Retirement Can Be Murder

CHAPTER 42

When he was alone, he called the number. What he didn’t expect was an answer.

Gary left a few minutes after Kaylie did. Then Jake got out the duck. He unscrewed the neck from the base and unrolled all the papers, including the phone log of Charlotte’s calls to the Saving Tomorrow Initiative. Calling again was worth a try, even if he got a machine. He still had work to do.

His story should have been wrapped up. He had a note, plans, and a veritable confession. He didn’t know how much of it he could print without risking libel. He could at least tell the story truthfully. But he knew it wasn’t finished. He dialed the seven numbers and waited to hear the answering machine. Except he didn’t.

“Hello, friend. It’s a surprise to hear from you again.”

The voice laughed. It was unnaturally deep-it sounded like someone had placed a filter on the receiver. Jake pressed the tip of his pen hard against the paper.

“Who are you? What’s your agenda?”

“Do you want my Social Security number too?”

The voice laughed.

“Who are you?”

“I am a representative of the Saving Tomorrow Initiative.”

“I’m looking at the closet where I was tied up, and I’m not happy. Why did you answer?”

“Because I wanted to.” The voice laughed again. For being anonymous, it was confident. “You can’t scare us away. You can write whatever story you want. But we will still let the voters know that if they choose to strike at nature, they will suffer the consequences.”

“Who are you? I asked you once.”

“You know who we are and what we have done. Even a reporter like you can figure that out.”

It laughed again. Jake bit his pen and decided to say it. He had to. The voice was still laughing when he spoke.

“If you think you’ll get away with what you did to Charlotte Ward, you’re wrong.”

The laughter stopped.

“What?”

“You heard me. Beating up a reporter may not get you in trouble. But I’m telling the police what happened to Charlotte.”

Silence.

“What do you know?”

This time Jake didn’t talk. He realized that he’d said too much. They thought that he only knew about their scare tactics. Not that Charlotte had been murdered.

“What do you know?” the voice repeated.

“Nothing.”

It was too late.

“Let’s meet,” the voice said. “We can discuss this. You said you were at your apartment? Stay right where you are.”

“Why?”

“Just stay there.”

Jake hung up the phone. This time they wouldn’t let him live to write a story. He turned off his laptop and put it in a bag. Then he got out his phone to call Gary. He didn’t wait to say hello.

“Listen. I have to come and stay with you. The Saving Tomorrow Initiative is coming for me. They didn’t realize I knew about Charlotte’s murder.”

“What do you think will happen?”

“Now the publicity is too bad. I think they want to do to me what they did to her.”

“Hurry, Jacob!”

His phone rang again. It was the number of the group. He answered and the voice spoke.

“If you want your story, stay there Mr. Russo. We just want to talk.”

He hung up. He grabbed his bag and ran outside to the parking lot, bounding down the stairs as quickly as he could. He jumped the last three. Then he reached his car and started driving. He was halfway down the block when he looked over to the empty passenger seat.

He’d forgotten Charlotte’s duck.

He had to go back. He parked the car and got out. It was starting to get darker, and he could hardly see his apartment building in the dusk. He walked quickly and reached the stairs, ran up, and unlocked his door. He shut and locked it quickly. The duck was still on his desk. He picked it up and stepped forward.

Then he heard the lock on his door start to click. The handle began to turn.

He gasped and ducked behind the door. He was breathing deep. He could feel himself sweating again as the door opened. He grabbed the duck close to his body and felt the wood splinter against his hands.

“Mr. Russo…”

A higher voice than the phone, but still deep enough to chill him. He couldn’t place it. The door opened further and started to press against him. He watched a hulking shadow flatten out onto the bed. Jake’s arm shook. Wedged in the spot between the door and the wall, he wouldn’t stay hidden long.

The body walked toward the bathroom. A man wearing a ski mask and dark knit cap came into view. And he wore a trench coat, just like at the beach. Tall and slow moving, he lumbered forward and extended his neck in the direction of the bathroom and kitchen. Any moment he’d look back and see Jake. He had to make a break for it before it was too late.

He jumped out from behind the door and tripped before he could run outside. He got up and heard the man shout at him. Then he felt a hand grabbing on the back of his shirt. But he could run fast enough. He kept going and pulled the door handle behind him. He slammed the door and heard a scream and the sound of fingers crunching. He opened the door and slammed it shut. Then he tried to move forward. He couldn’t. The back of his t-shirt was stuck inside the door.

He jiggled the knob and heard a click. Locked. He couldn’t reopen the door. He was trapped with the duck in his hands. He just had to wait.

Unless he didn’t. He dropped the duck and pulled his arms inside the sleeves. He got the right one in and then fit the left, his arms pressing against the sides of the shirt. He shrank down and began to slip out of the shirt as the man in the apartment yelled. He pulled his arms out and let the shirt drop as he picked up the duck and started running.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the door opened and the shirt fell down. Jake stopped looking back and ran forward, sprinting as fast as he could to the car. He held the duck close to his body and pulled his keys from his shorts pocket. He fumbled to fit them into the door lock and then he looked back. The black shape was running toward him. He heard the trench coat flapping in the wind.

He threw the duck in the passenger seat and felt the splinters scrape off of his bare chest. He slammed the door and turned the key in the ignition. The man grabbed the side mirror with gloved hands and tried to stop him. Jake accelerated and the mirror ripped off with a crack. He looked back. The man was left there holding it in his hand, shaking his head. He tied the trench coat around his waist as the car pulled away. Jake had time to breathe again. He ran a red light and drove up the on-ramp to the highway.

Ahead of him, the road was long and dark. He’d gotten everything out. He stopped shaking and started focusing on the road. That was it. His apartment was gone. He’d made it out. The only problem was that he couldn’t go back.