Kill Me Friday (A Bryson Wilde Thriller / Read in Any Order) Read online

  49

  Day Two

  July 16

  Wednesday Afternoon

  The bricks and asphalt of Larimer Street soaked up every possible ray of sun and relentlessly flung them at every person, animal and insect that was unfortunate enough to be within flinging distance. Wilde wiped sweat off his brow and pictured a cold iced tea sliding down his throat as he flipped through the phone book for an address.

  He grabbed his hat from the rack, dipped it over his left eye and said, “Let’s take a field trip.”

  Nicole fell into step.

  “Where we going?”

  “Someplace we shouldn’t.”

  “As in where?”

  “We’re going to stake out Warner Raven’s place tonight, remember?”

  Yes.

  She remembered.

  “It’s not exactly night yet.”

  “I’ve never seen the place,” Wilde said. “I want to drive by and get my bearings.”

  Raven, it turned out, lived in a nice standalone house on the east side near Colorado Boulevard. The houses had driveways meaning street parking wasn’t as big a problem as inner-city Denver. A drive-by showed the curtains closed but the windows open six inches or so.

  Wilde parked a block over and looked at Nicole.

  “I’m half tempted to go in,” he said.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  He wasn’t.

  Not in the least.

  “It’s the quickest way to figure out if I’m on track or not,” he said. “If you’re right and Raven’s a misdirect, I’d rather know it now than later.”

  Nicole chewed on it.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Wilde stepped out of the car.

  “Just wait here, I’ll be right back.”

  He headed for the house.

  Ten steps later he found Nicole at his side.

  “You forgot something,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Me.”

  “You just do whatever you want, don’t you?”

  “Pretty much, so get used to it.”

  They headed up the driveway as if they owned the place, then swung to the back and entered through a bedroom window.

  There.

  Done deal.

  Wilde peeked around to see if any nosy neighbors were craning their necks to get a better look at what just happened.

  He saw no one.

  “Don’t touch anything.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I said okay.”

  Wilde slapped her ass.

  “Say it in French.”

  “Oui.”

  “That’s better,” he said. “And stop trying to feel my hand with your ass. It’s not polite.”

  She smiled.

  “Sorry.”

  Wilde slapped it again.

  “Hey, we just talked about that.”

  “I guess it just can’t help itself,” she said. “What are we looking for exactly?”

  “The usual stuff,” Wilde said. “Bloody heads hanging from meat hooks, the stench of a thousand rotting corpses, that kind of thing. You’ll know it when you see it.”

  50

  Day Two

  July 16

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Durivage was pacing next to the phone when it rang and the voice of none other than Emmanuelle came through. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you,” she said in French.

  “I have to admit, it was a bit of a shocker,” he said. “We need to get together and talk.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not sure what you’ll do to me.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “There’s no way I can be sure of that,” she said. “Not at this point.”

  “Let me show my good faith by sharing some news with you,” he said “There’s a French woman in town looking to kill you.” With that, he told her about the woman going under the name Nicole Wickliff, how he broke into her hotel room and found pictures of Emmanuelle.

  “Where is she staying?”

  Durivage told her adding, “Room 301. There’s an exterior fire escape that comes pretty close to her room window.”

  “What’s she look like?” Emmanuelle asked.

  “Sexy.”

  Silence.

  “Blond, dirty.”

  Then, “Thanks.”

  The line went dead.

  Two minutes later the phone rang again. Durivage thought it was Emmanuelle with something on her mind but it turned out to be Zongying calling from a payphone.

  “I just swung by Spencer’s house, to see if the cops were there by any chance,” she said. “Guess whose car was parked in the driveway?”

  Durivage didn’t know.

  “Kent Dawson’s.”

  Dawson.

  The asshole.

  “What’s he doing there?”

  “My guess is that the dirt they have on me is being kept at Spencer’s place. Dawson knows that Spencer’s body will show up sooner or later and the cops will end up over there snooping around,” she said. “He wants to get the dirt while it’s there to get. That way he can keep his hooks in me.”

  Durivage clenched his hand.

  “Swing over and get me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s time for Dawson to decide if he wants to live or not.”

  Silence.

  Then, “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  51

  Day Two

  July 16

  Wednesday Afternoon

  When Jina dared to peek around the edge of the shower curtain, she could see into the bedroom thanks to the reflection of the mirror above the sink. Based on the sounds from downstairs, the man was an intruder, working fast, rustling through things.

  He was probably the one who killed Spencer.

  Five minutes into the search, he stopped to make a telephone call. I don’t see you leaving town. Do you think I was joking with you? A few heartbeats later he threw the phone against the wall and shouted, You’re dead, Durivage. Deader than dead. I should have just done it this afternoon.

