The Poisoned Rose (21 page)

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t have it in me. I don’t know, maybe I didn’t like the idea of lives being in my hands.”

Marie nodded thoughtfully. “It must be hard for you to say no to people, Mac. It must be hard for you to see a person floundering and not want to jump in and help.”

I said nothing to that. Several cars passed by below, one right after the other. My thoughts were on our drive out of town. Marie’s escape was all I wanted to know about.

“I’ve been thinking, Mac,” she said then. “Why don’t you come with me?”

I looked at her.

“Maybe it’s time for you to leave this place, too,” she said. “Why don’t we leave it together? I think my father would have been happy that we found each other again. He would have liked the idea of the two us looking after each other.”

I didn’t say anything.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” she said. “You’re afraid of leaving because this place is all you’ve ever known.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I made a promise to a friend. If Searls is loose, I’ll need to stick around and keep it.”

Marie thought about that, then said, “And if you didn’t have that promise to keep? What then?”

“I’d leave with you in a heartbeat,” I said.

It wasn’t long after this that the pharmacy sign outside began to blink. It took time coming on, but eventually the blue and red light was rushing over us again, chasing the darkness from the corners of her apartment. It was close to night now, nearly time for us to leave. We waited till nine, for dark to have settled in completely, then got ready. But before we left she went to her closet, opened it, and pulled something out. She held it up for me to see.

It was a denim jacket, like the one I used to wear, like the one I had put over Vogler all those months ago.

“Scully wanted me to give this to you,” she said. She handed it to me. I looked it over. There wasn’t a spot of blood on it, but the third button from the top was missing. I realized then that it wasn’t just a jacket like mine, it
was
mine.

“How’d he get this?” I said.

“He took it off Vogler.”

“What?”

“Scully told me you didn’t recognize him at the cottage. He was with Vogler when Vogler got shot. They were arguing. This was before Scully got all paranoid and shaved off his beautiful hair, thinking people wouldn’t recognize him so easily and that a bald head made him look meaner. He took the jacket off Vogler before the cops came.”

“Why?”

“He wanted to know who you were and thought there might be something in the pockets to identify you. There was, and that’s how I knew you were still out here. And then after what happened at the cottage, he thought you should have the jacket back. He thought it would be a gesture of good faith on our part or something. He was impressed by the fact that you tried to save Vogler. So was I. That’s why I came to you that night—”

“Wait a minute. You knew Vogler?”

“I knew him before I knew Carter, yeah. Before I went into hiding. My brother paid Vogler to stay away from me. Vogler took the money and handed it all to me. I didn’t know where it came from at the time. Anyway, that’s why my brother had Vogler killed, because he went back on their agreement.”

“I saw that,” I muttered. “My friend and I, we were there.”

She nodded. “I know. But what Jean-Marc didn’t realize was that my father had already hired a private detective to scare Vogler off. The man he hired sent you. Without his knowing it, my father provided witnesses to a murder his own son arranged and paid for. That was when Jean-Marc decided to take control of things and keep my father isolated from everyone. That’s when the shit really started to happen.”

“Your brother was behind Vogler’s murder.”

“Yes.”

“Who were the men he hired?”

“I don’t know their names. One disappeared afterward. The other had gotten beaten up pretty badly. Broken wrist or something. I guess that was your doing. He went away for a while after the hit on Vogler went bad, but eventually he came back.”

“What did he look like?”

“He was ugly, had pockmarks on his face. He used to be a boxer or something. I saw him a few times with Jean-Marc. He’d worked for him before.”

“Searls,” I said.

“Like I said, I don’t know their names. But he was short, kind of stocky.”

“You’re telling me your brother used this man, this ugly boxer with the scars on his face, before?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Jean-Marc told me he’d asked the Chief for help finding you and that the Chief had sent over Searls. He made it sound like he’d never seen Searls before.”

“He lies about everything, Mac. Sometimes he lies for the sake of lying.”

I thought about that, then said softly, “Your enemy is my enemy.”

“What?”

“He’s playing me and the Chief against each other.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Searls didn’t just kill Vogler. He killed a cop, too.”

“I thought they arrested some guy in Jersey for that. It was in the papers.”

“They arrested a guy with a record and found the cop’s badge and gun in his possession.”

“How would he have the badge and gun if he wasn’t the one who killed the cop?”

I thought of the .32 under my floorboards, given to me, or so I’d been told, so it could not be planted in my apartment.

