Russian Hill (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 1) (18 page)

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Vicki didn’t need to wait very long for someone to exit the building and allow her to slip inside. She pulled on the heavy, glass door of the rickety elevator and entered. The small space reeked of mechanical oil used to keep the gears of the old lift lubed and functioning. She hit the fifth floor button and proceeded to take the slow ride up. There was no bell or lighted number to announce her arrival, only the grating of metal when she slid open the manual doors.

Down the carpeted hall she walked, mindful of not dragging her feet or letting the heels of her cross-trainers drum the floor.
No need to notify any of the residents that someone is outside.
With each step closer, Vicki became increasingly aware of a tightening in her stomach. It wasn’t something she had experienced very often. She didn’t flinch when gutting a man, nor did it bother her to stare into someone’s eyes as their lifeblood spurted from a wound on their neck. Excitement would be the word to best explain those feelings. This was different. She had never before returned to a location while the body was still there. It wasn’t something that interested her, nor had she ever had any reason to.

She also noticed that her throat had dried when she swallowed, causing her to cough twice into her closed mouth.
Strange,
she thought.
When she reached the musician’s door, only then did it dawn on her that the door was probably locked. Jerry had been the last one out; surely he had locked it. All this sneaking around and risk could be for naught. Vicki shook off those thoughts and reached for the doorknob, wondering and hoping. With a quick twist of her wrist, the door clicked open. Her husband had fucked up.

She entered the apartment and locked the door behind her. On the floor, surrounded by an oval of soiled carpeting, lay the musician. His eyes were still open, but dry, and staring absently at the wall. Most of the blood coating his skin and clothing had dried to a crust, except around the gash in his neck; there, it looked to still have a gel-like consistency. The strong smell of iron lingered in the apartment but was nonexistent in the hallway. It surprised her that it wasn’t worse, all things considered.

She moved closer to his body, careful not to step on the carpet that had absorbed fluids.
Plush carpeting serves a purpose.
His face was devoid of color, and his mouth lay partly open, allowing her to see his dark, bloated tongue. She noticed a slight belly had formed from the gases slowly building inside of him—a big fart waiting to explode.

Vicki carefully searched the area around his body and slowly branched out in a circle. She found nothing and started to wonder if the charm might be under him.
That would be a bummer.
She didn’t want to get her hands dirty.
Maybe he has a broom or something I can roll him over with. What a drag.

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The fourth floor was a bust, but the company and the tea had made up for it. After thanking Virginia Ayton for her time—I had noticed her name on the picture she had shown me—I handed her my card and told her to call me if she should remember anything. Secretly, I hoped she would. I so wanted to learn more about her interesting life.
Would it be weird to ask her to meet for coffee after questioning her?

I headed for the stairs with that thought lingering and wondered if Tucker had beat me to the fifth floor. I counted sixteen steps with badly worn carpeting before reaching the top of the stairwell. There were no surprises, just another dreary hallway staring back at me. There was a difference, though: I could detect a hint of carpet freshener.
Someone cares on this floor.

Before I knocked on the first door, my phone beeped. It was a text from Kang asking for an update. I replied that Tucker and I were still in the first building and that I hadn’t had any luck. I told him I wasn’t sure about Agent Tucker. He responded with similar results on his end. So far, things weren’t looking so good. And it didn’t get any better, as I encountered a moment of silence after knocking on the first door.

Door by door, I made my way down the ghost hall. No one seemed to be home, and not a peep could be heard. I knocked on the second-to-last door and thought I heard a noise. I had: my stomach telling me to feed it. I let out a soft breath. My earlier hopes of moving forward in the case were slowly fading. That’s the thing with police work; the highs were high, and the lows were low. A lot of exploring was needed to produce any sort of meaningful result.

I kicked my heel into the carpet and twisted it as I waited for someone, anyone, to answer my knocking. I waited a few more seconds before turning to the last door on the floor.
Come on, number sixteen; make my day.

