services.
How to get the note close to the house? Hmm. He could fold the note into a paper airplane and fly it in. Oh, sure, with Myron's mechanical skills, that would work. Myron Bolitar, the Jewish Wright Brother. What else? Tie the note to a rock maybe? And then what? Smash a window?
As it happened, he didn't have to do any of that.
He heard a noise to his right. Footsteps. On the street.
At two in the morning.
Myron quickly dove back down behind a shrub. The footsteps were moving closer. Faster. Someone approach-ing.
Running.
He kept down, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
The footsteps grew louder and then suddenly stopped.
Myron peeked around the side of the shrub. His view was blocked by still more hedges.
He held his breath. And waited.
The footsteps started up again. Slower this time. Unhurried.
Casual. Taking a walk now. Myron craned his neck around the other side of the shrub. Nothing. He moved into a crouch now. Slowly he raised himself, inch by inch, his bad knee protesting. He fought through the pain. His eyesreached the top of the shrub. Myron looked out and finally saw who it was.
Linda Coldren;
She was dressed in a blue sweat suit with running sneakers. Out for a jog? Seemed like a very strange time for it. But you never know. Jack drove golf balls. Myron shot baskets. Maybe Linda was into late-night jogging.
He didn't think so.
She neared the top of the driveway. Myron had to reach her. He clawed a rock out of the dirt and skimmed it toward her. Linda stopped and looked up sharply, like a deer interrupted while drinking. Myron threw another rock. She looked toward the bush. Myron waved a hand.
Christ, this was subtle. But if she had felt safe enough to leave the house if the kidnapper had not minded her taking a little night stroll then walking toward a bush shouldn't cause a panic either. Bad rationale, but it was getting late.
If not out for a jog, why was Linda out so late?
Unless . . .
Unless she was paying off the ransom.
But no, it was still Sunday night. The banks wouldn't be open. She couldn't raise one hundred grand without going to a bank. She had made that clear, hadn't she?
Linda Coldren slowly approached the bush. Myron was almost tempted to light the bush on fire, deepen his voice, and say, 'Come forward, Moses.' More gallows humor. More not-funny.
When she was about ten feet away, Myron raised his head into view. Linda's eyes nearly leaped out of their sockets.
'Get out of here!' Linda whispered.
Myron wasted no time. Whispering back, he said, 'I
found the guy from the pay phone dead. Shot twice in the head. Chad's ring was in his car. But no sign of Chad.'
'Get out!'
'I just wanted to warn you. Be careful. They're playing for keeps.'
Her eyes darted about the yard. She nodded and turned away.
'When's the drop-off'?' Myron tried. 'And where's Jack? Make sure you see Chad with your own eyes before you hand over anything.'
But if Linda heard him, she gave no indication. She hurried down the driveway, opened the door, and disappeard from sight.
Chapter 25
Win opened the bedroom door. 'You have visitors.'
Myron kept his head on the pillow. Friends not knocking hardly fazed him anymore. 'Who is it?'
'Law enforcement officials,' Win said.
'Cops?'
'Yes.'
' 'Uniformed? ' '
'Yes.'
'Any idea what it's about?'
'Oooo, sorry. That would be a no. Let's move on to Kitty Carlisle.'
Myron picked the sleep out of his eyes and threw on some clothes. He slipped into a pair of Top-Siders without socks. Very Win-like. A quick brush of the teeth, for the sake of breath rather than long-term dental health. He opted for a baseball cap rather than taking the time to wet his hair. The baseball cap was red and said TRIX CEREAL in the front and SILLY RABBIT on the back. Jessica had bought it for him. Myron loved her for it.
The two uniforms waited with cop-patience in the living room. They were young and healthy-looking. The taller one said, 'Mr. Bolitar?'
'Yes.'
'We'd appreciate it if you would accompany us.'
'Where?'
'Detective Corbett will explain when we arrive.'
'How about a hint?'
Two faces of stone. 'We'd rather not, sir.'
Myron shrugged. 'Let's go then.'
Myron sat in the back of the squad car. The two uniforms sat in the front. They drove at a pretty good clip but kept their siren off, Myron's cell phone rang.
'Do you guys mind if I take a call?'
Taller said, 'Of course not, sir.'
'Polite of you.' Myron hit the on switch. 'Hello.'
'Are you alone?' It was Linda Coldren.
'Nope.'
'Don't tell anyone I'm calling. Can you please get here as soon as possible? It's urgent.'
'What do you mean you can't deliver it until Thursday?'
Mr. Throw Them Off Track.
'I can't talk right now either. Just get here as soon as you can. And don't say anything until you do. Please.
Trust me on this.'
She hung up.
'Fine, but then I better get free bagels. You hear me?'
Myron tumed off the cell phone. He looked out the window. The route the cops were taking was overly familiar.
Myron had taken the same one to Merion. When they reached the club entranceway on Ardmore Avenue, Myron saw a plethora of media vans and cop cars.
'Dang,' the taller cop said.
'You knew it wouldn't stay quiet for long,' Shorter added.
'Too big a story,' Taller agreed.
'You fellas want to clue me in?'
The shorter cop twisted his head toward Myron. 'No, sir.' He turned back around.
'Okeydokey,' Myron said. But he didn't have a good feeling about this.
The squad car drove steadily through the press gauntlet.
Reporters pushed against the windows, peering in.
Flashes popped in Myron's face. A policeman waved them through. The reporters slowly peeled off the car
