Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 02 - London Broil Page 11

  “How do you even know what a sociopath is?”

  “Psychology is my hobby. I took a correspondence course. I’m rather good at it. Like I could tell from our first meeting you were attracted to me.”

  If my hands had been free, I’d have wrung my face, but I smiled on the inside. This was going to be easy-peasy. I checked out the surroundings. We were in a seedy flat with a pull-down bed and a tin kitchen table with three mismatched chairs. A roach scrambled across the floor.

  “If you don’t talk, we’ll hold you hostage until that archaeologist brings us the thirteenth Boy.”

  “This dump is unacceptable! Couldn’t you find a nicer place to hold me hostage? You’re in violation of the Geneva Convention.”

  Nobby looked around as if seeing the place for the first time. “Sorry. We rented it by the day. It was all we could afford.”

  “I’ve been held hostage for weeks on a super-yacht with gourmet food. This slum is the best you can do? Untie me or I’ll … well it won’t be pleasant. I have friends in high places.” I struggled with the plastic bindings that held my wrists together.

  The room was hot, airless, and aromatic “Wait! I smell fish ‘n’ chips!” I said jumping from my seat.

  Nobby snapped, “Shut up, Goldilocks, or I’ll stuff a sock in your mouth.”

  Algy and I both did a double take as Nobby tried to talk thug.

  I laughed. “I’ll bet you don’t own a sock.” I managed to poke his chest with one finger. “And don’t you touch me again, you bloody ape.”

  “That’s not very nice. You don’t know me well enough to call me names,” Nobby said.

  Algy’s ears flapped as he forced me back onto the chair.

  “You forgot to superglue your ears.” He pushed my chair over, and my head hit the slimy floor. I scrambled to stand up.

  I was so woozy, I almost passed out – not just from hitting my head and whatever they used to knock me out, but it was oven-hot in the tiny room. Not a fan or an open window. If it was over one hundred degrees on the street, it had to be twenty more in the flat. I took a deep breath to clear the cobwebs. “Look guys… I don’t know where the Lost Boy is. But I’m to check in with Roger at exactly… what time is it?”

  Nobby looked at his watch. “Ten minutes after twelve.”

  “Thanks. At exactly ten minutes after twelve. He is going to tell me where the Lost Boy is. Hand me my purse. I’ll call him.”

  They looked at each other and shrugged. Algy lifted my purse from the floor and handed it to me.

  “How about cutting these bracelets off so I can reach my phone?”

  “Nope.” Algy gave his head a quick shake, causing his ears to flap. “I’ll get your phone out.”

  I tugged the bag away. “Get your germy hands off!”

  It was tough work getting to my phone with my hands tied. The cell was in a little case strapped to the inside of the bag. I flipped it open and hit speed dial for Roger, glaring at my two captors. Algy leaned in to listen, his ear flapping against my hand.

  My brilliant Indiana Jones picked up on the second ring. “Hey… Glad you called. I’m meeting a new client this afternoon. He might join us for dinner.”

  I cut him off, trying to get across my predicament without letting him spill any beans about the last Lost Boy. “About dinner, I might not be able to make it.”

  Roger sounded perturbed. “Now what did I do wrong?”

  “I’m tied up. I bumped into an old friend of yours.”

  “That’s nice.” He slid right past my hint. “I’d really like you to meet Victor. He’s from Switzerland. He was an acquaintance of Benny’s.”

  “Yikes…” I managed to squeak out one word before Algy grabbed the phone and snapped it shut. He jammed the phone into my purse and flung it across the room.

  Oh shit. Roger was with Victor Veal. Every pore on my hostage body was sweating double-time. Roger might be in danger.

  “That didn’t sound like the professor had the Lost Boy. But once he discovers we’ve got his girlfriend, he’ll turn up the heat and find that thing,” Algy said.

  Nobby looked puzzled as usual. “So what are we going to do with Wendy till then?”

  Algy rolled his eyes. “She’s our hostage. She’s our leverage with Dr. Jolley. We’ll need to communicate with him, but not with her phone. The coppers might trace the call. We’ll use disposable cells.”

  Mr. Perpetual Puzzlement said, “But we don’t have any disposable cells.”

