This Girl Who Was A Ghost, page 10
part #2 of Near Future Series
“Sam!”
“He’s always threatening us. See how he likes it.”
“He’s protecting his sisters and mother,” Cindy said, striding between the two of them. “How would you like it if someone threatened the twins?”
Sammy turned her back to Cindy. How could she say that?
“It breaks heart to do this to you, Cindy. You are smart and sweet, not like some people.”
Sammy did a silent mimic of him.
“Sam is helping him with a murder investigation, right, Sam?”
“Yeah,” Sammy said. “I had something he needed.”
“What? Another dead body?”
Sammy spun around, reaching out to him as if she had the tendril fingers to strangle him.
Igor stared at her. “What are you doing?”
Sammy dropped her arm. “Dreaming.”
“We’re waiting for Maria Santiago to do a show that’ll clear us,” Cindy said.
“Why would she do this?”
“Because she wants to sell a thousand more housecleaning bots to clean up the zone.”
“Sounds like bullshit.”
Cindy shook her head. “She interviewed Sam, the twins, and even Mark.”
Igor studied Sammy. “If she talked to you, prepare for many days in jail.”
“If she talked to you, prepare to spend the rest of your life in Siberia.”
“You say much but know little.”
Sammy imitated him with a sneer.
Igor swatted the air, turning his back to Sammy. “Waste of time talking to stupid girl.”
“We just need more time, Igor,” Cindy said. “I’m sure it’ll be straightened out.”
“For you, I give time.” He glanced back at Sammy with a curled upper lip, then stormed out.
Sammy followed him, slamming the door. “He can go back to Siberia and rub his nuts together to keep warm.”
Cindy stared at her, eyebrows raised.
“He’s the one who barged in here. ‘You must leave now,’” Sammy said in her best imitation.
Cindy grinned, slinking onto the sofa. “Think we missed the interview part?”
“The only interview she had was between Peppermint and Butterscotch.”
“I’ve never heard of Butterscotch.”
Sammy smirked. “He’s an up-and-comer.”
A commercial for the Donut Factory ended with a kid wiping the chocolate cream from his lips. A news story about a parade on Fifth droned on.
Cindy sighed. “We missed it.”
Maria, the double-faced liar, had no intention of running that interview. It probably made her look bad.
Cindy dropped back and leaned on the armrest. “Wonder where Peppermint is?”
Sammy shrugged, watching the parade. She used to love parades. Ten bracelets would be a slow day. They’d eat real good that night.
The next story was about a famous violinist who had an original Stradivarius, worth over four million bucks. He was doing a recital with a group of underprivileged kids on Sunday at the Midtown Center.
Four million? That’d be a heist worth doing, and she wouldn’t have to depend on cheap Johnny paying her.
Cindy grinned, watching Sammy stare at a guy in a tux playing a violin. “Are you going for a tryout?”
“For four million, I’ll even sing a song.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
________________________________________
Sammy heaved open the heavy doors to the concert hall and slipped inside. The door closed slowly behind her, belying its girth. Her feet sank into the thick carpet with its dark paisley design and tan border. The lobby was about fifteen feet wide and maybe thirty feet long, before curving around a wall of beige with white figure etchings. The ceilings vaulted to a height she could only guess, making her feel as if she should kneel and say a prayer. She expected a slew of guards to come rushing and tackle her to the floor.
Someone walked toward her from the other end of the lobby. She ducked into an alcove with a door on her left and another straight ahead. She took the door on the left, entering a decent-sized room with a handful of chairs scattered in the middle. On the other side of the room was another door.
“Place loves doors.”
The door led to a small stairway, then out to a huge stage at least seventy feet from end to end. It would’ve been embarrassing if they had a show going. Sammy tiptoed across the stage, checking to see if anyone was in the seats, which ran back at least a hundred and fifty feet, rising up as if perched on a low, sloping hill. Balcony seats jutted out along the sides, covered in a reddish-brown wood paneling.
The door on the other side led to a ramp that zigzagged out to another door. She was down among the seats now, looking up at the stage. She couldn’t take the violin while he was playing. Maybe in that room before going onto the stage, or even after he was finished.
Sammy walked up the steps along the side and out the door in the back.
“Excuse me?” It was a rich old lady with shoulder-length gray hair, a tailored dark dress down to the knees, and a string of pearls roping her neck. She had enough makeup to cover up more sins than a whorehouse on a busy Saturday night.
Sammy glanced behind the lady, expecting an army of guards, but she was alone. “Is this where they’re playing tomorrow?” She thought it was best not to mention the violin.
“Are you with the New Hope program?”
Was that the name of it? “Is it in this building?”
The lady leaned back, pointing behind her. “It’s in meeting room one. Don’t forget to take your badge on the table.”
“Don’t want to forget that.”
“Hurry. They’ve started already.”
Sammy nodded and jogged around to where she’d pointed. She grabbed the ID badge off the round wooden table and pinned it on. About a dozen kids sat in the room in three rows with violin cases at their feet. She was about to back out when the lady in front waved her in.
