Loose Ends (17 page)

So…this was no gunfight, no sudden quarrel over the goods. They had all been executed.

On the concrete near the big door I could see the marks where the Audi had peeled out and down the ramp. The driver was younger and none of the dead wore trench coats. This seemed a well-planned, quick double-cross: a few precisely aimed shots and an escape with the money.

Glancing behind, I realized the puddle of fuel from the SUV continued to widen, dripping from its undercarriage, undoubtedly a punctured gas tank. It had reached the bodies and would soon surround them, soaking into their clothes. I made very sure I didn’t walk in any of the blood or gasoline.

I could see flashing lights approaching in the distance and the sirens were getting louder. Apparently law enforcement had decided to come in fast and noisy.

A loud
ding
sounded from the direction of the office door. I turned to aim the shotgun before I saw what had made the noise: a white cooking timer, the spring-powered kind. It lay on the floor in front of the office entrance, weighting a piece of paper to the concrete.

The girl is in the office
, read the computer printout, and beneath:
Take her and go. You have three minutes until the bomb goes off.

I looked up to see a child’s wide-eyed face behind the office window.

The girl, Talia.

I seized the office doorknob, turned and pushed. “Hi, Talia. I’m Cal. I’m here to rescue you.” I reached out my hand to her.

“They said not to come out.” Like a skittish animal, she held her own hands behind her.

“The bad people are gone.” I gestured,
come here
.

After a moment, that seemed to do it. “Okay. The other man said you’d come.” Talia seized my hand in both of hers, and then she threw her arms around my waist and clung on.

I struggled to walk with sixty pounds of girl attached to me. “Let go, Talia. A bomb is going to go off soon, and we have to go
now
.”

“Okay,” Talia said, and then began to run for the nearest opening, pulling on my arm.

I swung her around and directed her toward the rear of the warehouse, retracing my steps and shielding her vision of the three corpses with my own body. “This way. My car’s out back.”

The squad cars rounded the last corner in front, but by then Talia and I had made it to Molly without being seen. I hoped the cops would approach with caution. The Audi driver was cutting things close with the bomb. Maybe he didn’t care about cops, only little girls.

Driving sedately out of the tall grass of the tank farm, I casually skirted the fence line where I could see three cruisers pulled into the warehouse parking lot. I turned away at the corner and reached for my phone. At that moment came a
whoomph
, and smoke started pouring from the open warehouse door, startling the cops into ducking behind their cars.

Chapter 14

Talia
ooh
ed at the fireworks and the blaze springing up inside her erstwhile prison. A moment later, the call to Mira connected and I put a finger to my lips to shush the girl.

“Mira, it’s me, Cal. I have good news. Your daughter is safe.” I deliberately didn’t say Talia was sitting beside me. Once I told Mira, I doubted I’d get anything coherent out of her for some time.

“You’re sure?” Mira seemed ecstatic.

“Yes, I’m sure. Listen, Mira…I’d really appreciate it if you could keep me out of this with the police…if you even want to report it.”

Silence on the other end. Eventually she said in a tellingly cautious tone, “Why wouldn’t I report it?”

I sighed, unwilling to accuse her. “I don’t know, Mira. Maybe you don’t want the police digging into your financial life?”

More silence.

I went on, “I’ll come by sometime this week and explain if you want, but for now, Mira, don’t mention me and they won’t end up asking me questions you might not want answered. But don’t lie. If you have to, just say you engaged a private investigator that managed to find your daughter. That’s the God’s-honest truth. Okay?”

Mira babbled abruptly, now a bit too high-pitched and nervous. “Right, private investigator. That’s a good story. This is amazing. This is so incredible. If you hadn’t…”

I suppressed an urge to choke. “Yes, well.” Then, because I had to, I thought about the money. Best to get a verbal agreement right now. At least half the retainer seemed fair, as I had risked my life to find the girl. “About my fee. I was thinking –”

“Oh, please, keep it all,” Mira gushed. “Ten grand? Worth every penny. And if I can ever do anything…”

“Sure. Now…there’s someone that wants to talk to you.” I handed the phone to Talia.

“Mom?”