  “I’ll go get us one. You stay here and guard her.”

  “May the hostage ask a question before you leave? This is all very riveting, but you can’t keep me in this hellhole. What’s the plan? Surely you must have a detailed plan.”

  Algy did a hip wiggle and stepped into my face. “We’re holding you until your boyfriend finds the Lost Boy. Then he’ll trade it for you, or you’ll die a squidgy death.”

  “Squidgy? What kind of death is that?” I rolled my eyes and Nobby giggled. I’d found their weak spot. And its name was Nobby Seemore.

  The little Dame Judi turned on his disco heels and made for the paint-challenged door.

  “Please don’t leave me alone with this brut!” I pleaded with a straight face.

  Algy put his hand on the doorknob, and in pathetic imitation of a tough-guy voice said, “Don’t get too rough with her, I’ll be back in twenty-minutes.” He pointed at Nobby, “And don’t touch those cuffs.”

  I heard the little slug stumble twice going down the stairs, either the effect of the mask or the high heels or genetic incompetence. The Neanderthal and I were alone. I batted my eyelashes.

  Chapter 36

  Nobby shifted his gaze from my eyelashes to my lips. I licked them, and he fell forward almost knocking me over.

  “You’re way too smart to be mixed up with that little putz,” I said.

  “He’s my cousin.”

  “He’s wanted for murder.”

  “He didn’t kill Benny Hannah.”

  “Well who did?”

  “Dunno. He was dead when I got to the house. Oops.”

  “That’s okay. You can trust me. I’m a special investigator.”

  “You are?” He gazed into my eyes, puddles of yellow gunk gathering in his lower lids.

  “You tell me and I can sort it all out. If you ever get arrested for Benny’s murder, I’ll be able to tell the police what really happened.”

  Nobby pursed his lips and thought about it. I could smell rubber burning. “You’re tricking me. We’re holding you till that antique bloke comes across with the last Lost Boy. Then Algy and me are gonna sell it back to the museum and fly to Haiti.”

  “Haiti?”

  “The place with the palm trees… it’s an island with beautiful women in schlongs.”

  “You mean Tahiti… and sarongs?”

  “That’s it.”

  I tried to imagine what it would be like to be that stupid. “Wouldn’t you like to have the murder off your conscience?”

  “But I didn’t do anything. I went to Benny’s house to see if the rugs were still on the stairs. That was pretty funny, freaking him out like that. When I crawled through the window, the animal skins were in a big pile in the parlor.”

  He ran a hand through his flaky hair and a smoke-signal of floral-scented talc rose from the top of his head. “I heard two guys arguing on the other side of the heap of rugs so I hid. The one guy had a scary quiet voice with a Nazi accent. Next thing I know, there’s a groan and a sound like a sack of beans hitting the floor.”

  He chewed on his puffy lower lip looking confused.

  “I peeked out and only Hannah was there… laying on the floor. So real careful like, I creep over to him to frisk, I mean examine the body. Not a lot of blood, but enough to get some on my hands. He got no pulse in his neck, so I’m sure he’s dead. I watch American television, so I knew I had to hide the body.”

  “Really? Is that what you learn on American television?”

 
“Your cop shows are very educational.” He scratched his chin. “So I take off a few rugs, and I pick up the body and lay the body down on the rug pile… then lay more rugs on top of it.”

  “And this helped you how?”

  “Well, that way nobody could see the body while I was there. But then I had to run and let Algy in so we could scare Benny, ‘cause that’s what we came to do.”

  “But Benny was dead.”

  Nobby threw his hands in the air, “I know that! But Algy didn’t know.”

  If Benny hadn’t been murdered, this would have made a great comedy. I never lose sight of my inner Python.

  The lug continued his tale, “When I ran to let Algy in the back door, I bumped into that houseman in the kitchen… the tall, dark dude. He came at me with a kitchen knife.”

  “You killed him?”

  “No, he killed himself. He ran into it when I flipped it around.”

  I was sure I was having an out-of-body experience. “You wouldn’t happen to have a pair of scissors to cut these plastic bracelets off? I’d like to take notes on this.”

  “Algy said not to touch those cuffs.”

