The hunting wind

CHAPTER 18

When I got back to the motel in Whitehall, I called Leon.

“I don’t have anything new on this PI, Whitley,” he said. “I’ve called his number a few times, but nobody’s answering.”

“He’s been hanging around in Orcus Beach,” I said.

“A good PI would have an answering service,” he said. “Or he’d automatically forward his calls to his cell phone.”

“I don’t know if Whitley would make the ‘good’ list,” I said. “If he’s working for Harwood, he doesn’t have very good taste in clients. We’ve got reason to believe that he broke into Maria’s house, too.”

“He broke into her house? That’s offensive, Alex. The man is giving private investigation a bad name.”

“I seem to recall the two of us doing the same thing,” I said. ‘Twice, in fact.”

“That was different,” he said. “We were wearing the white hats on both occasions.”

“Whatever you say.”

“So why did he break into her house?” he said. “Did he take anything?”

“No, he probably just went through her mail and whatever else he could find. You know, gathering information.”

“He could have planted a bug,” he said.

“That would explain some things,” I said. “Every time she spots him and calls the police, the guy disappears. I’ll check her phone when I go back over there.”

“Don’t be surprised if you don’t find anything,” he said. “It’s too obvious. The guy would be better off using a couple UHF receivers. They make them to look just like pens, or those little outlet adapters-you know, the kind where you plug it in and you’ve got three outlets instead of one? They put the receiver right in there. That way, you can hear everything that’s going on in the room. All the time, not just on the phone.”

“That’s gotta be against the law, right? I know they can’t prove he broke into her house, but if they catch him sitting there in his car, listening to her?”

“I’ll bet you he’s got a nice metal box in the front seat,” he said. “With a lock. He sees them coming, he just throws it all in there. They can’t open it without a warrant.”

“Leon, how do you know all this stuff?” I said. “Never mind. I’ve seen all the catalogs you get. I’ll look around her house and see if I can find anything.”

“Good man.”

“By the way,” I said, “we’re officially hired.”

“I’ll come down right away.”

“Leon, you have two broken ankles.”

“My wife will drive me.”

“Leon, you’re not coming down here. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

When I hung up, I pictured him sitting in his bed, banging the telephone on his head. I was sure he’d be driving his wife crazy for the next few hours.

I called Whitley’s number next. I got the same monotone recording asking me to leave my name and number. The guy had no future as a telemarketer.

“This is Alex McKnight,” I said. “I’m a private investigator working for Maria Zambelli. We know you’re following her, Whitley. And we know some other things, too. I’d like to meet with you and talk about it. She’s prepared to make your client a very generous offer, so let’s all be adults, eh? No more slinking around like juvenile delinquents. My partner says you’re making us all look bad.” I left my number and hung up.

Almost immediately, the cell phone in my coat pocket rang. I dug it out and hit the button.

“Alex, it’s Maria.”

“Maria, listen very carefully. Don’t say a word. Okay? Just say yes or no, I mean. You got that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, look at your phone, very carefully. Try taking the receiver apart if you can. If it’s one of those old-fashioned models, I mean. With the mouthpiece that comes off. Is it that kind of phone?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, try unscrewing it, see if there’s anything in there besides the transmitter.”

I heard the scraping of the plastic as she unscrewed it. A few moments later, she screwed it back on.

“No,” she said.

“Okay,” I said. “My partner thinks it’s more likely that he put a receiver in the room, anyway. Is there someplace you can go, like a closet?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Say a couple things and then say good-bye. Then go in the closet.”

“That sounds good,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it. Good-bye.”

A minute passed. Then her voice came back in a whisper.

“Do you really think he bugged the place?” she said.

“It’s a good possibility. Why else would he break in?”

“I don’t like this, Alex.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll look around when I get there.”

“Chief Rudiger stopped by,” she said. “What did you do to him?”

“We just had a friendly chat,” I said. “No big deal.”

“He wanted to know why I hired you. I told him I was scared and I wanted you to find Harwood for me. He didn’t seem to like that too much. I don’t think he’s real happy about me living in his house right now.”

“So why even stay?” I said.

“Let’s just finish this, Alex. Then I’ll get out of here.”

“No sign of our man in the Cadillac?”

“No, but it’ll be dark soon. I don’t like being here alone. I want to go out and get some dinner. I don’t suppose you’d want to join me.”

“Go do your usual thing at Rocky’s,” I said. “I don’t think I’d be welcome there. I’m gonna make one more call and then I’ll go out to your house. I mean, if that’s the way you want to do this…”

“Yes,” she said. The woman knew how to whisper a yes. I felt it go right through me. I tried to picture her face.

Bad idea, Alex. Exactly what you don’t need right now.

“I’ll see you at the house,” I said. “Be careful.”

I hung up the phone and sat there for a long moment with her voice buzzing in my head. Then I called the hospital.

