will ruin that lovely mouth, and I might have a use for that mouth a little later on.”
Deeny dropped her hands and tucked the strip of cloth into one of her back pockets, but I wondered if Spanning would have thought her such a tame conspirator if he had seen her face at that moment.
I heard a scuffling sound, a grunt of pain and then Gerald’s laughter. “What do you know? Arthur’s pup has some fight in ‘im. That your girlfriend there, little bastard? That your girlfriend?” Another grunt of pain. I felt my nails digging into my palms, even through the latex gloves. “Well, being as we’re family, you won’t mind sharing her with me, will you?
There was no mistaking the look of anger on Deeny’s face as she stood behind Rachel’s back. I began to wonder if she was purposely hiding behind the taller woman, not wanting Gerald to see her reactions.
“Shit,” Gerald was saying. “Little fucker passed out on me. Goddamn it, I don’t want to carry his ass into the house. You people are making more damned work for me. Search those pockets, Deeny. Oh-and by the way-this your cell phone?”
Rachel didn’t answer. I heard the sound of something being smashed, probably my hope of sneaking out to the car and phoning for help.
Rachel had still not said a word to him, and she stayed silent as Deeny started emptying the pockets of her trousers.
“Goddamn, woman,” Gerald said, “you’re a damned pack mule.”
“No,” said Deeny, opening the case of lock picks. “She’s a thief.”
35
“A thief?” Rachel laughed. “A thief has to take something. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Shut up!” Gerald barked. “Deeny, check the locks on the garage.”
Deeny dutifully turned and rattled the padlock just in front of me, then moved to the back of the garage and rattled at the lock on the alley side.
I heard Travis groan. Rachel, just in front of me, made a circle of her thumb and forefinger at her back. An “okay” sign.
There was another groan. It didn’t sound as if he was okay to me. “Just stay still now, boy,” I heard Gerald say.
Deeny had moved to the side door, the one we had entered by, and pulled at that lock. “It’s still locked up,” Deeny said. “It hasn’t been opened.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Gerald said. “Could have already been in and out again. Of course, that depends on how long they been here, right?”
“Oh, not long,” Rachel answered easily. “I’m kind of curious about how you managed to know we were here at all.” Deeny had come back now, and moved toward Gerald. Rachel moved slightly, and now I could see both Deeny and Gerald, too. Travis was still out of my line of vision. There was a mess of broken plastic near Gerald’s feet-the cell phone.
Deeny took her shotgun back from Gerald, who still didn’t move any closer to Rachel.
“Well, when Deeny here got off work tonight, she happened to remember that she made the mistake of telling somebody about this place. You do see that was a mistake now, don’t you, Deeny?”
She didn’t answer.
“I’m a fellow that just can’t rest when something like that stirs me up. I decided we might need to come by and take a look,” he said. “Just check on things. We drove past the street and saw a familiar car sittin‘ over there. Just what made you decide to pay a call, darling?” he asked.
“Looking for a car,” she said, and I was gratified to see both of them widen their eyes. After a slight pause, Rachel added, “But I don’t see the El Camino here. Where is it?”
Their relief was visible. She sent them straight back into hell.
“We have some excellent photos of it, of course. Taken on the day Travis’s camper had a little problem with its remote key. Plate numbers, everything. And I suspect that a good police lab could do wonders with the image of the driver. Lord knows how many people have copies of Mr. Richmond’s photos.”
“Richmond!” Deeny said scornfully. “As if we need to worry about that has-been. I’ll buy him a couple of drinks at the Wharf and he’ll hand the negatives over to me.”
“That’s enough, Deeny!” Gerald said sharply. “Damn it, I’m going to put a gag in
Deeny gave him a mulish look, then went back to emptying Rachel’s pockets. “Here’s her ID,” she said. I was afraid it would be Rachel’s investigator’s license, but as Deeny held it up, I could see it was only her driver’s license.
“What’s her name?” Gerald asked, then laughed at the look of fury Deeny gave him. “All right, all right. Bring it to me.”
He glanced at it and said, “Rachel-holy shit, some kind of a dago name even J can’t read.” A sound in the distance made him suddenly look around. “No use standing out here where God and everybody might come by-you cover her while I get the boy inside.”
I tried not to think about the sounds I was hearing as Spanning took Travis inside the house. Despite little gestures from Rachel, meant to calm me, my nerves were rubbed raw by the time I heard Gerald speak again.
“Okay, give me the shotgun,” he said to Deeny. “I’ll take her in. You gather up all this shit you took out of her pockets and lock it up in the garage, and while you’re there, make sure she hasn’t already been in there.”
She began to argue with him, apparently unwilling to let him be alone with Rachel.
“What, after you’ve been boning Richmond?” he said.
“I have not!” she screeched.
He slapped her. “Keep your voice down.”
She held a hand up to her face where he had hit her, and gave him a sullen look, but said nothing more to him. I wanted to hide, knowing she was about to come into the garage. At the same time, I didn’t dare move yet; if I bumped into something in the dark, I’d be shouting out my presence.
Gerald and Rachel went in the house. Deeny stood with arms crossed, watching them. She added to her rebellion by taking out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up.
I risked the narrow beam of the flashlight, holding it low and taking a path back toward the door. I moved to the workbench, avoided touching the bent and bloodied bumper, searched quickly and found something that would help me create a distraction-a red china marker. I said a little prayer of thanks and made my way to the passenger side of the Camry. I marked the window with three red, slanting slash marks, then stood near the door.
It seemed to me as if I waited a long time, but I know it could not have been more than a few minutes before I heard Deeny cussing at the lock as she tried to open it. It took her longer with a key than it had taken Rachel to pick the lock. I finally heard it give, and quickly moved farther back behind the door. She seemed to take a long time with the knob lock as well, but finally, the door opened slightly.
She fumbled for the light switch and snapped it on; after the darkness, the single overhead bulb seemed to make the room very bright. I had a sudden sensation of being visible to her, even though the door was between us. But as she stepped farther into the garage, her arms full of Rachel’s tools and other paraphernalia, I saw that her attention had been caught by exactly what I had hoped would catch it: the hobo sign on the Camry window. She moved closer to it.
Carefully closing the door enough to block the view from the house, I stepped forward with one lunging step, like a batter meeting a ball and-trying not to shut my eyes as I did it-swung the back end of my flashlight and the weight of all those D cells down on the back of her head. My D cells won out over her brain cells, and I caught at her as she pitched forward, not able to keep her from falling, but slowing it, and guiding her away from the most dangerous objects she might have struck on her way down. I quickly turned and shut the door all the way, hoping Gerald had been too busy to notice the noise made when her armload of Rachel’s tools went clattering to the floor with her.
I locked the knob, and after assuring myself that I hadn’t killed her outright, went back to the workbench. I found a roll of duct tape, pulled out my Swiss Army knife and went to work. Within a few minutes, I had tied the gag
