Barely Legal

30

Taperelli picked up the phone. “Yeah?”

Mookie wasn’t happy. “There’s no James Glick in any goddamned hospital in the whole goddamned city.”

“Are you sure?”

“I called every fucking one,” Mookie said, “and believe me, it wasn’t easy. A lot of them got switchboard systems, you know, ‘If you’re a doctor trying to reach another doctor and you think you’re mighty fucking important, press one. If this is an emergency, hang up and call nine-one-one, because by the time you get through to us you’ll be dead.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” Taperelli cut in. “But you got through?”

“Sure. I pretended to be a doctor until I got a human being, then I asked for admitting. Worked every time. And James Glick isn’t there. He isn’t in any hospital in the suburbs, either, and why should he be, we have his address and he lives in Manhattan, but I checked ’em anyway because I knew you’d ask. James Glick is playing a game with us.”

“Go to his apartment. If he doesn’t answer, break in. If he’s there, bring him here. If he’s gone, find out where.”

“That’s a relief.”

“What?”

“To get off the damn phone.”

James Glick lived in a four-story brownstone that had been divided up into apartments. His apartment was 2B. Mookie rang the downstairs bell, but no one buzzed the door. He started ringing doorbells at random until someone buzzed him in. A woman in a first-floor apartment pushed her door open, saw Mookie heading for the stairs. “You buzz me?”

“Hell, no.”

Mookie went up the stairs to apartments 2A and 2B. He’d been careful not to buzz 2A. He didn’t want that door opening while he was letting himself into James Glick’s apartment.

Mookie’s methods were not subtle. He took a crowbar out from under his coat, inserted it into the doorjamb, and pried back. Wood splintered and metal flew as the door popped open.

It didn’t take Mookie long to determine that James Glick was gone. His toothbrush and razor were missing from the bathroom, and one of his dresser drawers was left open.

Mookie looked around for something that would give him a clue where Glick had gone. The guy had a computer on his desk. Mookie clicked the mouse, found that it had been left on. Mookie checked his e-mail. The last e-mail was a confirmation of an Amtrak ticket. James Glick had taken the Acela to Washington, D.C.

Mookie jerked the cell phone out of his pocket. “Bad news, boss.”

“What’s that?”

“James Glick skipped town.”