Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 52, No. 7 & 8, July/August 2007
- Автор: Baldwin Barry, Campbell Melodie
- Год: 2007
- Язык: английский
- Год: Dell Magazines
- ISBN: ISSN:0002-5224
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 52, No. 7 & 8, July/August 2007». Краткое содержание книги:
I’ve gotten into the habit of keeping a few plastic bags in the trunk of my car ever since the second time I had a grocery bag break on me. The ashes and bowl went into one of the bags after I took another look around to make sure I hadn’t overlooked anything or left any fingerprints behind. Then I was off to Summerlin.
Driving west this time of day is never relaxing. Regardless of the polarized glasses and tinted windshield, there are angles where the sun just blinds you. You tend to look downward more than up, or at least I do. Yet there are dips in the streets and freeways that consistently test your relationship with the break pedal.
Dexter Drexall’s home was in one of the few communities in Summerlin that wasn’t gated. It was on a street called Star Spruce Lane, which mustn’t be confused with Star Spruce Drive, or Star Spruce Way, which all ran parallel to each other. It was a two story rust-colored tiled roof structure with a three-car attached garage.
I parked on the street in front of the place and made my way up the walk. I was just about to ring the doorbell when the door swung open and a dimpled brunette in shorts and halter top said, “Oh, Bill, I was...” She stopped, mouth and big brown eyes wide open. “God, I’m sorry. I saw the car and you were coming up the walk, I thought you were someone else.”
“I gathered that,” I said.
She shrugged well-tanned shoulders. “I could’ve sworn that was his car. I mean it’s the same color and everything. And you’re both bla — that is, uh, sometimes the sun hits the window... I just took a quick glance. Bill’s a photographer friend of ours. He lives just down the street on the corner. He was supposed to have been coming by to do some layouts. I just jumped at thinking you were him.”
Some people get embarrassed and clam up, others keep tripping over their own tongue. As fumbling as it was, she’d said all I needed to hear.
“You know, I’ve got to apologize myself. I was looking for Bill, and I got turned around. On the corner, you said, right? I’ll let him know you’re still looking for him, see if I can hurry him along.”
“Well, uh, thanks,” she said, with some relief in her voice.
I left her standing in her doorway, got in my car, and headed for the end of the block. I didn’t have to guess whether it was the house on the east or west side of the street. The garage door was opened, and I saw the car sitting there. It wasn’t the same year Town Car as mine, but the silver-gray color matched. It would be easy to mistake one for the other.
I pulled into the drive in front of the open garage, spotting the blood on the garage floor as I got out of my car. I rarely carry a gun. For the most part it stays in my safe behind my desk in my office at the Game Room. But at times like these I rethink my decision not to be armed all the time. Being careful not to track through the blood on the floor, I could see more blood inside the car through the driver’s side window and on the crumpled George Bush mask that lay on the passenger’s seat.
The door leading into the house was slightly ajar. I knocked, calling out, “Hey Bill, you in there? We’ve got to talk...”
I tried knocking again, and the door swung inward under the force of my clenched fist.
He’d just cleared the door before collapsing at the foot of the washer and dryer. I felt the side of his neck for a pulse, knowing it was a waste of time. The money made it farther into the room. Some of it had spilled from the gym bag that lay by his outstretched hand.
I got the money back into the gym bag, and the whole thing went into one of the plastic bags in the trunk of my car. Then I got my ass out of there, hoping that when Bill’s body was discovered, the woman down at the Drexall home wouldn’t feel compelled to volunteer any information to the police.
It looked like they’d killed each other at the money drop, or at least that was the result. Bill had gotten away with the money, and Rimmey had come after me thinking we were one and the same. Mira had said he had suspicions about me. Bill and I were both black, and we drove similar cars. It would explain why Rimmey had bypassed the hospital to come banging on my door. Not the best of judgments, but he would’ve been enraged and wanting to get the money back, or simply get even.
I’d been at this thing nonstop all day, and the first pangs of hunger let themselves be known. As soon as I wrapped things up with Mira I promised myself a hearty meal. The Steak House at Circus Circus was one of my favorite places to pig out. Fighting your way through the kids in the thoroughfare was always worth the trip.
I called Mira, told her I thought I’d gotten things wrapped up the best I could. We agreed to meet back at the Helping Hand Money Mart in an hour, which would be just about how long it would take me to fight my way through traffic.
When I got there the Escalade was parked in the same place it had been this morning. I pulled in alongside, climbed out, and got the two plastic bags out of my trunk. The young lady at the counter looked at me with a little wrinkle on her brow when I walked in with a plastic bag in each hand. But when I gave her my name, she said I was expected and buzzed me through the security door, which gave access to Mira’s office.
Mira was standing in front of her desk when I came into her office. She’d changed outfits sometime during the day. She was wearing a long-sleeved flowered dress now, mostly beige in color. It wasn’t until I’d closed the door and turned back to her that I saw Belle sitting behind the desk.
Belle Navilone, Mira’s grandmother, the one person Mira didn’t want to find out about the blackmail.
“Guess you didn’t expect to see me,” Belle smiled up at me.
“Where you’re concerned, Belle, I’m never surprised.” It hadn’t been anything I’d ever thought of, but once I’d said it I knew it was true.
She nodded, not a hair out of place on her silver-gray coiffure. Rings sparkled from every finger as she beckoned me closer. “I presume those are the pictures and the blackmail money. You did get all of the pictures, I hope?”
I looked at Mira, but she wouldn’t look at me. She backed up as I got closer, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Mira?” I said, waiting for a reply, but she kept looking at the floor. She seemed to be shrinking somewhat, her shoulder drawing in, head bowed, like a small child looking for someplace to hide.
“Mira?” I repeated. “What was all the bs you told me this morning?”
“Most of it was true,” she finally said, barely above a whisper. “You caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to tell you and what not to.”
“You did good enough,” Belle said. “Let’s get on with it. Did you get the money and the pictures, Trevor, or didn’t you?”
“I got them,” I said, putting the bags on the desk.
She nodded with a smile this time. She could’ve been a hundred and twelve, but she could pass for someone in her late fifties. Her makeup was done impeccably and with an even hand; there were just a few crows’ feet giving away a hint of age.
“I’d be careful with this one,” I said, indicating the smaller of the two bags. “It’s got the ashes of the photos in there. You might want to scatter them out in the desert someplace just to make sure. The money’s in the other one. I’d take care there too. I’m sure some of the bills have got blood on them. It would be wise to get rid of them.”
“I hope you didn’t have to put yourself in harm’s way.”
“No, Belle,” I said, sitting in the chair across from Mira. “It was just legwork.”
I explained my day to them then. There was no reason to hold anything back.