Unleashed (25 page)

"You're not kidding."

I looked him straight in the eyes and watched his face fill with fear. "I know," I said. "I don't know what to do. I think the mayor killed Joseph Saperstein and Tate Hausman, and here's the really crazy part—I think he killed them over long-lost treasure."

"I'm sorry, back up. The mayor really tried to kill you." Mulberry was looking at the finger marks on my neck.

"Definitely."

"How did you escape?"

"I Tasered the shit out of him." Mulberry choked on his coffee.

"What?"

"What? He was trying to kill me."

"Is he OK?" Mulberry asked.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had left a man in his late forties lying in a basement, gurgling. I felt my blood make a mad dash to my toes. "Oh, my God," I whispered.

"What?"

"I didn't even think about it."

"What?" Mulberry looked scared.

"I just left him there. I just wanted to get away. I couldn't have killed him, could I have? No. Is it possible?"

"Yes. There's a reason those things are illegal here. I mean, if he has heart problems and you shocked him near his heart, it could kill him." He put down his mug and walked toward me. "Where did you shock him?"

"In his stomach."

"That should be OK."

"And his heart." His face fell. "And when he was on the ground, I zapped him in the back of the neck."

"Holy shit." Mulberry took a step back from me. "Um. I." He wiped his mouth with his palm and rubbed his stubbled chin. "I have to pee." He turned and left the kitchen.

"Mulberry?" I called after him, but he didn't respond. The bathroom door closed and the shower turned on. "Fuck." I finished off the cold coffee at the bottom of my cup and walked into the living room. I flopped onto the couch and rested my head against the back. Closing my eyes, I tried to squeeze the image of the mayor on the floor out of my head. It didn't work. I snapped my eyes opened and looked around for something, anything to fix this mess. But all I saw was a big TV, a coffee table, and a bookcase.

I scanned the books neatly lined up on Mulberry's shelves.
Leviathan
by Thomas Hobbes sat next to Sir Francis Bacon's
The Great Instauration.
I found Caesar Beccaria's treatise
Of Crime and Punishment
next to Dostoyevsky's
Crime and Punishment
. I smiled at his selection.

In a framed photograph on top of the TV, Mulberry smiled with his arm around a pretty blond lady holding a dog's leash. The dog, a chocolate lab, sat between them with his tongue hanging out. It occurred to me that I owned a dog. I ran back into the bedroom and found my phone in my bag, but it was dead. I hurried to the kitchen and used the phone on the wall to call Nona.

"Nona. Thank God. Can you go over and take care of Blue for me? I'm—" I didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"Done and done dear. I heard him in there alone yesterday and took him out and fed him. Are you OK? I was worried about you. Why didn't you come home?"

"I got beat up."

"My God. Are you OK? You sound hoarse."

"I'm all right. Nothing permanent, but I have some pretty gruesome bruises."

"Did you go to the hospital?"

"Yes," I lied.

"And you filed a report with the police? Do you know who it was who hurt you?"

"I never saw his face."

"Where were you?"

"In the park."

"Carl Schurz? I thought that park was so safe, what with Gracie Mansion there and everything."

"I was surprised."

"I'm glad to hear you're OK. Strange James didn't mention this to me."

"Huh?"

"Didn't you call him?"

"Not yet."

"He's in your apartment."

"He is?"

"Yes. He and a friend arrived about an hour ago. I saw them in the hall, and James said that he was taking care of the house for you. I asked if you were OK, and he said that he couldn't talk and ran inside."

My heart started beating faster. "What did the friend look like?"

"I only saw the back of him, but he was shorter then James and stocky. Blond hair."

"Did James look OK?" I asked barely above a whisper.

"I guess so. He was a little out of breath. I guess, now that I think about it he looked—scared. Joy is everything OK?"

"Scared?"

"Yes. Joy?"

"All right, Nona. Thanks. I'll call you soon."

"If you need anything, don't hesitate."

I hung up. My whole body tingled. James was in my apartment with a blond man. I dialed James's cell phone with a badly shaking hand.

"Joy Humbolt. How nice of you to call." A lump constricted my throat, and I couldn't respond to the syrupy-sweet voice. He laughed at the other end of the line, a low and menacing rumble.

"Don't you hurt him," I growled through the fear.