  Jina memorized the name—Durivage.

  Durivage.

  Durivage.

  Vibrations came from the stairway.

  The man was heading closer.

  Jina couldn’t breathe.

  Lightning pumped through her veins.

  In three heartbeats a hand would grab the curtain and rip it back.

  She could feel it.

  It was coming.

  The end of her life was here.

  She wanted to peek out.

  She wanted to see his face.

  Instead she got her body as still as she could. She didn’t move her arms or legs or hands. She didn’t shift her feet. She breathed through a quiet open mouth. Sooner or later a part of her body would move. She couldn’t stay like this forever.

  The man came into the bedroom.

  Drawers opened.

  The contents got dumped to the floor.

  The man shifted them around with his foot, looking for whatever it was he was looking for.

  His breathing was heavy.

  He smashed the wall with his fist.

  Then he suddenly got coffin-quiet and tiptoed towards the hall.

  Noises came from downstairs.

  Someone else was in the house.

  The man swore under his breath, then opened a bedroom window and jumped out.

  Jina ran to the window and looked down.

  The man was big, strong and mean.

  Suddenly he looked up.

  Straight up.

  Directly into her eyes.

  He had a cleft chin and a scar on his forehead.

  He paused for a moment as if deciding whether to come back, then he turned and ran.

  A shout came from downstairs.

  “Dawson!”

  Silence.

  “D
awson!”

  No answer.

  Jina gauged the distance to the ground. It was a long way but probably wouldn’t kill her. She got her body through, took a deep breath and realized she couldn’t do it.

  It was too far.

  Suddenly she lost her balance and fell.

  52

  Day Two

  July 16

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Raven’s house was hotter than hot. The windows might have been cracked to keep the place from turning into a complete oven, but that was about it. Three or four fans were blowing at full force, not doing anything other than moving fiery air from one part of the house to another. Wilde stood in front of one of them as he looked around. He lifted his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “What I’m primarily interested in is seeing if there’s anything that connects Raven to either Jessica Dent or Constance Black,” he said. “That will probably take the shape of either papers or photographs.”

  “Okay.”

  He headed for the den and said, “Check the bedrooms upstairs. See if there’s a desk or a safe.”

  “On my way,” Nicole said.

  Two minutes later Wilde heard, “Hey, come on up here.”

  “You got something?”

  “I think so.”

  When he got up, Nicole pulled a painting above a dresser to the side to reveal a Molser combination safe with a face approximately 10 inches square and a circular door that consumed most of the face. Wilde had seen them before, four times right to the first number, three times left, two times right, then left to the final number.

  “Can you get into it?” Nicole asked.

  “Yes but not with tools,” he said.

  On a shelf inside the closet, they found ten shoeboxes stuffed with photo-club porn. Wilde shuffled through each of them just enough to determine that there was nothing hidden underneath.

  There wasn’t.

  There were only photos.

  They found nothing of interest anywhere else in the house and headed for the MG. “It feels like a glacier storm out here,” Wilde said. “I thought I was going to pass out in there. I really did.”

  Nicole locked her arm through his.

  “We need to toughen you up,” she said.

  “People have tried,” he said. “It doesn’t work.”

  53

  Day Two

  July 16

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Durivage searched every inch of Spencer’s house, expecting Kent Dawson to jump out with a knife at every turn, but in the end found the place empty. “His car’s still in the driveway. He must have run. I don’t get it.”

  “He’s picking his time,” Zongying said.

  “Why? What’s wrong with now?”

  “He wants to find what he’s looking for first,” she said. “Once he has his hooks back in me, he’ll try to make me get you out of town. He’ll use me for leverage. That way he won’t have to confront you head-on.”

  “He already did, though,” Durivage said.

  “Maybe he’s thinking twice about killing you.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t think it’s because he’s afraid of a confrontation,” she said. “I think it’s more because he’s realized it’s a pretty serious offense. If he got caught he’d lose his freedom. He knows I’d turn him in, too, even with his hooks in me.”

  Durivage sat down on the couch.

  “So what was he looking for exactly?”

  Zongying looked away.

  “I don’t want to get into it,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want you to think about me in the way that you will.” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body tight. “There probably won’t be a better time to say it than now so I’m just going to do it. You and me have something.”

  Durivage nodded.

  That was true.

  “I want the past to disappear,” she said. “All I want is a future and I want it to be with you.”

  He kissed her.

  “Done.” A beat then, “Now what?”

  “Let me look around,” she said. “I know what I’m looking for. Just stand guard in case he comes back.”

