The Twelfth Of Never: A suspense mystery romantic thriller (12 page)

Gideon figured as much when they walked through the door and
saw the sparsely furnished living room. The kitchenette was not much to speak
of, and there was only one other door that led off the room besides the
bathroom. Gideon figured Jake was desperate for company. The two never made it
beyond the Jack Daniels bottle. They sat watching the tube, but not listening
and talked about life in general, but nothing in particular. What Gideon really
wanted was to call Beth to see if he could have the girls, but Jake was nonstop
chatter. For obvious reasons he avoided sleep that night.

Jake reached for the bottle and filled Gideon's glass to the
brim before filling his again. "How long you been divorced?" Jake
asked.

Gideon was sure he covered this, but shrugged it off.
"Three years," he said. Gideon was annoyed, feeling more like a
babysitter that night, than anything else.

Jake shook his head, slurring his words as he slapped Gideon's
knee. "She shouldn't have done that to you."

The liquor was talking. Jake knew nothing about Gideon's life.
For all Jake knew Gideon was a real heel when it came to women and, in fact, if
you listened to Beth tell it, he was. Gideon picked up the glass and downed
half the contents.

"Life hasn't been easy for her," Gideon said in
Beth's defense.

"Whose life is?" Jake slurred.

"There were times she needed me," Gideon stopped for
a moment. It hurt to say the words. "I wasn't there for her." Gideon
added, but somehow it did not make him feel any better.

"Duty called."

"Yeah, but she didn't ask for that life."

"She knew what she was getting into when you married,"
Jake continued. He was not letting up on Gideon.

Jake's relentless pursuit in making Beth out to be the villain
angered Gideon. Beth had every right to throw him out. Neither of them knew
when they entered college that he would be recruited by the CIA. What he wanted
in life was not what he got in return. Teaching was his calling, he thought,
Political Science his field. It was his knowledge of foreign languages that
clinched it for him and made him prime pickings his senior year. Beth never wanted
it, but the money was good. The travel that kept him away was what caused the
most damage to the marriage. He had never been there for Beth when she needed
him most. Gideon thought for a moment about his son. He had not been there for
Eddie's birth or the night he died. He was in some forgotten country when both
daughters were born. National crisis is what Colby always said, and when it was
all over Gideon never could remember the reason for leaving. But he was left to
face Beth when it was time to return. The pain in her face got worse with every
trip home he made.

Finally she stopped caring; that's when things got worse. She
no longer needed him or what he had to offer. If he had to do it all over
again, Gideon was not sure how differently things would have been. It was hard
remembering ever wanting to teach, or for that matter doing anything else other
than what he was doing at the moment. The one thing he would do differently was
to be there more for the girls. But Beth was not buying into that one yet.

"You got a phone?" Gideon asked.

"Sure," Jake said as he pointed to the wall in the
kitchen.

Gideon got up and stood for a moment, waiting for the room to
slow down. He had told Beth he would be calling her, but totally forgot until
now. Once Gideon got his balance, he walked over to the phone on the wall. Jake
poured himself another glass but then collapsed on the couch before drinking
anymore.

Gideon leaned on the wall and glanced around before he finally
managed to dial. By the tenth ring he almost gave up, but the faint voice on
the other end made him hesitate for a moment.

"Beth, is that you?" Gideon asked.

"You've been drinking?"

Gideon snapped the receiver away from his ear, glanced at Jake
to see if he heard, and then finally answered Beth. "Only one, maybe
two." He held up two fingers as if she could see.

"Glasses or bottles?" Beth asked sarcastically.

"I didn't call to discuss my drinking habits."
Gideon replied as he hung his head. He wished he had called earlier, at least
two drinks earlier.

"Gideon, what time is it?" Beth asked.

Gideon glanced around the room, but saw no indication of a
clock and then he leaned into the kitchen. The clock that was on the stove was
too far away.

"I don't know."

"Look at your left wrist, you idiot."

Gideon did as she said. "2:15," he replied slowly.

"There are people trying to live normal lives in this
world. What in God's name do you want from me at this hour?"

"Do I get the girls this weekend? I was just wondering if
you'd made up your mind yet."

"You have some nerve, Gideon."

"I honestly didn't realize the time," he said
leaning his head on the wall.

"Call me in the morning and no earlier than eight. Do you
understand?"

Gideon paused a moment. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Beth.
It won't happen again."

