Authors: Faye Kellerman
"Now you're gettin' nasty," Blue replied. "You could even say that you're provokin' us."
"The man knows polysyllabic words." Poe took two long strides away from the duo. "I'm impressed."
"You're backing away from us," Blue answered. "Are we makin' you nervous, Sergeant?"
"You clowns?" He chuckled. "Have you gentlemen looked at your guts lately? You two couldn't run fifty feet without keeling over. I suggest you leave before you melt!"
"Such a big mouth for a public servant," Red said. "Someone should report you." A beat. "Or at least teach you a lesson."
"You're leavin' us no choice, Sergeant," Blue said. "C'mon. You cooperate with us and I promise you'll be with a coonskin piece of ass before dinner."
Poe felt his entire body go rigid with anger. "Look, you assholes, maybe I can't get you right now. But you sure as hell can't get me, either. Which means you
lose
, big-time. 'Cause on foot, you cocksuckers don't stand a chance in hell of catching me."
Blue brought out his famous ally, a .44 Magnum.
"Brilliant," Poe sneered. "Shoot a cop. Fucking
brilliant
! I see that Parkerboy hires real brainwork."
Blue waved the gun at him. "Get in the car, faggot."
Poe spat back, "Shoot me first, asshole."
Blue fired at Poe's feet. "Next shot'll turn you into a girl. Now get in the car!"
A sharp, loud boom echoed as smoke belched from the desert floor. When the dust cleared, a stick woman was poking out of the doorframe.
Emma Oakley.
She was holding Poe's shotgun, pumping in a new shell with a pro's ease. She brought it up to her eye and pointed it at Blue Shirt. It probably weighed as much as she did. She said, "Ten seconds to clear out before I give two jackasses some permanent air-conditioning."
Blue and Red eyed each other. Mom pulled off another round, the pellets whizzing perilously close to Blue's cranium. "Five seconds just passed."
The Shirts backed up and opened the Lincoln's doors. Emma kept the gun on the car, hoping they wouldn't try anything funny like running them over or ramming the house.
Right before he closed the door, Red yelled out, "If I was you, pal, I'd keep an eye on your little darkie friend."
"Get out of here, you foul-mouthed louts!" Emma bent her trigger finger and ripped off another cartridge packed with both ball and buck. Although the load hit the ground, some of the pellets caught the Lincoln's rear passenger tire.
At that point, Blue Shirt peeled rubber. Emma watched them go, then lowered the gun. Her jaw was working furiously, chewing more gums than teeth.
Poe realized his hands were shaking. He stuck them into the waistband of his running shorts. "Good shot."
"Once you have it, you never lose it." Emma wiped her forehead. "Haven't felt
that
good in years." A beat. "I wish I could scare away the critters in my body like that."
Referring to her leukemia. Emma had been doing so well, Poe had almost forgotten she was sick. He said, "You must be scaring them to death, Mom, because you're doing great with the treatment." He walked over to Emma, relieved her of the shotgun, then kissed her cheek. "You saved my life."
"Ach!" She waved him off. "Just being a mother hen."
Slipping his arm around her, Poe escorted her back into the house. "I owe you."
"Nah, you don't owe me nothing." She paused. "Well, I suppose we could celebrate with a beer."
"How about a Virgin Mary instead?" Poe picked up his cellular and dialed Rukmani's number. While he waited for her to answer, he opened a can of tomato juice and added a strong dash of Tabasco.
Of course, the machine picked up. Poe started imploring the contraption, "Ruki, it's me. Pick up the phone. It's an emergency. Pick up the phone. Pick up the phone. Pick up the phone. It's an emergenc—" He disconnected in disgust and punched in her office number.
Emma sipped her spiced juice from the can. "You're worried about her?"
Poe tapped his foot as her office line rang and rang. "I'd like to hear her voice."
"They're blowing smoke, Romulus."
"Yeah. Smoke from a .44 Magnum." Again he cut the line. "Goddammit, where is she?"
"Maybe she's out for an evening stroll."
"Why do people always call when you don't want to talk? And they're never in when you
do
want to talk." This time, Poe called the morgue's general number. "Someone
please
answer!"
Finally someone did. An elderly male who sounded winded. Poe identified himself. "Can you please tell me if Dr. Rukmani Kalil is anywhere in the building? She doesn't seem to be answering her phone in her office."
