“You sound like I woke you up, but you’ll be happy I did.”
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and tried to sound more alert than I was feeling. “What have you got, Flint?”
“I found him.”
“You found Nick? Already?”
“Not too hard when you know your man and where to look. You gave me the idea when you said the word ‘alias.’ He’s registered under the name of Richard Alvarez—”
“He’s what? Why that son of a—”
“Now, now,” said Flint, with a snort. “Remember, Lila raised you to be a lady.”
“She missed by a mile.”
He gave another hearty laugh while I stewed about Nick using my brother’s name. Flint went on. “I knew he was an ex-marine, but Nicky Boy struck me as a man with little to no imagination, so I tried a couple of names he might use instead of his own and got lucky after a few calls.”
“You’re sure it’s him and not someone el—”
“I’m sure,” he interrupted. “I’ve seen him. He’s at a sleazebag hotel off of Third Street. One thing, looks like somebody else found him, too. I saw two goons waiting on a park bench across the street, looking mighty interested in the people coming in and going
out. They got very excited when they saw Nick walking back from a nearby 7-11. Even started to cross the street but they got sidetracked by a group of tourists looking at maps outside the hotel door where Nicky Boy went in.”
“These men were waiting for him?”
“Felt like it.” Flint’s feelings were first rate.
“How long ago was that?”
“Not five minutes. What do you want me to do? I’m around the corner. These guys have been talking on a cell phone ever since they saw him. I think they’re asking permission from someone to take him.”
“I don’t want you to do anything. We don’t know yet what he’s mixed up in. What’s the name of this place?”
“Carter Hotel. Want the phone number? I got it. I also know what room number Nick’s in.”
“Now you’re spoiling me. How’d you do that, Flint?”
“You’d be surprised what a twenty can still buy you.”
“If you got the room he’s in, those men can get it, too.”
“That’s my thinking.”
I wrote down the number and called the place, surprised each room had a phone, if only for incoming calls. After a series of clicks and scrunching sounds, the line rang for a long time in room 218. Just when I thought I should hang up and call it a day, someone p
icked up, but there was silence on the other end.
“Nick?” I said, taking a chance. “It’s Lee, Lee Alvarez. If you can hear me, get out of there now. And use a back door, if there is one.”
It sounded like someone dropped the phone, picked it back up, and juggled with it, all the while breathing heavily.
“Nick! Talk to me.”
“Lee? Is that you?” Nick’s voice sounded strangled, confused, and frantic.
“Yes, Nick, move. There are a couple of men waiting for you across the street. They could be at your door any moment. Get out, but call me when you can at D.I.”
“Okay,” he said. “Okay.” Then the line went dead.
Chapter Four
A Miscalculation of Sorts
When I came out of my office, I heard the shower running. Not only was Kelli up, but she had straightened up the living room. She’d even put Lady Gaga’s tank on one of the book shelves, where the little wet devil fit perfectly. I’d never thought of having a goldfish before, but I mulled over the notion Tugger might like the diversion, especially after I had to give Baba back to Gurn. A fish might be good, if Tugs couldn’t get at it. I’d look into it.
The guest bathroom door opened, and Kelli came out singing “The Girl from Ipanema” in a sweet, but untrained soprano voice. She was freshly scrubbed from head to toe and wearing a terrycloth robe that hits me above the knees but came down to her ankles. The word ‘petite’ takes on new meaning with this girl. Without any makeup, she looked around eleven or twelve years old. Her childlike face lit up when she saw me.
“Hi!” she said, grinning and resuming her little tune until she’d finished the song.
“Very nice,” I said. “Fun song.”
“I like it. It makes me think of beaches and beautiful places.”
She pulled off the towel from her wet, white/blonde hair that quickly clustered into ringlets. Had she been around Hollywood in the ‘30s, Shirley Temple wouldn’t have stood a chance.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“A lot better, thanks. You look better, too.”
“Due to a combo of Tío’s miracle elixir and a nap. Kelli, there’s one of my uncle’s omelets in the oven, if you’re hungry.”
“Great!”
Her enthusiasm was disarming. Kelli followed me into the kitchen, where I wrestled the warm omelet out of the tinfoil and on to a plate. All the while, we both said little. It was as if she was content to just sit in my kitchen and be.
I sat across from her while she started to eat, once again, with the zest of a kid. “Kelli, I have an update on Nick.”
She put her fork down. “Do you have any ketchup?”
“Ketchup?” I was thrown for a second. “Yeah, sure. Let me get it.”
I went to the fridge and opened the door, wondering if she’d heard me. I handed the bottle off to her and watched her drown Tío’s fabulous omelet in red glop.
