Graverobbers Wanted (No Experience Necessary) (16 page)

   I couldn't let the fact that I was holding a head distract me. I turned it all around, searching for a quarter that might be glued to
it.Nothing
. I ran my fingers all through her hair, and found nothing there, either. I checked the ears, in case it were some demented variation of the magic trick my uncle always liked to show me, but that was also unsuccessful.

   A possible hiding spot occurred to me.

   I shook the head violently, trying to jar loose anything that might be in its mouth. Nothing fell out.

   It looked like I was going to find out how long it took a dead tongue to dry out, after all.

   I reached inside her mouth. I can't describe what it felt like, because my hand went completely numb. But I quickly found the quarter, underneath her tongue. It had been wrapped in cellophane, which was nailed down to keep it in place. I tore it free, dropped the head back in the confetti, and shut the trunk.

   Four out of
five.The
fifth one was probably either under the car or under the front hood. I hurried back to the front seat to pop open the hood.

   The phone rang.

   I quickly scooped up the quarters I'd placed on the seat and picked up the phone. It rang again, but I didn't answer. I pulled the lever to open the hood, then ran to the front of the car and lifted the hood.

   Nothing looked unusual. The phone continued to ring.

   Damn it! I couldn't answer, or the killer would know that I only found four of the quarters. But if I didn't answer, all five of the prisoners might die!

   I
answered."
Yeah
?"

   "Did you meet Jennifer?" It was the same computer-generated monotone.

   "Oh,
yeah.That
was real clever." I frantically began lifting hoses and looking anywhere a body part might be hidden.

   "What's your honest opinion? Can she be saved?"

   "Screw you." I had no time for wit.

   "Tell me the dates on the quarters. You have ten seconds."

   I tried to make my voice as casual as possible."
1994, 1980, 2001, 1976, and 1997."

   There was a long pause on the other end, longer than the normal pauses for typing. "Not
bad.Four
out of five."

   "What do
youmean
, four out of five? I found them all!"

   "Only four were correct. So, Andrew, I'll be a sport and let you pick who's going to die. If you need to review the tape, feel free."

   "Hell
no
!Now
, you listen to me. I'm willing to play along with your game, but you have to stick with the rules you set up! If I found all five quarters, all five people get to live, and if you're not going to honor that I'll be talking to the cops before you can say `I'm a psychotic asshole.'"

   "There was no 1997 quarter."

   "The hell there wasn't! I found one quarter in the glove compartment, one quarter under each seat, one quarter in the trunk, and one quarter wedged in the seat cushion in the back. That's five. If you disagree, get your ass back to elementary school."

   "There wasn't one in the back."

   "There
mostcertainlywas
one in the
back.Hey
, maybe the quarter was already there, but if you were dumb enough to pick something that could have been in the car before you started, that's not my fault. I can't help it if you didn't check out the car thoroughly. Once I found the five quarters, I quit."

   There was a very long pause before the computer voice spoke.

   "You're a lying bastard, Andrew."

   I didn't respond. I just stood there, cringing.

   "But I'm going to give you points for effort. None of the prisoners will die tonight."

   I was astonished, but I certainly wasn't going to let it
show."
So
now what?"

   "If you need to, get yourself cleaned up. If you didn't already find it, there's a towel and some rubbing alcohol on the left side of the trunk, under the confetti. Leave the car. It will be taken care of. A cab will meet you out front."

   
"And after that?"

   "Try and find me. But remember what I said about not talking to anyone about
tonight.And
no
cops. If the police come after me, I'll have plenty of warning time to kill the prisoners, and make it hurt. I could be anyone, so
watchyourself
.
And like I said, have fun."

   "My joy sensors are going into overload already."

   "But make sure you get in that cab, or I'll have to make a new video. Good night, Andrew. I'll be in touch."

   The killer hung up.

   I didn't know what else to do. I opened the trunk again, got as much of the blood off as possible, and went out front to wait for the taxi.

        "WHAT HAPPENED to you?" asked Roger as he opened the door to his apartment.

   "It was
bad.Real
bad." I stepped inside and saw Theresa and Kyle sleeping safely on the pullout bed. Until this whole thing was resolved, it was going to be difficult to let them out of my sight.

   Now I was sort of in a bind. Could I tell Roger about the horrors of last night? For all I knew, the place could be bugged. The phone could be tapped. I didn't know what kind of resources the killer had, and honestly I didn't know enough about surveillance to know what degree of paranoia was justified. At the moment I was envisioning some eccentric billionaire with cameras hidden in every corner of Chamber, sitting in his cushioned chair in a room with five hundred monitors, stroking his ugly cat.

   So I didn't want to say anything to Roger. What good would it do, anyway? He'd end up an even more reluctant partner than he already was. Nah, I'd shield him from the hard stuff for the time being.

   "I can't talk about it," I said. "I will say that I'm not entirely certain you're ever going to get your car back."

   "I beg your pardon?"

   "It's either being cleaned or incinerated—I'm not sure which."

   "I beg your pardon?"

   "Just...ask later, okay?"

