Max Collins: Scratch Fever

Leaning up from the back seat, the girl said, “How do you even know they’re in there? Maybe they took some other car and left these behind.”

“You’re right,” Nolan said. “They could even be outside there in the bushes, waiting for us to get out of the car.”

“Oh, nice thought,” the girl said, her sarcasm not quite masking her fear.

“Going in after them is probably a bad idea in the first place,” Nolan said. “The smart thing might be to wait outside for them. If they’re in there, they’ll have to come out sooner or later.”

“Then why not wait?” the girl asked.

“Impatience,” Nolan said, shrugging. “Also, as you say, we don’t know for a fact they’re in there. You know what’s on the other side of that building? The river. Which means they may have hopped in a boat and gone to Iowa already.”

“Or,” Jon said, “they might be inside, getting that money together I heard her and Ron talking about, and then go for a boat ride.”

Nolan nodded. “Except I think Julie’ll go and leave that big boyfriend of hers behind for me to play with.”

“Yeah,” Jon said. “You’re probably right.”

“I think she’s in there,” Nolan said. “This has all been breaking too fast for her to be anywhere else.”

“Won’t that place be locked up?” the girl asked. In the rain, with its sign off, the building across the graveled lot looked much more like a warehouse than a restaurant.

Nolan reached in his pocket for the ring of keys. “I got these at that farmhouse,” he said. “Jon said that Ron was a night watchman of sorts at the Paddlewheel. With any luck at all, these’ll get me in.”

“You want this?” Jon asked, holding the long-barreled .38 out to Nolan in his palm, like an offering.

“You hold onto that,” Nolan said, picking up the 9 mm from the seat between him and Jon. “I’ve got over half a clip left in this, and a spare, so if I have to exchange a few rounds with ’em, I can.”

“Jesus,” the girl said.

“But if you hear gunfire, you’ll know it’s them, not me,” Nolan went on, pointing to the silencer attached to the automatic. “So you may have to come in and back me up.”

“Where does that leave me?” the girl said.

Nolan turned and looked at her. “Just get behind the wheel and stay with this car blocking the way as long as you can. If Julie and her boyfriend come piling out of there with guns in their hands, before us, you got my permission to haul ass out.”

“Why don’t we just leave?” the girl said. “Why don’t we just go home? This is crazy.”

“I’m sorry you’re involved in this,” Nolan said. “But I told you I could drop you at a bar or motel or something, and you said no. So just keep your eyes open, and pitch in if you’re needed.”

Nolan got out of the car. So did Jon. He came around to Nolan’s side. Nolan was looking around, looking for movement; he hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Toni somebody might be waiting in the bushes. The rain was coming down harder now — not a downpour, but they were getting wet standing there.

“You’re going to have to do it this time, Nolan.”

“Kill her, you mean? Yeah, I know. I’m not nuts about shooting a woman, even if it is Julie. But that bitch is the fucking plague.”

“It has to be done. You’re sure you don’t want me with you?”

Nolan smiled, put a hand on the kid’s damp shoulder. “You’re my insurance policy. Come in if you hear shooting. Otherwise, stick with the girl. Let’s get her out of this alive, what do you say?”

“I’m for that,” Jon said, smiling.

“I’m going in a side door,” Nolan said, pointing off to the left of the brick building. “Bob Hale gave me a rough layout of the place. The kitchen should be over there. I’ll leave the door open, in case you have to follow me in.”

“Right.”

“See you in a few minutes, kid.”

“See you.”

Nolan headed across the gravel at a slow jog. The gravel extended around the side of the building, where he found two doors, the first having no window, the second, down a ways, having a window with a grillwork through which he could make out what seemed to be the kitchen.

He started trying the keys on the ring; the fifth one opened the door. The Yale lock made a click that sounded loud as a gunshot to him, but he went on in, not hesitating, standing just inside for a while, leaving the door ajar, listening to see if his coming in had attracted anybody’s attention. He stood there a good three minutes and heard nothing.

He was in a kitchen, all right, a big room with natural brick walls, but appointed white; it seemed spotless, too, though there wasn’t much light in here to tell, just a small fixture on the wall inside the door, left permanently on, apparently. He moved past a row of stoves and pushed open a door that led into a small service area; he managed to avoid bumping into the trays on stands lining the wall, full of silverware, condiments, and the like. At the next door he listened for another minute or so, heard nothing, then pushed it open and went on into the big dining room.

There were some lights on. Just enough to get around without stumbling into things. And enough to get a look at the place, and see what it was that Julie was trying to hold onto. It was a nice layout, reminding him just a little of the Pier. The steamboat mural and the river view made this dining room a natural; with decent food, you couldn’t fail here.

He walked as softly as he could, but the floor wasn’t carpeted; it was a waxed wood floor that wanted to echo your footsteps. He knew there were two other levels, but Hale had told him he thought Julie’s office was upstairs, and her boyfriend’s down. Since they’d be together, most likely, it seemed to Nolan a toss-up as to which office they’d be in. Hers seemed slightly more likely, so he decided to check the downstairs first and get it out of the way.

He went down the stairs slowly, looking the casino room over — nothing elaborate, a small setup designed probably for the weekend trade. And he listened. Across the room, down by the bar, to the right, a door was partially open; lights were on within.

This was it, then; soon it would be over.

He stepped off the last step and stood there, looking toward that partially opened door, and something slammed into the back of his head.

He went down, not out, but while he didn’t lose consciousness, exactly, he wasn’t exactly on top of things, either.

By the time he knew what was what, he was sitting up, rubbing the back of his head, and Julie was pointing two guns at him, one of them his. Or Sally’s, actually: the silenced 9 mm. The other gun was a little .22 automatic that looked like a toy, the sort of toy the PTA would like banned.

She was smiling, and he’d never seen anything quite like it — nothing as beautiful, or as ugly, as that smile.

She was standing over him, just a few paces away, wearing designer jeans and a suede coat, open in front to reveal a pale green blouse and the shelf of her breasts. There was a purse tucked under one arm, and a paper sack at her feet; the top where the sack had been twisted shut had loosened up, and packets of money were peeking out

She was stunning: the brown hair frosted blonde; perfect features, with subtle makeup; tits he wanted to touch, even as he sat there knowing she would kill him, any time now.

Well , he thought. Might as well play out the hand...

“Where’s Jon?” he demanded.

She shrugged. “He got away from me. He’s wandering around the countryside, as far as I know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Listen. I don’t give a damn about you, or the money you took that was partly mine. I just want that kid back.” He started to get up.