Unleashed (A Sydney Rye Novel, # 1) (23 page)

“Let’s finish these and join the smoking crowd. That way we’ll see her leave, and we won’t look suspicious,” I suggested.

“Don’t you think she might recognize you?”

“Good point. And what if there is a back entrance?”

“I think we should finish our coffees.” I nodded. “And then go back inside. Have some water.” I nodded again. “Then blend with the crowd until we see her leave.”

“I agree.” But before our plan could be put into action, I saw her bright pink head exit the bar.

“There she is,” I said grabbing James’s arm.

“Alright, alright. This is it. Stealth.”

“Stealth.” She started toward us. “Crap, hide me.”

“Don’t be so obvious,” James whispered. I was turning in circles and trying to cover my face with my coffee cup. “Pull yourself together, Joy. Stealth, man, stealth.” Then he started laughing. She was on the other side of the street, and as I watched her head turn toward us, I spun my back to her. James leaned on me, laughing.

“Pull yourself together,” I whispered harshly at him.

“No, you idiot, start laughing.” He was right. Being drunk was the perfect cover. I started to laugh along with him. “She turned down Pitt Street. Let’s go,” James said. We both straightened up and turned serious. During the day, Pitt would have been bustling with shoppers and commuters, but at three in the morning it was just her and us. “Where do you think she’s going?” James asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Are we obviously following her?”

“She hasn’t turned around yet.”

“True.” And just then she looked back at us.

“Act natural,” James said through his teeth. She was standing under a streetlight, and we weren’t. I prayed that was enough to keep her from recognizing me. She started walking a little faster. “I think she saw us.”

“Shit.” We picked up our pace. She took a left onto Stanton Street. We followed, but there was no one there. “Where’d she go?” James and I looked around. Cars lined one side of the block. Street lights formed pools of yellow that illuminated every third car. On the other side, a grove of trees marked the corner of Hamilton Fish Park.

“She could be hiding behind one of the cars,” James whispered.

“You think she saw us?” I whispered back.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Who the fuck are you?” came a voice from behind us. We turned around to face an angry looking Charlene Miller with a shiny new pistol in her hand. James and I both reached for the sky in what would have been a comic reaction if the gun hadn’t been so real.

“Sorry,” James said.

“Yeah, sorry.” She looked closely at me, and I saw the recognition flicker in her eyes.

“Oh, my God. You’re—” I smiled and laughed a nervous snort. “How did you find me? Who sent you?” Her surprise had turned to suspicion.

“No one. Really. It was a coincidence. I just happened to be at the club. James,” I motioned toward him with one of my raised arms, “called me and told me a great band was playing and that I should come and check it out, and then when I went to pee, I saw you.” My explanation spilled out of me.

“Then why are you following me?”

“If I may,” James cut in. “We don’t want to hurt you.” She stayed quiet. “We just thought you had gone missing. Joy’s been really worried about you. Mulberry’s worried about you, too. But we didn’t want to approach you in case we scared you.”

She laughed. “You two scare me? I’m the one with the gun.”

“I’ll admit our logic was flawed,” James said. “But we don’t want to blow your cover or anything. We’d like to help.”

“Help? Why would you want to help me?”

“Because you seem to be in some kind of trouble,” I jumped in. “Forces are working against you. Powerful forces.”

“What do you know about it?” she said harshly and took a step toward me.

“I think someone is after you.”

“Just leave me alone.” She started to back away. She reached the end of the block. “Don't follow me.” Then she darted out of site. James and I lowered our arms.

“We just had a gun pulled on us,” James said.

“I know.”

“Ten years in New York, that’s the first gun I’ve had pulled on me.”

“I almost pissed myself.”

“We both raised our arms over our heads.”

“It seemed the natural thing to do.”

“Last call’s in a half-hour and I need a drink.”

There was still a crowd outside of Meow Mix. Inside, the speakers piped in music I didn’t recognize, and the crowd simmered around the bar. We got beers and moved to the quietest, darkest corner. The beer calmed our nerves quickly, and soon the whole thing seemed really funny.

“You looked like an idiot with your hands in the air,” I laughed at James.

“You’re the one who put your hands up first.”

“Are you crazy? You totally were the one. And you’re the one who said we should be stealth.” We both burst out laughing again. “Stealth.” I wiped a tear from my eye. “That’s funny.”

“Power—” James laughed.

“What?” He held his hand up and laughed so hard that no noise came out. His face turned red.

“Powerful,” he lost it again. “Powerful forces,” he finally squeaked out. “You said there were powerful forces working against her.” I almost squirted beer out my nose. I stamped my foot and James slapped his thigh.

Dragged Down, Beaten to Hell, and All Alone

When I woke up the next morning, a film lined the inside of my mouth, and my head throbbed. It took me a couple of minutes to remember my name and then a couple more to grasp the events of the night before. When I walked out of my bedroom, I heard soft snoring coming from my living room. I was surprised to find James passed out on my sofa next to a nearly empty bottle of tequila.

I quietly made coffee and took Blue out. When we came back upstairs, James was sitting up on the couch, his blond hair flattened to one side of his head and sticking out of the other. “My head hurts,” he said.

“Yeah, look at that bottle of tequila.” His bloodshot eyes roamed to where the bottle lay on its side on the coffee table. He groaned. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

I poured him a cup and joined him in the living room. “I can’t believe we drank that much last night.”

“Me, neither. We’ve never done
that
before.”

“Shut up.”

“What I can’t believe is that we had a gun drawn on us,” James said.

“The missing Charlene Miller.”

He sipped his coffee. “What are you going to do?”

