Tuesday Morning
When River told Alexa Blank that someone hired him to abduct her and await further instructions as to whether to kill her or not, it took her a moment to realize it wasn’t a joke. “After I got hired, I got fired,” he added. “That’s because I was supposed to get the job done by last night and didn’t. What that means is that someone else now has the job. Since the target time was last night, my suspicion is that he’s already on your tail.” He looked around. “He might even be watching us right now.”
She stared in disbelief.
Then she walked away and said over her shoulder, “You’re cute but you’re way too weird for me. Have a nice life.”
River caught up to her, grabbed her arm and jerked her to a stop.
“I’m here to help you,” he said. “You need to trust me.”
She shook her arm free.
“Get the hell away from me or I’ll call the cops.”
Then she was gone, heading down the street and disappearing into the restaurant.
River waited for five minutes before following her in and taking a seat in the corner booth.
She was back in uniform.
Shaken.
Confused.
River waved at her and said, “Coffee please.”
She ignored him.
She didn’t disappear into the kitchen and out the back though. Nor did she head over to the phone to call the cops. River flagged down the other waitress, ordered coffee, and sipped it.
He eased back in the booth and stretched his legs out on the bench.
He didn’t stare at the woman.
He kept his eyes pointed out the front window, watching the skirts and suits parade past, ready to get up if someone looked too much like a killer.
Ten minutes passed.
He got a second cup.
More time passed.
A half hour.
An hour.
Alexa Blank was beginning to look his way with greater and greater frequency. Then, when River was hardly paying attention, she slipped in and locked eyes.
“Who hired you?”
River shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he said. “That’s what I want you to help me figure out.”
“How?”
He shrugged.
“Who wants you dead?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have to know.”
“Well I might have to, but I don’t.”
River studied her eyes and found no lies.
“What I propose is that you and me slip out the back right now and sort this out someplace quiet.” She was about to say something when River interrupted her. “Think long and hard before you say no. I’m only going to give you this chance one time.” A beat then, “You have ten seconds to give me your answer. After that I’m gone and you’re on your own.”
She darted her eyes.
“How do I know this isn’t a trick to get me to leave with you?”
“You don’t,” he said, standing up. “Five seconds.”
49
Day Two
July 22, 1952
Tuesday Afternoon
The dark beauty London Marshall bounded through the door early afternoon looking like a hundred crazed banshees were on her tail. “Someone broke into my house,” she said. “It’s trashed.”
“When?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “When I left for work this morning everything was fine. When I swung by just now it was trashed.”
Wilde swung his suit jacket over his shoulder and dipped his hat over his left eye.
“Let’s have a look.”
At street level Wilde pointed to Blondie and said, “That’s mine, the little green one.”
London headed to the passenger side and slipped in to find the steering wheel in front of her.
“It’s English,” Wilde said. “Everything’s backwards.”
They got rearranged and Wilde merged the front end into thick, noon-hour traffic.
He exhaled and said, “I have to be honest. I haven’t had ten seconds to work on your case.”
“That’s okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, I understand.”
“I’m on it now though,” he said.
“You still have the map, right?”
He put a confused expression on his face and shot her a sideways glance.
“I thought I gave that back to you.”
Her mouth opened.
“Just kidding,” he said. “Yeah, I have it.”
The woman smelled nice.
Her voice was a song.
She was a vision in white-a white skirt, a matching white jacket, a white blouse and white high-heels.
The skirt rode up as they drove.
Wilde kept his eyes off her nylons but it was a struggle.
Her house turned out to be a two-story Tudor in a nice section of town out by Colorado Boulevard. The tree-lawns were wide and lined with shady elms. Vines crept up wrought iron fences. It wasn’t Capitol Hill, but it wasn’t anything to sneeze at.
London led him around to the back.
The door was jimmied.
“This is how he got in,” she said. “From the get-go, he didn’t care if I knew he’d been here. The first time was different-he was discrete. This time he was out for blood.”
Inside, a bomb had gone off.
Everything in the kitchen cabinets had been swept out and smashed on the floor. The drawers were pulled out, tipped upside down and dropped.
Cushions were cut open.
Clocks and TVs were smashed.
Furniture was overturned.
“I have some bad news,” Wilde said. “This was his last chance trying to find the map on his own. You’re next. He’s going to grab you and make you tell him where it is. I’m sorry to be so blunt but I don’t want to sugarcoat it. You need to know what you’re up against.”
She flipped a couch back upright, put the cushions in place and sat down.
“I can’t run,” she said. “I have a job, friends, everything. My whole life is here in Denver. I have a trial starting next week.”
Wilde lit a cigarette.
“In that case we’ll have to go to Plan B.”
“Which is what?”
“There are two options.”
“Which are what?”
“The easiest one is to just give him the map.”
She shook her head.
“That’s not going to happen. What’s the other option?”
“The other option is that we trap him.”
“How?”
“By dangling the bait.”
“Meaning me.”
Wilde nodded.
“You and the map.”
“How do we do that?”
“I don’t know but we need to do it tonight. Like you said, he’s out for blood.”
She stared out the window then back at Wilde.
“What happens if we actually get him trapped? Do we kill him?”
Wilde shrugged.
“Maybe he’ll put us in a position where we have no choice. Self-defense and all that.” A beat, then, “In the meantime, you’ll need to go down to the police department and file a report.”
London shook her head.
“I don’t want anyone to know about the map.”
“You don’t have to tell them about the map,” Wilde said. “Just get the report on file and let ’em come out here and investigate. Then if the guy shows back up and ends up dead, they’ll know it was self-defense.” He frowned and added, “Keep in mind that the guy is probably just a hired gun. If he ends up dead, he’ll get replaced. We need to get to the source.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must have some idea.”
“Well, there is one thing,” he said. “The guy probably knows who hired him. If we ask him nice and polite and put a cherry on top maybe he’ll tell us.”
London smiled.
“I’ll pick up some cherries this afternoon.”
“They’re in the produce section.”
50
Day Two
July 22, 1952
Tuesday Afternoon