Searls had set someone else up to take the fall.

“Jesus,” I said.

“What?”

“The Chief got a fucking cop killer released and didn’t even know it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been your brother’s show from day one. He’s playing everyone. He orchestrated Vogler’s murder. He leaned on the Chief and got his man Searls released from jail, then sent Searls to kill Carter and find out from Scully where you were hiding.”

“You act like you don’t know who my brother is, Mac. Like this is news to you.”

“But I don’t understand. How did Searls end up working for Scully?”

“I’m not following.”

“Searls and Scully ambushed a friend of mine last May, over some photos my friend had taken of Scully. They put him in the hospital for three months.”

“Searls never worked for Scully.”

“No. Searls was with Scully when they broke into my friend’s house.

It’s how Searls ended up in jail.”

“I don’t think so, Mac. I mean the part about Scully knowing this Searls guy. Scully had help, but I’ve met every one of his friends, and none of them looked like that man.”

“If not Scully, then who was with Searls that night?” I said.

My thoughts raced, in too many directions to follow. Images flew at me. I saw in my mind the man wearing the baseball cap and hooded sweatshirt, the man who almost caught that second shell from Searls’ shotgun, the man who bolted out of Augie’s house and was never seen again.

If that man wasn’t the man we’d thought he was—if that man wasn’t Scully—then who was he?

Who had been with Searls the night Augie was beaten nearly to death?

I remembered the look of surprise in the smaller man’s eyes when I had gained leverage over the shotgun and aimed it at his face.

It seemed to me now that I had seen those same eyes recently.

And then I realized where. My own eyes went wide.

“What?” Marie said.

“Jesus.”

“What?”

“I need to make a call.”

Back at the pay phone, I dropped two quarters into the slot and punched in Augie’s number. He answered on the second ring.

“Yeah.”

“It’s Mac.”

“You okay?”

“It was Jean-Marc Bishop who sacked you.”

“What?”

“The guy at your house last May wasn’t Scully, it was Jean-Marc Bishop. The woman Frank sent me to find, Marie Bishop, Searls works for her brother. Searls was the one who killed Vogler. On Bishop’s order. And the cop, too. We witnessed the hit, that’s why they came after you.”

“No, Mac, no. That was months later, remember? Why on earth would they wait that long to come after me?”

“Searls left town for a while, to lay low and set someone up for the cop’s murder. The minute he came back, he went after you. Listen, Scully is dead. I found his body last night. I’m pretty sure Searls killed him, too.”

“Where are you?”

“Montauk. Did Frank call you?”

“Yes.”

“What did he have to say?”

“Searls was never picked up. He’s not sure what happened, if the cops tried and Searls never showed, or if they didn’t even try at all. Apparently, there’s some shit going down over at the Village Hall, something to do with the Chief. Frank says he’s suddenly out of the loop.”

“It’s a coup,” I said. “A cop named Long is in Bishop’s pocket. They’re making a move against the Chief.”

“Shit.”

“You’re okay there, right?”

“Frank put men outside my house. Two of them. They’re just up the street, watching over me like I’m some old lady or something. But there’s a bigger problem, Mac.”

“What?”

“Tina’s supposed to be with her girlfriend, Lizzie. But I just called a little while ago and they said she and Lizzie took the car and went somewhere.”

“Call Eddie, have him swing by their house. Have him keep a look out.”

“Did that already.”

“I’m heading that way now. I’ll stop by my place and see if Tina’s there. She might be waiting for me.”

“I appreciate that, Mac.” He paused briefly. “What’s going on, son? You sound … funny.”

“I’m going to make a quick run somewhere. I’ll be back in about two hours.”

“A quick run where?”

“Not far. I’ll come straight to your house when I’m done.”

“Call me when you get to your place. Let me know if Tina’s there.”

“Of course. I should be there in forty-five minutes. I’ll talk to you then.”

“Hang on a second, there was something Frank wanted me to tell you in case you called.”

“What?”

“He said the old man died this afternoon. Does that mean anything to you?”

I looked across the street and saw Marie waiting for me in her car. She was in the passenger seat, looking at a map. I noticed then that the Saab wasn’t new. It was an older model. The black paint job was what looked new.

I said into the phone, “Yeah, Augie. It does.”

“Do you want to fill me in?”

“It means all hell is about to break loose.”

