Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [classic children's novels txt] 📗

put some coffee on. While it was brewing, I went upstairs to have a shower and clear my head. While I was stripping off my shirt, I saw it on the floor, behind the toilet. It was a package, maybe six or seven inches square and three inches deep. It looked like it had fallen out of her purse while she was using what she called the loo. It was gift wrapped and tied with a bow, but there was no name tag on it.

I picked up my cell and called her.

“John, what is it?”

“You left a gift behind.”

“What?” There was a pause. I could hear her rummaging. “Oh, damn! It’s Tammy’s birthday tomorrow. It’s just a silly gift. Can you hang on to it for me and give it to me when we meet later?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you, darling.”

She hung up.

I put the package on my bed and stepped into the shower.

Twenty-One

After my shower, I did a few things I needed to do, then went downstairs feeling better. I poured myself some coffee and called Dehan. She sounded relieved to hear from me.

“How’d it go?”

“It went well. I’ll tell you about it when we meet. How about you?”

“He’s not in his office, and I’ve been sitting here all morning watching the damn place. He hasn’t shown.”

“Okay, I’ll come over. We need to talk. Then we’ll decide what to do about Baxter.”

Half an hour later, I pulled up on Melrose Avenue, a few cars behind Dehan’s unmarked vehicle. I walked up and she lowered the window.

“No sign?”

She shook her head. It felt wrong, and all the way there, in the car, I’d been getting more edgy. There were alarm bells going off everywhere, but I couldn’t see the cause. I glanced over at the street entrance, then up at his window, like I had Superman’s X-ray vision and I could somehow see inside his office. I couldn’t. I gave the roof of her car a couple of gentle thumps and said, “Let’s go up.”

She got out and we dodged through the traffic. Then we rode the slow, ancient elevator from the dark lobby up to the top floor. His door was locked. I listened.

“Do you hear that?”

She grinned. “What, a woman crying for help? That’s not going to work here, Stone.”

I shook my head. “No, the fan. The electric fan is still on.” I sniffed the air. There was everything from carbon monoxide and furniture polish to boiled cabbage and bacon, all the smells of a city. But there was something else too. I pulled out my piece and shot out the lock. It’s the quickest way known to man of opening a door.

Baxter was at his desk. He was sitting back, watching us as we walked in. His electric fan ruffled his hair as it made another relentless sweep of his office, but he didn’t feel it. His mouth was open and his eyes were staring, but he wasn’t breathing or seeing. Decay had set in, and the smell was pretty bad. There were already flies swarming over the big wound in his chest. For them, his death was not a problem, it was an opportunity. I wondered if Baxter had anybody to mourn him.

I pulled out my cell and called the 43rd.

“This is Stone. We need a meat wagon and crime scene team at Melrose and 154th. Notify the ME, too.”

Dehan was over by the door, examining the bits of lock and wood that had been punched out by my slug. “I can’t find the key,” she said, and then, after a moment, “He’s sitting down. You notice the first time we came to see him, he got up to greet us? Whoever came in, he was familiar enough with them not to feel the need.” She stood. “They just walked in, pulled a gun, shot him, took the key, and locked him in.”

I nodded. “Sounds about right.”

“Tamara?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“She heard through Emma that Baxter was onto her, so she came and shot him.”

“That would mean that Baxter was familiar with Tamara.”

“So that leaves Emma, dos Santos, or one of his men.”

“We’ll have to wait and see what the ME says. My money is on a .38. But the fact is that with an operator like Baxter, this could have been any one of a dozen people.”

My cell rang. It was Emma. I showed Dehan the screen and answered.

“Yeah.”

“Stone, it’s me. I’ve arranged it. I’m at my beach house at Napeague Park, on Long Island. Geronimo will be here at nine. Can you be here for eight?”

“Napeague Park? That’s at the easternmost tip. It’s a three-hour drive.”

“I know, darling. I thought, when it’s all over, we could spend a couple of days here, just you and me…”

My mind was racing ahead of me. I spoke mechanically, without thinking. “That sounds nice, baby, but I told you, we’ll have time to discuss that afterward. First we attend to business.”

“I know, darling. Say you’ll be here.”

“I’ll be there. What about Tamara? I told you I wanted to meet her first.”

“That’s why I want you here at eight. She’ll be here.”

“Will dos Santos be alone?”

“No, he goes everywhere with Ronaldo, his gorilla.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at eight.”

“And, darling?”

“What?”

“Be armed. These men are dangerous.”

“Leave that to me.”

I hung up. Dehan was watching me with a face like a hanging judge who just sat on a wasp.

“You want to tell me what’s going down at Napeague Park, baby?”

“A meeting, with Geronimo, Tamara, and Emma.” I told her about the portrait and the deal she wanted to make. “We need to get a wire fixed up, and backup. And we need to run this by the captain.”

She nodded. “Go. I’ll wait for