  “Since you can’t touch them, mind if I just loosen them with my teeth? They hurt.” I started to gnaw on the plastic. “Are you hungry? I’m starving. That is fish ‘n’ chips I smell. I love fish ‘n’ chips.”

  He smiled as if he’d done something right. “There’s a fish ‘n’ chips shop just below us.”

  I chewed on the plastic as a plan formed around fried fish. “So then what happened?”

  “Well then, me and Algy took the dark dude’s body into the cellar and put him in the freezer. He folded up pretty easy, but he sure stunk like curry.”

  Nibbling away at my restraints, I continued to grill the big palooka. “Benny had a high-tech alarm system. How’d you guys manage to defeat it?”

  He appeared surprised at my question. “Algy spit in it.”

  Of course. How else do you disarm an alarm? I went back to gnawing on the plastic.

  “Nobby… if you get me some fish ‘n’ chips, you’ll be my friend forever.” I licked my lips again.

  His jaw dropped. “Would you like me better than Algy, if I got you fish ‘n’ chips?”

  “Only if you bring me lots of vinegar. I can never get enough vinegar. Matter of fact, if you bring me a whole bottle of vinegar, I’ll like you even more than a friend.”

  He blushed a strange shade of raspberry… or perhaps he was having a heart attack. “I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to tie you to a chair before I zip down for the fish ‘n’ chips. Not that I don’t trust you… I just hate when Algy gets miffed at me.”

  I placed my feet as far apart as I could and sat on the edge of the chair. The ropes would be loose enough for me to squiggle away. “Hurry, Nobby, dear! I’m really hungry. Don’t forget the vinegar!”

  Nobby shot me a slap-happy grin and headed out the door. I wiggled my feet free and nearly threw out a hip twisting to loosen the ropes around my waist. But I couldn’t snap the plastic strips on my wrists. They needed more chewing.

  Just as I was about to break free from the chair, Algy came in. He laid a small white bag on the table and looked around. “Where in the bloody hell is Nobby?”

  I stood up, shedding the rope and kicking it aside. “He’ll be right back. What’d you get?”

  He pushed me away from the bag. “Disposable phones so we can call Dr. Roger Jolley.”

  Nobby came clunking up the stairs and through the door, with a grease-stained brown paper sack. He avoided eye contact with Algy. “The lady was hungry. I got us some fish ‘n’ chips, too.”

  Algy yanked Nobby by his shirt. “You shouldn’t have left the bird alone. A pity you leave your brain in neutral most of the time.”

  The big guy looked embarrassed. He peeked at me to see if I was watching.

  I turned my back and finished chewing through the plastic handcuffs. I spit the cheap rip-off restraints aside and stretched my arms to get the circulation going. The goofs didn’t seem to notice. I took the bag from Nobby, tore it open, and spread the paper on the table. They were both salivating. Party time!

  “Got a cup?” I asked. “I like to dip my chips in the vinegar.”

  “Can never have enough vinegar,” Nobby said as he winked at me. He handed me a large mug from the cupboard. It was yellow on the outside and marbleized shades of brown inside. I doubt it had ever been washed.

  Nobby pulled up a chair and placed his hands on his chunky thighs. He was ready to chow down. “This is just brilliant! A regular sit-down, family-style dinner.” He sounded like a kid.

  Algy grabbed the third chair while I poured the entire bottle of vinegar into the mug. Then I turned in one perfect arc and splashed the vinegar in Algy’s face, catching him in the eyes. He screamed in pain. It was a mean thing to do, and I’d feel bad about it… later. I hit the stairs, pumping adrenalin and sniffling from the acrid smell.

  “Bloody Bitch!” Sour words shot from Algy’s mouth as he leaped after me. He was on my tail with Nobby lumbering behind him. The little twerp tripped and fell rolling into me. As we tumbled down the stairs, I grabbed his scrawny neck, leaving nice red scratches. It didn’t slow him up.

  I bit his ear. Yuck. His head bounced on the last step and talcum powder flew from his noggin into his eyes. I took that moment to stick my elbow into his mouth. I’d never be able to wash off those yellow teeth germs. Ugh. He was still able to breathe through his nose. I stuck two fingers from my left hand into his nostrils. He panicked, gasping for air, but unfortunately remained conscious.