I said good-bye and hung up. I walked back to Marie’s Saab and got in behind the wheel. She folded the map and tossed it into her open glove compartment. I saw it land on top of a sheathed knife—a skin diver’s knife. It covered the knife completely. Then Marie swung the compartment door shut.

“Everything okay?” she said.

“We need to make a quick stop at my apartment. We’ll be fine, no one will be looking for us there.”

“How can you be sure?”

“If we’re hiding, it’s the last place we’d be.”

“What’s wrong, Mac? You look a little white.”

I didn’t know how else to break the news to her, so I just came out and said, “Your father died today. I was just told. I’m sorry, Marie.”

She considered that for a moment, staring at me blankly. Then she nodded once and turned her head and looked out the passenger door window.

The reaction of someone on a tranquilizer, I thought.

She was silent for a long moment, then said, “Get me out of here, Mac. While there’s still time.”

I shifted into gear and steered out onto the narrow two-lane road down which waited a darkness far greater than any night I have ever known.

Chapter Thirteen

 

I could see the Hansom House through the windshield as we parked alongside the curb. I could see there was a light in my windows on the third floor. I knew that Tina was there, waiting for me. I undid my seat belt and looked at Marie.

She seemed more preoccupied than anything else, calm but not at all serene. We hadn’t spoken once during the entire drive in from Montauk.

“You okay?” I said.

Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, but not on anything in particular. She nodded.

“I’m sorry about your father.”

She shrugged, almost indifferently. “I said good-bye to him a long time ago. I mourned him then, too. Let’s just get out of here, Mac. Let’s just go, okay?”

“I won’t be long. If anything should happen, if someone starts toward the car, just drive away, okay? I won’t let them follow, I promise that.”

She nodded. I grabbed my denim jacket and got out. I followed the path to the front door and climbed the first flight, then the second. At the end of my dark hallway was my door. I headed to it, inserted my key into the lock and turned the knob, then swung the door in and entered, closing the door behind me.

I took a step into the living room, tossing the jacket onto my couch and calling Tina’s name .

I heard nothing.

Something told me then to look to my left. I did, facing my bedroom. There she was, standing in the doorway. She was looking at me but in a strange way—strange even for her. I’d never seen this look on her face before. I stared at her for a second, but by the time I sensed trouble, by the time I realized that something was going on, it was already too late.

He stepped out of the kitchen, slowly. I turned to my right and saw him, saw his ugly, beaten face, his pock-marks and crooked nose. I heard a man’s voice behind me, a voice that caused me even more concern than the sight of Searls in my kitchen door.

I turned toward the voice. Tina had moved out of the bedroom doorway and was standing in the living room now. The owner of the voice was beside her, holding her firmly by the arm.

“I had no idea you liked them so young, Mac,” Jean-Marc said.

My heart froze, then began to pound furiously.

“Are you okay?” I said to Tina

She nodded once, fast. She was frightened but looked unharmed. Her expression was a mix of confusion and alarm.

I thought quickly of what Augie had told me about the machete gang having killed Tina’s mother in front of her.

“What do you want?” I said to Jean-Marc.

“It’s easy, MacManus. I want my sister.”

“I have no idea where she is.”

Jean-Marc nodded, then sighed as if approaching a tedious task. He removed a long-barreled semiautomatic pistol from his belt. It was identical to the gun he and Long had given me. He pulled Tina close and pressed the muzzle into her neck. He had cotton work gloves on, gardener gloves.

Tina winced at the sight of the gun and tightened suddenly, drawing a sharp breath. Her own reaction seemed to startle her as much as her captor’s aggression. She rose up to her toes, as if to get away from the gun. She was unable to speak, her gray eyes wild and unfocused.

“It can be easy or it can be hard, Mac. That’s all up to you.”

“She’s not a part of this, Jean-Marc.”

“Fine, hard it is,” he said. He nodded toward Searls, who moved in beside me fast and slapped a handcuff around my right wrist. There was nothing I could do. Then he attached the other cuff to his own left wrist. I heard the mechanism inside click. My heart slumped.

With his right hand, Searls tossed a small pair of keys to Jean-Marc, who snatched them out of the air and stuffed them into his jeans pocket. Grabbing Tina’s arm again, Jean-Marc pulled her even closer, pressing the muzzle deeper into her neck. She rose higher onto her toes, as high as she could go. I knew now she was trying to escape the pain of the metal jamming into her thin neck.