For the rest of the ride to Mill Valley I had to put up with excited girl babble, but after a moment I decided I didn’t mind. Talia seemed remarkably unaffected by her ordeal. Perhaps the kidnappers hadn’t scared her so much, or maybe she just recovered fast. And Mira…hysterically happy of course, and relieved, but something about the woman’s reactions bothered me still. I just couldn’t pin it down.

Dennis’ and her financial arrangements still didn’t make sense, but they weren’t illegal. Certainly there was some other element here that I didn’t understand, but I suppose I didn’t really have to. People’s real lives were complicated. Talia was safe and sound and soon would be back with her mother, and I got paid. Those were the important things. Some loose ends never got tied off.

I dropped Talia off at the Sorkin curb and watched her dash up to the front door. Mira opened it before she got there and mother and daughter threw themselves at each other in a desperate hug. Molly was already in motion. The last thing I wanted was Mira running out to the sidewalk in awkward gratitude. Ten grand was thanks enough.

I reached for my phone again. “Mickey, it’s me. I’m coming back to the office. The girl is safe.”

“Thank God. What happened?”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I get there. Just don’t leave. Be back in half an hour.”

“Roger dodger, Boss. Over and out.”

I sighed as I hung up. Seemed like I was surrounded by children. Maybe that was why I was attracted to Cole. Craggy, with some mileage on him, but the world hadn’t beaten him down yet. He still cared. Like Dad. Tears welled up suddenly as I thought of my father.

I missed him so much. If only his appearances were real.

If only I could hug him just once more, tell him I forgave him for dying.

I shook my head to clear my eyes, pushing sentimental thoughts out as I parked on a side street. First I unloaded the shotgun and then reloaded its magazine, leaving the chamber empty, and slid it carefully backward by the barrel over the seat into the rear cargo space, avoiding the possibility of someone seeing me carry it even the short distance from door to rear.

Taking off the Security hat, I got out of the car and opened the hatchback to set the shotgun and vest back in their cases, shaking my head at the dings and scratches Molly’d managed to accrue. At least a grand in repairs, I thought. I bent over and stretched, working the kinks out before I drove back into the City.

Ten grand. That’s what Mira had said. My cop sense prickled again, but refused to disgorge. My subconscious churned and bubbled. I let it be for the moment. Likely I would be processing this weird little situation for some time, but I had plenty of open cases on my mental books from back in the cop days. Not everything got solved, or when it did lots of details never surfaced. I gave a deliberate mental shrug and tried to put it behind me. Let the cops have Houdini if they could catch him, or Luger for that matter. I’d keep him available as a resource for the future, someone to trade favors with.

Pulling out, I hung a U-turn and accelerated, enjoying the press of the seat against my back and the nimble sensation of Molly’s tires on the road. I felt a bit let down now that I had no Audi to follow, no excuse to shatter traffic laws for a higher purpose.

The city skyline from this side was gorgeous as the overcast lifted and broke in places, patches of sunlight pushing through and shining on the grimy bay and crowded landscape. Seabirds perched on the Golden Gate, watching the endless traffic. As I exited the bridge over Fort Point, a pelican dove and came up with a struggling fish, flipping it into his mouth, and my stomach growled.

On the other side of the bridge the restaurants of the Marina District called to me but I ignored them. Parking was hell, the prices were high, and besides, Cole lived there and I wanted to forget about him right now. A few minutes more would bring me back to Molly’s own space in the cozy Mission District. I speed-dialed Udupi Palace and put in a delivery order for curry, betting I would be at my office in time to meet the runner and pay in cash. If not, Mickey would get it and I’d reimburse him.

I made it to Molly’s parking space just ahead of the scooter, paid and grabbed the bag of food, and then knocked on the walkout. When Mickey opened it I slapped his reaching hand and locked the door by habit behind me.

“Come upstairs and eat like a human being,” I said. “Afterward, you go home and shower. If I can smell you over the curry you’re pretty rank.”

“Okay, Boss. You gonna get paid for this job?”

“Of course,” I said lightly as I climbed two flights to the top floor, Mickey huffing behind. “I got a check.”

