Jelly's Gold (28 page)

“No. Listen. Both of you. All we want is the letters. You pretend to threaten me. He gives you the letters. You leave. We meet up later. That’s the plan.”

“Na-uh.” Ted was shouting from the window. “Na-uh. So-and-so threatens us, pushes us around—he hurt Wally. No, we’re going to open up a can of whoop-ass on that boy.”

I almost laughed out loud when I heard that.

“Yeah, whoop-ass,” Wally said. “He broke my nose.”

“You’re behaving like children,” Heavenly said.

Ted turned away from the window again. This time I didn’t bother to hide. I didn’t care if he saw me or not. Truth was, I came very close to just leaving the three of them there, maybe calling Heavenly in a couple of hours and asking her how things worked out, when something happened to make me think better of it.

Ted walked slowly to Heavenly’s chair and leaned in. “You don’t think we can handle him, do you?” he said.

“It’s not necessary,” Heavenly said. “All we want is the letters.”

“You think he’ll open a can of whoop-ass on us.”

“If you push him, yes, I do. That’s not the point.”

Ted made a fist and drove it hard into Heavenly’s mouth. Her head snapped back with the blow, then fell forward. She made a low, painful, guttural sound and rested her chin against her shoulder. Blood trickled from her mouth and stained her white shirt.

“Whoa, Ted,” Wally said. “Whoa, whoa, whoa …”

Ted stepped backward. “Ow,” he said, and shook his hand the way some people do when they hurt it. He then clenched it into a fist again and waved it in Heavenly’s face. “You deserve it. Do you hear me? I am so tired of you. Being insulted by you. Being used by you. You wave
your backside in our faces and you think we’ll do whatever you ask, put up with whatever crap you give us. I got news. You ain’t that pretty.”

“Well,” said Wally.

Teddy shot him a glance that could have killed ducks in flight.

“No, no,” Wally said. “Not even a little bit.”

Heavenly raised her head. “Teddy,” she said.

He responded by slapping her with the flat of his hand.

“Shut up,” he said. “You just, you just… You aren’t in charge anymore. We’re running things now.”

Ted looked at Wally.

Wally nodded. “Fuckin’ eh,” he said.

“We’re here for one thing,” Ted said. “The gold. Those letters you say McKenzie’s got, they better lead us to the gold. If they don’t”—Ted grabbed the lapel of Heavenly’s shirt—“we’ll just have to settle for something else.” He yanked hard. Material tore and buttons flew.

“Ted,” Wally said. There was a note of astonishment in his voice. “Really?”

“Don’t, don’t,” Heavenly said.

Ted stepped back. He and Wally stared down at the helpless woman, at her white lace bra and milky skin, at the red scratch marks Ted had made above her breast.

“Don’t do this,” Heavenly said.

Ted sighed deeply. I could hear him all the way across the room and through the window screen. He pointed at Heavenly. “Remember what I said,” he told her.

“Wally, Wally,” Heavenly chanted. “Talk to him. You have to make him understand what he’s doing.”

“Shut her up,” Ted said.

“How?” Wally asked.

“Use the tape.”

Wally found the duct tape and peeled off six inches while Ted returned to his window.

“Wally, no,” Heavenly said. She rotated her head around, trying to stay out of his reach.

“C’mon,” Wally said. “Be still.” Finally, he grabbed a fistful of golden hair and held her motionless while he sealed her mouth. “There. Maybe now we’ll get some peace and quiet.”

Ted chuckled from the window. After a moment he said, “Where the hell is McKenzie?”

Where indeed.

Looks like Heavenly needs rescuing after all,
my inner voice said.

I retreated to the back of the duplex. Heavenly hadn’t secured her screen door—another security breach to go along with the cheap lock on her interior door that I managed to loid in about ten seconds with a credit card. The door swung open silently, and I slid into the kitchen, my Beretta leading the way.

I waited for a few seconds, heard nothing, and eased to the arched doorway that led to the dining room. I poked my head past the opening and quickly pulled it back again. It was the same scene as before, Ted watching the traffic outside the front window, Wally watching Ted.

I brought the gun up in a two-handed grip until my knuckles were grazing my cheek and turned into the room. I came up swiftly and silently behind Ted, leveling the Beretta at the back of his head with both hands. He didn’t hear a thing until I said, “Hey.”

