This Girl Who Was A Ghost, page 17
part #2 of Near Future Series
Rhino set the pot down on the table. “We’re locked and loaded.” He patted his side, rattling something with his beefy hand.
Johnny smirked, gazing at Sammy. “If you need target practice, I got a few ideas.”
“Thinking rats, Johnny?” Sammy asked.
“A little bigger, gnome-like.” He grinned and waltzed out.
Sammy raised her arm, hoping the fingers would shoot out so she could catch up and strangle him. She spun around to Leo. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
Leo smiled. “I’ll make the schedule.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
________________________________________
Sammy leaned over the counter, facing into the kitchen. She took a sip from the pineapple juice.
Cindy stood in the middle of the kitchen. “Feel like pancakes?”
“Do we have any eggs?”
Cindy stuck her head in the refrigerator. “Only one.”
“I bet two-eggs-every-morning guy has a stash.”
Cindy joined her by the other side of the counter. “Did Leo say anything?”
“What would he say?”
“It seemed like he talked to you more than me, and I was with him the whole day.”
“Whatever he says I just nod my head.”
“He’s always sending me out, like I’m in his way.”
“It’s one day, Cindy. It’ll take time to get comfortable.”
Cindy dropped her head into her hand. “I guess.”
The phone rang, and Cindy sprinted for it. “You think it’s Leo?”
“He’d use a coded wall tap if he wanted you.”
Cindy picked up the phone. “It’s Maria.”
“What does she want?”
Cindy gushed over the phone, giggling at something Maria said, probably a makeup joke. “I’m sure she understands.” Cindy glanced at Sammy. “Yeah, she’s right here.” She offered Sammy the phone. “She wants to talk to you. Feels bad about what happened last night.”
Sammy rolled her eyes.
“Come on, Sam. Don’t be that way.”
Sammy took the phone. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry about last night. It was a real shit show. Didn’t get free until late.”
“Yeah, a real shame.”
“Did you have breakfast yet?”
“No.”
“I’ll get donuts. What kind of donuts do you like?”
“Don’t like any kind.”
“What do you like?”
“To be left alone.”
Cindy gave her a disapproving glare.
Sammy sighed. “All right, eggs then.”
“Okay, how do you like your eggs?”
“In a carton, eighteen if you can find that size, a slab of bacon, and sausage links.” Sammy cupped the phone. “Do we have cheese?”
“I don’t think so.”
“And some cheese, grated if you can find it.”
“Am I doing your weekly shopping?”
“Yeah.”
“You really are a hard-ass, you know.”
“I know.”
A light chuckle peppered Sammy’s ear. “Are you going to make coffee, or should I bring my own?”
“If you want it, you’ll have to bring it.”
“See you in a few minutes.”
●●●
Maria handed Sammy the bag of groceries by the door. “There’s two dozen in there. Couldn’t find the eighteen-carton.”
Sammy spotted the two cartons. “I guess you can stay then.”
“How do you like your eggs?” Maria asked. “Hard-boiled?”
“The cheese should have clued you in that we’re having omelettes.”
Maria peeled off her coffee lid and tapped Sammy’s butt with her foot. “Smart-ass.”
Cindy stepped in behind Maria by the door. “Igor wanted to know who you were. I told him. Hope that’s okay.”
“The greasy-haired guy?”
Cindy nodded. “He’s like the building superintendent.”
Sammy pulled out the top carton of eggs. “He’s like nothing.”
Cindy raced to close the door. “He’ll hear you, Sam.”
“Give me a megaphone, and I’ll make sure he does.”
“They don’t get along too well,” Cindy said.
Maria took a sip from the coffee. “I know the feeling.”
“Once you get to know her, she’ll give you her right arm.”
Sammy set aside six eggs for the omelettes. “Left arm, Cindy, only the left arm.”
“Oh, Sam, it’s just a saying.”
Maria strolled in by the counter. “This place isn’t bad. Fix up a few cracks and do a new paint job, and you’ll have a real nice place.”
“We’re waiting for the superintendent’s calendar to free up.”
“I said he was like a superintendent.” Cindy gazed at the eggs and bacon. “He hasn’t tried to throw us out since the cop came here.”
“Because he can’t.”
Maria rested the coffee on the counter. “Was that the time Russo was here?”
Sammy nodded. “Russo’s mellowed since then.”
“You two seemed to have become fast friends.”
“Who said? Did he say that?”
Maria shook her head. “I’m just saying what I saw.”
“I’m not friends with a cop.” Sammy peeled off a strip of bacon. “I found something that might put the creep away. It’s better than trash-talking while some girl lies dead, not even cold yet.”
Maria flashed her palms in surrender. “Sorry.”
Sammy laid the strips of bacon onto the pan, then whisked the eggs, mixing in the softened butter. She flipped the bacon. It sizzled and spattered.
Maria took a sip from her coffee. “Smells good.”
Cindy leaned over the counter, nose up in the air. “Love the smell of bacon.”
“I spoke to Jack about the show. He said he might be interested if we can keep the budget low.”
