Ukulele of Death, page 22
‘Which closet?’ I was starting to get a little weary and knew Ken had charged up the day before; we try not to plug in the same day if we can avoid it. If there was trouble with the electrical grid in the heat wave, I’d need to get the generator to plug in.
‘Yeah.’ He was chopping onions. Others would cry; my brother becomes monosyllabic.
‘So the meeting with Elroy is set for two hours from now. I figure I’ll go alone.’
That got exactly the reaction it had been intended to get. Ken stopped chopping and glared at me. ‘What?’
‘So you are awake. Good. Now. Here’s how I see the plan. You’ll stay out of sight. I’ll handle the talking and if anything goes sideways you’ll be there to back me up. Sound good? OK, then.’ I had three items in the UKULELE column and none in the other. Because what I knew about The Voice amounted to what it’s like to be strapped to a gurney and hear a disembodied voice threaten your life. Not terribly useful information under the current circumstances.
Ken wasn’t in a mood to argue with me, largely because he knew I’d just played him like a … cheap ukulele, perhaps. ‘Where’s the meeting going to take place?’ he asked. He went back to chopping onions and went into the fridge for some garlic. I didn’t know what he was making but it was going to require after-dinner mints for sure.
‘You’ll love this – first the guy wanted to come pick me up and drive me to the meeting with Elroy.’ Honestly. I practically reduced his friend to a fine powder, held him up in the air by his shirt, and this lunatic thought he could get me with a cheap ploy like that.
‘So he could stab you with a needle and take you back to the lab of Dr Mengele?’ Ken shook his head. ‘Where’s the beef cubes I bought?’
‘I left them on the window sill during a heat wave. Was that wrong?’
Ken pulled the package out of the fridge and got a pan heating on the stove with a little olive oil. ‘So after you threatened to drop him off the building – that’s my favorite part of the story, by the way – what did he say?’
‘There was a bit of negotiation and we finally agreed on Washington Square Park near the arch,’ I told him. ‘It’s outside, there’ll be the usual crowds everywhere and we’ll be able to talk without anyone being spirited away for some quick genetic testing. I’ll remember not to spit into a cup for him.’
My brother nodded. ‘Decent choice. I would have gone to the South Street Seaport for the same reasons plus there’s a good ice cream place there.’ Ken never doesn’t have an agenda. It’s actually an admirable quality.
‘Maybe Elroy is lactose intolerant,’ I said.
‘Bigot.’ He started the onions in the pan, stirring until they were transparent, then added the meat. The garlic didn’t need as much cooking and could go in later along with some bell peppers Ken was dicing now. He was definitely getting in his chopping therapy.
And that was when Det. Miller decided to bypass Mank and call me when he wanted to ask me a question. How quaint.
‘There’s a package in a locker in Grand Central Terminal,’ he said. The man had a lively conversational style. ‘We think it’s attached to the ukulele murder.’
‘So go get it,’ I said. ‘What do you need me for?’
‘It’s addressed to you and your brother.’
‘And you can’t get a warrant?’ I said. I didn’t need the uke and the cops wanted it. Let them take it on.
‘I can, but it’ll take time and I can get you the key in twenty minutes. You get it and you call me.’ Miller must have trusted me to some extent or he’d have insisted on going along to pick up the package.
‘Fine. Send the key over. But I can’t go for a couple of hours.’
‘Still faster than a warrant,’ he said. ‘Call me as soon as you get it.’ And he hung up. Nice guy.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized the only address he had for me was at my office. ‘We’re going to have to swing by the office after Elroy,’ I told Ken, looking at my list again. ‘Then we have to go to Grand Central.’
Ken wasn’t listening. ‘Yup,’ he said.
My list now consisted of six UKULELE entries, including the fact that the auction had taken place before Caroline Seberg was murdered. THE VOICE was offering such helpful tidbits as ‘Definitely Male.’ That reduced the suspect list to half the people on Earth. You laugh, but before that it was everybody except me and probably Ken.
‘There’s no connection except Dad,’ I said aloud.
