Free to Die Page 13

  Brad nodded.

  “I know more about you than you might think. Without meaning to, I’m sure, your path has crossed mine. If it were to happen again, it would be an intolerable coincidence. I might be forced to take action you would not approve of. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Ashton?”

  Brad nodded.

  “Good. I sincerely hope you’ll act accordingly.” Rinolli sat down, picked up his pen and began writing. Brad stood and walked toward the door. A few feet from it, he heard the bolt unlatch. The door swung open.

  As he passed through, it closed behind him and the bolt slid home. He didn’t see Lampino as he left. He didn’t miss him at all.

  Once outside, he moved quickly away from the building with long strides. Movement eased the tightness in his gut and the tension in his neck and shoulders. In the open, beyond the parked cars, Josie pulled up beside him. He shivered, as he settled into the seat beside her. As she drove off, she said, “We’re being watched. There’s a man with binoculars on the top floor.”

  “Mike Rinolli’s a careful man.” He shivered again, trying to relax deeply into the velour bucket seat.

  “My place?”

  “Yeah. And let’s bolt the door when we get there. That fella is trouble.”

  “Was it worth it?”

  “Maybe. I got his attention when I told him about the DEA. It seemed to be bad news to him. It could make him nervous.”

  “And if he gets nervous?”

  “He could make a mistake, back a bad hand.”

  “I doubt that. Men like Rinolli don’t get to the top making mistakes,” Josie pointed out. “Besides, I don’t think he had anything to do with killing Gerald or Lydia. He’s a killer, but he wouldn’t leave bodies lying around. His kind bury them deep. No body; no crime.”

  “He said he knew a lot about me. It didn’t sound like he’d been reading newspapers. Wonder what he meant? If he figures I know too much, he’ll come down hard.”

  They rode in silence, each with their own thoughts. About a mile later, Brad said, “Rinolli may think I killed Lydia and those people at Overnite Air. He acted as if they were his. It almost sounded as if he was doing some smuggling of his own.”

  “Certainly someone is smuggling. There’s no other way to bring heroin into the country. But unless he killed Gerald and Lydia, I can’t see what you’ve gained. Frankly, I think you’re off the mark.”

  “He didn’t seem to know Tuckman, so maybe he’s not involved.”

  “We’ve one thing for certain,” she said. “Don’t look back, but there are two men in a pale green Ford following us.”

  “Is one of them Feldersen?”

  “I think so.”

  “It’s time we had a talk.”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Head for Van Nuys.”

  “Why?”

  “Can you lose them?”

  “In this car, I can lose anyone anywhere.”

  “Good,” he said, patting the dashboard encouragingly. “Let me off in front of the Archer Building, then drive on. One of them should follow me on foot. You shake the car and get back to pick me up.”

  “This is dumb, Brad. Those are federal officers. What can you possibly gain?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “First you tackle Rinolli, who probably has more kills than any other hood in California. Now you want to take on the U.S. government.”

  “Nope. Just one guy.”

  “You must have a compulsive death wish.”

  He wanted to reach over and stroke her thigh gently, to reassure her somehow. Instead, he said, “I’m fed up with being some kind of mouse to all these big fat cats.”

  “Any one of those paws can take you out easily.”

  “Humor me.”

  Reluctantly she turned east and drove into the city. She pulled to the curb in front of the seven-story building. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be walking north. Pick me up where you find me.”

  Once out of the car, he pretended to search the nearby buildings for an address. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man get out of the Ford. It was Feldersen. And the car was the one he’d first seen when they’d followed him to the hotel from Tuckman’s. He smiled to himself. This might be fun. The Ford moved out after Josie. He had only a brief glance at the driver, but it wasn’t Cogswell.

  Hoping he hadn’t miscalculated, that another agent wasn’t nearby, Brad entered the building and joined the group waiting for an elevator. There were too many for the one now emptying its passengers. He glanced at the indicators. Another was coming down; it was on the third floor. Resisting the impulse to look behind, he hung back. He was one of the few unable to get on. When the second elevator was empty, he entered, pushed seven and moved to the back, followed by half a dozen others. Feldersen stood at the front, facing the control panel.

  At the sixth floor, the last passenger got off, leaving them alone. As the elevator rose, Brad noted the increasing flush on the back of Feldersen’s neck. He’d been caught and he knew it.

  When the doors opened on the seventh floor, Brad stepped forward, speaking quietly. “I’ll be in the john.” Without pausing, he strode swiftly to the men’s room at the end of the hall.

  He was drying his hands when Feldersen shoved the door open. His beet-red face contrasted harshly with his long, pale blond hair. “You’re a real sweetheart, aren’t you?”

  Brad made no reply.

  “I’ve a mind to take you down. I hate punks like you, hiding behind your constitutional rights like they were your mommy’s skirt.”

  “Something you wanted? Or do you get your kicks this way?”

  “I’ve got a couple things. What were you doing at Rinolli’s?”

  “Somehow you don’t make it as a highly skilled, highly trained federal agent. Last time we met, you were CIA. Who are you today?”

  “I’ll ask the questions,” Feldersen snapped.

