Night kills

74

As Pearl moved toward the bedroom door, she heard her cell phone faintly playing Dragnet in her purse on the bed but ignored it. She knew it couldn't be heard from the living room.

She inched the door open. She could see across the living room to the small foyer and the hall door.

Tony, all right.

Jill was facing him, with her head raised as if expecting a kiss, playing her role.

As Tony pecked her cheek, he drew a small semiautomatic handgun from behind his back. It had a sound suppressor attached, dull gray and about six inches long with baffles. He began bending his elbow awkwardly so he could point the gun at Jill.

He's going to shoot her low in the side, to wound, and then…

Pearl didn't hesitate. She had her Glock out within seconds and snapped off a shot she knew would be wide of Tony but would certainly miss Jill. It wouldn't take him down, but it might startle him into forgetting for a few seconds about Jill.

Tony reacted fast. He shoved Jill away and swung the gun toward the sound of Pearl's shot, instantly saw her advancing down the hall toward him.

Pearl had a clear shot at him now. As she steadied her gun she saw a dulled muzzle flash and heard the silenced pistol spit at her. Tony's shot missed. So did her return shot. She knew he had a twenty-two. It was his weapon of choice, and even silenced it had sounded like a small-caliber gun. Pearl figured it would probably take several shots to stop her. Her powerful 9mm Glock could put Tony down with one shot.

If it hit home.

Pearl kept advancing down the hall, the Glock bucking and crashing in her hand. Tony wasn't retreating. Grade A for guts. Kill the bastard! She expected any moment to feel the sting of a bullet.

One of Tony's wild shots glanced off a framed print hanging in the hall just as Pearl came alongside it. Less than a foot from her face, the frame swung and dropped to the floor as the glass exploded into thin fragments. Pearl felt the right side of her face catch fire. She suddenly couldn't see from her right eye, realized it was closed, tried to open it but couldn't because of the pain.

Shit!

It only made her enraged. No time or room now for fear.

Through her watery left eye she took shaky aim and squeezed off another shot, knowing it would hit nothing but wall.

She saw a blurred figure dart to the side, turn, and disappear out the door to the hall.

Pearl staggered all the way into the living room and became aware that she wasn't headed toward the door. She was dizzy and had lost her bearings. She aimed her left eye at a huddled figure pressed back in a corner.

Jill.

Pearl started toward her and was suddenly nauseated. She looked down at her right arm and saw blood splatters on it.

There was something else wrong. Pain was taking her over, making it difficult to breathe. Am I going into shock?

No, damn it!

She took two steps backward and fell slumping into the sofa.

The figure huddled in the corner wasn't there anymore. Then she saw it. Jill was crawling across the room toward her.

"Jewel?"

Jill's voice sounded as if it had come from the next room. Only it hadn't. Jill, standing up now, was only a few feet in front of Pearl.

"Jewel? Jewel? My God! You okay?"

"My cell," Pearl said. "Go get my cell phone. In my purse in the bedroom."

"Jewel?"

"My cell, goddamnit!"

On foot, Quinn dashed against the traffic signal through speeding, blaring traffic. He didn't slow down once he set foot on the opposite curb.

He'd reached Jill's block and was almost to her building, running flat out now, heart pumping so fast and hard it hurt.

Maybe he'd make it.

Maybe he'd get there in time.

A horn blared close to him, startling him. A cab veered to the curb about twenty feet in front of him. A voice:

"Quinn! Quinn!"

Quinn stopped and saw Fedderman shouting out the lowered side window in the back of the cab.

"Quinn!"

The cab's rear door swung open wide, looking as if it might spring off its hinges. Fedderman was leaning out waving at him.

"Get in, Quinn! Get in!"

Quinn knew they could make better time than he was making on foot as long as traffic didn't bog down again. He ran toward the cab, stumbling and almost falling as he stepped off the curb. His ankle felt sprained, but not enough to slow him down.

Getting too old for this…

No, not yet!

Victor understood it now-Jewel was a cop. They'd been waiting for him to come after Jill.

And the bitch had shot him!

He knew it wasn't serious, but a bullet had grazed the side of his neck, fortunately missing that carotid artery. Still, blood was flowing down inside his collar, and he could feel the warm wetness down his back.

He couldn't be sure if he'd hit Jewel; he'd been was firing small-caliber rounds at a distance. Almost surely she was coming after him.

No time to wait for the elevator. He threw himself down the steps, managing to stay on his feet by gripping the banister and shoving off the walls at the landings. He thought he could hear Jewel's footsteps on the stairs above and made himself move faster. She might have a clear shot at him any second. And she'd probably called for backup. He had to get out of the building, reach the streets before more police came.

He was in the lobby, almost slipping and falling on the slick tiles. Still holding the silenced handgun, he thought about turning around and firing a snap shot up the stairwell to at least slow down Jewel if she was pursuing him.

No time even for that.

He bolted toward the heavy door to the street, hit it hard with his shoulder, and spun as he lurched outside.

The cab pulled to the curb. Fedderman shoved a wad of bills at the driver as Quinn, on the right side in back, opened the door and started to climb out.

"Hell is that?" he heard Fedderman say.

Stooped over and with one foot still in the cab, one on the curb, Quinn looked up and saw a man burst from the doorway of Jill's apartment building. He must have hit the door hard on the inside because he was spinning as he broke outside. Quinn saw something in his right hand. Identified it immediately.

"That's Victor!" Fedderman shouted.

Quinn very calmly but loudly shouted, "Gun!" He gripped the butt of his old police positive special and pulled the revolver smoothly from its leather shoulder holster.

The cab's window behind him starred as a bullet smacked into it. Victor was standing with his feet spread wide facing Quinn. He was holding his weapon with both hands aiming carefully. Quinn noticed it hadn't made any noise and saw the bulky silencer on the barrel.

No time even to seek shelter!

Quinn lowered himself to a kneeling position to present a smaller target and fired a shot at Victor. Another shot barked nearby. He glanced back across the interior of the cab and saw Fedderman's ample stomach paunch and wrinkled tie mashed against the outside of the opposite side window. Fedderman was standing and firing across the cab's roof.

Another shot, and a bullet snapped past over Quinn's head.

Outgoing.

Victor had decided to make his stand. He made no attempt to escape. A bullet zinged off the cab's hood. The cabbie had had enough. Quinn heard the engine roar and felt rather than saw the cab pull away fast from the curb.

Exposed now, Fedderman moved up so he was standing directly behind Quinn. Both men fired over and over at Victor. Quinn's ears rang from the din and he could smell cordite, see brass casings from Fedderman's 9mm bouncing around like loose coins on the sidewalk.

Victor seemed almost to melt as he fell.

He lay motionless with one leg twisted beneath him.

Quinn and Fedderman separated and approached the still body from different angles. Fedderman, his white shirt cuff flapping above his gun hand, reached it first and kicked the silenced.22 away from where it lay next to Victor's dead hand.

He stooped low and touched the base of Victor's neck lightly, feeling for a pulse, and then looked up at Quinn. "Gone."

"Let's get upstairs," Quinn said, breathing hard. "See how Pearl is."