Liar: An Irene Kelly Mystery Part 41

Spanning jerked at Travis's hand; Travis's face contorted and he made a soft sound, but he did not cry out. Spanning, not satisfied with this, changed his grip slightly and made another motion, and this time Travis gave out a sharp bark of pain.

I couldn't see or hear Rachel.

A second voice called out from the direction of the alley. "Drop it, lady, slow and easy. I'm a good shot."

Deeny.

Spanning laughed. "She's a d.a.m.ned good shot." "Put your hands on your head and walk away from the building, slowly," Deeny said.

I saw Rachel come into view.

"Careful, Deeny!" Spanning said. "There's another one of'em around here somewhere."

"Irene?" Rachel said with scorn. "You think she'd come along with us after that whipping you gave her?"

Spanning didn't look convinced.

"Yeah, that's what she told you," Travis said bitterly-perfectly. "But she wouldn't have anything to do with a Spanning if she could help it. They've always snubbed us. If she wasn't hoping to get her hands on my money, she wouldn't give me the time of day. My dad told me the Kellys always thought they were better than the Spannings." He smiled a little. "You should have seen her face when I asked her to come with me to a trailer park to help me find my uncle."

"Yeah? I'm sorry, kid," Rachel said, moving a little closer to them. "Some people are just born sn.o.bs. You should have heard what she had to say when she got back from that trip. And when I told her she had probably just visited the guy who kicked her a.s.s, she was s.h.i.+tting herself."

"I know," Travis said. "I thought she'd never shut up."

"Yeah?" Gerald said. "Well, I'll tell you whose gonna shut up right now-and that's the two of you. And you," he said to Rachel, "stay back."

He moved Travis a little farther away from her.

"Deeny," he called out, "come on over here."

So, I thought, it worked; they were convinced Rachel and Travis came alone. But unarmed and locked in the garage, I might as well have been at home.

My narrow view did not allow me to see Deeny, but apparently she covered Rachel as Gerald roughly bound Travis's wrists behind his back. Next he gagged his mouth, saying, as he tightened the strip of cloth, "This is just until we get a few things settled, then you and me are going to have us a nice, long talk." He took the injured hand and squeezed it hard, pressing his thumb into Travis's palm; Travis made a horrible sound behind the gag, fell to his knees. Gerald kicked him over, onto his face in the dirt.

I saw Rachel make the slightest s.h.i.+ft of position, the only sign she gave of being affected by what was being done to Travis. I don't think either Gerald or Deeny saw it. Gerald was now taking Rachel's gun and tucking it into his belt. He handed a piece of rope and a gag to Deeny and told her to tie Rachel's hands. I began to wonder if she would submit to being tied up. She was perfectly capable, even unarmed, of taking at least one of them out of action, if not both. But could she do it before one of them killed Travis?

Apparently, she decided to wait for a better opportunity, because when Deeny-having given her shotgun into Gerald's care-began tying Rachel's hands, Rachel stood silently and put up with it.

They were now standing so that I could see only Rachel's back, and Deeny as she worked on removing Rachel's equipment belt and then binding her wrists together. The two women were fairly close to me, only a few feet away. I moved back slightly from the door, and still it seemed that if Deeny turned suddenly, she might catch me staring out. But all of Deeny's concentration was spent on tying a thin rope around Rachel's wrists, a task that seemed somewhat daunting to her.

Rachel was taller than Deeny, and when Deeny tried to reach up to gag her, I heard Spanning say, "No, that 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d? 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.

"s.h.i.+t," Gerald was saying. "Little f.u.c.ker pa.s.sed out on me. G.o.dd.a.m.n it, I don't want to carry his a.s.s into the house. You people are making more d.a.m.ned 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.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n, woman," Gerald said, "you're a d.a.m.ned 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 h.e.l.l.

"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. "d.a.m.n it, I'm going to put a gag in your mouth in another minute."

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 s.h.i.+t, some kind of a dago name even I can't read." A sound in the distance made him suddenly look around. "No use standing out here where G.o.d 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 s.h.i.+t 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 b.u.mped 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 b.u.mper, 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 pa.s.senger 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 k.n.o.b 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 k.n.o.b, and after a.s.suring 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 in her back pocket over her mouth, then bound her wrists and ankles with the duct tape.

It would have been nice to feel a sense of triumph at that point, but I didn't. Her face already swelling from the place where Gerald struck her, pale from the blow I had given her, she seemed more a pathetic foolish girl than a vanquished worthy adversary.

Then I thought of the sounds I had heard Travis making, remembered that Ulkins had been tortured, and decided I would have to indulge in sympathy for Deeny some other time.

I wondered where I could leave her that would not be too close to sharp objects; ones she might use to free herself. I searched her pockets, found her pack of cigarettes and a book of matches from the Wharf on one side, a pair of shotgun sh.e.l.ls in the other. I took both of these objects. I searched the items on the floor and found her keys. I found the Camry key, unlocked the car and opened the pa.s.senger door. I lowered the seat back and-with some effort-dragged her into the car. I rolled the windows down a little, locked the doors and took the keys with me.

I quickly studied Rachel's tools, didn't see anything of much interest to anyone who wasn't breaking into a building. I didn't know how to use them, so I left them there.

Time was running out, I knew. Sooner or later, Gerald would notice that Deeny had been absent too long. She had made things worse by stalling. I looked around the garage, gathered together a few pieces of wood, a canister of oily rags, five cans of spray paint and a can of charcoal lighter fluid. Nothing like your average garage when you're on the hunt for a good set of fire hazards.