Gideon hung up the phone and stood there for a moment. He felt
no pain, and contemplated having another glass of JD, but decided against it
for obvious reasons. Tomorrow would be another long day and he needed his
faculties in order. As it was, he had been running on empty for days. All he
could do now was try and get some sleep, but half the night was already gone.
He glanced at Jake on the couch and then staggered into the bedroom, where he
collapsed on the bed.

* * *

Louis was done with his shift early. He left the two garbage
bags in the janitor's supply room. He’d followed his instructions to the
letter, and once he shut the door he never looked back. His mission was
accomplished, and for that he got a reprieve from Carlos, a much-needed
reprieve.

Louis walked down the long hall leading to the underground
garage. He walked through the doors and all he heard was the echo of outside
traffic through the hollow concrete walls. A cold chill went through him, but
he paid no attention to it this time. He no longer feared Carlos. Slowly, Louis
made his way to the back of the garage.

As he approached the customized ’57 Chevy from the rear, he
could see the head resting on the door frame. He recognized the paisley shirt.
It startled him at first. Louis feared Carlos had changed his mind about the
extra days. He wanted to run, but did not. Carlos was a man of his word: if he
said he had two days, then he meant it.

Louis walked up to the driver's door, tapped Carlos on the
shoulder. "Hey man, what's happen'n?" he said, as he shook Carlos by
the sleeve.

The body went limp on the seat. Before Louis could turn and
run, an arm wrapped around his neck tightly while a barrel was stuck in the
bottom of his rib cage. Louis did not even hear the shot that silenced him
forever as he slumped to the ground onto the cold damp concrete. The pool of
blood grew under his twitching body and then there was nothing.

Ian glanced around. At that hour in the morning there were no
observers to worry about. He flicked the butt onto the concrete floor, exhaled,
and smiled before disappearing into the night.

CHAPTER 11

Wednesday,
September 14, 1977

The bright sun filtered through the closed window in a room
unfamiliar to him. Gideon heard a faint meow, then something scratching at the
window. He rolled over and was tangled in a mass of cotton. The pounding in his
head felt like jack hammers in action, and then he heard the scratching again.
Gideon focused, vaguely remembering the night before. The empty glass of JD
still sat on the nightstand. Suddenly everything came flashing back, and the
smell made his insides burn all the more.

Slowly he got up, walked to the window, cracked it open a few
inches and then stood back and watched the mass of black fur scurry past. Like
a flash it was off the sill, across the badly worn carpet and into the living
room. Gideon followed the low moans that came from the other room. Jake still
lay where Gideon left him the night before with the cat licking his face.
Gideon grabbed ahold of Jake and shook fiercely. He stepped back while the man
thrashed his arms, sending the cat flying and the glass toppling to the floor.

"Be careful," was all Gideon managed to say, it hurt
too much to say more.

"What the hell?" Jake yelled.

Gideon put his finger to his mouth. "Keep it down."

"Where did you sleep?" Jake glanced around the room.

Gideon tried to smile, but it hurt too much. "The
bed."

"Thanks a lot."

"It beat carrying you there."

"What time is it?" Jake got up. The room moved, he
quickly sat back down.

Gideon glanced at his watch. "It's almost five."

"Why so early?"

"We have a job to do, or have you forgotten?"

"Shit, it isn’t going anyplace."

Gideon did not answer. He walked into the kitchen and opened
the fridge. Four cans of beer, two open cans of cat food and one piece of bread
crust in a plastic bag, was definitely not the makings for a decent meal.

"I'll treat you to breakfast," Gideon turned to Jake
while hanging onto the fridge door.

"Aren't you going to wash up?"

"I'll stop and change before going to the hospital. So if
you want, you can shower and shave. I'll make a pot of coffee." Jake
disappeared into the bedroom. Gideon could hear him stumbling around. Drawers
were pulled open, and then slammed shut, he could hear things being kicked, and
then there was silence.

Gideon walked over to the stove and reached for the coffee
pot. He opened the lid and then turned quickly. The raunchy odor that reached
out to grab him made his stomach turn. Gideon dumped the grounds out, washed
the pot quickly with hot sudsy water, and then searched the cupboards for fresh
grounds. But the few grounds in the bottom of a coffee tin were not even enough
for a small cup. He was desperate, but it was no use. There was not even a soda
cracker to settle his turning stomach.

"Don't you do any cooking around here?" Gideon
asked.

Jake yelled from the other room. "No, my mother lives
down the block. When I want to eat, I just go over there."

"Convenient," is all Gideon replied.

"There's some bread in the fridge. Make yourself some
toast."

"No thanks. I can wait."