  “Maybe. First, who are you?”

  “DEA. That’s who. You didn’t think we’d find out about you, right? But you’re easy to figure. You’re the Mexican side and Tuckman handles this end. We’re that close to bringing you both down.” He held up his left thumb and forefinger an eighth of an inch apart.

  “Did you get all this from Lydia?” Brad thought he saw a touch of caution in the tall man’s eyes, maybe even fear. Then he wasn’t sure. Whatever it had been, it was now overlaid with heavy anger.

  “Answer the question. What were you doing with Rinolli?”

  “Like before. Get a warrant.”

  “This is a federal investigation. You answer right quick or you’re going to get busted up. There’s nobody here to protect you. And when I’m finished, I’ll dump you into a federal jail. After that, if you haven’t aged too much, I’ll turn you over to the local cops.”

  “For what?”

  “There’s a warrant out for your arrest. Seems you killed your ex-wife. Hell, I could shoot you now for resisting arrest.” Brad could see it in his eyes; he liked the idea. He eased his weight forward. None of his thoughts showed outwardly.

  “Now maybe you can find an answer. What’s with Rinolli?” Feldersen demanded harshly.

  “Screw you.”

  Feldersen reached quickly under his coat for his pistol. Brad slammed his left hand flat into the man’s chest, grabbing the arm, holding it motionless. The startled look on Feldersen’s face changed to a dazed expression as his head smacked into the mirror over the sink. The mirror cracked, a single jagged diagonal line.

  Brad felt much of the tension disappear from the arm he held, but he didn’t loosen his grip. With his right, he drove a short jab into the center of the man’s stomach. Frustration lent strength to the delivery. Feldersen shuddered under the impact. With a second blow, Brad tried to drive through the man and the wall behind him.

  He released his grip on the arm, trembling slightly. Feldersen slid slowly off the sink and crumpled to the floor. Without a look at the un
conscious man, he left the restroom and walked back to the elevators. He waited only a minute for a ride down.

  On the street, he turned north. He stretched his stride; moving eased the tension. What in the hell was he into now? The questions tumbled over one another, unanswered. The least of his troubles was pounding on a federal officer. It wasn’t until Josie tapped the horn that he noticed her car beside him. When he got in; she moved easily into the flow of traffic.

  “What is it?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the traffic.

  “They want me for killing Lydia.”

  “Oh, my God! Who managed that bit of nonsense?”

  “Don’t know,” he sighed, still trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. The pain in his back was minor, but it was there. He leaned forward, reached back and examined the wound with his fingers. It felt all right, and the scab was unbroken.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “Maybe a drink?”

  She chose The Office on Roscoe. Only a few customers lingered over lunch. He walked to the phone, dropped in a quarter and dialed.

  “Detectives. Sgt. Walters.”

  “Just got the good news.”

  “Give me your number.”

  Brad gave it.

  “Give me three minutes.” Hank hung up abruptly.

  Brad picked up the phone on the first sound of a ring. “Why this?”

  “Too many people can hear my end upstairs.”

  “So?”

  “So Sgt. Broadmore’s got a witness. Just wandered in off the street. Claims she saw you goin’ into Lydia’s place.”

  “What time?”

  “A little after three-thirty.”

  “Did she see a car backed up to the front door?”

  “It wasn’t mentioned. She only claimed she saw you.”

  “What about the pool guy? He saw the car.”

  “I know. I’m going to talk to Broadmore about that.”

  “What about motive, Hank? Doesn’t Broadmore need one?”

  “He knows she stole your folk’s place in divorce court. He figures it’s enough for now.”

  “Should I come in?”

  “Forget that.”

  “That’s a hell of a thing for a cop to say.”

  “Shit. Maybe livin’ in a suitcase isn’t so great, but it beats hell out of a cell. Somebody’s tryin’ for you real hard. I don’t know if I can stop ’em. Until I do, you do like I say. Besides, there’s more.” The silence dragged on as Brad waited. “Judge Tofler won’t be turnin’ you loose on Monday.”

  Brad’s stomach suddenly had no bottom.

  “Seems they retested the .45 you gave Josie. Now they claim it is the one that killed Gerald.”

  Brad was stunned.

  “You still there?”

  “Sorta.”

  “Don’t be too shook. I’ll testify a first test was different. I haven’t talked to Walden, but it might help. You can see it wouldn’t be a good time to come in.”

  There was another long silence.

  “Ok?” Hank asked softly.

  “Mostly,” Brad answered finally.

  “Where’ll you be tonight?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Give me a call?”

  “Yeah.”

  Brad listened to the dead line for a long time. Slowly he hung up and walked to the booth where Josie was seated. He swallowed his drink in two fast gulps; the bourbon smarted nicely. Josie, watching closely, motioned for another. “What is it?”

  He told her what Hank had said, enunciating each word with care. He wondered why his voice sounded so far away. He felt curiously empty of anger.

  “That’s plain awful,” Josie said. “How can you take it so calmly?”

  “I guess I expected something like this.”

  “And he told you not to come in?”

