitated, “ferk”, let me know Vig wasn’t happy. More words in ancient gibberish came from behind me. I translated it to probably mean, stupid moron. Moron of course referring to me. In one spot on the wood, the ooze slurped at my fingertips. I snatched my hand away and gasped.

“
Urgg.” I shivered, told myself, not to run out screaming, and highlighted the area with my tiny light. “Here, at this point I can feel Josey.”

Tyreal shove
d the wood quick and hard. A three inch thick wooden door clicked open.

The moaning became louder, the rattle of chains frantic. “Hollywood, on a low budget. Someone’s either pleased or terrified to hear us.” Tyreal clicked on his tiny flashlight and flashed it around the room until he zeroed to a spot and stopped. “Jesus.”

In a pitch black room, hanging from chains was a naked man who’d had something stuffed into his mouth. He was covered in filth, and whip welts scored most of his body. Unmentionable, indescribable stench filled the room.

“
Kak,” I dry gagged and hoped someone would knock me out so I could develop amnesia, forget everything I just saw and was about to experience.

Tyreal’s hand landed on the back of my neck and gave it a soft squeeze. “You okay?”

“Yep, promise not to puke.”

Something hung from the man’s junk. Sweet Jesus, metal balls the size of grapefruits. A great gob full of puke gushed into my throat. I forced it into reverse and deeply regretted the blue cheese and crackers I’d stuffed down my throat after the seafood platter. Some promises are hard to keep.

“We’re here to help mate. Stay still. Angel, honey, find the light switch.” Tyreal pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

“Jimmy. Tyreal Van Der Waal. Yeah long time. Listen I have a situation.” He gave the address and a description of the man. “And send an ambulance, the guys pretty messed up. I’ll use my phone to take some pics then get this poor bastard free. See you soon.” He hung up.

I found the light switch. A low watt bulb positioned on the far wall bathed the room in dull yellow. The room was full of torture and restraining devices. Black mist slivered over everything. Vig was beside himself, blocking the mist from me, kicking at the snaky things, and stomping on anything that moved. A rat the size of a small cat scurried under a bench.

Tyreal dug in his pocket, passed me the key to the car. “Drive back to the hotel. I’ll meet you there after this is over.”

“I can’t drive. I had too much to drink.”

“Shit.” He walked behind the man
. The man thrashed weakly. “Hey it’s okay, calm down. We’re here to rescue you. Stay still so I can release you.”

“I could help.” The man was a mess, bloody beyond human recognition, and he reeked. After I puked my bowels up, I’d be fine.

“Give me the pea’s keys. I’ll drive it to the hotel later. You catch a cab. Here.” He dialed something on his phone and gave instructions. “Cab will come two doors up in five minutes. Kiss me goodbye then get out of here before the cops hit. Don’t talk to anyone.” He started removing chains. “And, Princess, be careful.”

I nodded and bit my lip to stop it from trembling, walked over on auto-pilot and kissed Tyreal’s cheek and looked at the
injured man. His gag out, drool drizzled from his slack mouth. Twisted to one side, his face indicated he suffered from at least a broken jaw. In his swollen and discolored face his eyes skittered around in panic. A man reduced to nothing more than a petrified animal.

I looked the man in his disfigured face, his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “You charge the bitch that did this. Don’t let her torture anyone else. She’s evil. But you’re safe now.”

Tyreal removed more chains and the man started to silently sob. Vig took my hand and guided me out. I had no time to hunt for any of Josey’s handwriting that may lead me to anything she knew. I ran out of the house. Two townhouses down, I waited for my cab.

Once the lights of the cab appeared, Vig nodded toward Josey’s
. “I go back.” Good, he could protect Tyreal. Stomp more mist snakes.

I gave the cab my hotel name and asked for a bottle shop. He found a small one on a semi-major road near the hotel. I dashed inside, grabbed a good bottle of scotch. Tyreal would need some too when he returned. If, after drowning out what I’d just seen, there was any left. I wasn’t hopeful of him finding more than a few drops, a nip at the most.

#

In the hotel, I had two good half tumblers of scotch mixed with a dash of coke from the mini-bar. Brushed my teeth and changed into a large comfy t-shirt. Television being its usual riveting self couldn’t stop me from reliving the mess of that man. I was so wired from the nights events I doubted I’d sleep for a month. Midnight came and went, the T.V. droned, and I slid down and snuggled into my pillow.

Seconds later someone pounded on my door. My blood rushing in my head, I rolled, snatched up a pillow, and held it above my head. I was ready to fight, pillow fight to the death. “Who is it?”

“Tyreal, Princess, let me in.”

I fluffed the murderous pillow, dropped it back in place and got out of bed. The door opened to eyes haunted and rimmed in dark shadows. Lines bracketed his mouth.

“You look awful.”

He walked past me, saw the scotch and grunted. He poured a generous shot into a glass and slugged it down. “I had a lot of explaining to do about why I was in the house, how I knew about the man. Bullshit was thick and fast and imaginative, and they must have believed me because I’m free. Couple of cops had to throw up when we realized the guy’s back was fly-blown. I almost joined them.”