He laughed harder. This time he was really amused. "Too late."

"Fuck you."

"Those are big words for such a little girl."

"Yeah, how's your neck?"

"I bet it's feeling better than your delicate little throat. You sound like shit."

"What do you want?"

"A fair trade. You for your brother."

"OK."

"Come to your apartment."

"Let me speak to James. I have to make sure he's OK."

He laughed again. "Don't worry, he's alive."

"Put him on the phone or no deal."

He laughed again. "Why not?" he said, and I heard the phone changing hands.

"Joy?"

"James, are you OK?" Tears welled in my eyes. "I'm so sorry. I'm going to get you out of this."

"Hey. I'm OK. Just a little bruised." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I think the mayor is crazy." I heard a slapping sound and James say, "Ah, fuck" over the sound of the phone clattering to the floor.

"James! James, are you there?"

"You two are a real laugh riot." The mayor was back. "I don't like to be kept waiting."

"I'll hurry."

"Come alone. If I see one cop, or even the hint of a cop." He laughed low and menacing. "Come alone."

"I'm on my way." He hung up. I placed the phone back on the cradle and stared at it for a couple of seconds. I heard the shower turn off.

"The mayor's alive," I yelled to Mulberry through the bathroom door on my way to the bedroom. I pulled my jeans over the bruise on my hip and put my head through the hole of my T-shirt with extreme care. Mulberry came out of the bathroom wearing just a towel. His torso surprised me. It was rock-solid. Water glistened in his chest hair. He caught me looking.

"You took my robe." He walked past me into the bedroom and grabbed it off the chair I had thrown it over. He wrapped it around himself and let the towel underneath fall.

"I have to go," I said and went into the bathroom to check myself in the mirror. "Do you have a scarf and a giant pair of sunglasses?" Funny how the accessories for being fabulous in a convertible are identical to the ones used for covering up severe facial bruising.

"What?"

"I can't go out looking like this."

"Where are you going?"

"I need to go home."

"We need to talk. You assaulted the mayor of New York City."

I turned on him. "He tried to kill me. Do you get that?"

"But if you killed him you're going to be in serious trouble."

"He's not dead."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me." I picked up my bag, felt around inside, and made sure I had my keys, wallet, phone, and Taser.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." He followed me into the hall.

"If you wait five minutes, I'll come with you."

"No." I turned back to him. "I need to rest. I'll call you later."

"I don't think you should be alone."

"You really can't follow me. Just don't, OK? I need to be alone."

"All right," he said, his voice hesitant.

"I'll call you later."

"All right," he said again. I left him in the hallway in his funny silk robe, and I wished to God that he would follow me, and I prayed that he wouldn't.

I
opened my door, and Blue greeted me. He pranced in the hallway, his claws clicking on the wood. "Hello," I called to the living room, adrenaline coursing through me, making me feel strong and out of control.

"In here," the mayor answered. Blue followed me to the front room. James was tied to a chair. We'd bought it together at a flea market when I first moved to the city. It was covered in a deep-pink upholstery. I used it to throw my clothes on when I was too lazy to put them away. Now James, a dark bruise on his chin and a bright red hand print on his cheek, sat on it with his hands behind him and his ankles tied to the legs. A scarf I wore in my hair at the beach filled his mouth. His eyes were big and he blinked at me, making a small noise through the fabric.

Blue picked up a bone that sat near James's feet and brought it over to me. The bone was large, and bits of whatever animal it came from still clung to it. "I got that for him," the mayor told me. "He likes me." Blue wagged his tail and encouraged me to take the bone. I ignored him, keeping my eyes locked on the mayor's face. He looked gray. His neck was bandaged, and I imagined the burn marks my weapon must have left on his neck.

"OK. You can let James go now. I'm here."

The mayor laughed and raised a black pistol with a silencer screwed to the end. He aimed it at my chest. "No one is going anywhere." A cigar smoldered on my coffee table. He picked it up. "Not until I get what I came for." The smoke caught the light pouring in through the windows. "Don't you know you should never trust a politician?" He bit the cigar and smiled largely, showing me his teeth.

"I don't know why you're doing this. I don't think I am who you think I am. I'm not a threat to you. I'm just a dog-walker," I tried to sound small. It wasn't that hard.