  He nodded. He took the glass from the waitress before she could set it on the table. “It’s time we split up,” he said quietly. “Too many people know I’m with you.”

  She toyed with her drink, moving it slowly from hand to hand. “Is that what you want? To be alone?”

  “I’ve got to disappear. I can handle it, but you wouldn’t like it much.”

  “And I wouldn’t like what you plan to do with that knife?”

  “Expect not.”

  “Just like that? I’m supposed to walk out of here? And if I did, what would you do?”

  “Let you and Hank do what you can.”

  “I asked what you’d do.”

  He sighed and looked steadily at his half empty glass. “Like I said. I’m going hunting.”

  “What can you do alone?”

  “Don’t know. But in war, there’s always a chance.”

  “You see this as war then?”

  “Close enough.”

  “And you feel you can handle that?”

  “Better than most.”

  She was silent for a long while, then looked up and met his glance. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  “Like?”

  “You’re afraid of what might happen between us.”

  He toyed with his glass for several moments. When he looked up at her, he said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

  “That’s insane. You don’t know me at all.”

  “Enough I don’t want you hurt. I don’t want you standing anywhere near me if someone starts shooting again.”

  “On the other hand, I’m pretty good with that.” She pointed toward her purse and the .357. “With a little luck, I might keep you alive a bit longer.” She finished the rest of her drink. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She reached for her purse and rose. He didn’t move. She turned and faced him squarely, head high. He stood slowly, trying desperately to read what lay behind those incredible blue eyes. Finally he nodded. She turned and walked toward the door. He followed her out into the bright afternoon sun.

  * * *

  Josie opened the door to her apartment, and let Brad enter ahead of her. Inside, she closed and locked it, then leaned back against it. As she gazed at him, he couldn’t read her look.

  When she started for the window, she took her earrings off and tucked them into the pocket of her jacket. Then she slipped out of the jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. She stepped out of her sandals, then used her feet to tuck them under the chair.

  She turned, then, to gaze out the window. She had folded her arms under her breasts, which added a delightful uplift. She was motionless, as if unaware she was not alone.

  Brad stepped up beside her. Apart from noticing her enticing breasts, he was content to look out over the city, to wait.

  Slowly she turned to him. She was so close she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “Kiss me,” she murmured, “the way you did in the hotel restaurant.”

  He thought he saw something of confusion in the brightness of her eyes, but then he wasn’t sure. There was no other expression in her features. Her arms had not moved; her breasts were still thrust boldly upward.

  He cupped her chin with a thumb and forefinger, then kissed her lightly. He watched her eyes close, then he sensed a soft shudder. When she finally opened her eyes, he could see they were clear of confusion, or of whatever he had seen.

  “Again?” she murmured.

  When he brought his lips to hers, she tucked her arms around his neck and pulled herself against him, deepening the kiss, clinging to him, as if afraid to break it off.

  When she did, she met his glance and said softly, “This can’t matter. Okay?” She tightened the grip about his neck as if demanding he agree.

  He shook his head. “It already matters to both of us.”

  She held his glance for several moments, then laid her head on his shoulder. “Carry me like in the movies,” she murmured with a sigh.

  “There aren’t any cameras here.”

  “Pretend,” she whispered, closing her eyes and pulling herself tightly against him.

  He scooped her u
p and started down the hall. She cuddled even closer, as if this mattered most of all.

  * * *

  In the growing dusk, Brad leaned against the headboard, stroking her hair. She was using his shoulder for a pillow, etching random patterns on his chest with her nails. Her nakedness highlighted by a sheen of perspiration. “You fooled me.”

  “How?”

  “All that weathered, outdoorsy look. I didn’t expect your gentleness. It’s a nice bonus.”

  “Any complaints?”

  “Maybe one.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know too much about this sort of thing. I tingle all over.”

  He chuckled softly. “It’s you, not me. You’re easy to please.”

  “Not really,” she murmured as she crawled up his chest and kissed him, seeking to cover every inch of his skin with her own.

  * * *

  Later, after carting the empty dishes to the sink, Josie sat back down on her side of the table and said, “Now this half of the table is mine. That half,” she said pointing emphatically, “is yours. You stay there. Okay?”

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “I’m not ready for this.”

  “What?”

  “A relationship with you.”

  Brad stood, picked up his chair, and settled it beside her, then sat back down.

  “You promised to stay on your side.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Damn,” she muttered.

  He reached out and enclosed her hands in his. “I’m missing something. Tell me more.”

  She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “I already said it. I like my life the way it is. I don’t want to swap my career for mommyhood.”

  “Did we sign contracts? Or speak of agendas to be amended?”

  “No, but . . .”

  “Did we make promises? Or offer guarantees?”

  “No.”

  “Then we’ll both have to do whatever to make things neat for each other.”

  She gazed at him for several minutes. He had no clue to her thoughts.

  “You’re terrible,” she declared finally, her lips curled up at the corners as if about to smile. “Will you kiss me again?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she tucked her arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers.

  * * *

  Sgt. Hank Walters sat staring at the lab report, the one Sgt. Bradson had handed him this morning. He didn’t have to read it again. He knew what it said.