Warren Murphy: Date with Death

Now that the idea had taken hold, Meecher knew it was right. Ethel and the shark lawyer would probably bleed him dry, but they wouldn't get his dog, not this time. He was so pleased at the prospect of a new Bingo that he put down the paper, unread for the first time in years. He padded into the bedroom, slipped on a sports coat, and picked up his wallet from the dresser. The pet store on Sunrise Avenue was still open.

Meecher felt a growing sense of excitement. Maybe this was what he'd needed all along, another purpose to his life, no matter how small it might be. This just might be a turning point, he decided. Maybe a dog would help turn his life around. He whistled cheerfully as he headed for the door. His plump hand was on the knob when the doorbell rang. Probably Morty from down the hall, he thought. He'd invite Mort along. Morty would get a real kick out of helping Meecher choose Bingo II.

Smiling, Meecher opened the door. There was a soft, popping sound as a single bullet from the silenced Colt pierced his heart. He sagged to his knees and then toppled over, hitting the carpeted foyer with a gentle thud.

"Let's get him inside," Bauer said. "We wouldn't want to disturb the neighbors."

Quantril nodded. He took hold of one of the dead man's wrists. With Bauer holding onto the other one, they dragged Meecher's body into the bedroom and propped him up against the dresser.

"I wonder what the rent is on this place," Bauer said.

Quantril laughed. "I don't know. But I think they just had a vacancy."

Bauer grinned before he disappeared through the doorway. With his gun in hand, he checked out the rest of the place. There was no one in the other rooms. From the look of things, the late Al Meecher had lived alone.

When he came back to the living room, Quantril was out on the pocket-sized terrace. "Terrific view," Quantril said, nodding toward the Dream Date building on the opposite side of the street. The tall steel-and-glass structure rose sixty stories upward. On the top, a blinking red light flashed a warning signal to low-flying aircraft.

Leaning against the terrace railing, Bauer peered up at the skyscraper. "This time it's got to work," he said nervously.

"It will. Every detail has been taken care of. All my records will be destroyed, and the annoying matter of those two idiots will be cleared up in the process."

"What if they don't come to the building?"

"Where else would they go?" Quantril said, exasperated. "Your sentries spotted them coming this way, didn't they?"

Bauer nodded.

"And the police weren't with them?"

"No. They must be a couple of thrill seekers or something. No cops within half a mile."

"So it's just a matter of time before they get themselves killed."

"If you say so," Bauer conceded uncertainly.

"I do say so. Do you think I want them alive? I've taken a big loss myself, you know. The whole monastery setup is blown, and I've got all those women to replace." He walked into the living room and slumped down on Meecher's easy chair with a sigh. "It'll work," he said. "They can't get out of this one. The back-up's foolproof."

Bauer was on edge, restless and uneasy. He wandered aimlessly around the living room, picking up the newspaper and then tossing it back to the floor unopened.

"Stop pacing," Quantril ordered. "It's making me nervous."

Bauer forced himself to sit down. "It's just…"

"Just what?" Quantril asked irritably.

"I recognized that guy on the roof. Name's Remo Williams. He served under me in Nam."

"So?"

"He's supposed to be dead. I read about it a long time ago. Some drug thing. Williams got the chair."

"Looked like a pretty lively corpse to me."

"It was the same guy. I know it was."

"You're sure you didn't hit him at the monastery?"

"Yeah," Bauer said. "The long-haired kid got in the way."

"Well, you should have," Quantril grumbled. "That mistake's going to come out of your pay."

There was a long silence. Finally Bauer said, "I just don't understand it."

"For God's sake, what now?"

"The way they fought. Williams and that old gook. Christ, he must have been as old as the man in the moon. And Williams is supposed to be dead. It just gives me the creeps, that's all."

"Look, he's not a ghost, okay? Take my word for it. Somebody screwed up somewhere. And the other guy might have looked a lot older than he really was. There's nothing supernatural going on. Now will you leave me alone? I have to think."

"Sure, boss," Bauer said. He chewed on his thumbnail to pass five minutes. "You're sure it's going to work?"

"Shut up," Quantril said stonily. "I'll just say it one more time. Those two might be good fighters, but they can't fly, got it?"

"Can't—" Bauer smiled. "I guess not."

"Now, we'll just watch for a while until the fun starts. Then we'll be on our way. My office already thinks I'm on vacation in the Alps."

Bauer looked up in surprise. "Is that where we're going?"

Quantril gave him a sly look and shook his head. "No. We're going to a place about three hundred miles south of here called Bayersville."

"A town? You sure it's safe?"

Quantril chuckled. "More than safe. Believe me, you've never seen a town like Bayersville before."

There was a knock at the door. Bauer pulled out his Magnum and walked softly to the wall. Quantril headed for the door. "Who is it?"

"Special delivery." The voice was nasal, with a thick Mexican accent. Quantril nodded to Bauer and opened the door.

Immediately a knife was at his throat. "Throw down your gun, Bauer," Wally Donner said.

"Do it," Quantril rasped.

The Colt clattered to the floor.

Wally Donner edged Quantril into the apartment and slammed the door shut with his foot. "Now, look, I don't want any trouble, Mr. Quantril. I just want my money."

"What money?" Quantril managed, looking wildly toward Bauer.

"The money for keeping quiet about you. Have you seen the papers?"

Bewildered, Bauer picked up the newspaper on the floor and opened it. On the front page was a picture of Karen Lockwood, along with the photos of the now-empty monastery in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

"She spilled the beans to the police," Donner said. "Described your little setup to a T. She described you, too, Bauer, and I recognized the description from the times I'd seen you at the rendezvous point when I delivered the women. Only she didn't know your name. I do."

"What's this got to do with me?" Quantril gasped, straining against the blade at his throat.

"I just used my head. All this time I've been wondering about the girls. Who would want two hundred and forty-two women bad enough to lock them up in the hills, I asked myself. And then, after I saw the papers, I asked myself another question. Why here, near Santa Fe? And then it came to me. Dream Date. It had to have something to do with Dream Date. So I watched the building until Bauer came out. And guess who was with him?"

Quantril attempted a laugh. "That's ridiculous. There's no evidence to link me to any of this."

"Hey, maybe you're forgetting, big shot. I'm not a cop. I don't need evidence. I need money. A million bucks, nothing less—"

Deke Bauer slammed into Donner's head with his elbow, sending him crashing into a wall. Then, before Donner came to enough to pick up the knife, the military man stepped on his right hand. He dug in his heel, feeling the small bones break with satisfying little snaps. While Donner howled in pain, Bauer picked him up by the scruff of the neck and the back of his belt and dragged him to the balcony. Then, with a powerful heave, he tossed Donner over the railing.

There was a sharp wail, followed by a strange bouncing sound. Bauer looked out.

Donner had not fallen on the street below. Instead, he was hanging suspended by one arm and one leg from a flagpole halfway down the building.