Wally turned toward me as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I dropped my hands down and swung the Beretta up in an arc toward his face like a ballplayer swinging for the bleachers. I caught the base of his nose with the barrel of the gun and swung through. I heard cartilage crack as Wally’s head twisted, followed by the rest of his body. He fell as if he had leapt backward, diving into an end table, breaking the table and the lamp that stood on top of it, and rolling onto his side. He dropped his revolver and brought his hands up to cover his face. Blood spewed through his fingers.

I kicked the gun away and turned toward Ted. He was still standing
at the window. The sounds of the table and lamp smashing and Wally’s moaning turned him around, but other than that, he hadn’t moved.

I went into a pyramid stance, feet about sixteen inches apart, knees slightly bent, both hands holding the Beretta directly in front of me, my arms forming a triangle with my chest, and set the sight on Ted’s face. The idea of blowing Ted’s head off appealed to me greatly, except out of the corner of my eye I could see Heavenly’s terrified eyes, and I could hear her screams, muffled by the duct tape. That influenced me enough to lower the sight until I was aiming the gun at Ted’s lower left side just above his hip. There were no major organs on that side of his body and no arteries to blow. Odds were good that if I shot him there, he wouldn’t die.

Only I didn’t squeeze the trigger.

“Wally,” Ted said.

He didn’t look at me; I couldn’t testify that he was even aware that I was there. Instead, he dropped his gun on the carpet and ran to his partner’s side. He knelt next to Wally and gently raised his head.

“Oh, Wally,” he said and lowered Wally’s head into his lap. “He broke your nose again.”

“No, Teddy,” Wally said. “You’ll get blood on your pants.”

“Shhh, shhh,” Ted told him.

I lowered the Beretta and turned toward Heavenly.

“Hey,” I said.

She spoke loudly, but the tape over her mouth turned her words to mumbles. I carefully eased the torn fragment of her shirt back over her breast and shoulder. Heavenly mumbled some more.

“Give me a sec,” I said. I holstered the Beretta and gathered up Wally and Ted’s guns. I unloaded them and dropped them into the pockets of my sports jacket. Neither Ted nor Wally protested. They were both more interested in each other then they were in me.

I smiled at Heavenly. Impatience glittered in her eyes.

I peeled a corner of the tape off her mouth. Heavenly tensed, waiting for me to give the rest a swift yank. I didn’t. Instead, I knelt in front of her.

“Before we go any further, you should know”—I gestured with my head toward the window—“I heard everything. I know what the plan was. I know it was your plan. So let’s keep the lying to a minimum, okay?”

Heavenly stared at me.

“Okay?” I repeated.

She nodded curtly and grunted.

My first impulse was to tear the tape away and see how much of her face went with it, but something about the way Ted cradled Wally’s head in his lap made me feel charitable. I slowly, carefully peeled it off her cheek, lips, and chin. When I finished, Heavenly moved her jaw around as if she were making sure it still worked.

“Be still,” I told her. I moved my fingers gently along her jawline; she winced in pain at my touch. Nothing seemed broken; still, the side of her face where Ted first punched and then slapped her was beginning to swell.

“He hit you pretty hard,” I reminded her in case she had forgotten.

“I didn’t want them to hurt you,” Heavenly said. “I told them not to hurt you.”

“I know. That’s one reason why I didn’t leave you here. That and the fact that I’m a born hero.”

“I’m sorry, McKenzie.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I know you’re surprised by my behavior. If you let me explain—”

“Oh, Heavenly. The I-35W bridge collapsing into the Mississippi River—that was a surprise. Learning that you’re a duplicitous bitch, not so much. I have a question for you, though. This morning—was that a scam or did two men really come to your house?”

“That was true.”

“Yeah, I figured,” I said. “It was a ploy to get me out of my house so Tim Dahlin could send Allen in to search it. It worked so well that you decided to try a variation on the theme to get me to come back. You could have just invited me to lunch, you know. I would have fallen for that.”

“I want those letters, McKenzie.” Heavenly glanced first at her “acquaintances” when she spoke and then back at me. “I want them. Give them to me.”

“Heavenly, there’s nothing in the letters that leads to the gold. How many times do I have to tell you? Besides”—I tapped the tape binding her wrist to the arm of the chair—“you’re in no position to demand anything.”