  Scrambling to stand up, I looked at Nobby Seemore. He sat mid-staircase with a silly grin on his face. He gave me a thumbs-up. I winked at him. Algy grabbed my leg, almost pulling me down. I yelped and kicked him in his wiggly-bits. He hissed as he let go. I darted off, pushing the door and praying it wasn’t locked. It popped open.

  Once out on the street, I had no idea where I was. My throat was tight with vinegar fumes and my heart was racing. My purse was in that smelly flat. I had no money and no ID. Shit.

  I turned and ran back in, leaped over Algy who was still lying on the landing, galloped up the stairs past a startled Nobby, into the flat. I grabbed my purse and headed out. That fish smelled so darn good, I grabbed a wedge of fried cod for the road.

  “Forgot my purse!” I said as I dashed down the stairs – managing to pat Nobby’s head in passing – hopped over Algy, and was out the door before they knew what hit them.

  I took a small bite of the codfish. “Darn, no vinegar.”

  Chapter 37

  I dialed Roger. His cell was shut off and my call went directly to voice mail. I called the museum desk and asked to ring the Obtainers of Rare Antiquities room, which doubled as an office for visiting researchers and migratory archaeologists. Roger wasn’t there. I asked for the head of museum security.

  The chief of security got on the line. I babbled, “It’s urgent I reach Dr. Roger Jolley. I believe he’s in the museum somewhere. He may be with his clerk.”

  “Dr. Jolley doesn’t have a clerk.”

  My heart did a drumbeat – two thumps. “Please find him and call me back or have him call me. Hurry!” I left my number.

  More taxi money went into the British economy as I zipped to Roger’s flat. I let myself in and waited for a call. Staring out at the Thames, I willed my phone to ring. Silence. Carrying my cell to the bathroom, I soaked a washcloth in cold water and held it against my sweaty face. Still no call.

  I plopped down on his bed and rolled my face into his pillows. The scent of Roger Jolley stirred the worry monsters running in my head, kicking down doors and screaming… he’s gone, he’s gone. They’ve killed him.

  My cocky little note from the morning sat exactly where I’d left it. “I’ve gone to the Abbey…” Had I known then, I could have saved Roger. I shredded the paper and binned it.

  An hour had passed it was near three. My phone rang its chirpy littl
e version of The Pink Panther. “Yes!” I snapped it open. “Roger?”

  “Wendy… it’s me. Treanna.”

  “What’s wrong, sweet pea?”

  “I miss you. When are you coming home? I don’t like it here without you.”

  “Sweetheart, I’ll be home as soon as I can. I’m helping a friend. Remember?”

  “You used to be my friend. If I was in trouble would you come home?”

  “I’m still your friend, and of course, I’d come home. It won’t be too much longer.” I hesitated cutting her short, but I didn’t want to tie up my phone. “I’ll call you tomorrow, sweetheart.” I clicked off, thorns of guilt pricking my conscience.

  I needed assistance… Angus! I scrounged in my purse and found Detective Chief Inspector Angus Black’s card. I called him. He barely said hello before I said, “Help… I think Roger’s in danger.”

  “Stay put and I’ll be at Roger’s flat within the hour.”

  Exactly thirty minutes later, a hard double-knock on the door sent me jumping. Detective Angus Black was dripping sweat onto his collar. “No air-conditioning in our sedan,” he said as he swiped at the wet that trickled down his forehead.

  Angus paced the length of Roger’s living room as I tried to share my worries with him. We had to rescue my archaeologist, but I wasn’t sure if he needed saving. I started to tell the detective about my being kidnapped by the two knuckleheads, but he cut me off.

  “Have you any idea where—”

  “No. He was meeting someone at the museum.”

  The detective shook his head. “I didn’t mean Roger, I meant the Lost Boy.”

  I shot him an angry look for his callous question. He got the point and visibly shriveled.

  “If someone’s taken Roger hostage, it might be because they think you have knowledge of the location of Thirteen,” he said.

  His thinking was off base. The Lost Boy was not our immediate concern. We were here to rescue Roger.

  Angus sat on the sofa rubbing his hands, “Our people were able to match that voice message.”