R. Jagger - A Way With Murder

“Because you’re scared.”

She shook her head.

“You have a wild imagination.”

River headed for the door.

Over his shoulder he said, “You got yourself in deep. Get yourself out if you can.”

Then he was gone.

Ten seconds later he was back.

“Give me a pencil.”

She did.

River scribbled something down.

“That’s my phone number,” he said. “Use it if you need it.”

“Sure.”

“Promise me.”

“I said sure.”

“Sure isn’t a promise.”

The woman exhaled.

“Okay, I promise.”

River nodded.

“That’s better.”

Then he was gone.

Back at the carhe slid behind the wheel, gave January a kiss and cranked over the engine.

“Where’s the gun?”

She handed it to him.

“Prepare to get wet,” he said.

“Why?”

“We’re going home but we’re going to park a half-mile out and head in on foot.”

Silence.

“You’re going to let me come with you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because if I say no you’re not going to listen anyway.”

She smiled.

“You’re starting to get to know me.”

Day Two

July 22, 1952

Tuesday Night

Wilde snuck silently inthe raven-haired lawyer’s back door using the key she gave him. He listened for intruders and heard nothing other than the storm slamming against the windows. With the lights out, he made a pass through each room and then dialed his office.

A tender, timid voice answered.

“Hello?”

“London, it’s me,” Wilde said. “Are you still up for this?”

A pause then, “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. Don’t let me get killed.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “If you get killed, I’ll give you your retainer back.”

She laughed faintly and said, “Fair enough.”

“Okay, I’m at your house now and the coast is clear. Come home and follow your normal routine when you get here. I’ll be upstairs lying on the floor behind the bed. Don’t worry about turning on the lights, no one from outside will have a line of sight on me.”

“Okay.”

“Do you normally close your window coverings at night?”

“Yes.”

“Leave one or two of them open a crack so he can see you moving around. I want to be sure he knows you’re home.”

“Okay.”

“You sound nervous.”

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

Wilde smiled.

“See you soon.” A beat then, “One more thing. Don’t talk to me if your face is pointed towards a window. I don’t want him to see your lips moving.”

“Good idea. You brought a weapon, right?”

Right.

He did.

“A gun?”

Right.

That.

He laid in the darkbehind the bed, memorizing every sound, every play of light from the streetlights, every engine in the night.

Fifteen minutes later a car pulled into the driveway.

The front door opened and the lights downstairs kicked on.

Curtains swung closed across rods.

More lights kicked on.

A refrigerator door opened. An ice tray got cracked and ice fell into a glass, followed by something poured over it. The sound made Wilde thirstier than he already was. A bottle of RC would be nice-no, not a cola, a beer; an ice-cold beer, straight from the freezer right before it froze.

The suit jacket was next to him on the floor.

Inside the left pocket was the pack of Camels.

Wilde resisted the urge to tap one out.

The resistance lasted all of a minute before he broke one loose and lit up. The smoke in his lungs was so damn perfect. The roughness in his brain softened.

The bedroom lights suddenly turned on.

Curtains swung closed across rods.

With his head at floor level, Wilde had a view of the woman’s feet. They walked towards him and turned at the bed, followed by the woman’s body sitting on the mattress.

“So far, nothing unusual,” she said.

“He’ll wait for you to go to bed. Just keep doing what you do.”

Wilde watched as shoes came off followed by nylons.

A dress dropped to the floor.

Then a blouse.

Then a bra.

Then panties.

“I usually take a shower before I go to bed,” London said.

“Then do it. Don’t break your routine.”

The bathroomwas across the hall in line of sight from Wilde’s position. As the woman walked to it, her body came into view.

She was naked.

Her ass was taut and smooth.

Her back was strong.

Her raven hair cascaded.

Her left hand carried a glass of wine.

She left the bathroom door open, got the shower up to temperature and stepped in. The curtain didn’t close all the way. Wilde had a good reflection of her in the mirror. He watched her until his conscience made him stop. Then he rolled onto his back, lit another Camel and stared at the ceiling, being careful to blow the smoke under the bed where it wouldn’t be seen from the outside.

The shower shut off.

Don’t look.

Don’t look.

Don’t look .

That’s what his brain said.

His eyes didn’t listen.

He watched the woman’s every move as she toweled off, swallowed the rest of the wine and slipped into a T-shirt-nothing else, just the T. When she headed back across the hall, Wilde didn’t drop his eyes. The woman’s body was still moist. Her breasts pressed against the cotton.

She flicked the lights off.

The room dropped into darkness.

Then she stepped over him and got into bed.

“Good night,” she said.

Before Wilde could answer, lightning exploded outside, so close that the walls shook.

“Good night.”

“Thanks for being here.”

“No problem.”

Day Two

July 22, 1952

Tuesday Night

Waverly pulledthe hotel curtains back just far enough to get a sideways peek of the nightscape, saw nothing but the storm and a few errant headlights punching through it, and let them fall back. On the bed was Bristol’s money, being pushed around by Su-Moon’s index finger. Ten thousand dollars was a lot, more than Waverly made in six years. It made her palms sweat. “If Bristol isn’t out to kill us yet, he will be when he finds his little friends gone.”

Su-Moon looked up.

“We’ll split it evenly,” she said. “Five G’s apiece.”

Waverly shook her head.

“I don’t want it. It’s all yours.”

“What’s wrong? Are you afraid he’s going to call the cops?” She laughed. “Don’t worry, his reputation’s worth more than that.” She tapped a finger on the black book. “That’s his reputation, right there. That’s every bit of everything he is and ever will be.”

“That’s my point.”

“What’s your point?”

“He’ll kill to get it back,” Waverly said.

Su-Moon pushed the money and then looked up.

Her face was serious.

She scooped the bills up, stuffed ’em back in the envelope and stood up.

“Come on.”

“Where we going?”

“Out.”

“You mean down to the bar?”

“No, I mean out.”

“Outside? I’m just finally getting dry-”

They took a cabto Chinatown and pulled over two blocks short of Su-Moon’s apartment. Su-Moon paid the fare, then tore a ten-dollar bill in two, gave half to the driver and said, “Me and my friend are going to take a little walk. We’ll be back within a half hour. If you’re here when we get back, you get the other half.” The driver turned off the headlights and killed the engine.