   Roger didn't look particularly keen on the idea of not knowing what happened to his car until later, but he let it go. "So, if you're sworn to secrecy, what's next?"

   "We keep investigating. I'm not going to be able to sleep for the next few months anyway, so I'm heading over to the Ashcraft place to see what I can find out."

Chapter 12

    I LEFT MY car alongside the road about six blocks from Michael and Jennifer's house. I was getting tired of all this walking around, but I wanted to cut down on the chances that I'd get busted for burglary. About three blocks from their house it suddenly occurred to me that my pockets were missing something vitally important, such as my car keys. After uttering one of the ruder phrases I'd spoken in my life, I jogged back to where I'd parked my automobile.

   It was gone.

   I used the word "shit" numerous times.

   Then I realized that this wasn't even where I'd left it—I was still a block away. It was pretty clear that my mind was no longer the well-oiled, smooth-running piece of machinery it had been a little over a day ago.

   I jogged over to the place where I'd left my car, and was actually surprised to find it there, fully intact. The keys were still in the ignition, and the doors were locked. I suppose I could've called a locksmith, but I didn't want to stand around waiting so I picked up a nice-sized rock and smashed open the passenger-side window, spraying safety glass all over the place. I leaned inside, retrieved my keys, and headed back to Michael's house.

   Nobody was out for a late-night stroll and I didn't see anyone with their faces pressed against the neighboring windows, so I figured it was safe enough to hurry into the backyard. Once there, I saw that there was a door that probably led to the garage, and a couple of large windows in the main part of the house.

   I reached for
thedoorknob
,
mentally reviewing my plan of action should an alarm go off:

   Stand in dumbfounded shock for exactly
twoseconds
.

   Run away very fast.

   I tested the
doorknob.Locked
. I tested it again, in case some higher power had fixed the situation for me, but no luck. I'd left my lock-picking tools in a previous life, so my only choice now was a window.

   I peeked through one of the windows, a sliding one which was up about five feet from the ground. Through it, I could see the kitchen. Hopefully they had beer in
thefridge
, because I
wasgonna
need a good drink after this. I pressed my hands against the glass and tried to raise it, but the window was, of course, locked.

   I hadn't even realized that I was still holding the rock I'd used to break my car window. So, I'd have to test how heavily the neighbors slept.

   I raised the rock to the glass and gave it a couple preliminary taps, as if the window might be kind enough to shatter quietly. I listened for a possible meteorite or exploding vehicle that might cover the noise, but
nonewere
handy.

   I took a deep breath, and then hurled the rock through the glass, near the bottom. I was confident that if Michael's corpse had been buried in the backyard at that moment, the crash would have awakened him, but at least no alarm went off. I stood silently for a full minute, watching for lights turning on in the neighboring homes and listening for voices saying "Thelma, go fetch my shotgun!" but it didn't appear that my ruckus had disturbed anyone.

   I reached through the hole and unlocked the window, then carefully raised it. I gripped the frame with both hands and pulled myself inside, knocking over a stack of dishes that had been resting on the counter. They fell to the linoleum floor and shattered with a sound that reminded me of policemen firing gunshots at suspected burglars, though I may have just been a tad edgy.

   I hopped off the counter and took a moment to admire the
kitchen.Neatly
decorated, if a bit antiseptic for my tastes. I opened the refrigerator and found nothing to drink but bottled water, so I proceeded into the living room.

   Nothing especially interesting in here, either, except for a couple of pieces of art that were so tacky I'm surprised the wall didn't come to life and fling them away. I think one of them was supposed to be a chicken, but it also might have been a portrait of Albert Einstein. A black cat, sleeping on the floor, looked up at me and meowed as if to say "Please remove your unworthy hide from my palace."

   I walked down a hallway, which was decorated with framed photographs of Michael, Jennifer, and other people who I presume were relatives. There was a picture of Michael and Jennifer at their wedding, the happy couple shoving cake into each other's faces (an idea Helen had nixed well before our own ceremony).

   The first doorway led to a bathroom. Frilly shower curtain, exotic soaps that I'm sure nobody was ever allowed to use, blue water in the toilet...high-class stuff.

   The next doorway led to an office, which had been ransacked big-time. There were books and papers all over the floor, as well as a bunch of torn horror movie posters. The corners of some of the posters could be seen still taped to the wall. A desk had been overturned, and a chair ripped apart, with cushion stuffing scattered everywhere. All the drawers of a filing cabinet were open and the contents had been dumped on the floor in front of it. There was some computer equipment that looked like it had been smashed apart with a baseball bat.

   I crouched down and began to sift through the papers, hoping to find something like a signed confession or coffin schematics. What I found were lots of papers with cryptic budget figures (I somehow skipped accounting as one of my majors), uninteresting bills, junk mail, warranties for major appliances, and other stuff that seemed to have no relevance to a man being buried alive.

   I searched through the office for about ten minutes, and found nothing that seemed even remotely helpful. I wondered if the person who'd made the mess had ended up with the same result. It was going to take hours to go through everything piece-by-piece, and I decided I'd better at least check out the rest of the house before I resigned myself to that task.