5 Windy City Hunter (20 page)

Mark was giddy at having the necklace. He checked to be sure I was securely tied to the chair before saying, “Don’t go anywhere, and don’t make any noise. I’ll be right back.”

He turned off the light and left the room.

Yeah, like we could go anywhere. “Wes,” I whispered loudly. He didn’t respond. “Wes, are you ok?”

He nodded his head, but it seemed to be an effort.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” I asked. “Martha told me that you and her brother pulled an insurance scam on Mrs. Fisher, and you murdered her.”

There was a little more light in his eyes, and he raised his head higher when he heard my words.

I wanted to keep his attention, and I said, “She told me you were looking for a bigger score with The Queen necklace, and you killed her when she caught you searching the condo.”

He tried to shake his head. “Susan, listen,” he said. His voice was soft, but emphatic. “Mark isn’t Martha’s brother,” he said. “He’s her husband.”

“What?” I asked. That wasn’t right.

“Just listen!” he said. He talked slowly, and with shortness of breath. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be conscious. I think I’ve lost a lot of blood.” He took a couple of deep breaths and coughed before continuing. “I admit, I’ve pulled a few insurance scams. The company doesn’t pay me enough for what they ask me to do, so I supplement my income here and there, but I’m not a murderer. Martha knew about the necklace. She’d seen it a million times.” He coughed again and closed his eyes.

I waited a few moments before hissing, “Wes!”

He opened his eyes and nodded feebly. “I felt sorry for Mark and Martha. Mark’s lost a few jobs, and Penelope wouldn’t pay Martha much of anything. She worked her like a dog, and she felt the condo for Martha to live in was enough payment. She would have never let her live there if she knew Martha had a husband, so they said they were brother and sister. It made it easier for him to come and go. The three of us worked out the insurance scam with the loose diamonds, and I thought that would be the end of it. Mark and Martha would have money to make their lives easier, and I would return the diamonds to Penelope. But the theft scared Penelope, and she had a fake made of The Queen. When Penelope told Martha she sent the necklace out of the condo for safekeeping, Martha knew it was a lie. Penelope would never let a diamond leave the condo for any reason, and Martha knew it was hidden somewhere. When Mark found out about it, he went off the deep end. He was determined to find it and steal it. Penelope caught him in the condo and …”

His voice trailed off. He coughed a few more times and allowed his head to drop down on his chest for a few moments before raising it and continuing.

“Penelope caught him and started for her desk where she kept a gun. He grabbed a statue of the queen of diamonds from the dining room table and cracked her on the head with it. He wore the gorilla mask when he came and went from the condo so no one would know it was him. He must have just killed her that day when the two of you arrived. Did he have the statue in his hand when you saw him?”

“No,” I said. “He had a hoodie on, but it could have been shoved inside. Wasn’t it beside Mrs. Fisher’s body?”

“No, but I know where it is now,” he said. “It’s in Martha’s condo. It’s what she used to hit me in the head.”

“Oh my gosh! Wes! I was in her condo a few hours ago,” I told him. “It was you in there. I assumed it was her brother. I thought I heard something when I was outside her door, and I saw her pick the statue up off the floor, but I had no way of knowing she attacked you with it.

“I went there to talk some sense into her,” he said slowly. “She needs to turn her husband in. I tried to talk to Detective Malloy, but I didn’t tell him about the insurance scam, and he was so convinced of Darby’s guilt, especially after finding the necklace, he wouldn’t take me seriously. I knew he would listen to Martha if she told him. She went to the kitchen to get something to drink, but the next thing I knew, I was out cold in the bedroom and bleeding all over her floor.”

“How did you get up here?” I asked.

“Mark and that stupid gorilla head,” he said. “We used the service elevator, and he tied me up in here. He was searching in these boxes again when you came into the condo.” He paused and looked me in the eyes before asking, “What the hell happened in the bathroom?”

I felt an extremely hot, embarrassed flush come into my face. Wes lowered his head again to his chest, and I didn’t say anything.

