R. Jagger - A Way With Murder

He shrugged.

“Next time you see me there, flag me down and I’ll buy you a drink.”

She uncrossed her legs and re-crossed them the other direction.

“Okay.”

Five minutes laterWilde found himself in Bluetone’s office with the door closed. He tossed the map on the lawyer’s desk.

“What London gave you before was a fake,” he said. “She didn’t know if she could trust you. That’s the real one. She doesn’t want it anymore. It’s all yours. All she wants is to be left alone.”

Bluetone unfolded the paper and studied it.

“How do I know this isn’t another fake?”

“You don’t,” Wilde said. “Here’s the deal. London won’t be back to the law firm again ever. She’s staying in Denver though. You’re going to leave her alone. You’re both going your separate ways.”

The lawyer shrugged.

“Sure.”

Wilde hardened his face.

“Let me be as clear as I can on this,” he said. “Don’t hire anyone to hurt her. Don’t tell them to make it look like an accident. Don’t even look at her if you pass her on the street.”

A smile slowly worked its way onto Bluetone’s face.

“I feel sorry for you,” he said. “It’s no fun to be in a woman’s spell.”

Wilde got up and headed for the door, turning long enough to say, “This is your only warning. Be smart and take it.”

Then he was out,walking quickly down the hallway that suddenly seemed too dark and narrow. As he rounded the corner into the reception area, the redhead looked up from a magazine, startled that someone was there.

Wilde looked down at what she was reading.

What he saw he couldn’t believe.

The woman flicked it shut and shoved it in a drawer. “Our secret, okay?”

“Can I see that for a second?”

Yes.

He could.

It was a fashion magazine, one of those expensive ones with glossy paper that showed styles from New York and Paris and London. Wilde flipped through until he found the page that had been open before. On that page was Secret St. Rain, dressed to the nines with a devious smile as she sprayed perfume on her neck from an ice-blue bottle.

It was her.

There was no question about it.

Not even a little one.

His heart raced.

“Can I take this page?”

Sure.

No problem.

He ripped it out and shoved it in his pocket.

“Thanks.”

Then he was gone.

Day Three

July 23, 1952

Wednesday Afternoon

The heavy poundingof feet continued up the stairwell towards Waverly’s frozen body. Two seconds later the 29-year-old lanky frame of Miles Rocket bounded around the landing and almost knocked her down. A cigarette fell from his lips. He picked it up and replaced it.

“You’re not dead,” he said.

“Why would I be?”

He shook his head.

“Damn, I thought for sure-, I mean, first you drop off the face of the earth, then that guy shows up and trashes your apartment.”

Waverly narrowed her eyes.

“What guy? Did you see him?”

“Yeah, I saw him.”

“Tell me.”

The man retreated in thought.

“I heard all this noise,” he said. “At first I thought you were back and were having a fight with someone or something like that, but then I didn’t hear any arguing so I figured you were alone. The longer it went on, the more I got to thinking that it wasn’t you. When it stopped, I looked out the peephole of my door to see if someone walked by. Someone did, a man.”

“What’d he look like?”

“Scary, that’s the best way to describe him. Damn scary.”

“Give me specifics,” Waverly said. “Tall, short, fat, skinny, what?”

“Well, he was wearing a black T-shirt, although I don’t suppose that helps very much,” he said. “He had a scar that ran down his forehead towards his eye and then down his cheek. He was tall-over six feet-and strong too, not in a thick Gorilla kind of way but more in a taut way. Oh, he had a tattoo, too. It was on his forearm. I didn’t get a real good look at it on account of how fast he was moving, but it could have been a red rose or something like that.”

“Did you ever seen him before?”

“No that was it, just that one time. That was enough. There was something about the guy’s eyes.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “They were just, I don’t know-wrong, if that makes any sense.”

Waverly nodded.

“Yeah, it makes sense. When did this happen?”

“Last night, about ten. No, wait, not last night, Monday night. Right, Monday night, about ten.” A beat then, “What was he doing there?”

“Good question.”

“You don’t know him?”

“No.”

“He was probably just a robber then,” Rocket said. “You’d think he’d be a little more quiet though. Was anything taken?”

“I don’t know.”

As much asWaverly didn’t want to be around, she wanted even less to be ignorant as to what actually happened, so she went back to her apartment, stepped inside and closed the door.

The sight wasn’t as dramatic as before.

A lamp that could have easily been smashed was still in place, likewise for a picture frame, a radio too for that matter. Destruction wasn’t the motive. On the other hand, every drawer in the place had been pulled out and dumped. If something had been taken, it wasn’t obvious. A few things that should have been taken weren’t-her jewelry box for one, not that any of it was worth anything, but a thief wouldn’t know that at a rough glance, he’d be more prone to just take it and figure it out later. The more she looked around, the more she came to the conclusion that the man had been looking for something.

She picked a butcher knife off the floor and set it on the counter.

Then she got a pot of coffee going.

She drank a cup on the couch with the knife at her side.

Sunshine streamed through the windows.

Suddenly the phone rang.

It was Su-Moon, checking in to report she’d arrived safe and sound in Cleveland.

Waverly brought herup to speed on the break-in to her apartment as well as the note she was trying to get delivered to Bristol’s little spankee.

“With any luck she’ll show tonight.”

Su-Moon wasn’t impressed.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“I’m going to scare her over to our side.”

“I doubt it.”

Waverly shrugged.

Time would tell.

“I won’t be coming back to my apartment so you won’t be able to get a hold of me here after this. Give me the number where you’re staying. I’ll have to contact you.”

Su-Moon read the numbers off and Waverly jotted them down and stuck the paper in her pocket.

“Call me at eight in the morning tomorrow, your time,” Su-Moon said.

“Okay.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Sooner or later,Waverly would need to come back here. She didn’t want to see the mess again and doubted the man would be back, so she resigned herself to cleaning up.

An hour into it she found something missing.

What it was made her palms sweat.

All her files were gone, every single last one of them.

Day Three

July 23, 1952

Wednesday Morning

In ten secondsRiver would be dead. He knew it in his heart, he knew it in his gut, he knew it in his mind. As soon as Spencer got the cuffs off Blank, he’d drag her outside and plant a bullet in River’s head right in front of her. River would no longer be a problem and Blank would be terrified into total submission from that point forward.