Alex Barclay - Killing Ways

Two emails. Relevant to him?

‘How does this work?’ said Duke. ‘I want to reply to this one.’

He sat down beside her.

The email address was LuckyNYPD67@gmail.com and the subject: Geoff Riggs.

What the hell is this? Donald Riggs’ father, the subject of an email to me?

OK, Joe was NYPD. ’67 is his birth year. Lucky short for Lucchesi. His personal email address? What has he sent me? What about Geoff Riggs?

She looked down. It was a two-line email:

We found something: Geoff Riggs is Duke Rawlins’ biological father. Only problem is, he’s dying. We’re going to question him before it’s too late. And frankly, I don’t give a fuck if he has a heart attack right there in the bed... Joe.

Holy. Shit. What the?

This is off. Even for Joe, that last line sounds extreme.

She hit Reply, and nodded toward the box. ‘You type in there...’

Duke grabbed it back from her and slowly input his response. Then he sat against the wall, wiped his hand across his brow, let out a breath. He was holding Ren’s cell phone in his hands. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

Where is he? What has Duke replied? Will Joe get it? Why am I still alive?

Ren touched her hand to her face.

Still bleeding.

‘It’s a waiting game now,’ said Duke, more to himself than to anyone else.

Geoff Riggs is Duke Rawlins’ father? That means Joe Lucchesi has been upgraded to the killer not just of Rawlins’ friend, but of his only brother. And he’s saying they’re sending people to question a dying man?

This will not end well.

There was a sudden, rattling groan from downstairs, a creaking sound, more rattling.

Sounds like the elevator. But it’s not working.

Who is about to walk into this nightmare?

Jesus Christ. The haunted elevator — maybe that’s all it is.

Duke grabbed Ren. He took her flashlight from his back pocket, hustled her out the door, and used it to light their way out onto the landing.

Duke shouted, his voice echoing around the stairwell: ‘If someone is down there trying to fuck with me, it ain’t gonna work. I’m gonna fire into this lil lady’s face if I see even a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye.’

Who’s here? Please be Joe.

There was a banging sound, loud and hollow.

That’s the basement door. The basement door is open.

A cell phone started to ring in the foyer, echoing on the marble, its screen glowing. Ren listened, looked all around her, studied everything as Rawlins moved the flashlight’s beam all across the stairs, up and down.

All at once, pieces started to fall into place. A plan.

‘That phone will have to be answered,’ said Ren, ‘so as not to cause suspicion. That lady you killed — Valerie, the realtor—’

‘You weren’t buying the electrical fault then,’ said Duke, laughing out loud. He sighed. ‘That was a good one, though. I saw the electrical contractor’s van last week. I figured it was a nice trap. Arranged to meet Valerie here, arranged a little water on the outlet, got her to check it out, told her I heard there was a problem in the building...’

You are insane.

‘Valerie has a jumpy boss,’ said Ren. ‘If she hasn’t checked in for hours, he will send someone here if she doesn’t pick up. He will call one of us. And if none of us answers, and her last appointment was here...’

Duke shrugged, but he started to move her forward.

The phone kept ringing.

‘If you don’t let me answer that, this will fuck everything up for you. We just walk down there. I pick up, say she’s in the ladies’ room, no big deal... we’re done.’

I need you on the second floor.

Duke switched off the flashlight, gripped Ren in front of him, fully protecting his body.

They made it down two flights, but instead of going down, Duke moved them around to the left, by the guardrail, so they could look down to where Valerie lay.

The phone stopped ringing. The sound that replaced it was the slow approach of footsteps.

From under the stairs, a figure emerged.

Joe Lucchesi.

He walked up the stairs with his hands in the air.

‘Well, here he comes,’ said Duke. ‘To rescue his lil lady.’

‘He’s not here for me,’ said Ren, ‘and we both know that.’

Joe kept walking up. Duke didn’t stop him.

‘We need to talk,’ said Joe.

‘We sure do,’ said Duke.

Joe kept walking up, hands in the air, unarmed.

Apparently.

He walked halfway up the second flight.

Why has Rawlins not shot him already?

Joe made it up to the top. He moved around. There were only six feet between them.

Duke squeezed Ren tightly, stepping back a few feet.

‘Go back further,’ said Ren. ‘Get out of his reach. Go toward that door at the end. It leads outside onto the back of the building. You can take my car. Joe doesn’t give a fuck about me or my colleagues. He wants you. He will kill you. I want you to leave. I just want Gary and Janine to be safe. If you leave now, you’ll get to see your father. Before they get to him. If you stay, Joe will kill you—’

‘What the fuck are you saying, Ren?’ said Joe.

‘That’s why he’s here!’ said Ren. ‘It’s the only reason. Rawlins — you came here not knowing who your father is. Now you know — everything’s changed. You need to get out of here alive. You need to see your father.’ Duke moved down the hallway. ‘Is there a key to that door?’ he said, glancing back.

‘No,’ said Ren. ‘It’s open. You can just go.’

Joe started moving toward them. ‘Fuck you, Ren.’

‘Stay back!’ said Ren. ‘Stay the fuck away from us.’

Ren took in the scene. Joe Lucchesi was three feet from her. Duke Rawlins was behind her with his arm around her, his hip up against the guardrail. Ren thought of boxing, one of the best defensive moves: bob and weave. She thought of Paul Louderback and the focus mitts, how he swiped them over her head, how she had to come up quickly to punch them again.

Straight jab, bob, weave. Jab, bob, weave.

There was an eerie silence.

Joe lunged toward them. Duke wasn’t holding Ren tightly enough. She was no longer useful. He didn’t see her as a threat. He didn’t see any woman as a threat.

Ren did it. She dropped so quickly, compressed her body, came out from under Duke’s arm and spun around so she was facing him again, Joe beside her. Duke lost his balance, slammed hard into the guardrail. They heard the sound of wood cracking. Everything felt suspended. Then the guardrail broke. Duke started to teeter. He dropped the gun, reached out. Ren’s arm shot out to pull him back. Joe’s arm shot out.

There is something wrong here.

In a fraction of a second, Duke gripped Ren’s arm, as she tried to lean backwards to pull him in, but he was heavy and she was light, and Joe seemed to be doing none of the work.

What the fuck are you doing? Jesus Christ! If Duke goes, I go too!

‘Joe!’ screamed Ren, yanking him out of whatever dark place he had gone to. ‘Joe!’

She was sliding toward the edge of the broken balcony.

NO! Noooo! Fuck! No!

Joe lunged for her, grabbed her waist, brought his forearm down hard to break the grip Duke had on her, pulled her backwards and they both crashed onto the floor. There was a bare second of silence before Duke Rawlins hit the first-floor landing, then rolled down onto the marble floor below.

Joe and Ren quickly jumped up from the floor and ran down the stairs to where Duke Rawlins lay on his back, his arms splayed out to the side, his head facing away from the glass entry doors. There was a small pool of blood under his head.