“Dr. Havlin, please,” I said. “I’m calling to find out about Randy Wilkins.”

I was on hold for a few minutes. Then the doctor came on the line.

“Mr. McKnight,” he said. “Mr. Wilkins is in recovery.”

“How does it look?”

“I removed the fragment,” he said. “Now we just have to wait. If he’s going to regain consciousness, it should be in the next forty-eight hours.”

I thanked the doctor and hung up.

Forty-eight hours, Randy. If I didn’t have other things to do, I’d go there and wait. I want to be the first person you see when you wake up.

It was dark when I left the motel. You shouldn’t have let it get so late, I thought. You should be at her house now.

Relax. She’s not even there. She’s at the bar, having dinner.

The cell phone rang. I picked it up and hit the button.

“Alex,” she said. “Where are you?” Her voice was low again.

“I’m on my way.”

“He’s here.”

“He’s where?” I said. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home,” she said. “It was just too weird being at Rocky’s. The way he was looking at me when he found out about me hiring you.”

“Are you in the closet again?” I gunned the accelerator. I was still a good twelve miles from Orcus Beach.

“Yes,” she said. “I just went upstairs and looked out the window at him. I used the binoculars this time. He turned the light on in his car for a second. I could see he was wearing earphones.”

“Okay, just relax,” I said. “I’m on my way.”

“He looked kind of big, Alex. And ugly.”

“Just sit tight,” I said. “I’ll be there soon.”

“What if he comes to the house again? What if he breaks in here?”

“He won’t,” I said. “He knows you’re there.”

“Maybe he wants me to be here this time,” she said. “Alex, I’m scared.”

The signal wavered. Goddamned stupid piece of crap. “Maria, are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“Do you want to call the police? If you do it from the closet, he won’t hear you. They’ll be able to catch him this time.”

“I thought they can’t do anything to him. You said that yourself.”

“They can put him through the wringer,” I said. “But ultimately, no, they probably can’t charge him. My partner thinks he probably has a lockbox in his car to hide everything.”

“Even if they could,” she said, “we still couldn’t find Harwood.”

“Probably not.”

“Unless you think there’s a way,” she said.

“There may be,” I said. “I could talk to him. I could ask him real nice.”

“I probably don’t want to know what ‘real nice’ means.”

The signal went out, came back, went out.

“Maria?”

“I’m still here.”

“Which way is his car facing?”

“It’s facing… south, I think. I’m terrible with directions, Alex. If you’re coming up the street to my house, he’s facing so that he’ll see you coming.”

“That figures,” I said. “All right, just make sure the doors are locked. I’m gonna try something here.” I had just left M-31 and was racing up B-15 along the shoreline. I caught up to a station wagon pulling a boat on a trailer. The driver was taking it nice and slow, so I blew by him.

“I’m gonna go back to the window and take a look,” she said. “I’ll keep talking like nothing is happening. In fact-”

“What? What is it?”

“I’m going to keep him occupied, Alex.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m gonna make sure he keeps listening.”

I heard a door open. Moments passed. “Is that you?” she said. Her voice was normal now.

“Maria, what are you doing?”

“I’ve been thinking about you,” she said. “I know we haven’t spent much time together yet. But I can’t help wondering.”

I didn’t say anything. I let her talk. The road curved suddenly. Two wheels slipped over into the sand. I touched the brakes, swerved hard to the right, and then snapped it back to the left.

“Can I make a confession?” she said. “I was thinking about you while I was taking a bath today. Which reminds me of a story. Do you want to hear it? It happened when I was a lot younger.”

I was pushing eighty miles an hour now. Two lanes running along the edge of the world, water on one side, pine trees racing by in a blur on the other side.

“When I was eighteen years old, my whole family came out here to the lake for the summer. The water was always so cold, even in the middle of July, but at night it didn’t seem so cold. It felt warmer than the air. So some nights when everybody else had gone to bed, I would sneak out onto the beach in just my bathrobe. If I was brave enough and I was sure nobody was around, I’d take my robe off and jump into the water.”

I kept driving.

“One night, after I had been swimming for a little while, I got out and ran back to where I had left my robe. But it wasn’t there.”

There was a long pause.

“Maria?”

Nothing.

I looked at the phone. The signal was gone.

“Oh no, you worthless piece of shit.” I picked it up and shook it, as if that would really make it start working again. “Come on, don’t do this now.”

I tried calling her number, but it wouldn’t send. The stupid little display kept saying the same thing: LOOKING FOR SERVICE.

“I’ll give you service,” I said. I was about to smash it against the dashboard, then stopped myself and tossed it onto the passenger’s seat.

I concentrated on driving the truck, on getting there as quickly as I could. I saw the sign welcoming me to Orcus Beach, passed Rocky’s place, turned left at the comer, gunned it down the access road, across the little bridge to Maria’s street.