Gideon walked into the living room and plopped onto the couch.
He reached down and picked up yesterday's paper, flipping through the pages
quickly, half reading, half just looking at the pictures. The picture of the
schoolyard with kids playing reminded him of his call to Beth. He shook his
head at the thought.

Jake walked out of the bedroom while strapping his shoulder
holster around his arm, and then reached for his suit jacket. "Boy, have I
got a headache."

"You deserve it," Gideon snapped.

"I don't need a lecture. I get enough from my
mother." Jake said.

"I really didn't need to drink the night away,"
Gideon shook his head.

"You're a big boy. I didn't twist your arm."

"You said you didn't want to be alone. Nothing was said
about a drinking partner for the night."

"Well, that's how I forget," Jake bent down and
picked up the cat. "Now you be a good boy today."

"You know, drinking only makes the problem worse in the
morning."

"Tell me about it. I took two alka-seltzers and it still
feels like little men are pounding their way out."

"You deserve it. I just hope they take a few swipes for
me." Gideon tapped the back of Jake's head as he said the words.

"Don't do that." Jake grimaced in pain, then quickly
dropped the cat and held his head as if to make the pain go away.

They stopped at the first cafe they saw. Gideon was desperate
for a caffeine fix. Jake was too hungover to care.

Five cups of coffee later, Gideon felt half human again. He
was almost ready to conquer the world. Jake, on the other hand, still had the
little men trying to pound their way out.

"We better get going," Gideon said finally, then
reached in his pocket and tossed the bill on the table while looking at Jake.
"My treat."

"I don't think I'll make it," Jake said with his
head in his hands.

Gideon reached down grabbing Jake's shoulder. "Get your
ass in gear and pull yourself together." Gideon was inches from Jake's
face. "You think the world is going to stop until you feel up to
working?"

"Just give me a minute."

"We don't have a minute." Gideon looked at his
watch. It was already six and there was work to do. He did not have time to
coddle Jake out of his drunken depression.

Dale Carnegie, Gideon was not, but he did have a way of
motivating Jake into action. They were on their way and nothing more was said
about Jake's reluctance to work. They drove up to New York Hospital. The
flashing squad cars in the underground garage guided them like a beacon. Gideon
drove around to the rear and then parked off to the side. The two men slowly
walked up to the roped area.

"No one gets through," a uniformed officer stopped
their advance.

Both men flashed badges in unison, both from different
agencies, but working on the same case. The young rookie immediately stepped
aside and let them pass. Gideon took the lead and walked up to the big man in
the ill-fitted gray suit whose back was to them.

"What you got here?" Gideon asked.

Bronk turned, surprised at seeing Jake with Gideon. He took
the clipboard the young officer handed him, signed it quickly, and then
motioned for Jake to leave them. Once they were alone, Bronk turned to Gideon.

"You call Beth that late at night again, and she will
have a restraining order out on you," Bronk snapped. With his index
finger, he tapped Gideon on the chest. "Man, you have to have rocks in
your head."

"She called you already?"

"What's gotten into you?"

"Well she's been riding me about not seeing the girls and
I wanted to know if she'd changed her mind about this weekend."

"Three o'clock in the morning?"

"Two," Gideon corrected.

"Next time, look at your watch."

Gideon raised his hands, and then smiled. "I got the
message loud and clear last night."

"When you going to be done with my boy?" Bronk
nodded to Jake who was leaning on a pillar next to the red Chevy.

"End of the week."

"We have people dropping like flies."

"So what's new?"

Bronk turned to Gideon. "I don't need Beth jumping down
my throat, along with the Commissioner."

"What's his beef?" Gideon asked.

"He wants information about the men dying up on the
seventh floor and now this shooting in the garage."

"What did you tell him so far?"

"Nothing. I don't know anything." Bronk shook his
head.

"Keep it that way."

"Citizens’ groups are up in arms about the violence in
the park. You have a shootout like the OK Corral, what can you expect."

"It wasn't quite that bad."

Bronk turned to Jake. "How many rounds were fired?"

"Leave him out of it," Gideon argued.

"Gideon, get the thing settled and leave town. It's for
your own good."

"I doubt if it will be settled so soon."

"Well as long as you're in town the heat is going to be
on. The Commissioner already thinks I'm holding out on him."

"Tell him to kiss off," Gideon snapped.

"Yeah, easy for you to say."

Gideon looked at the Chevy for the longest time and then
finally turned back to Bronk. "What you got?"

"We found an employee wasted this morning near his car.
We identified the man inside the car as a bookie. My guess is the guy was into
his bookie for some big ones and they had a shootout."

"When did it happen?"

"Early this morning."