“So, what’s the news?” she finally said. “Good or bad?” Kelli licked ketchup off her fingers and looked at me.
“Well, both. I found Nick, even talked to him, briefly, and—”
“You did?” she interrupted. “What did he say? Did he say anything about me?”
“There wasn’t time for a real conversation, Kelli. He had to leave. I told him to call me when he could.” I watched her face as I said this. It was devoid of emotion.
“So he split.” She chewed on this development, as well as the omelet. “You’re sure you don’t know where he went to?”
“No, but at least we know he’s alive.”
“That’s a relief. I sure wish I knew where he was,” she said, taking another huge bite.
“Do you know if there are other people who might want to know where he is, too, Kelli?”
She shook her head and crammed the last mouthful of egg mixture in her mouth, chewed it, and looked at me. I looked at her. A moment passed with us looking.
“Would you like some toast?” I asked.
“Love it.”
I did the chore of toasting and buttering a slice of bread, all the while thinking about what was going on inside
Kelli’s confusing little head. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was off. I mean,
pass the ketchup
?
I set the plate of toast on
the table and noticed Kelli was studying me for a change. “What?”
“You’re wondering why I’m not more upset, aren’t you? I mean about Nick.”
“The thought had crossed my mind. Jam? I’ve got guava and strawberry.”
“Oooo, guava. I’ve never had that before. How exotic.” She almost clapped her hands in delight. This whole situation was getting weirder by the minute.
“Coming up.” Another fast trip to the fridge. “So what is it, Kelli? What’s on your mind?”
“I was thinking, while I was taking a shower,” she said, spreading guava jam on the toast and speaking in the same breathless voice I’ve come to have ear strain over. “Maybe you’re in cahoots with Nick. Maybe you’ve known where he is all along. Maybe you two planned this whole thing. Maybe he’s taken our money and sold my car to go back to you!”
“That’s a lot of maybes.” I stood up and folded my arms over my chest. “First of all, Kelli, who uses the word ‘cahoots’ these days? You’ve been watching too many westerns.”
Her eyes narrowed, pretty smile fading. “I know what it means, in it together.”
“To answer your charges, there are no ‘cahoots’ going on between Nick and me. Now you’ve forced the issue, I think Nick is just about the biggest jerk I’ve ever had the misfortune to know in my life. I happen to be very happily involved, nay, in love, with another man. Even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t take Nick back trussed up and roasted on a spit, thank you very
much.” I drew myself up to my full five feet eight inches and did my best imitation of my mother at her haughtiest, which is pretty damned haughty.
“I think you should finish your breakfast and leave, Kelli. I’ve done what you’ve asked. I’ve found out Nick is still in Las Vegas. I suggest you get back there. And why he doesn’t want you to know where he is, that’s your problem.”
Whereupon she burst into tears.
Haughty took a nosedive.
“Oh, jeesh, Kelli. Stop that. Really. Stop blubbering. It’s already been a long day, and it’s only a little past noon. I just can’t help you. Not right now. I’ve got…we’ve had…there’s been a family tragedy. I need to focus on my family. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.” She did the grabbing the hand again as if I was the pope or the godfather. “I didn’t mean what I said.
It’s just I don’t understand it.” She looked at me with those china blues, tears streaming down her face.
The world’s biggest chump sat down with a sigh.
“Why doesn’t he trust
me
?” she asked in her little girl voice. “Why doesn’t he think
I’m
the best thing that happened to him,
I’m
the most beautiful woman in the world? Why you and not me?”
“The man’s an idiot? Let’s go with that. But I can’t do anything more for you, Kelli. I know I said you could stay here a couple of days, but I need to concentrate on family matters. You’re going to have to leave, okay?” I patted then loosened the hand clutching my own. “I promise to tell Nick of your concern if and when I hear from him. It’s time for you to leave.”
“But where will I go?” she wailed. “I don’t have enough money for gas to get home.”
“I’ll give you gas money.” I got up, went to the cookie jar, and took out one hundred dollars.
“I don’t want your money,” she wailed again. “I want your help.”
I set the cash on the table, wondering just what part of ‘no’ Kelli didn’t get. I kept my cool but leaned in, staring into her baby blues.
“I’ve done what I can. If the man doesn’t want you to know where he is, he doesn’t want you to know where he is.
El fin
. It’s over. You need to leave.”
My cellphone rang. I looked at the incoming number, and it was Richard. Finally!
“Kelli, this is an important call. I’ve got to take it, and it could be awhile. Why don’t you pack up your things, and we’ll say goodbye now?”
I got up from the table, asked Richard to wait a moment, ran to my office, and closed the door. My office/dance studio is soundproofed. When I’m dancing, I like to keep the outside world outside. Then there’s also the loud music I sometimes play and any private phone conversations. You never know who might overhear what. After thinking it over, I locked the door for good measure.