Chapter 42

Vicki was on her hands and knees, craning her neck for a better look under the couch, when she heard the knock at the door. She jumped up at the sound. Her first inclination was that she had mistaken some other noise for a knock, but then she heard it again. Someone was definitely on the other side of that door.
Just be quiet. They’ll leave eventually.
But the knocking continued.
Persistent fuckers, aren’t we?

Vicki looked at the body sprawled out in front of her. Inviting them in for coffee was out of the question.
Did he have a girlfriend? Did she have a key? If he’d had one and she did have the key, she wouldn’t be knocking, dummy.

Again, three succinct knocks rang out.

Vicki quietly walked up to the door and leaned in toward the peephole.
A quick look couldn’t hurt.
Standing outside she saw a short, Asian woman dressed in a dark blue pantsuit.
Who the hell is that? A Realtor?

“Open up,” the woman said. “I know you’re home. I can see your shadow moving under the door.”

Vicki looked down.
Damn!
She quickly counted her options.

Ignore her.

Answer the door and politely tell her I’m busy.

Kill her.

“My name is Abby Kane,” the woman said with a raised voice. “I’m with the FBI, and I want to ask you a few questions. It’ll only take a few moments of your time.”

Shit!
Vicki had to reconsider her options. Quick!

She moved into the bedroom, yanked the brown comforter off the bed and covered the body. She then stripped off her pants, shirts and shoes and wrapped one towel around her head and another around her body. A splash of water to the face and she returned to the door.

Surely that agent wouldn’t come into the home of a half-naked woman. Vicki put on a smile and cracked the door open enough to peek out.

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“I’m sorry to disturb you,” I said. The woman staring at me from behind the door looked as if she had just stepped out of the shower.

“Bad timing.” The woman forced a laugh. She was being polite.

“I’ll get to the point.” I held up my phone and showed the woman the picture of my suspect. Her head jerked back instantly, and her forehead crinkled.

“Do you recognize this woman?” I asked as I moved the phone closer to her face. “Looks like you might have.”

She pulled her head back farther. “No, not at all. I can barely make out her features.” Her eyes fluttered back and forth between the picture and myself. “It’s a terrible photo.”

Why thank you, Master of the Obvious.
“She’s a suspect in a case.”

She shrugged. “Is that it? I’m sort of in the middle of a bath, and I’m running late for an appointment.”

“No.” I pulled up the video. “See if this helps.”

She barely watched before she started shaking her head.

“You live in the building long?” I asked.

“Not long. Maybe six months.”

“It empties out during the day. This is the second apartment I have encountered where someone was home.”

“Oh, well, I work from home. I’m a writer,” she replied. Her nose turned up a tad. I guess she wanted to show me that her nostrils were clean.

“That’s nice,” I said, biting my bottom lip but never taking my eye off her.

“Well, Ms…”

“White. Evelyn White.”

“…Ms. White, thank you for your time.” I produced one of my business cards and handed it to her. “In case you remember anything.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

As I turned to walk away, what she said stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Good luck finding them.”

Chapter 43

Jerry ordered the cab driver to pull into the alley next to the building. “Here’s fifty bucks. Wait here for me,” he said while handing the cabbie the money. “I have another hundred for you when I get back, okay?”

The cabbie nodded. “I’ll be right here, boss.”

Jerry eyed the brown-skinned man for a second before nodding and exiting the vehicle. He hurried to the front of the building, hoping the security gate had been left open. No such luck.

Fucking A. Dammit, why did she have to disobey me?
He distinctly remembered telling her to forget about that charm and that returning to that apartment was a risk. Yes, it had all come back to him. The conversation had taken place over dinner and drinks. At least, that’s how he remembered it. Or did he? Jerry ignored the voice that said otherwise, the one that swore the conversation had never happened. Jerry hated that voice. So cocky. So condescending. “You always have to be right,” Jerry whispered under his breath. “Not this time.”