Sammy huffed, forking the bacon onto a plate.
“What?”
“Sounds like he’s cheap,” Sammy said, glancing at Cindy. “I’ve worked with enough of those.”
“These projects are very risky, Sam. The more money he has to put out, the riskier it is.”
“Take the risk or don’t take it, but if you want me, you pay me.” Sammy poured in the egg mix and sprinkled cheese over it.
“How much do you want?”
“A million.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“I can be very helpful for a million bucks.”
“Can you be helpful enough for a hundred?”
Sammy flipped the omelette. “Won’t even answer the door for that.”
“You’re going to be a hard-ass on this too.”
Sammy slid the omelette onto a plate. “One strip or two?”
“How much will that cost me?”
“I’m feeling generous with the bacon.”
“Two strips then.”
Sammy slid the plate on the counter toward Maria and filled the pan with egg mix. She held the bag of cheese up to Cindy. “Extra cheese?”
Cindy nodded.
Sammy dumped a handful of cheese onto the omelette.
Maria swallowed a bite of the omelette. “Give me some real numbers instead of the bullshit million dollars.”
“I bet if I talked to Dell, she could give me some real good numbers.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“She seemed like a real go-getter. She’d appreciate someone with my abilities. I seem to have this sixth sense when trouble is brewing.”
Maria speared the bacon. “You have a sixth sense for other things too.”
Sammy flipped the omelette and slid it onto the plate. She dropped two strips of bacon and handed it to Cindy.
Cindy pulled the plate toward her. “It might be better if we talk about this after we eat.”
Sammy emptied the rest of the egg mix into the pan and layered on the cheese. “Omelettes okay?”
“Good, Sam,” Cindy said, chomping on a piece of bacon.
“Maria?”
“I’m nursing a little indigestion.”
“Hope it was nothing I said.”
Maria looked up from her plate. “Smart-ass.”
“Better than a dumb ass.”
Cindy cut through the strands of cheese. “Calling someone an ass isn’t very nice.”
“Forgot my manners along with the trunk of money,” Maria said.
Sammy drove the fork into the omelette. “Next time don’t forget the trunk.”
●●●
Maria handed Sammy the phone. It was Jack. He introduced himself, being real cordial and all, and reminded her how they met, just in case she had a spell of amnesia.
“Sam, the money you’re asking is more in line with a project developer as opposed to someone who’s simply supplying information.”
“Information that nobody else has.”
“We’re willing to pay you a fair amount, but it won’t come anywhere near to the figure that Maria mentioned. Was it really two thousand dollars?” He sounded real smug when he said it.
“That’s right. Others will pay that, maybe more.”
“No one will pay you that, Sam.”
“I guess I’ll find out then.”
“Pitting agencies against each other is generally considered bad form and wears thin quickly.”
The smug bastard was now lecturing her. “It’s better to wear thin than be a sucker.”
“Sam, you’re playing the short-term game here. Maria thinks you have potential in this business and is willing to mentor you.”
“I’ve seen this business up close, and I want nothing to do with it. If you want the information, you pay me. That’s all I want from you.”
There was a long, drawn silence. “Okay, let me speak to Maria.”
Sammy handed Maria the phone and walked away.
Cindy was listening by the counter. “Didn’t go well?”
“Typical rich bastard. He wipes his ass with old bills but wouldn’t throw me a few coins.”
Cindy collected the plates on the counter. “Two thousand is more than a few coins, Sam.”
“They were going to ride me like a mule, feeding me stale biscuits, then tell me it didn’t work out and kick me to the curb. Meanwhile, they make a mint.”
“Maria doesn’t seem like that type.”
“You should’ve seen them at that murder scene. It was like a rat-feeding frenzy.”
Cindy dropped the plates into the sink. “I wouldn’t mind working with Maria. You meet all kinds of interesting people.”
“Yeah, dead people and some you wished were dead.”
Cindy gave her one of those disapproving glances.
Maria strolled in, biting her lower lip. “How about five hundred?”
Sammy said nothing, squirting soap on the dishes.
“There’s more.”
Sammy turned, still holding the squeeze bottle.
“This is just for the first episode and there will be a percentage. You could make more than two thousand, depending on the initial sale and the residuals.”
“So you’re guaranteeing five hundred no matter what, and if it’s any good, I’ll get more.”
“If you have some skin in the game, you’ll be incentivized to make it better.”
Sammy put the squeeze bottle on the counter. “I don’t know.”
“That sounds fair, Sam,” Cindy said.
“Jack’s going to be okay with this?”
Maria ran her finger along the edge of the counter. “Jack’s out. The five hundred is coming out of my pocket.”
“Nice pockets.”
Cindy stepped to the counter. “You’re putting up your own money with this?”
Maria nodded. “Take the risk or don’t take it. It’s my career. I’m taking the risk.”
Cindy spun to Sammy. “You have to help her, Sam.”
“She’s got plenty of money.”
“I’ll just have to dip into my rainy-day fund.”