“I think I’m in the wrong room.”
“You’re in the right room, Amanda.”
Sammy looked down. She’d forgotten about the stupid badge.
“Where’s your violin?”
“Must’ve forgotten it.”
The lady gnawed her lip. “You’ll miss out on the free strings and tune-up.”
“I can go back and get it.”
She shook her head. “You’ll miss out on the orientation. I know what we can do. If you can come early tomorrow, I’ll get someone to look at your violin before the rehearsals. You’ll want to sound your best for Paolo Pumpernic.”
“He’ll be here tomorrow?”
The lady nodded. “We’re so lucky to have him.”
“You don’t know how much I want to meet him.” …and the four million bucks he carries.
The lady smiled and steered her toward the seats. Sammy grabbed a seat in the back. The kids were mostly twelve or thirteen, looking at her as if she had the octopus hands.
The lady droned on about a hundred things they had to do and have. Damn! She needed a dress and shoes. Even if she blended, she couldn’t hide a violin too easily, which meant she’d have to do some running, never easy in a dress and shoes. The lady said they’d meet Paolo Pumpernic in Dressing before their recital.
Sammy figured that was the room by the side of the stage. “Is he going to have the Stradivarius when we see him?”
“Why? Are you going to borrow it?” one kid quipped.
Just about everybody laughed.
“Funny,” Sammy said. “I bet you’ll get more laughs when you start playing.”
The kid turned red as the room let out a collective low hush.
The lady swallowed with a slight flush to the cheeks. “Paolo will be playing the Stradivarius at tomorrow night’s concert, so you’ll definitely see it and, more importantly, hear it.”
The only thing Sammy wanted to hear was her footsteps leaving this place with the four million bucks tucked under her arm.
The lady with the shiny silver hair ducked in. “Clara, you’re set up in Music Room Two.”
Clara nodded. “Okay, follow me for new strings and tune-ups.”
They all got up and marched out the door, banging violin cases as they went. The room was steps away from where Sammy met the gray-haired lady.
Clara stood by the door as the kids filed past her. “Do you live nearby, Amanda?”
“Why?”
“If you can get back here within the hour with your violin, Mr. Bellamy can help you tune it.”
An older guy stood by a table on the other side of the room. Sammy nodded. “I can give it a try.”
“Hope to see you soon.” Clara ducked into the room, dodging flipped-open violin cases.
Sammy was in no rush to have a violin restrung and tuned. They may ask her to play it. What she really needed was a plan. All she knew was that the violin would be here tomorrow night and played by Paolo. She couldn’t steal it while he was playing. That’d be downright rude. Even if she got it, she couldn’t just walk out, holding the violin by the neck and saying, “Stradivarius violin coming through.”
Wait. She wouldn’t have to hold it. The badge would get her in with the violin case, and she could put the four million…the violin into the case without anyone being the wiser. Better yet, bring a violin and just swap the two.
Sammy spun. “There’re enough doors and rooms in this place to have stacks of violins. They wouldn’t even miss it.”
She jogged down a hallway across from the tuning room. Bathrooms and a kitchen was all she saw. Out past the kitchen was a triangular room with stacked chairs and tables. She rushed past the tuning room through double doors, into a hallway with a lot more rooms. “They got to be in here.”
Sammy tried the door on the left. Locked. Same for the next one. A light from the door two down bathed the hallway. She trotted to the room.
A woman with blonde hair in a bun looked up at Sammy from her desk. She had a slight sneer. “Can I help you?” It sounded more like an accusation.
Were these offices? “I’m looking for the bathroom.”
“We have no bathing facilities in the building,” she said, gazing at Sammy head to foot as if she needed a good scrubbing. “There are restrooms out the doors and to your left.”
Sammy stomped away. She stopped and turned, wanting to spit in the woman’s face and tell her she could bathe with that.
“Who was that?” It was a guy’s voice, somebody in the room with her.
“The riffraff.”
“From the New Hope program?”
“It should be called the Hopeless program if you ask me.”
Sammy’s cheeks burned as she listened to them snicker. She took another step, then froze. If she made a scene, she could forget about the four million. “Why waste my breath on those losers anyway?” She turned and walked out, reminding herself to focus on the violin. Across the lobby was the weird-shaped storeroom.
“What happened?”
Sammy turned back. It was Clara standing in the tuning-room doorway. “I couldn’t get a transporter.”
Clara dipped her head, pursing her lips in disappointment. Her expressions always seemed a little over the top as if she were used to dealing with five-year-olds. “If you want, you can come in and watch.”
Sammy shook her head. “I’ll get the bus.”
“Are you sure?”
Sammy nodded, wondering if Clara did mime acts in the park on weekends.
In a hallway across the lobby from the bathrooms…restrooms, was another room with chairs in a circle and a stand in the middle. The room across from that had long racks of clothes against the far wall with tables and stacked chairs in front. “They love their chairs and tables.”