His left hand remained in his front pants pocket, fondling the ivory-handled razor that Vicki had gifted him a few Christmases ago. She’d said he needed to add some pizzazz to his kills, and a man’s shaving blade was the perfect way to do it.

Jerry looked around. There was no one on the block, so he resorted to his last option and starting calling apartments, hoping someone would buzz him in. A few seconds later, someone did. Jerry pulled open the metal gate and entered the building.

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I spun around and shoved my foot into the crack of the door right as she tried to close it.

“Excuse me!” she exclaimed. “Your foot is—”

“You said ‘them’.” I wedged my foot farther in and placed my left forearm against the door.

“What are you talking about?”

“You referred to ‘them’ as though I were asking about two people, but I had only shown you pictures of one person. Why?”

Her eyebrows narrowed and her head shook vehemently. “I don’t know, probably because you said so.”

She’s lying, Abby.
“I didn’t say anything about two people.” I leaned into the door, feeling even more resistance. “Ms. White, you mind letting me in?”

“I will not.” She then kicked and stomped on my foot, trying to force it out. “You have no right to—”

That’s when I interrupted her by throwing my shoulder forward.
Smack!
The door struck her forehead, and the woman released her grip, allowing me to slip inside.

Right there before me, lying on the living room floor, was a body. Well, I saw a foot sticking out from under a blanket. I assumed the rest of the lump was a body. I turned to face White and realized she had recovered from the doorbutt faster than expected. She caught me on the chin with a right. It sent my face off to the side and my blood pressure skyrocketing.

She had set up for another strike, but I was faster and ducked. I countered with an uppercut to her jaw and snapped her head back. I then followed that with a combination punch and backed her up. She was noticeably dazed from my efforts, but I wasn’t taking any chances. My chin still stung from her cheap shot. I gripped the towel wrapped around her and yanked her forward, stepping to the side and sending her to the floor. She surprised me by rolling into a tumble and back to a standing position, minus both towels. And a wig.

“It’s you!” I gasped as she suddenly became very recognizable.

“You think you got me,” she seethed, clad only in her underwear. “I’m going to kick your short ass back to China.”

“Great. After that, you can buy lingerie that fits the body you have, not the body you want.”

That set her off. She let out a scream and moved toward me. My first instinct was to step to the side, but I was still pissed that she had punched my face. I stood my ground and allowed her to barrel toward me for a tackle. She was taller than me but, for some reason, had lowered her attack and aimed for my midsection with her arms stretched out and her face down.
Perfect.
I timed a knee strike and could hear the crunch of her nose against my kneecap before she crumpled to the ground.

I jumped onto her back, driving my knee into it and pinning her to the ground. While I proceeded to handcuff her, she kept screaming that I had broken her noise.
No shit!
Her face was a red Niagara Falls. After cuffing her, I leaned down and said, “The next time you want to act like a tough bitch and pick a fight, realize you might be doing so with an even tougher bitch.”

Chapter 44

Jerry exited the elevator and turned to the right, ready to make his way down the hall. He could already hear the commotion coming from the apartment and see that the door was open.
Fuck me!

As he took a step forward, heavy bounding footsteps made their way up the stairwell. Within seconds, a young man in a suit came into view. Jerry, the quick thinker, immediately played the worried resident and pointed at the commotion at the end of the hall.

“Stay here,” said the young man as he removed his weapon and faced the hallway.

Jerry deduced that suits meant government, and that was a bad thing, considering there was a dead body at the end of that hallway. Before the young man could manage two steps forward, Jerry pounced on him from behind, taking him by complete surprise. He wrapped one arm across the suit’s chest to hold him still as he cut deep across the throat with the shaver, not once but with a rapid, sawing effect, until he had nearly severed the head. He let go, and the man fell to the floor, his limbs still twitching. Saliva spewed from Jerry’s clenched teeth with each breath. Kill mode had taken over. There would be no stopping him now—short of killing him.