"Rukmani Kalil?" the shaky voice repeated.
"Yes." Poe tried to keep the panic in check. "She's the Indian pathologist—"
"Oh yes, yes. Sure. She's a very nice lady."
"Yes, she is. I have an emergency and I have to speak with her immediately."
"Oh, so this is urgent?"
"Yes, it's very urgent!"
"Hold on then. I'll go take a look."
Poe heard the clop of the phone receiver being placed on a hard surface. He startled at the touch of his mother's hand. She patted his shoulder. Emma said, "I'm sure she's fine, Romulus."
"I'm sure you're right."
"Let's have a beer in the meantime—"
"No beer, Ma."
"
One
beer. It'll calm you down."
"As grateful as I feel, the answer is still no."
Emma clamped her lips together.
Five agonizingly slow minutes passed. Then the jostle of the phone being picked up. The elderly voice saying, "Hello?"
"Yes, I was asking about Dr. Kalil?"
"Yes, I know. She's not in—"
"Shit!"
"Pardon?"
"Nothing…nothing. Thank you." Poe disconnected the line and started snapping his fingers. Then he called Patricia. When she answered, he said, "I can't believe I got you in."
"What's up?"
"Two things. First, I just got shot at by two goons hired by Lewiston—"
"You're kidding!"
"Wish I were."
"Hiring men to shoot at a cop? Lewiston can't be that stupid."
"No, he's not. If questioned, he'll deny sending them over. Or at the very least, he'll say he sent them merely for my convenience and they acted on their own with the guns. The upshot is there are two maniacs out there driving a midnight-blue Lincoln Town Car with no plates. The only thing I could decipher was that the car came from Desert Rose Lincoln."
"I'll try to locate them right now."
"No, I've got another assignment for you. I need you at my house—ASAP. Before they left, one of them made threatening remarks about Rukmani. I've tried calling her, but she isn't at home and she isn't in her office. I want to look for her, but I need someone here to watch over my mother. Someone who's trained in case they come back—"
"I can take care of myself," Emma cried out.
"I can look for Dr. Kalil," Patricia said.
Poe said, "No, let me do it—"
"Do what?" Emma asked.
"Mom, I can't hold two conversations at once."
"I thought you were talking to me—"
"Sergeant?"
"Yeah, I'm here," Poe answered. "I'll look for Rukmani. I know some of her spots, but I don't know exact addresses. I'd like you here with Mom."
"I'll be there in ten minutes. What about the Lincoln?"
"I'll phone it in." Poe hung up and dialed Dispatch. After he fed them the information, he called up Marine Martin and brought him up to date.
"I'm on the lookout," Marine answered. "From which direction were they coming?"
"They left heading east. They're probably going back to the Lady Slipper, or maybe the Laredo. Frankly, I don't care where they are as long as they're not anywhere near my house or Dr. Kalil."
"I'll try to establish visual contact with the Lincoln, sir."
"Good." Poe waited a beat. "I heard you did a terrific job executing the warrant, Detective. Good going."
"Thank you, Sergeant. Over and out, Sergeant."
"Over and out." Poe clicked off, his mind on a thousand different things. He quickly dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and boots, strapping his holster and gun around his waist. He started pacing. Moments later, he noticed Emma nursing her drink. He smiled at her and said, "How's the Virgin Mary?"
Emma finished the can and licked her lips. "Too spicy. It'll probably give me an upset stomach." A beat. "Rom, you're as nervous as a cat. Go out and look for her before it gets too dark. I'll be okay until what's-her-name comes."
"Detective Patricia Deluca." Poe bounced on his feet. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," Emma snapped. "I still have a couple of rounds left in that old thing." She nodded toward the shotgun. "I'll be just fine."
Still, Poe hesitated. "Be careful, Mom."
Emma wrinkled her nose. "Look who's talking."
FORTY-SIX
H
E RACED
the Honda, trying to guess Rukmani's moves. If she wasn't home and she wasn't at work, where would she be at six-thirty in the evening?
She could be doing her laundry, or shopping, or out getting some dinner.
Or out socializing.
When they spoke, she had given no indication that she had made dinner or date plans. But Rukmani could be spontaneous.