“Call Mulberry, I guess. The bigger question is if we can find her again. I can’t imagine she’ll stick around after last night.” The doorbell rang. Blue flew down the hall and started barking as loudly and deeply as he could. James covered his ears and groaned.

“Blue, shut up!” I yelled, following him down the hall. He was growling with his nose pressed against the crack at the bottom of the door. “Alright, alright.” I dragged him out of the way and looked through the peephole. It was Charlene Miller. Holding Blue back, I opened the door.

“I want to apologize for last night,” Charlene blurted out, her hands clasped at waist height and her shoulders rounded.

I wrestled Blue into a sitting position. “It’s OK, really. Please come in.”

“Who is it?” James yelled from the living room.

Panic spread across Charlene’s face. “It’s my brother,” I reassured her. “You met him last night.” She released her breath. I followed her into the living room, holding Blue by the collar. He struggled, rearing up on his hind legs and whining. James made room for Charlene on the couch. She repeated her apology to James.

“You’re scared. We understand,” James told her.

“Yeah. It’s fine,” I agreed.

She looked at me. “I think someone is trying to hurt me. I don’t really understand what’s going on, but I know I’m in trouble.” James and I stayed quiet. “I just don’t know what to do.” Her chin wobbled. James put a hand on her shoulder.

“Do you want me to call your brother?” I asked her.

“Joseph told me to stay away from the police. To not trust anyone.”

“Mulberry is really worried about you,” I said. She stared past me at the blank ceiling above my head. “I think he can protect you.”

“I guess.” I let go of Blue, and he flew to Charlene’s side. He licked her hand. She looked down at him, unmoved.

“I’ll call Mulberry. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.” I went into the kitchen. Mulberry answered on the fifth ring. “I found Charlene,” I said pouring a cup of coffee.

“What?” I heard him knock something over. He sounded as hung over as I. “Shit.”

“I found Charlene last night, and now she’s in my house.”

“In your house?”

“Yeah, get over here.”

“I’m on my way.” I hung up and went back to the living room. It was filled with silence. I handed her the cup of coffee. Blue sat on her foot.

“Thanks,” Charlene said.

“He’s on his way.”

“Good. I guess.” She looked at the coffee without tasting it.

“I think he can help you.”

“I hope so.”

“Can you tell me what happened? How did you know you had to hide?”

“Joseph called me.” She stopped, her eye rims pinking. “Joseph and I were in love, you know? He was leaving his wife. We were going to go someplace warm.”

“But I thought he lost his job. What were you going to do for money?”

“He said he was working on something big. Joseph said he was going to have enough money for us to live like royalty for the rest of our lives.” The memory of this promise shone in her eyes.

“What happened?”

“I don’t really understand. Joseph said we would be leaving soon which is why I wanted to sell the dog route. But then he called me the day I met you and said we had to leave the next day. He said something had gone wrong. We were supposed to meet at Penn Station to catch a 9:15 train to Florida. He told me that if he didn’t show, I should hide—from the police, from everyone I knew. He said they would be looking for me.” She sniffed back tears.

“Who’re they?”

“I don’t know, but when he didn’t show up, when I saw that the train was gone, I started to head for the exit, and a man, a very large man, tried to force me to go with him. He said Joseph needed to see me, but I could tell he was lying. I ran away from him, he pursued me. I made it onto the subway moments before he did.” The coffee cup in her hands shook. “He was very scary,” she whispered.

“Where did you go?”

“I went to the only person I knew I could trust. She took me in and helped me disguise myself.” Charlene reached up and ran a hand along her mutilated hair. “You don’t need to know anything about her.”

“What do you think Joseph was involved in?”

“I don’t know.” Her eyes, unfocused, wandered the room.

“Can I ask what your relationship was with Tate Hausman?”

“I didn’t know him that well. He was friends with Joseph. They grew up together.”

“What about your work at the Biltmore Club?” Charlene’s eyes focused on me. “You know about that?” I nodded.

“Does my brother?”

“Yeah.”

James looked at me, and I waved him off. I’d have to explain the whole thing later.

“Shit,” she looked down at her feet and laughed. “What did he say?”

“He’s just worried about you.”

“Do you think your work at the Biltmore was connected in any way to Joseph and Tate’s deaths?”

“Tate’s death? But I thought he committed suicide.” Looking at her, I was struck by the difference between the woman sitting on my couch and the one I had first met. That woman, with her beautiful green eyes and shining auburn hair, had seemed almost mythical in her beauty, her style, her New Yorkness. She was everything a strong woman of today should be, with her own business and expensive apartment. The woman sitting on my couch was the picture of desperation. Her hair had been chopped off and died by amateur hands, the pink still marked the tip of one ear and the very edge of her forehead. Charlene’s eyes, which I’d found so intoxicating on our first meeting, were bloodshot and sunken inside dark circles of exhaustion.

“Tate Hausman did not kill himself.” Her chin trembled with terror. “It was made to look like suicide or a breath play accident, but it wasn’t. It was murder. I think someone is trying to make it look like one of the members of the Biltmore killed him in order to manipulate them.”

“I don’t know. But—” she paused, bit her lip and then continued, “Joseph and Tate were always friends, but a couple of months ago they started spending a lot more time together.” She paused, then said, “I think they were doing something illegal.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know—” She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a blue and silver scarf wrapped around something. “Joseph gave this to me the last time I saw him.” She unwrapped the scarf, her lower lip shaking, to reveal three gold coins. Charlene held them out to me. They were stamped on one side with a crowned shield and on the other with the profile bust of a man with long curly hair and a serene expression. “They’re from George II’s reign, Joseph told me. He said they were used to pay British troops. He said he had lots more.” James and I stared down at the softly glowing gold. The doorbell broke the silence.