I didn’t turn. I stopped the truck at the boat launch and got out. The sudden quiet was unnerving. Just the thin sound of the waves lapping and the lingering hum of the road in my whole body.

Okay, Alex. Let’s be smart. If you walk down the road, he’s gonna see you. It’s a dead end, so there’s no way to come from behind. Unless…

The beach.

I stepped down over the boat launch onto the sand and rocks. It was rough going, especially in the dark. The only light came from a half-moon hidden behind clouds and the even dimmer light from the houses along the shore.

I made my way north, behind the line of houses. I knew Maria’s was almost at the very end. The next to last, if I remembered right. I had to go all the way down, at least a half mile.

I thought of Maria on the beach. In her bathrobe.

I tripped over something and landed hard. I picked myself up and kept going.

I got to Maria’s house. The chief’s house. If he could only see me now, sneaking up on it from behind. I remembered the fence that ran all the way down the roadway. I needed to be even farther down the road, to be sure he couldn’t see me climbing over the damned thing. I passed her house and went to the very last house on the block. There was a cyclone fence around three sides of the property, stopping a few feet from the shoreline.

I grabbed the fence and caught my breath. What kind of paranoid bastard puts a fence like this around his property, totally open to the water? He obviously wasn’t considering the possibility of a sea invasion. The house was completely dark. Either nobody was home or they’d all gone to bed early.

I remembered the dead end, and the lower fence that ran along the guardrail. If I could make it all the way around the place…

I walked across the man’s beachfront, waiting for the motion detectors to trigger the spotlights and then the running guard dogs. Nothing happened. When I got to the other side, I saw a narrow strip of land running along the far fence line. It sloped down sharply to the little inlet I had seen from the road.

It was time for a little tightrope walk. I held on to the fence as I made my way down the strip of land. In some spots, the erosion had eaten away all the way under the fence. I had to climb my way over the gaps until I could walk again. Finally, I came to the concrete embankment and the low fence that ran behind the guardrail. I could see the dim shape of the Cadillac up the road.

I climbed over the fence, trying for silence and failing. I caught my pants on the top of the fence and nearly tumbled over onto my head. Another brilliant display of agility by the former athlete. I made it to the ground and dropped into a crouch, rubbing my right shoulder.

I watched the car for a while. There were no signs of movement. I figured it was about two hundred feet away, with not much cover between us. I had to move fast and quiet.

The wind kicked up, the sand swirling in my face. I closed my eyes, waited for it to pass. Then I moved.

I kept low, hoping he wouldn’t see me in the rear-view mirror. I pictured him sitting there with his eyes closed, listening through the earphones. That’s it, just keep listening. No reason to look back here. It feels so good to just sit there and rest your eyes…

The light went on inside his car.

I dived to the ground, breathing hard. Had he seen me?

I looked up. I was still a good thirty feet away. Why was his light on?

I waited. The door didn’t open. Nothing.

Okay, start moving again. Slowly. Very quiet. Why the hell did he turn his light on?

This will actually help me. He won’t be able to see outside very well with that light on. I came up to the rear of his car. Okay, now which side? Driver’s side or passenger’s side?

On the driver’s side, I can open the door and pull him out. If the door is unlocked. And if he doesn’t see me in the side mirror.

On the passenger’s side, I can open the door and jump in beside him. If the door is unlocked. I peeked around on that side of the car. No mirror there. I thought Cadillacs always had mirrors on both sides. Maybe it fell off. Maybe it doesn’t matter and I should just do something before the night is over.

And you know what, Alex? This would be a really good time to have your gun with you. Too bad it’s in a shoe box in the bottom of your closet, five hours away in the Upper Peninsula.

Never mind. Let’s go.

I picked the passenger’s side. I inched my way around to the back window, took a peek. One man. He had earphones on, which was good. Less chance of hearing me. He was looking down at something. Maybe reading? Also good.

Is this door open? Yes. It was an older car, with the good old-fashioned metal lock sticking up a good two inches in the air. God bless old Cadillacs.

Here goes nothing.

I yanked the door open.

A gun. Right there on the passenger’s seat. I grabbed it, just before he could reach for it himself. The man screamed his way through a few syllables until he could finally put words together. “Oh my God, you son of a bitch, I’m dying, for the love of… What the hell are you doing? Who are you?”

“Good evening,” I said, sitting down next to him. “You must be Miles Whitley.”

“Oh goddamn it,” he said, holding onto the steering wheel. “I’m dying here.”

“Calm down,” I said. “Get a hold of yourself.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you son of a bitch. Oh my God.”