His first stop was the local Laundromat. The two of them usually went together about twice a week. A large whitewashed place with fifty industrial machines and a dozen dryers spinning rainbows of cloth-colored swirl art. At first glance, she wasn't there. Poe checked the faces hidden by newspapers, then checked the faces peering at the vending machines.
Not one of them was Rukmani.
He went next door to the storefront called the Coffee Hut—a hangout of the laundry people, a good place to pick up women. Lots of Gen-Xers with uncombed hair and two days' worth of beard growth. Girls with spiked hair and pierces. Rukmani wasn't among them.
Poe returned to the Honda and drove another two blocks. He pulled into the parking lot of Beeny Boy's Coffee Shop. A favorite spot for the homeless who wanted to fill their stomachs with grease, fat, and something hot. It had a selection of dinner specials, Poe's favorite being a starter of clam chowder followed by a pork chop smothered in mushroom gravy with a baked potato and sour cream and peas, all for just $2.99. Rukmani called it Heart Attack on a Plate.
Poe searched the counters, searched the worn and torn red Naugahyde booths. He even asked a customer to peek into the ladies' room. She came back, reporting that both stalls were empty. One of the regular waitresses—a thirties-plus brunette named Hallie—noticed Poe scurrying by. "Sergeant, have a seat."
Poe whipped around. "Hi, Hallie." A nervous smile. "By any chance has Dr. Kalil been in today?"
Hallie shook her head. "I haven't seen her."
"If she comes in for a bite, will you tell her to call me? It's important."
"Sure, right away," Hallie answered. "Is everything all right?"
"Could be better."
"Coffee to go?"
"Uh, no." Poe waited. "Maybe I'll be back in an hour or so."
"I'll save you one of my tables."
Poe smiled. Hallie liked cops. They were big tippers. He left and jumped into the Honda, racing off to a second coffee shop. Again he came up dry. Then his phone rang.
Please be Rukmani.
It wasn't.
"I made it alive." Patricia paused. "Barely."
"What?" Poe was filled with concern. "Are you okay?"
Patricia whispered, "Maybe you can persuade your mom to give me the shotgun."
"Oh Christ! What happened?"
"Nothing. Which was very good. She just pointed the thing at me—"
"God, I'm sorry!"
"I scared her. Not that I blame her, but…"
"Put her on the phone."
Poe heard Deluca say, "He wants to talk to you." Then he heard his mother's protests. But she came on the line anyway. "What is it?"
"You pointed the shotgun at Detective Deluca?"
"I thought it was them returning."
"Mom, you did a great job. Now please give her the gun."
"Rom—"
"Mom, you have a professional watching you. Please don't argue. Just give her the gun."
Emma sulked, "You weren't yellin' at me an hour ago when I chased away those louses."
"Mom, you were
terrific
. Now just relax and let Detective Deluca take over.
Please!"
Emma didn't answer.
"Mom—"
"I heard you, I heard you." A pause. "Well, all right."
"Thank you, Mom. We'll talk later. Now could you hand the phone back to Patricia?"
Emma grumbled. Then Patricia came back on the line. "Thank you, Sergeant."
"Is my mother doing all right?"
"She's squirrelly, to say the least."
"Patricia, please be careful. The goons could be coming back. You have the shotgun. Use it if you have to."
"I'll keep my eyes open."
"The nurse is due back soon. Still, I'd appreciate it if you'd stay put until I get back."
"Absolutely. Did you find Dr. Kalil?"
"Not yet. I'm going to check her apartment."
"Good luck."
"Thanks."
Five minutes later, Poe was opening Rukmani's front door. Everything seemed in order. Nothing was overturned or out of place. The bed was neatly made, no dishes in the sink. But as his professional eye digested his surroundings, Poe felt nervous. The muscle under his eye began to spasm.
A full pot of fresh coffee sitting on the warmer of her coffeemaker.
Some kind of curried potato casserole warming in the oven.
The evening paper had been unfolded and was resting on the dining-room table.
The curtains had been drawn for privacy.
The air conditioner was on.
Poe's heart sank. The place seemed as if she had stepped out and was planning to come back. Where the
hell
was she?
Don't panic, don't panic.
Emma's words:
Maybe she's out for an evening stroll.
Made sense. It was a beautiful evening.
Back in the car, he began to cruise the side streets.