I wiggled my hands and feet. This wasn’t the first time I had been tied to a chair, and I had no intention of struggling against the strips of material. I knew I wouldn’t get free, and I would only end up with burns on my skin.

I called Wes’s name softly a few times, but he was definitely out now. There was nothing I could do but wait. Mark said he would be right back. I didn’t know for what, but if he wanted to kill us, I would have thought he would have done it by now, so I wasn’t in a panic. Detective Bentley and Jack would be back soon, and they would come looking for me. Detective Bentley would surely know to look in Mrs. Fisher’s condo. He had a sixth sense about my knack for getting into trouble.

It seemed like hours were passing, but I knew it was only minutes. The door opened, and Mark switched on the light. My eyes hurt for a few moments as they adjusted to the brightness. Wes didn’t move.

Mark was still childlike in his happiness. He certainly wasn’t threatening in any way. He had a roll of duct tape in his hand. He tore a strip off and marched over to Wes. He lifted his head by his hair and slapped the tape over his mouth.

“Mark, please,” I said. “I won’t make a sound. Please don’t tape my mouth.” From experience, I knew if there was duct tape over my mouth, and I cried for any reason, it would be nearly impossible to breathe. I never wanted to feel like that again, and I didn’t know if I could get through this ordeal without crying.

“Oh, I’m not going to tape your mouth shut,” he said. “I have something better for you.”

He set the gun down on a box and dragged me and my chair around to the other side of the bed next to Wes. He flipped the chair forward and wedged it between the wall and the bed. I was now on my knees, still tied to the chair, with my shoulders pressed up against the bed. I had no idea what he was trying to accomplish. My head naturally leaned forward onto the bed. I turned it to one side to easier rest it and breathe.

“We’re not done yet,” Mark said cheerfully. He searched around the room and found a long, narrow box. It looked like something roses might have come in. He slipped it under the covers until it was under my chin. It held my head up and kept me from leaning face down onto the bed.

What he did next chilled me to my core. He used duct tape to secure a man’s long-sleeved shirt to the front of my body. He stuffed the arms with scrunched up clothing from the closet and positioned them on the bed. He then duct taped the shirt’s cuffs to the gun. Finally, he positioned another small box on the bed, and with a pocket knife, he cut a slit into the top and wedged the handle of the gun into the slit for support. The effect was one of me on my knees behind the bed while I pointed the gun at the doorway.

He left the room and came back a moment later with the nightlight from the bathroom. He shoved a few boxes aside and plugged it into a wall socket. He switched off the overhead light.

My eyes went wide with shock. In the diminished lighting with the shadows cast about the room, it looked exactly like I was pointing a gun at him.

“If I could pull that trigger and kill you right now, I would,” I said. It was an empty threat to make, but it was the only thing I could think of to express my anger and try to keep my terror in check.

“It’s not loaded,” he said. “I’m not a murderer. Killing Penelope Fisher was an accident. I only wanted to stop her long enough to get out of the condo, get Martha, and get away to Mexico. How was I supposed to know her skull was brittle? But once she was dead, and the condo was empty, I couldn’t leave without finding the necklace. Martha helped the police when they catalogued Penelope’s inventory, so I knew they didn’t have it.”

He picked up the gorilla mask and held it in his hands. “And now,” he said gleefully, “the police are going to take care of all of the loose ends for me. Wes there isn’t going to make it if the amount of blood in Martha’s condo is any indication, and as soon as we’re packed, and on a bus to Mexico, the police are going to get a tip that the real murderer, the man in the gorilla mask, is holed up in Penelope Fisher’s spare bedroom with a hostage. When they break the door down, they’ll see the gun, shoot first, and ask questions later. There won’t be anyone left to tell them what really happened.” He threw his head back and laughed.

“As soon as they come into the condo, I’ll scream,” I said.