“Hope it’s good,” he grunted.

“Don’t I always take care of you?”

Mickey mumbled under his breath.

“What? I didn’t catch that.”

“Didn’t mean for you to.”

Probably something juvenile, sexual, or both. “Open the window and sit down.” I pointed at the back side of the house, and then opened the opposite door to the balcony that overlooked the street. Between the two I got a nice airflow that kept Mickey’s B.O. away.

Only then did I set the food on the kitchenette table and hand my helper the Vindaloo, his favorite. Containers of Basmati rice and Mulligatawny soup came out next, plus two packets of naan. For me, the butter chicken. All came with biodegradable bowls, plates and cutlery, testimony to San Francisco’s environmentalism.

Over fantastic South Asian flavors I swore Mickey to secrecy again and told him what happened, leaving out only my wayward and unrelated thoughts. When I was finished with my food and story, Mickey said, “Let me see the check.”

“You’ll get paid, Mickey. Don’t worry.”

He made an impatient motion. “I know that, Boss. Just show me.”

I unfolded the precious piece of paper and set it carefully on the table where he could see, but kept a finger on it. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him. It was just that he had curry all over his hands and his sweatshirt front.

Mickey wiped his fingers, and then fished the business card out of his pocket, setting it down next to the check. “Notice anything?”

I stared at it a moment, then rotated it to line up with the check. “The number is written in Mira’s hand. It matches the check. But the words, the message…almost, but not quite.” I picked it up and brought it in close to my eyes. “And the pen and pressure is slightly different.”

“So?” Mickey stared expectantly, triumph that he had gotten ahead of me written on his face.

“So if Mira passed it to Cole, why wouldn’t it all be in her handwriting? And the words aren’t written in Cole’s hand either. Did she lie? Who would write on the card except her or Cole?” I sat back with the check and card in my hand.

“You know what?” Mickey pulled out a sheaf of papers and unfolded them. “Her phone records…” I could see notes scribbled up and down the right margins as he looked them over. “Calls to the alarm center, but…” He tapped the marked entries.

I craned my neck to look. “Five seconds. Seven seconds.”

“Yeah. Too short to be asking for the info like she said.”

“But long enough to claim it was a wrong number, maybe chat for a few seconds, but most people don’t really have a good sense of time. She wanted to make the calls to support her story, but she didn’t plan well enough to make sure she stayed on the line an appropriate amount of time.”

Mickey nodded.

“Good work.”

“What do we do about it?”

I pressed my lips together. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? But with everything you told me, and this, she must be involved! In her own daughter’s kidnapping…” he trailed off.

“Involved in the heist, maybe. Not in the kidnapping, I don’t believe. That was leverage, to keep her quiet. So what have we got? A strong hunch? The cops will just laugh at us. I can pass this observation on to the department, but if I do that I’ll have to explain everything, such as why I didn’t turn the girl over to them at the warehouse. And how do we know the kidnappers weren’t controlling Mira the whole time, every detail? They could have given her a script to run through and this might have been her trying to deviate from it to gum up their plan. No, Mickey. We saved the girl,” – I was feeling charitable right now so I included him – “and we got paid. That’s it. Mira might be dirty somehow, but three kidnappers are dead and I’m all right with that.”

“Okay. You’re the boss. Mind if I keep digging?”

“Off the clock, I don’t care what you do.”

“Aww…”

“You’re lucky I keep you in high-end graphics chips for your games, Mickey. You could never afford those on your own. You think I don’t know they aren’t really necessary for your actual work?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right.”

“I’ll be giving you a bonus on this one anyway, Mick my man. The handwriting…that was a good catch.”

Mickey beamed.

“And what about the Audi or the driver? Anything more on it?”

“Not as of fifteen minutes ago. I’ll check, though. I have sniffer programs running.” He stood up.

I made a disappointed sound. “Another loose end I’ll probably never tie up.” I wiped my hands on a paper napkin as Mickey lumbered downstairs, leaving me with the cleanup. I began to grab empty containers and stuff them in the trash.

A moment later I heard a cry. “Cal! I got something!”

Leaving the check and card on the table, I hurried to the basement. “What?”