Razzamatazz

'Yeah, I guess there is something funny.'

'Such as?'

'You wanting info from me. It's the other way around, Waldo.'

He didn't bite.

Schufeldt's barrel chest puffed up like an inflated toy. 'Just can't get it straight, can you? I'm in charge here now. You can't come trying to get information out of me. I do the asking. You got it, Waldo?'

Hallock tasted bile in the back of his throat. 'You saying an ordinary citizen like me can't get cooperation from the officer in charge? Is that what you're saying, William?'

Blood rushed into Schufeldt's cheeks like shots of dye. 'I think you better beat it.'

'Where's Annie Winters?' he asked abruptly.

Schufeldt's baby face hardened. 'Who wants to know? Maguire?'

'I want to know?'

'Are you planning on going to church or what?'

'You know where she is?'

He didn't answer.

'How about Griffing? Where's he?'

'I want to know where Maguire is, Waldo. How come he was staying in your motel room? You two queer for each other or what?'

Ignoring the question, Hallock said, 'Real nice the way you shot up the room. I wonder how it would've gone down if you'd killed Maguire.'

'I could get you for harboring a fugitive. We have an APB out on Maguire. Yeah, maybe I'll just book you, Waldo.'

'What if I told you I didn't know Maguire was in my room?'

'I'd say you were a goddamn motherfucking liar. And then I'd book you.'

'So book me, Schufeldt, go ahead,' he challenged.

'Where's Maguire?'

'How the hell should I know?'

'You left your wife for him, didn't you?'

'You going to book me or tell me what I want to know?'

'Neither, cutie-pie. Too bad you're not my type.' He cackled crazily.

Hallock waited for the laughter to subside. 'You're a riot, Schufeldt. I'm telling you something. Anything happens to Annie Winters, I'm going to make it known that you're personally responsible. I have reason to believe she's in danger. Now if you know where she is, tell me. Otherwise-'

'Otherwise nothing, shithead. Get the hell outta here before I throw you in the slammer.'

Hallock could see that Schufeldt meant it. He couldn't afford to push the moron any further. As he turned to leave, Schufeldt's voice stopped him.

'Lemme clue you in on something, Waldo.'

Hallock waited but didn't turn around.

'Anything happens to Annie Winters, I'm gonna get you for being an assessory.'

The words chilled him. Schufeldt had given himself away. He had no idea where Annie was. Hallock turned, gave Schufeldt a baleful gaze. 'Accessory, William, accessory.' He walked out before the other man could respond.

The rain was still coming down, hitting the pavement like BB pellets. Hallock wrenched open his car door, saw Charlie Copin sitting in the passenger seat.

'Hey, Chief. You okay?'

'Fine.'

'Couldn't help hearing what was going on in there.' He shook his head as if to say he knew what an asshole Schufeldt was. 'You're looking for Annie Winters, huh?'

'I'd like to know where she is,' he acknowledged.

'That's just it, Chief. She took off. Mark Griffing was with her trying to find out where Maguire was, and she threw this kettle of hot water at him and ran out the door.'

'Did Griffing follow her?'

'No. He says she almost ran him down. We got there about three minutes later. Griffing was kind of stumbling around the lot, holding his head. We took him over to the hospital. Needed stitches.'

'He there now?'

'Don't know. That was about an hour or so ago.'

'And Annie Winters?'

Copin shrugged. 'Like she dropped off the face of the earth. We got an APB out right away, and Al's been patrolling since we dropped off Griffing. He hasn't seen hide nor hair of her. You think she's with Maguire someplace, Chief?'

Hallock wished he could confide in Charlie but felt it would be easier on him not to know. 'Just can't say.'

'You think Maguire's guilty?'

'No. Listen, Charlie, I gotta go. Thanks for the tip about Annie Winters.

'No sweat, Chief.' Copin opened the car door. The rain roared. He started to get out, then looked back at Hallock. 'I gotta tell you, Chief, the guys all miss you. That Schufeldt is one dumb pecker- head.'

Hallock smiled. 'Thanks, Charlie.'

Copin gave him a three-fingered salute.

When the door was shut, Hallock started the motor. It was clear Griffing didn't have Annie an hour ago, but that didn't mean he wasn't the killer. And it didn't mean he didn't have her now. He wanted to talk to Griffing, find out how his mother died. He would go to the hospital first, then try his house. If Griffing wasn't either place, that would be the time to worry about Annie.

– -

She felt as if she were choking. The gag, a piece of dirty sheet, was between her lips, tied at the back of her head. Annie willed herself to think of something else, anything but the gag.

Mark. Oh, why hadn't she trusted him? Okay, he was wrong about Colin, but he wasn't there to hurt her. Mark had been such a good friend, always there when she needed support, love. How could she have thought he was a killer? And her fleeting doubts about Colin. It was her basic distrust of people, Bob dying, leaving her alone. But that was over now. She had herself, and if she got out of this she was going to love again, take the risk. She simply couldn't go on the way she had. Look where mistrust had gotten her. Oh, funny, Annie, really funny! She couldn't look: Another piece of sheet covered her eyes.

He'd taken over the wheel after ordering her to pull into Stuart Lane. The first thing he'd done was to tell her to move to the passenger side, then he carefully climbed over the seat and slipped in behind the wheel. It was then that he'd pulled out the two pieces of dirty sheet, one for the gag, the other to blindfold her. Then he'd bound her wrists with rope.

For a moment she'd considered leaping from the car. But even if she'd managed to get the door handle open, jump, what good would it do her? He'd stop the car and drag her back; she was helpless with no hands, no vision.

They'd driven for about ten minutes and then stopped. She'd heard him get out. Then her door was opened. She'd felt his hand on her arm, heard him ordering her to get out. Rain slashed at her face. He'd told her to hurry, and guided her across the gravel driveway. She'd stumbled several times, her ankle growing more painful every moment. 'We're going up some steps,' he'd said.

She'd figured it was his place; she'd been there two or three times. The climb had tortured her, the ankle feeling as though it would crack. He'd opened a door, the hinges squealing, then closed it behind them. They moved along a wooden floor. Another door opened and he'd shoved her inside. Untying her wrists, he'd roughly pushed her into a chair and tied her hands behind her. Then he'd left, shutting the door.

Now she tried to move her wrists, but with each movement the rope tightened, scraping her skin. She was unable to free herself. The only possible chance she had was if he untied her. She couldn't believe that this was the way her life would end. If only he'd take the gag from her mouth so she could talk to him, she might persuade him to let her go. But that was arrogant, she thought. None of the others had succeeded; why should she?