«Rescuing the fair maiden from the tower?»
«If she’s even there, which is a big if. And we can’t go in with guns blazing. Someone might panic and kill her.» Myron reached for his phone. «Arthur Bradford wants an update. I think I’ll give him one. Now. In person.'
«They may very well try to kill you.»
«That’s where you come in,» Myron said.
Win smiled. «Bitching.» His word of the week.
They turned onto Route 80 and headed east.
«Let me bounce a few thoughts off you,» Myron said.
Win nodded. He was used to this game.
«Here’s what we know,» Myron said. «Anita Slaughter is assaulted. Three weeks later she witnesses Elizabeth Bradford’s suicide. Nine months pass. Then she runs away from Horace. She empties out the bank account, grabs her daughter, and hides out at the Holiday Inn. Now here is where things get murky. We know that Chance Bradford and Sam end up there. We know they end up taking an injured Anita off the premises. We also know that sometime before that Anita calls Horace and tells him to pick up Brenda-»
Myron broke off and looked at Win. «What time would that have been?»
«Pardon?»
«Anita called Horace to pick up Brenda. That had to be before Sam arrived on the scene, right?»
«Yes.»
«But here’s the thing. Horace told Mabel that Anita called him. But maybe Horace was lying. I mean, why would Anita call Horace? It makes no sense. She’s running away from the man. She’s taken all his money. Why would she then call Horace and give away her location? She might call Mabel, for example, but never Horace.»
Win nodded. «Go on.»
«Suppose… suppose we’re looking at this all wrong. Forget the Bradfords for the moment. Take it from Horace’s viewpoint. He gets home. He finds the note. Maybe he even learns that his money is gone. He’d be furious. So suppose Horace tracked Anita down at the Holiday Inn. Suppose he went there to take back his child and his money.»
«By force,» Win added.
«Yes.»
«Then he killed Anita?»
«Not killed. But maybe he beat the hell out of her. Maybe he even left her for dead. Either way, he takes Brenda and the money back. Horace calls his sister. He tells her that Anita called him to pick up Brenda.»
Win frowned. «And then what? Anita hides from Horace for twenty years – lets him raise her daughter by himself – because she was scared of him?»
Myron didn’t like that. «Maybe,» he said.
«And then, if I follow your logic, twenty years later Anita becomes aware that Horace is looking for her. So is she the one who killed him? A final showdown? But then who grabbed Brenda? And why? Or is Brenda in cahoots with her mother? And while we’ve dismissed the Bradfords for the sake of hypothesizing, how do they factor into all this? Why would they be concerned enough to cover up Horace Slaughter’s crime? Why was Chance Bradford at the hotel that night in the first place?»
«There are holes,» Myron admitted.
«There are chasms of leviathan proportions,» Win corrected.
«There’s another thing I don’t get. If the Bradfords have had a tap on Mabel’s phone this whole time, wouldn’t they have been able to trace Anita’s calls?»
Win mulled that one over. «Maybe,» he said, «they did.»
Silence. Myron flipped on the radio. The game was in the second half. The New York Dolphins were getting crushed. The announcers were speculating on the whereabouts of Brenda Slaughter. Myron turned the volume down.
«We’re still missing something,» Myron said.
«Yes, but we’re getting close.»
«So we still try the Bradfords.»
Win nodded. «Open the glove compartment. Arm yourself like a paranoid despot. This may get ugly.»
Myron did not argue. He dialed Arthur’s private line. Arthur answered midway through the first ring. «Have you found Brenda?» Arthur asked.
«I’m on my way to your house,» Myron said.
«Then you’ve found her?»
«I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,» Myron said. «Tell your guards.»
Myron hung up. «Curious,» he said to Win.
«What?»
And then it hit Myron. Not slowly. But all at once. A tremendous avalanche buried him in one fell swoop. With a trembling hand Myron dialed another number into the cell phone.
«Norm Zuckerman, please. Yes, I know he’s watching the game. Tell him it’s Myron Bolitar. Tell him it’s urgent. And tell him I want to talk with McLaughlin and Tiles too.»
34
The guard at Bradford Farms shone a flashlight into the car. «You alone, Mr. Bolitar?»
«Yes,» Myron said.
The gate went up. «Please proceed to the main house.»
Myron drove in slowly. Per their plan, he slowed on the next curve. Silence. Then Win’s voice came through the phone: «I’m out.»
Out of the trunk. So smooth Myron had not even heard him.
«I’m going on mute,» Win said. «Let me know where you are at all times.»
The plan was simple: Win would search the property for Brenda while Myron tried not to get himself killed.
He continued up the drive, both hands on the wheel. Part of him wanted to stall; most of him wanted to get at Arthur Bradford immediately. He knew the truth now. Some of it anyway. Enough to save Brenda.
Maybe.
The grounds were silk black, the farm animals silent. The mansion loomed above him, floating almost, only tenuously connected with the world beneath it. Myron parked and got out of the car. Before he reached the door, Mattius the Manservant was there. It was ten o’clock at night, but Mattius still displayed full butler garb and rigid spine. He said nothing, waiting with almost inhuman patience.
When Myron reached him, Mattius said, «Mr. Bradford will see you in the library.»
Myron nodded. And that was when someone hit him in the head. There was a thud, and then a thick, blackening numbness swam through him. His skull tingled. Still reeling, Myron felt a bat smash the back of his lower thighs. His legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees.
«Win,» he managed.
A boot stomped him hard between the shoulder blades. Myron crashed facefirst into the ground. He felt the air whoosh out of him. There were hands on him now. Searching. Grabbing out the weapons.
«Win,» he said again.
«Nice try.» Sam stood over him. He was holding Myron’s phone. «But I hung it up, I Spy.»
Two other men lifted Myron by the armpits and quickly dragged him into the foyer and down the corridor. Myron tried to blink out the fuzzies. His entire body felt like a thumb hit with a hammer. Sam walked in front of him. He opened a door, and the two men tossed Myron in like a sack of peat moss. He started to roll down steps, but he managed to stop his descent before he hit bottom.
Sam stepped inside. The door closed behind him.