“McKenzie, the letters might not lead to Jelly’s gold, but there are other kinds of wealth to be found in them, I’m sure of it.”

I gave it a couple of beats, then shook my head. Suddenly, I felt very old.

“You want to blackmail Dahlin? Are you crazy?”

“I’m just saying there might be—”

“Stop it. Just stop it. Heavenly—listen. Ahh, what’s the point? You do what you think is best. Just remember, the next time you call, I’m not answering.”

I took a tiny Swiss Army knife from my pocket—the kind with a one-inch blade that nonetheless is too dangerous to carry on airplanes—and sliced through the duct tape, careful not to cut Heavenly’s wrists and ankles. This time when I tore the tape off her skin, I wasn’t gentle at all. While she rubbed away the soreness I went into the kitchen. There was an ice tray in the freezer. I dumped the contents into a dish towel, twisted it into an ice pack, and brought it to Heavenly.

“Here,” I said. I gently pressed the towel against Heavenly’s mouth. She winced some more. “Take it,” I said even as I grasped her hand and brought it up to support the towel.

“Why are you being so kind?” Heavenly asked.

“Stop talking.”

I pulled the Beretta out of its holster and knelt next to Ted and Wally. I tapped Ted’s knee with the barrel, making him flinch.

“So you’re going to open a can of whoop-ass on me, huh?”

“You broke Wally’s nose again,” Ted said. “Maybe some teeth. He’s
bleeding—” I tapped him on the point of his knee again and he recoiled. “If you didn’t have that gun—”

I tapped his knee yet again. “I do have the gun,” I said. “I have a lot of guns. Including yours.”

“Give them back.”

“No. You keep carrying guns”—I gestured toward Heavenly—“to impress the girls and sooner or later someone like me will come along and shove them up your ass. I’m going to do you a favor and hang on to them. Keep you out of trouble.”

I patted Ted’s shoulder twice very hard and stood up. I glanced at him and Wally and back at Heavenly, who was now holding her shirt closed with one hand while pressing the ice pack to her face with the other.

“Kids,” I said.

I returned to my car, this time using the sidewalk to round the block instead of cutting through backyards. On the way, my cell phone rang. At first I thought it might be Heavenly trying a new scam on me. The display told me otherwise.

“Hello, Genevieve,” I said. “How are you?”

“I’m—McKenzie, why did … did you tell the police about Josh and me? Did you tell them that we … that we were … McKenzie?”

The pain in her voice tore at my heart.

“Yes,” I said. My voice was just above a whisper.

“McKenzie, did you?”

“Yes.” I raised my voice and regretted it—it sounded like I was proud of what I had done.

“Why, McKenzie? Why? Do you know how embarrassing, how humiliating … they made me tell it, about Josh and me, made me repeat … oh, McKenzie! They came to the dorm. To Nelson Hall. The police. People saw them. My friends. What if my parents find out? What if … McKenzie, how could you?”

“I’m sorry, Genevieve,” I said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Then why?”

“To help a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Someone I’ve known a long time.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“Someone I’ve known longer than you.”

“McKenzie—”

“I am so, so sorry, Genevieve.”

“Sorry.” She spoke the word as if she had never heard it before. “We are taught the power of forgiveness, not only for those who have wronged us, but for ourselves—but McKenzie, I guess I’m just not a very good student.”

I wanted to apologize, whether she forgave me or not. I didn’t get the chance.

“Good-bye, McKenzie,” she said.

Genevieve broke the connection, leaving me standing alone on the street, speaking into a silent phone. I didn’t blame her for refusing to forgive me. I had deliberately hurt one person in order to help another. There was no greater good in it. No wonder God doesn’t kibitz.

Back in my car, I found a number I had stored in my cell phone’s memory and called it. I had to dance with a receptionist and a paralegal before I reached my party.

“G. K. Bonalay,” a pleasant voice said.

“Hi G. K., it’s McKenzie.”

“Hey, McKenzie. How are you? Please tell me you’re not in trouble again.”

“I’m not in trouble again.”

G. K. sighed as if she had been holding her breath. “I’m delighted to hear it,” she said. “So, McKenzie, not that I’m unhappy to hear from you,
because I’m always happy to hear from you, but why am I hearing from you?”

“I need the services of a top-notch criminal defense attorney.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Not for me, for a friend.”

“Like I haven’t heard that before.”