"Don't be silly Joy. You and I both know what you know. You know all about Joseph and Tate, those imbeciles." His knuckles turned white gripping the cigar. He lowered it from his face.

"All I know about them is that they're dead, and I don't want to be."

"That's a good attitude to have. Joseph and Tate could have learned something from you." He looked at the tip of his cigar with narrowed eyes. "That Joseph. He had a real future if only he had known how to be faithful. You know, loyalty, faithfulness," he said as he brought the cigar to his lips and took a long puff, "they are very hard qualities to find."

Smoke seeped out of his mouth, rose above his head, and dissipated into the air. "Especially in men." He stood for a moment, the pistol trained on my face. "That's why my closest associates are women—my deputy mayor, my wife," he smiled at me, "my secretary. These women would not abandon me for anything. They are loyal. Joseph Saperstein was not loyal; he was not faithful. He wasn't even interesting," Kurt snickered at his joke. "I let him in on it. I didn't need him. I could have sold the stuff myself. I don't need an accountant to tell me how to hide things." His eyes turned cold. "I was willing to make him a rich man. But he wanted to run off with some hooker half his age. And that wife of his, Jesus. She didn't do anything to stop him," he lowered his voice. "That's OK, though. She'll get what she deserves." He looked out the window to Mrs. Saperstein's dismal future and smiled.

Kurt Jessup turned back to me and continued his monologue. "You know, it's OK to leave your wife. If he wanted to marry this—" he paused to find the right word, "this girl, that's fine. He just should have done it without my gold." His eyes glistened with a nervous excitement, and his cheeks flushed a deep red. "Nobody steals from Kurt Jessup. Nobody." He looked like a man with a bad fever. "But you know all of this already, don't you?"

"I know that Joseph and Charlene were having an affair. I don't know anything about gold or stealing." I tried to sound reasonable, like this was a normal conversation, like he wasn't a gun-toting, cigar-smoking, gold-loving maniac.

"Charlene didn't show you the gold?" He raised his eyebrows and watched my face intently. "I can tell that you're lying, Joy. If there is one thing I can't stand, it's a liar."

"I'm sorry," I said.

He liked that, and a smile spread across his face. "That's all right. Just don't do it again." He sat down on my couch and motioned for me to sit next to him. I moved around James's bound body and sat. He put his cigar-holding hand around my shoulder and spoke softly, intimately into my ear. "Tate was a liar." His breath was hot. "He lied to women to make them sleep with him. He lied to men to make them like him. And he lied to me to make me trust him. But I don't trust anyone." He squeezed my shoulder, being careful not to burn me with the hot ember of his cigar. "Do you want to know why I killed Tate?" he asked in a whisper. Goose bumps spread over my skin, and I was stunned into silence. The mayor stood up. "Don't act so shocked, Joy!"

"I'm not shocked," I said recovering myself.

"Don't lie!" he yelled.

"I'm sorry."

He took a step back and turned away from me. "I'm getting sick of your apologies," he snarled with his back to me.

"OK."

"Do you want to know why I killed him or not?"

"I don't know how to answer that."

"Honestly. Just answer it honestly." He turned back to face me. "All I ever ask for is honesty."

"Tell me."

He smiled. "He got greedy." Kurt did not continue. I sat on the couch with my knees together trying to figure out how to survive. The silence lasted a long time. Blue chewed on his bone, I stared at the floor, and the mayor watched me. "Don't you want more details?"

"Yes." I felt as if I were standing outside myself, watching. I noticed the way my eyes were fluttering around the room, like a scared little bunny rabbit caught in a trap, struggling against the metal talons holding me, fighting toward my death.

"He tried to take more than his share," the mayor started. "There was plenty to go around. The H.M.S. Hussar is one of the greatest finds in history. Not only is she a piece of Revolutionary era history, a veritable time capsule of the late 1700s, but she also carried millions upon millions of dollars' worth of treasure." He liked watching my face when he said treasure. "It was right after law school when I started looking," his eyes unfocused and appeared to drift back to that period in his life. "It wasn't on purpose, you know. I wasn't thinking about the Hussar when I found the map. I'd heard of the wreck, of course, every diver has, but the map was misfiled. I was looking for the blueprints of a recently demolished building in the Rare Books Room when I found it. Joy, you have no idea how I felt when I realized what it was, what I had."