“What have you got, Richard?”
“I’ve been looking into the last six months of stats for competitive foot races across the country. Within that time frame, five racers have died of apparent heart attacks, scattered across the U.S. of A. Stephen makes six. There’s another one, a seventh. He collapsed three weeks ago, once again, right before the finish line. He’s still in ICU, but it could go either way. Keep in mind these are all healthy and youngish men and women. Like the twenty-nine-year-old woman who died in Louisiana, a young woman with no history of heart problems.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ll get there. Don’t rush me.”
“Sorry.”
“Then there’s Central and South America, where it appears eight more races were tampered with.”
“‘Tampered with?’ What does that mean, ‘tampered with’?” My voice was sharper than I’d meant it to be.
“Hey, what’s up with you? You sound like you got bit by a bear.”
“Sorry, Richard. I’m still reeling from my encounter with Kelli. She should be leaving in a minute, so I’ll try to calm down. My apologies. Go on with what you were saying about South America.”
“Out of eight races, three of the leading competitors disappeared right before the race.”
“Disappeared? Just like that?”
“And it’s not so easy to do, even in a third world country. Going on, and please don’t interrupt me again–”
“Now who’s sounding like he’s been bitten by a bear?”
Richard ignored me with the same facility as my mother does. “Two disappeared, two dropped out, one was shot by person or persons unknown from the grandstand, and
three others died, once again, from heart attacks. And in every case, a runner no one thought was going to win, won the race.”
“Wow. You’re saying these races are being fixed by the most dramatic measures, i.e., murder?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” He paused and took a deep breath. “There’s more, and you’re not going to like it.”
“What?”
“I was talking to Jenn, and she said the night before Stephen died Nick called their home to speak to him.”
“Nick? Called Jenn and Stephen? Why would he call them? He only saw them years ago at family gatherings when we were married.”
“He asked specifically for Stephen. Jenn told him Stephen was staying at a hotel in downtown Phoenix to be ready to start the race at five-thirty a.m. She gave Nick the number of his cell. That’s all she knows.”
“Did he call? Did Nick talk to Stephen?”
“Appears not. The police turned over Stephen’s personal effects a little while ago. I asked Jenn to check the
messages on his cell, and Nick’s was one of three in voice mail. One was from the kids, another from a work associate, and the third was from Nick. I don’t think Stephen ever heard
them. Jenn said he often turned his cell off the night before a race, so he wouldn’t be disturbed. It was off when Jenn got it back.”
“Do you know what this supposedly unheard message said?”
“I asked Jenn to play it for me over the phone, and I wrote it down.
“Stephen, this is Nick, Lee’s ex-husband. Don’t run the race tomorrow morning. Your life may depend on it. Don’t run the race
. And then he hung up.”
“Jeesie peesie, what’s going on?” My mind flashed to Nick’s wife, sitting in my kitchen. “Is Nick in Las Vegas somehow tied to Stephen’s death in Phoenix? Even with everything you’ve told me it’s hard to believe.”
“I know but everything points that way, Lee. At least, right now. Where is Nick? Did you find out?”
“Yes, but I was going to leave it alone. Now I’ll pursue it. Flint was helping me out, initially. I’ll give him another call. See if he can follow up.”
“Good. I’ve asked Jenn to Fed Ex me Stephen’s cellphone. I’ll take it apart and see if I can get Nick’s location or something.”
“Let’s talk in about an hour,” I said and hung up. I leaned back in my chair. Nick had called Stephen the night before he died to warn him. Did Kelli know anything about this? Before she left, I’d have to grill her.
I put in a fast call to Flint. He didn’t pick up, but I left a message, asking that he call me back ASAP.
I went for the door, unlocked it, and tried to push it open. It didn’t budge. After about thirty seconds, I gave up. I called my home number from the cell, hoping Kelli would pick up. Maybe she could come and help open the door. I let it ring about twenty times. No answer.
It began to dawn on me Lila Hamilton Alvarez may have raised a stupid child, after all. I threw my body against the door, nearly broke my shoulder, and it still didn’t move.
Frantic, I phoned down to the house. Tío answered on the third ring.
“Tío! Don’t ask any questions, drop whatever you’re doing, come over to my apartment, and let me out of the studio. I think the door is blocked. I can’t get out.
Pronto,
Tío.” With a
‘si’
he hung up.
Two minutes later, I leaned my ear against the door and heard shuffling of some kind coming from the other side. This soundproofing worked a little better than I’d counted on. Maybe nobody could hear what was going on in the studio, but by the same token, I couldn’t hear what was going on in the outside world, either.