Searls went straight for the Spyderco knife clipped in my hip pocket. As he removed it, his face entered my line of vision. I focused on it. I saw slit-eyes and pock-marked skin and scars. I could feel his breath, I could smell him. He smiled at me, his face turning even uglier. I saw that a tooth was missing.

“Fifteen years as a boxer,” he hissed, “and I never got a tooth knocked out.” He pointed to the empty space. “This was you. Remember?” He held my eyes for a moment, then leaned back and slid my knife into his own pocket. “You and me are going to have some fun,” he said, tugging on the cuffs for emphasis. “You belong to me now. We’re practically engaged.”

I ignored that, and once Searls was clear of my line of vision, I looked again at Jean-Marc and Tina. The sight of his hand tight around Tina’s upper arm angered me. But I did what I could to hide that from him.

“As much as your new friend here would like the opportunity to persuade you to tell me what I want to know,” Jean-Marc said, “I don’t have time for that. I had a tap put on your friend’s phone, the one you called from Montauk. That’s how we knew to come here. Your other friend, the paranoid PI you work for, he uses the same pay phone on the corner of Main Street and Cameron every time he wants to make one of his secret calls, so that was easy enough. I heard your conversation with him this morning, so I know you were with my sister, and I know she’s with you now. I know exactly what you two are up to. But it’s not going to happen, do you understand me? I don’t want it to happen, so it’s not going to. It’s as simple as that.”

“You’re too late, Jean-Marc. She’s already gone. I put her on a train in Bridgehampton a half hour ago. If you hurry, maybe you and your buddy might be able to catch her at one of the dozen stops between here and the city.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Good. The more time you waste here, the farther away she gets.”

“Just tell me where my sister is, Mac.”

“You think I’m stupid enough to bring her back here. Let the girl go and we’ll talk.”

“I don’t like to be fucked with.”

“I know what you like, Jean-Marc.”

“She’s unwell, Mac. She talks, makes thing up. Do yourself a favor and don’t pay too much attention to what she says.”

“Looking at you right now, it’s kind of hard not to believe her.”

“This is a pretty simple dilemma before you, Mac. Or at least it should be. Who’s worth more to you? My sister or this little plaything of yours.”

He pressed the muzzle deeper into Tina’s neck. She flinched and stiffened.

“My sister is a whore, Mac. She sleeps with men because she thinks they can help her. She goes to men and sleeps with them and tricks them into protecting her. It’s the only skill she has. She can’t keep a job, so she fools men into caring for her. She sleeps with them if she has to. She did it to Vogler. She did it to Scully. She even tried it with you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jean-Marc.”

“So who’s worth more to you? My slut of a sister or your little girlfriend here?”

“You and Searls sacked my friend last May. Why?”

“It was a misunderstanding.”

“How was it a misunderstanding?”

“The scumbag drug dealer, Scully. We knew he knew my sister. We knew he was either hiding her or knew where she was hiding. We put pressure on him and he gave us your friend’s name, said your friend knew where she was. It wasn’t till just before you came in that we figured out we’d been lied to.”

“Why would Scully set Augie up like that?”

“Your friend had taken pictures that Scully didn’t want taken. It was his way of getting us to do his dirty work for him.”

“Why’d you tear the place apart then, like you were looking for something?”

“Your buddy held out for a long time. He took a pretty good beating. Then I guess he’d taken one punch too many because he passed out. We tore up the place after that, looking for anything we could find. Searls stomped on your friend for a while after that just for the exercise. Do you want him to stomp on you? Your friend here?”

I glanced at Searls. His eyes were fixed on me. My heart was pounding.

“I know what you and the Chief did,” I said to Jean-Marc. “Ten years ago, the refuge across the pond from your house. I know everything. I’ve told Frank Gannon. Killing your sister won’t help keep your secret. Neither will killing me.”

“Maybe you aren’t so smart after all, Mac. I heard your conversation with Gannon, remember? You told him no such thing. Anyway, as I’ve told you, she’s not a well woman. You shouldn’t believe a thing she says.”

“She’s gone, Jean-Marc. Just face it. You lost. She’s gone.”

“If so, that’s bad news for you.”

“Just let the girl go, Jean-Marc.”

“I’m only going to ask one more time, Mac. And then I’m going to turn things over to my associate here. Where is my sister—?”

I saw his attention shift then, quickly, to something behind me.

And then he said, with urgency, “
Rose
.”

I turned and there was Marie, in the dark hallway just outside my door. She was looking at her brother, her face blank, her fists hanging clenched at her sides. She stared at him with her chin up and her shoulders back. A second later, she turned and bolted down the hallway.