  Suddenly a car engine fired. Durivage pulled the curtain aside to see Dawson squealing down the driveway in reverse. In the street, he slammed into the door of a parked Ford 3100 pickup before getting the vehicle fishtailing down the street.

  “I’ve seen better drivers,” Durivage said.

  Zongying smiled.

  Durivage looked into her eyes and said, “My past isn’t exactly pristine. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. If you really do want a future together you’re going to need to know what I’ve done and vice versa. Trust me, there’s nothing you could possibly tell me that would have an impact.”

  She stared out the window.

  “In that case just let me leave it unsaid, at least for now,” she said. “Let me get searching. I’m wasting time.”

  “It will go faster if I help.”

  Zongying bit her lower lip.

  “I’ll do it,” she said.

  Durivage frowned.

  “I’m disappointed. You don’t trust me.” A pause then, “It’s okay, I understand. Trust is something you have to earn. The last thing you need is a third person to get their hooks in you.”

  Zongying exhaled.

  “Whether I find what I’m looking for or not, I need Dawson dead. Will you do that for me?”

  54

  Day Two

  July 16

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Back at the office Jina found twenty-seven Dawsons in the phone book. It would take a lot of snooping and running around to figure out which was the right one, not to mention that none of them might be.

  Even if she found him, what would she do?

  One option would be to call him anonymously and say, I’m the woman from the house. I’m no threat to you. I’ll never tell anyone so just forget I even exist.

  Would that work?

  Probably not.

  In fact, definitely not.

  She’d still be a threat.

  She couldn’t un-become a threat simply by talking.

  Plus, the call would be an announcement that she not only saw him at the house but also tracked him down.

  Not good.

  Maybe she should call the police and make an anonymous report that Spencer’s body was out by the railroad tracks and that a man named Dawson killed him. Picturing herself doing that made her palms sweat.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  That would get her involved throat-deep.

  She didn’t have the time or energy for it.

  She needed to concentrate on the scroll.

  Suddenly a knock came at the door.

  The client?

  Here to interrogate her?

  Standing there was the last person on earth she expected, namely Stephen Zipp, an associate attorney who had the office two doors down from hers back when she was employed with Bender, Littlepage & Price, P.C.

  He was average height.

  Average build.

  Average looks.

  Average everything.

  He wore black glasses, just like Jina. That was the one thing she’d always liked about him, that and the fact that he got a little weak-kneed whenever he was around her. She hadn’t seen him, or even thought of him for that matter, for over a year.

  He was as surprised as she was.

  “Oh, you’re here,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t expect you.”

  “Did you come by before?”

  He nodded.

  “A couple of times,” he said. “I’m not good at this kind of thing so I’m just going to come out and say it. I was hoping that maybe we could have dinner sometime or go to a movie or something like that. You know, catch up on old times.�
��

  She hesitated.

  Then said, “Look, Stephen, that sounds great but your timing’s bad. I have more things going on right now than the law allows. I don’t even have time to breathe.”

  He diverted his eyes.

  “Okay. I understand.”

  “It’s not you, it’s just that the timing’s bad. Honest, maybe in a month or two, after I get things settled.”

  He turned.

  “Sure, I’ll call you then.”

  Then he left.

  Jina closed the door, took a number of deep breaths and almost went after him. As she reached for the knob, though, a chill went up her spine.

  Stephen was with her old law firm.

  So was Taylor Lee.

  Did Taylor send him here to be a spy?

  If so, would it be better to shut him out or get closer to him?

  Think.

  Think.

  Think.

  Suddenly she pulled the door open and bounded down the stairs two at a time, still not sure if she was going to talk to him or just watch him leave.

  55

  Day Two

  July 16

  Wednesday Afternoon

  In the back office Wilde pointed three fans at the middle of the back room, turned the lights off, pinned Nicole on the floor and kissed her.

  “You’re so evil,” she said.

  “You have no idea.” He unbuttoned her blouse and ran his tongue up her stomach. “This doesn’t replace what’s going to happen tonight. It’s in addition.”

  He took her slowly.

  Erotically.

  Bringing her to a slow boil.

  Memorizing every movement of her body.

  Afterwards when he opened the door and stepped into the main room, something happened that he didn’t expect, namely Alabama was sitting behind the desk with her feet propped up.

  “How long have you been here?” he asked.

  “Long enough.”

  Wilde lit two cigarettes, handed one to Nicole then turned to Alabama as he blew smoke. “Forget everything you heard,” he said. “It will make you go blind.”

  She smiled.

  “Especially the French part,” he added. Then to Nicole, “What were you saying anyway?”

  She laughed.