Sammy ducked into the room and closed the door. The silver-haired lady was walking her way. The only room she didn’t check was the other meeting room. She doubted they’d keep the violins in there. Unless they were stored in the back of the offices, but Sammy would have to get past the blonde-bunned bitch. Probably hired her as a watchdog. Sammy grinned, picturing her as a bulldog with a blonde bun.
She held her hand up, blending into the dark room. She hadn’t done that since shedding her fingers and wondered why she’d waited till now. Sammy stripped and fetched her lockpicks from her coat pocket, then slipped out and raced toward the double doors leading to the offices. Clara stood by the tuning-room door, practicing her mime routine as violin notes played and stopped.
Sammy picked the lock for the first door. It took her a minute to get the feel for the locking pins. It was an office and the same for the next room. She walked past the bulldog, who looked up momentarily from her desk. Must have bulldog ears too.
Sammy thought of knocking something off her desk but moved on. The door at the end of the hallway looked promising, but it was just a bigger office. Where did they keep all of the musical instruments?
“I’ll try one more,” Sammy said, picking the lock on the door to her left. “Damn, another stupid office.” She closed the door with a bang, alerting the bulldog.
“Hello?” The bulldog stood by her doorway, peering down the hallway.
A big, bulbous guy stepped behind her. “Cleaning crew?”
“In the dark?”
“I’ll call security.”
The bulldog gazed back at him. “There’s no security here today.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re only here for events, Paxton.”
“What do you call the New Hope program?”
She marched down the hallway toward Sammy. “A disaster.”
Sammy dodged the lady’s swinging arms.
The bulldog opened the door to the big office and flicked on the light. “Aren’t these offices supposed to be locked?”
Paxton ventured a few steps away from his office door. “They are when we have events.”
She turned the light off and closed the door.
“Aren’t you going to lock it?”
“I’m not locking Tate’s door,” the bulldog said, jiggling the locked door on the right. “Suppose she left her keys inside?”
“Good point.”
“Believe me; you don’t want Tate pissed at you.” She opened the door on the left. “This one’s opened too.” She turned on the light.
Sammy stepped behind her to avoid being knocked over.
A gold bracelet slid out from under one of the bulldog’s long sleeves, catching the light from the room.
Sammy smiled. There was more than one way to get a violin.
The bulldog flicked off the lights and closed the door.
Sammy figured it would be better to take the bracelet in the darkened hallway, but how? The bulldog wasn’t exactly the type to stand still.
Paxton turned and waddled back to the office and the bulldog followed. Sammy raced up to the bulldog and tripped her, sending her crashing into Paxton and knocking them both down. Paxton reached for the wall, which caused him to twist and spiral down on top of the bulldog.
The bulldog pounded on his butt to free herself. “You’re on top of me, Paxton.”
“I know, Carmela. You knocked me down.”
“I was tripped.”
Sammy reached down and unclasped the bracelet.
The bulldog dug her hand into Paxton’s back. “Can you roll toward the wall so I can slip out from under you?”
Paxton rocked, but he was pinned between the bulldog and the wall.
Sammy snatched up the bracelet and headed out the door to find a violin.
Chapter Twenty-Four
________________________________________
Arnie sat behind the counter at the back of the pawn shop, which looked even dumpier than she remembered. He gazed up from his tablet. “I thought you might’ve come up short in a knife fight.”
Sammy leaned on the counter across from him. “Yeah, the last time I was here was for the knife.”
“Didn’t have to use it?”
“Didn’t get a chance, really,” Sammy said, dwelling on the night she tangled with Tatiana. “The shoe worked better.”
“Shoe?”
“You’d be surprised what a big heavy shoe can do.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Sammy pulled out the bulldog’s bracelet. “I need a violin with a case.” She pushed the bracelet across the counter. “Will this cover it?”
Arnie picked up the bracelet and examined it. “From knives to violins, things are looking up.”
“I have something big planned.”
He dropped the bracelet on the scale. “Something to do with a violin?”
Sammy nodded. “Do you know anything about Stradivarius?”
“He’s been dead for a few hundred years.”
“Maybe I’m saying it wrong. It’s a type of violin.”
Arnie grinned. “I’ve heard of them. Can’t say that anyone has ever walked in here with one, not even an imitation.”
“They got imitations?”
“Sure.” He walked around the counter. “The good ones are worth decent money.”
“Not four million, though?”
“That’d be the real McCoy.”
“McCoy? Is that a type of violin too?”
Arnie stopped by the section on the wall where the violins hung. “You seem a little jittery.”
“It’s my first big heist.” She rubbed her hands together, getting the chill out of them. “If I just had more time.”
“Then take more time and get it right.”
“It’s gone after tomorrow night.”
“That puts a crimp in things.”
“There are so many things I don’t know. I know it’ll be in this building tomorrow night, but I don’t know where or what kind of security they’ll have.”
“If you want to graduate to the higher-end merchandise, you’ll need more time to prepare.”
“I just found out this afternoon, and he’s leaving tomorrow night. That doesn’t give me a lot of time.”
Arnie chuckled. “You had a whole afternoon to prepare?”
“I didn’t do any planning until I went there. Don’t know anything about this music stuff.”