The beef and onions cooking were creating an aroma that was unexpectedly distracting. I remembered I hadn’t eaten since this morning, and that had been a good ten hours now. Well, not a good ten hours. You know.
‘What do you mean?’ Ken asked. He was collecting spices and herbs from the cabinet and now I was lost because while I appreciate spices and herbs, I have no idea which ones go with what or why they should be incorporated into a meal.
I did have the ability to go into the small pantry (really a tiny closet) and pull out some Italian bread I’d bought the day before. I set up a cutting board on the door table and started to slice it. ‘I mean, the only common element that our investigation into Caroline Seberg’s murder and the person who tried to probe me in unspeakable ways is Dad. Obviously The Voice wanted to know about Mom and Dad and thought I knew where to find them. Then Dad’s name was used as the winning bidder for the Gibson.’
‘So what does that tell us?’ Ken asked. He’s good at keeping me directed. Maybe he won’t answer the question but he can get me to answer it in ways I wouldn’t have thought of on my own.
‘Not necessarily that The Voice had anything to do with the auction,’ I said, speaking at least partially to myself. I’m not great at slicing bread. Let’s just say that I have a problem with consistent thickness. You get what you get. It’s bread. ‘I’m not really sure The Voice knew the names Mom and Dad were using. We’re not even sure they’re still using those names, but Dr Mansoor was still calling them Brad and Olivia as we can see by his notes about their flights to New York.’
‘That’s what it doesn’t tell us,’ Ken pointed out. ‘What does it tell us?’
I had sliced the whole bread. Would we eat the whole bread in one sitting? Maybe; Ken eats like a beluga whale and maybe Aunt Margie would be home to eat a little later. ‘Is there anything else you need sliced?’ I asked.
‘Stop deflecting. What does it tell us that both of our problems seem to involve at least one of our parents?’ Ken was carefully stirring the food in the pan, making sure nothing was going to burn. He was sprinkling various things over the pan.
I wasn’t getting off the hook. ‘That the same people are behind both of them? That doesn’t seem possible.’
‘Maybe, but a lot of things don’t seem possible. Like us. Let’s pretend for a minute that it was possible and worry about the explanation later. How would that work? What does it tell us?’ I honestly didn’t think Ken had a particular answer in mind. He wanted to see what he could get out of me.
I drew a line from one side of the list, where I’d written Dad’s name on uke sale to the side where I’d written The Voice looking for Mom & Dad. Underneath the line I wrote message?
‘Maybe it tells us The Voice was at the auction,’ I said.
Ken nodded as if he’d completely been expecting that response, and if he wasn’t already dishing out his creation over microwaved rice, I would have called him on it. But now I was hungry.
‘There’s one other possibility,’ he said. ‘I think you’re right about that and you should get on the phone to your buddy with the billions. But I think there’s something that goes with it.’
I sat down at the table after getting a water bottle for me and a beer for my still-really-a-frat-boy brother. ‘What goes with it?’ I asked.
Ken sat down across the table from me. ‘Maybe we’re approaching this meeting tonight the wrong way.’
I dug in and it was really good, if simple. I don’t mind simple when it’s really good. Once I’d cleared my mouth I asked, ‘How do you figure?’
‘Maybe Elroy isn’t working for The Voice,’ Ken said. ‘Maybe The Voice is working for Elroy.’
THIRTY-TWO
It was summer, so the sun wasn’t quite down yet even at seven-fifty. I could hear Ken in my earphones saying, ‘Do you see them yet?’
I’d called him on my cell and then pretended I was listening to music. Whenever anyone walked by I started softly singing ‘Godawful Things’ by Lake Street Dive and that enhanced the illusion. I thought. Very quietly I said to him, ‘Not yet. You’ll hear when they show up, so stop asking me questions.’
I was standing near the west side of the Washington Square Park arch, the one that you’ve seen in all the movies and that was, decades ago, the center of the drug trade in New York City. Now drugs are spread around a little better and the park has become a tourist attraction for some and a refuge for others. One man used to come here with a portable piano and let you lie underneath it while he played a song you requested. It’s a living. Or maybe not.