“You go right ahead and scream,” he said. “I’ve had this head on enough to know that you can scream all you want in it, and nobody is going to hear you. It’s thick and heavy, and your screams are only going to sound muffled to anybody outside of it. You’ll be dead before the first muffle is heard.”

He came around to me and slammed the gorilla mask over my head. I heard more duct tape, but I had no idea what he was doing. I felt tape going around my neck. I felt more tape around my wrists. He was somehow securing the mask to my body. I tried to move my head, but it would only move up and down. If I raised my head up all the way, I could just barely see out of two small eyeholes. There were no holes for nostrils or a mouth. I let out a scream. I could barely hear Mark’s uproarious laughter in the room, but I did hear the door slam.

Now it was time to fight. I fought the restraints, but between the strips of cloth and the duct tape, I couldn’t budge even the tiniest bit. I tried to jerk my head to throw off the mask, but it was secure. If I threw my head back too far, the back of the chair dug into my neck. I tried to use my chin to move the box beneath it, but it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Wes!” I yelled. “Wes!” There was no response.

I was tired, and it was hard to breathe in the mask. I leaned forward and tried to relax. I didn’t want to have a panic attack. My chin took the weight of my head as it rested on the box. I felt like crying, but I was too tired to cry. I closed my eyes. Mick flashed before my eyes, then Darby. I quickly dispelled the images. I didn’t want to think about either, or I would end up sobbing in the gorilla head. I thought about the baby. I would be strong and hold on for the baby. The thought of holding a sweet, newborn baby was soothing, and I could almost smell the baby powder.

I woke with a jerk of my head. Not surprisingly, I had fallen asleep. I had no idea if it had been a few minutes, or if I had been asleep for a few hours. I read that when you’re pregnant, you can sleep anywhere. If it had been a theory, I would have proven it today.

The inside of the mask smelled horrible – a combination of rubber, sweat, and wet dog. When was a dog wearing this? I giggled at the thought of Nate’s hound dog, Joe, running around with the gorilla head on. The thought was suddenly very funny, and I started laughing. The laughter brought images with it – the stupid queen of diamonds in the shower, spooning in bed with Jack, Jack in his underwear. That image ratcheted up the laughing even more, and images of Chris De Floss practicing his zombie sounds in front of a mirror pushed me over the edge. I was out of control, and in the back of my mind, I knew it was driven by hysteria, but I was helpless to stop it.

It was my laughter that kept me from hearing the shouting outside the door. I barely heard the splintering of the door as it was kicked in, but my laughter had subsided enough for me to hear a muffled shout of, “GUN!”

My head jerked back from the shot.

It was only a matter of seconds before I felt hands around my neck, arms, and ankles as tape and ties were desperately torn or cut away. Muffled sounds reached my ears, and most of it was swearing.

The gorilla head was finally removed. The overhead light was on. There were two police officers in the room, and one of them was white as a ghost as he leaned against the wall. The other officer was helping Jack and Detective Bentley free me from the restraints.

“Susan, are you all right,” asked the detective.

“I think so,” I said.

“Can you move your head and neck?” he asked.

I slowly moved my head in all directions. “I’m good,” I said. “There’s just a little soreness in my neck from the chair.”

The two men helped me to my feet as Detective Malloy, ambulatory personnel, and another police officer entered the room. It was crowded, and the paramedics climbed over the bed.

The focus was now on Wes and getting him untied and onto a stretcher. He was taken from the room within minutes. Detective Bentley guided me to the red settee in the living room. Detective Malloy and the officer who looked as if he would pass out at any minute sat down facing us on the white settee. Jack sat in the red chair closest to me, and a second officer stood next to Detective Malloy.

The Chicago detective addressed me, “Susan, were there any confessions in that room?”

“Mark Cole,” I said. “He’s not Martha’s brother; he’s her husband. He accidentally killed Mrs. Fisher when he thought she was going for a gun. He and Martha are on a bus on their way to Mexico. They’re the ones who called in the tip about the hostage.”