Gideon looked down at the pillar next to the body and noticed
a cigarette butt lying there with other discarded debris. It was an unusual
brand, a brand he had seen before.

They were interrupted by one of the Lab guys who walked over
to Bronk. He whispered something in Bronk's ear. Bronk listened closely. When
the man walked away and was out of earshot, Bronk turned to Gideon.

"I guess that blows my theory."

"Why? What did he say?"

"Looks like the bookie's been dead for at least six
hours. The man on the ground has been dead for only a couple of hours."

"Think it was a hit?" Jake asked.

Bronk glanced at Gideon and then Jake. He shrugged his
shoulders. "Who knows with these people? They're all animals." Bronk
walked away, but then turned back to Gideon. "I take that back, animals
aren't this inhuman."

Before he could walk off, Gideon quickly asked, "Could
you give me a preliminary report on your findings?" He paused for a
moment. "When you're done, that is."

"It will cost you." Bronk pointed a finger at Gideon.

"I promise to leave Beth alone," Gideon said
finally. He turned to Jake. "Find out where the guy worked, maybe this is
connected."

"Come on," Jake said. He still suffered the effects
of last night. "Why would you think that?"

"People are dead, and someone smoking the same brand of
cigarette has been at both crime scenes." Gideon turned on Jake. He was
not letting Jake's drunken binge last night be an excuse for the job not
getting done. "You want more?" Gideon shook his head before turning
away. "No wonder your partner got wasted."

"You bastard," Jake snapped, clenching his fist.

Gideon grabbed Jake’s loose jacket. He pinned Jake to the
support beam while glaring into the bloodshot eyes of his drinking partner of
last night.

"You listen and you listen good. This is still my
investigation. I don't give a damn that your guy wasn't smart enough to stay
alive. Right now my only concern is what's coming down. You got that?"

Gideon turned, walked across the garage, and disappeared
through the steel doors. He climbed the stairs to the seventh floor while Jake
went to Personnel. Gideon opened the door to the conference room. The stench of
stale cigarettes was replaced by disinfectant spray. A fresh pot of coffee was
already brewed and waiting. He quickly poured a cup and sat down at the end of
the long table. Gideon flipped open his briefcase and looked at the notes from
yesterday while he tapped his pen on the table. He was not any closer to making
sense out of what happened when Jake walked in.

Jake glanced at Gideon, then at the empty table. He poured
himself a cup of coffee and sat down next to Gideon. "You still thinking
about that broad you saw."

"No. I'm more concerned about the guy down in the
garage." Gideon said.

Jake got up and paced the floor for a few minutes before he
turned to Gideon. "Maybe he killed his bookie and someone saw him. When he
got off duty, they did him in for it."

"Why not just do it right away? It doesn't make
sense."

"We have enough to worry about with all this stuff,"
Jake picked up the lists that Gideon pulled out of his brief case. "We
don't need to look for more things to investigate. Besides I'd like to be done
by Christmas."

Just then there was a light tap on the door. A young clerk in
a short, pleated, red plaid skirt with a tight-fitting black tank top walked
in. She glanced at Jake and smiled. The clerk then turned to Gideon and handed
him the file.

"Mr. Jenkins said you were waiting for this." Her
smile was gone by the time she'd turned to Gideon.

Gideon took the envelope and motioned for her to leave. Once
she was out of the room he quickly opened the envelope and slid the sheets out.
His heart sank at what he saw. Cindy Malone did indeed work on the seventh
floor, but on the early shift the morning Delaney died. She was not called in
for extra duty yesterday and, as yet, had not showed up today. He did not even
take the time to read what there was on Louis Mendez. He just handed the
envelope over to Jake, got up, closed his briefcase, and walked out of the
room.

* * *

Jenny did not sleep well. She tossed and turned all night
thinking about the man in the hospital bed and the man with the snow-white
hair. What troubled her most was that she did nothing to prevent any of it.

She quickly got dressed, skipped breakfast, and then left the
apartment. Jenny flagged a cab to take her to Cindy's place. It was not far.
Under normal circumstances she would have walked but too much had happened in
the last twenty-four hours. All she wanted was to be rid of the white uniform
and the memory of what happened.

As the taxi pulled up to Sal's Shoe Shop on West 12th Street,
the flashing lights from squad cars closing off the area made the muscles in
her stomach tighten as she stared at the crowd and saw the ambulance back up
closer to the black bag laying on the gurney.

"This it?" the driver asked turning to face Jenny.

"Yes." She glanced down at the address on the slip
of paper, and then up at the building. "Pull over to the corner and let me
out."