Ken was stationed somewhere nearby but I didn’t know exactly where. Ken thought that was best because he was in his special commando mode and no, that doesn’t mean he was without undergarments. At least, not that he told me, which was wise. I suppose he felt that under the duress of torture it would be wise for me not to know his exact location. That’s how much confidence he had in me, and I had reminded him that I’d broken one wrist and caused a possible concussion only this very afternoon.
I was watching a man carrying some balloons because that seemed like the sort of thing an evil henchman would do for cover, but he walked right through the arch and made a right turn. I reminded myself to stop thinking I was in a spy movie.
The air was thick with humidity and very hot. Usually that doesn’t bother me much but tonight it was especially noticeable, probably because I needed a charge. Everything is heightened when my batteries are running low.
I checked my phone and sure enough at eight p.m. exactly my afternoon assailant who had set up the meeting turned the corner on West 4th Street on to University Place. He was with two other men, neither of whom was the one who had held the syringe this afternoon and therefore had taken the brunt of the punishment. That’d teach him to walk around with sedatives to force on women, the perv.
Neither of his companions was wearing a dark trench coat, which made sense when the temperature was 97 Fahrenheit. It was a bit disappointing, though. I thought I could lay all my demons to rest at once, but there would still be at least one of them out there when this dizzy scenario was played out.
As the three men approached me I took the buds out of my ears and pushed them into my left hip pocket. My phone was hanging on my belt so Ken would be able to hear the conversation, but turned toward me so the three guys would not be able to see it was on a call and not a music app.
‘Where’s your buddy from this afternoon?’ I asked the guy I knew. ‘Is his arm still smarting just a bit?’
He smiled but it was more like a grimace. ‘He sends his regards. Sorry he couldn’t make it.’
‘I’ll bet. Who are your new friends?’ I emphasized the s for Ken’s benefit.
The two newcomers to our melodrama were a thin, small man with a very small mouth who always appeared to be saying, ‘Oh,’ and a taller one, muscular and cold-looking. Tonight cold wasn’t such a bad thing, but he wasn’t making it look good. I turned toward the smaller one. ‘You must be Elroy,’ I said.
‘Actually, that’s me,’ said the taller man, whom I had mentally named Brutus. ‘You called me here tonight, Miss Stein. What exactly is it you want from me? It’s a hot night and I’d prefer to be indoors somewhere.’
‘Well, you sent my two pals from this afternoon to drug and abduct me,’ I answered. ‘I’d really like to know why.’
While his smaller companion continued to look like he was constantly breathing in but never breathing out, Elroy let out a sigh. ‘Really? That’s it?’
But I had noticed something about their posture. ‘No. That’s not it,’ I said. ‘Right now I want to see everybody’s hands.’
They stared at me.
‘Out of your pockets. Now. I’m not kidding.’ Anybody carrying a waiting syringe wasn’t going to sneak up on me this time.
Elroy, naturally, had not bothered to keep his hands in his pockets; they were out where I could see them. He was the brains of the outfit. Any dirty work would be carried out by his minions.
I saw them each look at him and he nodded, although somewhat reluctantly. I guessed that drugging me up and ‘helping’ me out of the park had been next on the agenda. The two other men brought out their hands and showed them to me as if I were inspecting to see if they’d cleaned their fingernails.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Let’s keep them that way. So. Who told you to kidnap me and why?’ I turned my attention back to Elroy but made sure my peripheral vision wasn’t letting me down. Elroy’s respiration remained steady.
‘I think you misinterpreted our intentions,’ he said.
‘Do you?’ I folded my arms so they’d be higher up on my body if I had to hit people, which was not off the agenda just yet. ‘Tell me. After I’d been sedated and abducted once on the streets and then approached by your pal here and his pal, who I assume had to visit the emergency room today, with a syringe in their possession, what should I have assumed they wanted? How come your two friends didn’t want to take their hands out of their pockets? It’s certainly not because it’s so chilly tonight. So what?’