Jean-Marc called out again, this time saying, “Rose-Marie.”

I had forgotten her full name, the name that her father had called her all those years ago.

I remembered then what she had started to say to me.

That’s why I came to you that night.

I realized now what Jean-Marc had meant when he said that she had slept with me, too.

And why, when she was no longer hoarse, I had thought I recognized her voice.

Rose, the woman who had come looking for my help last spring, the woman I was too drunk to remember, was Rose-Marie Bishop.

Jean-Marc released Tina and bolted full stride toward the door.

And that was when all hell broke loose.

I moved to intercept him, to check him into the wall as he ran past me. But Searls yanked on the cuffs, pulling me back. All I could do was kick at Jean-Marc’s knee. I hit it, not hard, but it was enough to make him stumble and fall flat out on his face on my floor, enough to make him lose precious time, to further the lead Marie held. He pulled himself up quickly and scrambled out the door, just as Searls’ big right hand came swinging down toward my head like a ball on a chain.

There wasn’t time for anything less than all the rage that burned in me, now and ever.

I stepped in close, slipping under the overhand punch and grabbing Searls’ balls with my right hand—my cuffed hand. At the same time I reached out and with my left grabbed the side of his head like it was a basketball. Both his hands went down to grab my right forearm and pull my right hand from his groin, which was what I knew he’d do. With my left hand undisturbed, I sunk my thumb into his right eye, crushing it against the back of the socket. I felt the eyeball give like a soft-boiled egg.

He screamed out, and his hands came up, bringing my right with them. He grabbed for my left arm, and this freed my right hand enough for me to grab the left side of his head and sink my right thumb into his other eye. It popped fast. Still holding onto his head, I lifted my knee sharply and thrust it into his groin. He folded at the waist, his knees bending. I held his head between my forearms, my hands cupped behind his head, and landed one solid knee shot to his face—for Augie.

Searls dropped to the floor. He was barely conscious. His eye sockets were bloody, his battered face broken.

I looked for Tina but she wasn’t to be seen. I heard her on the phone in my bedroom, calling 911. The cops would be here soon, but not soon enough to stop Jean-Marc from catching up to his sister.

There was no way to get the cuffs off, so I grabbed Searls left wrist with two hands and began to pull him with me. He was heavy, but the floor was bare wood, so he slid. I went out the door and down the hall. The stairs I thought would be easy, but halfway down the first flight, Searls’ semi-conscious body starting sliding. It got past me, then ahead of me, pulling me like an anchor. I lost my balance and tumbled down to the bottom with him, landing hard on the floor with Searls beside me. I scrambled to my feet, aching in a dozen places, and pulled Searls across the landing to the next flight of stairs.

This time I made a point of running ahead of him and reached the bottom without a problem. Then I tugged with everything I had, dragging Searls through the door and down the steps to the pathway that led to the curb.

Jean-Marc and Marie were at the end of the pathway, beside Marie’s once-red Saab. I saw that the passenger door was open. I saw, too, that they were standing face to face, with Jean-Marc’s back to me. A surge of adrenaline ran through me, and dragging Searls as quickly as I could, I began down the path toward them. But it was slow going. I knew that Jean-Marc had his gun, but there was nothing more I could do except try to reach him before he could turn around and take a shot at me.

Jean-Marc was holding the sleeve of Marie’s shirt with his left hand. They were arguing. But I couldn’t hear what it was they were saying. Their voices were hushed, but the argument was at a pitch emotionally. Jean-Marc was doing most of the talking, and Marie was looking at him and shaking her head stubbornly, her chin held high in defiance.

I continued toward them, Jean Marc’s back as my target. I could see that he had returned his gun to his belt. I towed Searls as fast as I could. But I wasn’t even halfway between the Hansom House and the end of the pathway when Marie tried to get away from her brother. She was in a fury. He held her shirt tight, though, pulling her back to him violently. He almost yanked her off her feet.

I could hear them now. I could hear his words. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her like an angry parent would shake a misbehaving child.

“You’re going to do what I say,” he barked. “You’re going to do what I say when I say it, understand? You’re coming back home tonight, no more hide-and-seek, no more games. You’re telling too many lies now, Rose. Do you understand me? Do you understand!”

Marie struggled to break free, but Jean-Marc held tight. The sleeve of her shirt started to rip at the shoulder seam.