I turned out the light, waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, then crept outside with my hands as full as Deeny's had been coming into the garage. I forced myself to overcome a paralyzing certainty that Gerald was watching my every move, shotgun in hand. Crouching low, I made my way toward the old bathtub on the back lawn. I set all the combustible materials-save the matches and the cartridges-into the tub, trying to stack the wood up so that it would burn well. I opened the can of lighter fluid, sprinkled a goodly amount of it over the wood, tossed my now flammable latex gloves on top it of all, then moved as quietly as possible toward the house.

Gerald had turned a light on in what I soon realized was the living room. I moved from window to window until I found one with a blind that didn't reach the bottom of the sill. Once again I found myself looking through a narrow, slotted view, this one horizontal. What I saw made me wish I had waited a little longer to take a look.

Gerald was in the process of smacking Travis hard across the mouth. Travis's gag was no longer in place, and Travis and Rachel were each tied to wooden ladder-back chairs. The blood from the wound on Travis's forehead had dried, but now fresh blood came from a split lip. I took some solace in the fact that Gerald had not thought either of them dangerous enough to tie their feet or legs, and had not set up any electrical torture devices.

Gerald was talking-loudly, it seemed, but I couldn't make out what he was saying.

I moved to the back of the house, thought of lighting the fire, hesitated. I crept up the back-porch steps, slowly put what I hoped was the right key into the lock and turned it. It opened with a click that sounded like a shot to me, but apparently Gerald didn't hear it over his own voice. Slowly, cautiously, waiting for a creaking noise that would send him gunning for me, I opened the back door. There was no squeak of hinges. I made myself breathe again, and I went inside.

I was in the kitchen. I could now hear Gerald very clearly.

"Don't look at me like that!" he was saying. "Your daddy used to look at me like that. 'Don't hurt me.' Don't hurt him!You know what I did for him? You know what I did? Everything. I fed him. I put clothes on his back and a roof over his head. I read for him. I wrote for him. You know that? You know your own father couldn't read or write?"

"Yes," Travis said wearily. "I knew."

"Well, then! Maybe he told you who it was that was always doing everything for him! Always giving up everything for him! I raised him, tried to make sure he stayed out of trouble. And he was always in trouble! I had to go in and spend my time talking to the teachers when he was flunking everything. I was the one who saved him, you see? Whenever he was in trouble, I saved him. Then I had to find something to do with his sorry a.s.s when he dropped out of school-didn't even finish elementary school!

"Old Papa DeMont, he used to try to teach him things just by talking to him. If it weren't for Papa DeMont, he wouldn't have known a thing. That sweet old man used to let him follow him around like a pup. Taught him all kinds of things. I'm not saying Arthur was stupid, he wasn't. He was about as dumb as a fox, and twice as sly. I'm out there working my a.s.s off, and Arthur's running around in Papa DeMont's pocket, soaking up everything that old man will show him or teach him.

"And you know how he repaid that kindness? By f.u.c.king the man's daughter! That's how! Now, I'll admit, he was just a kid, and he can't bear the blame entirely, because she was always tempting him. That was her way, to tempt and tease a man."

"Sounds like you wished you'd got there first," I heard Rachel say.

There was an ominous silence, then Travis shouted, "Don't hurt her!"

Gerald laughed. "Listen to him. 'Don't hurt her!'" he mimicked. "I want to, but I got plans for that dirty mouth of yours, you wop s.l.u.t, so I'll teach you some manners later."

I moved slowly toward the door that led from the kitchen to the living room. It was open, but I flattened myself against the wall. I had my flashlight ready. If I had the chance, I'd give Gerald the same treatment I gave Deeny.

"You once thought of marrying Gwendolyn?" Travis asked, distracting him from Rachel.

"Before I learned what she was really like, yes, I did. I loved her once." He stopped talking, then suddenly said, "You look so much like him. Your daddy. For a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, I'm surprised how much you come up looking like him. n.o.body on earth I loved as much as him. Not even her, and I proved it. I always looked out after him, protected him. I made sacrifices. I told Arthur, he had to protect her like I protected him, against Horace DeMont and his brats. Course, he wasn't man enough to do it."

"But he made his own fortune," Travis said, "and he provided for her from that."

"For her?" Gerald said. "Or for a wh.o.r.e and the b.a.s.t.a.r.d he got off of her?"

"For all of us," Travis said. "Even you."

There was another sound of a blow. I must have moved, because the floor suddenly creaked beneath my feet. I got the flashlight ready.

"Why do you keep beating on him?" Rachel asked. "Just 'cause he reminds you of his dad? I mean, what the h.e.l.l is the point of all this? Is this all because we were looking for the El Camino?"

"He knows what it's about!" Spanning said.

"I don't-" Travis said, but there was another blow. I wasn't sure I could stand by, just listening, if Spanning kept at it.

"You know, this is getting us nowhere," Rachel said. "If I knew what the h.e.l.l it was you wanted, maybe I could help you out."

He paced. "Where's Deeny?!" he shouted.

I could hear him moving, heard him open the front door, heard the squeal of the spring on the screen door as he opened it. In a soft voice, he called, "Deeny! Deeny!"

"She's gone off on one of her pouts," he said, coming back in, the screen slamming shut. There was the sound of the front door being shut. "Shouldna hit her, I guess."