I wondered how close Ken had come. I didn’t see him in front of me and wasn’t about to give away our strategy by looking around for him. But I got the feeling this would not end as a quiet conversation. While I certainly could have handled all three of these guys if I had to, I hoped I’d have some help if/when the time came. Instead I was watching a young woman on rollerblades circling around virtually everyone in the park to the amusement of some and the annoyance of others. Everybody hadn’t had the same day.
‘OK,’ Elroy said. ‘We were hired to do a job. We tried to do it and you stopped us. Good for you. So what exactly do you want from me right now?’
‘The name of the person who hired you.’ That seemed simple enough.
Elroy laughed lightly. ‘You can’t really expect me to tell you that,’ he said. ‘I have a reputation in some areas, and you don’t get to keep it if you run around telling everybody who hires you for things that aren’t … typical.’
I let out a slightly theatrical groan. ‘And on the other hand, I could easily beat the crap out of all three of you and then turn you in to the cops. That would be slightly worse for that cherished reputation, wouldn’t it?’
It was Elroy’s turn to fold his arms across his chest. He smiled sourly. ‘Why didn’t you?’ he asked.
‘Why didn’t I what?’ The woman on the rollerblades was heading my way.
‘Why didn’t you call the police? By your own admission you were drugged and kidnapped. Now, I don’t know anything about that incident, you understand, but I’ll take you at your word.’
‘You can’t expect me to believe—’
He held up a hand to stop me. ‘Given that it happened, why exactly didn’t you report that incident to the police?’
I definitely wasn’t going to give him an honest answer to that one: Yeah, it’s because my brother and I are manufactured human beings and we don’t want the authorities to know about us. That wasn’t going to happen. ‘What makes you think I didn’t?’ I asked. Ball back in Elroy’s court. The guy with the ‘o’ mouth inched a little toward my left side. I took a step to show him I’d seen the movement and he stopped.
‘I have certain connections in this city,’ Elroy answered. ‘If that happened and there was a police investigation, I’d hear about it.’
‘What, do they put out an Elroy signal from the roof of City Hall whenever you’re needed?’ Now the guy on the right was moving toward me in tiny increments. ‘Don’t,’ I told him aloud. He held up a palm and stopped moving. I took a step back to even out the distance between us.
‘So why didn’t you call the police?’ he repeated.
‘Who hired you to take me?’ I repeated.
‘Fine.’ Elroy spread his hands in a mock gesture of capitulation. ‘I was hired by a corporation. My contact, who has a contact who knows the original client, is a person I know only by the name Myra.’
‘Ooh, a girl,’ I cooed sarcastically. ‘How equal-opportunity of you. How do I find this Myra? Because I’m tired of being followed all over New York and not knowing who’s doing the following or why.’
The woman on the rollerblades was getting awfully close, and fast. As she zoomed toward me I instinctively looked at her right hand.
It was holding a syringe with an exposed needle.
This wasn’t 1976 and it wasn’t that kind of park anymore but I didn’t have time to think about that because just as she got to me she held it out toward my right hip. My guess was she planned to hit me with the needle and then one of the men would push the plunger to give me the sedative because she was skating way too fast.
At the same time the two men on either side of Elroy moved toward me, probably to grab my arms while the assault was being made. I had no time.
I moved my hip out of the way at the same moment that I could grab the skating woman’s shoulders. I couldn’t get a hand on her wrist because I needed both of my hands to lift her. That meant I wasn’t able to twist the syringe out of her hand. It was important to stay clear of it.
The best way to avoid being injected was to create distance between myself and the person holding the needle, and I felt the best way to do that was to throw her, hard, into the face of the man on my right. He got caught in the mouth with a rollerblade, which I would have found amusing if I’d had time. It fell off and he was stuck with it between his teeth. What was left of them.
The syringe did not fall from her hand, though. She was good.
While she and the guy with the mouthful of rollerblade (and whatever it had skated over) were disentangling themselves I pivoted to the left to confront the guy with the O for a mouth. But I didn’t have to.