Sammy leaned against the front of the sink. Would the five hundred really stretch her? She did have a little bit of that lost-kid look. “Why is Jack out?”
“He said it was too much of a risk.”
“What’s five hundred to him? He’d have to wipe his ass with real toilet paper for a week?”
“It wasn’t just the money.”
“It was me, wasn’t it?”
“I have faith in you, Sam, and I’m putting up my own money to prove it.”
“Okay, I’ll do it just to prove that asshole wrong.”
Maria nodded. “Let’s prove all the assholes wrong.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
________________________________________
The car rolled to a stop just outside the Pleasure Palace. Maria lowered her window. “Is this the place?”
Sammy nodded. “The one and only.”
Maria drove to the end of the block by an empty lot.
“We’re not going in?”
“If we go in with Cass and start asking questions, we’ll get tossed out.”
If Johnny were the tossing-out type, he would’ve had one of his apes toss her out long ago. “What are we going to do?”
“Trace Ursula Gavrilenko’s last steps.”
“Last” felt heavy like a foot on her chest.
“Hopefully something interesting will show up.”
They had traced the steps of the first two incidents: one by the apartment and the other by the park. The highlight of the day was the two drunks singing a duet of “Camptown Races” in the park. “Maybe we’ll hear a quartet.”
Maria grinned. “It’s still early.”
Sammy hadn’t seen as much as a coin from Maria and was having doubts they’d be able to sell any of the footage.
Cass rolled out of the back seat and followed them the three blocks up from Sixth Avenue and across, then stopped where Ursula Gavrilenko had taken her last breath. It was still roped off, a dark stain where the body had lain.
They stood in silence. Cass rolled up to the rope, lens clicking in for a close-up.
Maria nodded for them to go. They stopped by where the mask and ripped cloth were found. A yellow police tape hung on the fence, still dusted with white powder.
Sammy couldn’t remember which picket had the cloth. Did it matter? “The cloth was stuck on the tip of one of these bars, and the mask was thrown into the bushes.” She pointed to where she thought the mask had been, but nothing looked quite the same in the daylight.
“What did the cloth look like?”
“It was dark and had no pattern I could see. When Russo shone the light on it, it looked thinner than I thought and had a satin finish.”
Maria crinkled her brow. “A shirt?”
“Could be,” Sammy said, trying to imagine a shirt like that. “I thought it was the lining of a suit jacket.”
Maria nodded. “That fits better.”
“Suit jackets are common at the Pleasure Palace.”
“We know he ran into his first victim. He could’ve been coming the other way when he spotted Ursula.”
Sammy thought about him at the park. “I don’t think that was it.”
“We know what he did before. These types generally follow a pattern.”
“Maybe his pattern was broken when the park crowd turned on him.”
“So he couldn’t wait around for his next victim.”
“I’m guessing that stupid play was going on too long, and he was getting antsy. He tried to get this lady to go with him, but she told him to go screw himself.”
“That changes things, doesn’t it?”
Sammy nodded. “That means if his pattern is to wait around, he’d be at the club waiting for somebody to leave.”
“Ursula Gavrilenko just happened to leave at the wrong time.”
Sammy’s chest tightened. It could’ve been Cindy leaving that night.
“This gives us something to work with now.”
Something to worry about too. Sammy looked back to where the girl was killed and figured it was almost three-quarters of the way down the block. “Why would he come back this way instead of keep going on to Seventh?”
Maria shrugged. “Got his jollies and went home.”
“He also backtracked at the park. I wondered why he would go back that way, especially since he saw me chasing him.”
“You’re not exactly imposing, Sam.”
She’d had the long tentacle fingers then. “I had a…a big stick.”
“So he figured you gave up.”
“On the first murder, I could see him going back to Fifth since it was close by, and he could mix into the crowds or hop on a bus.”
“But it’s not as busy around here.”
“Yeah, but if you murder somebody, you don’t want to be found walking down the long end of the block.” Sammy turned to look down. “If he took Seventh Avenue, he’d be out of sight in no time.”
“So why do you think he went that way?”
“He had a car waiting for him.”
“Are you talking transporter or his own car?”
“Definitely his own car, or he would’ve gone to Seventh for a transporter.”
“That’s assuming he’s thinking straight,” Maria said.
“He may be a psycho, but it doesn’t mean he’s stupid. Tatiana was as psycho as they came, but she was no dummy.”
“Okay, if we assume that he was waiting for her at the club and followed or even left with her, I’m sure he wasn’t wearing a mask there.”
“Yeah, they usually frown on things like that.”
“The whole mask thing is still confusing to me.”
“He puts it on when he’s ready to make his move in case there are any witnesses. I saw him twice, and I couldn’t identify him.”
“But why would he throw the mask away?”
“He’s got his own car so you know he’s rich. I bet he has a chauffeur and blows his nose into twenties.”
Maria stared at her.
“What?”
“That’s a discussion for another time.” Maria tapped her foot. “I did a story a few months back in which I consulted a shrink.”
“She must’ve had a lot to say about you.”