I looked him over. He was big, like Maria had said. A solid 250 pounds, easy. He was even bigger than Leon. His hair was thin, and he’d combed it over, in a losing battle to cover his head. His face was rounded and gray, the kind of face you see with a cigar in it down at the racetrack. The earphones had slipped off his ears and were now around his neck. As I looked down, I saw the stain all over his pants. In his left hand, he held a mason jar filled halfway with what could only be urine. I made every effort not to look at anything else.

“God, my back,” he said through gritted teeth. “My whole back is locked up now. Goddamn it all.”

“Looks like I caught you in the middle of something,” I said. “I do apologize.”

“Goddamn it all, who are you?” he said. He found the lid to the mason jar and screwed it on. Then he started waving his hands around like a man who desperately needs a paper towel.

“My name is Alex McKnight,” I said. “I left you a message today.”

“So what?” he said. He started to arch his back. “Goddamn it all.”

“You didn’t call me back,” I said. “I was worried about you.”

He looked at me, really looked at me in the eyes for the first time. “What, is that some kind of a joke?”

“I got a million of ’em,” I said. I looked down at all the stuff he had piled around him: newspapers, some candy bar wrappers, a bottle of Vernors ginger ale. I picked up one of the newspapers and saw the UHF receiver, which was plugged into the cigarette lighter. On the floor, there was a metal box with a lock, just as Leon had predicted. “You obviously get all the right catalogs,” I said. “Didn’t you see the special surveillance pants you can buy, with the little pissing tube in it? Just like the astronauts use in outer space?”

“Are you gonna tell me what the hell you want? Jesus, my back.”

“I want to know where Harwood is,” I said.

“Who’s that?”

“The man who’s paying you to sit here listening to a woman who’s scared half to death,” I said. “The man who paid you to break into her house.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I got an idea,” I said. I flipped open the revolver, saw the back ends of six bullets. “You should learn to clean your gun, Miles.”

“You should learn to blow it out your ass.”

“Here’s my idea,” I said. “The other day, somebody held a gun against my knee and asked me what it would feel like if he pulled the trigger. Sort of like this.” I put the barrel of the gun against his right knee.

He looked down at the gun. He didn’t say anything.

“Of course, this man had a shotgun,” I said. “So you can imagine what I was thinking. One blast and my knee would have been gone. Nothing but knee soup all over the walls.”

I saw him swallow.

“Now, a little revolver like this,” I said. “It’s not going to cause nearly as much damage. Of course, you’ve got six bullets in here.”

“You’re not going to shoot me,” he said.

“The first bullet would probably penetrate right under the kneecap. Do you think it would come out the other side?”

“You’re not going to shoot me,” he said again.

“How do you know that?” I said.

“Because you can’t.”

“The second bullet would probably shatter the kneecap itself,” I said. “I think you’d forget all about your bad back at least.”

“I’m just working here,” he said. “You know that. You’re a private dick yourself. You said so in your message.”

“Private dick? You actually call it that?”

“What do you want?” he said.

“Harwood, the man who hired you,” I said. “Do you know why he’s been looking for that woman all these years?”

He looked down at the gun. “I don’t need to know that.”

“Of course not. Not if he’s paying you enough.”

“I’m just keeping things together,” he said. “You know how it is. It’s a tough business.”

“Do you have a cell phone in here?”

“Under your seat.”

“I hope I don’t accidentally pull the trigger,” I said as I reached for it. “There it is.” I flipped it open and turned it on. It scanned for two seconds and then locked right in. “You’ve got a better phone than I do, I’ll say that much for you.”

“Who are you calling?”

“My client,” I said. “You know how it is. You’ve got to check in now and then, keep the customer happy.”

Maria picked up on the first ring.

“It’s me,” I said.

“Alex! My God! What happened? Where are you?”

“I’m right outside,” I said. “On the street. I’m hanging out with Mr. Whitley.”

“The man in the car? Alex, how did you… I mean, I was so worried when you hung up the phone before. I was afraid you-”

“Everything’s okay,” I said. “You can relax now. Mr. Whitley has a much better cell phone. He was kind enough to let me use it.”

I could hear her take a deep breath. “Thank God,” she said. “I didn’t know what to think.”

“It sounds like I missed a good story.”

“You did,” she said. “Too bad.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t even try.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked. “If you’re right outside, why are we talking on the phone? Do you want me to go out there?”

“No, that would be embarrassing for Mr. Whitley, I’m afraid.” I took the gun away from his knee and leaned back in the seat. Something brushed the top of my head. It was the fabric on the car’s ceiling, hanging down like some kind of harem tent. The smell of the car, a mixture of sweat and urine and God knows what else, was starting to get to me.

This was not going to be pleasant, but it was the only way. I had no idea how long it would take. Maybe thirty minutes. Maybe all night.

“You stay there,” I said. “We’ve got a little trip to make.”

“What do you mean? Where are you going?”

I gave Whitley a little wave with the gun. “As soon as he zips up his pants,” I said, “we’re both going to go say hello to his client.”