Torch Scene Read online

  I tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn’t come, so I got up and tiptoed to the window and peeked through the blinds. Across the street, Willie’s house sat quietly in the moon’s glow. I still couldn’t believe the fire was only a few days ago.

  I started to turn away and something caught my eye, a specter in the night. I looked back at the house. Was someone there? I watched and a second later, a small circle of light glinted through what was left of an attic window, then disappeared. It appeared again and wiggled along the edge of a wall, then was gone.

  Someone was in the attic apartment! I squinted and made out two figures. I whirled around, hurried across the bedroom and threw on jeans and a tee shirt. I slipped out of the room and pulled on my tennis shoes as I dashed out the front door.

  It had snowed just enough to coat everything in a wet layer. I rushed down the stairs as quietly as I could and snuck across my front lawn. I spied a shadow on the left side of Willie’s house and I ducked behind a car parked on the street. I looked over the hood and watched, but nothing moved. Must be my imagination, I thought.

  I listened for a second, hearing only the thudding of my pulse in my ears. Then I dashed across the street, pausing behind another car. I waited, and when nothing happened, I ran to the front of the house and pressed myself against the wall. The smoke smell was strong. I tiptoed onto the porch and up to the door. Whoever was upstairs had jimmied the lock and the door stood slightly ajar. I pushed it open, praying the hinges wouldn’t creak.

  Once inside, I moved slowly to the stairs. I put a hand against the wall, as if that might help me see, and headed up. With each step, I wondered if the stair would creak and announce my presence. I barely breathed and my progress seemed painfully slow, but I finally made it to the second-floor landing. I shivered, both from the cold and trepidation. I turned and looked up the stairs, then leaned against the wall and listened again. Movement from above caused ash to rain down on me.

  “Where the hell is it?” someone said.

  “How should I know?” came another voice.

  Even though they were whispering, their voices easily carried down to me. I knew the lisp, and the low, bored voice. Tony and Ray. What were they looking for? Money? But if Nick had any in the apartment, it would’ve burned. Right?

  Scuffling sounds and then a curse.

  “I’m telling you, man, it’s not here,” Ray muttered.

  A hollow thump split the darkness, followed by more cursing.

  “Shut up,” Tony hissed. “You want to wake the neighbors?”

  More ash sprinkled down. I waved a hand at it. Big mistake, as I did nothing but irritate my nostrils. I felt a sneeze coming on. I scrunched up my face, then smothered my nose with my hands. The sneeze finally erupted and I made a muffled ‘memph’ sound.

  “What was that?” Ray asked.

  I froze.

  Footsteps sounded on the floor and Tony’s voice came toward the stairs. “Is someone there?”

  I scurried toward the stairs just as a beam flashed down from the attic.

  “Hey!” Tony said, his voice like an explosion in the stillness.

  I’d been caught. I took the stairs three at a time, all thought of stealth gone. I reached the first-floor foyer and crashed through the front door. I leaped off the porch and jerked in surprise as I spied a shadow at the edge of the lawn.

  Damn! They had an accomplice!

  I don’t know if he saw me as I tore around the side of the house. Footsteps pounded on the front porch. I ran into the backyard, through a gate in the wooden fence and into the alley. I could hear them breathing hard, right behind me. To my right, a car was parked along the fence. Then I spotted a couple of old metal trashcans to my left and I dove behind them.

  Two beats later, the thugs appeared. But where was their accomplice?

  “Does he have it?” Ray asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tony said.

  “Where’d he go?” Ray murmured.

  Tony grunted.

  I glanced around the trashcans. Tony was gazing back at the house. Ray was looking the other way, and he kicked a soda can in frustration.

  “Would you stop,” Tony muttered. “Don’t go waking up the entire neighborhood.”

  Ray turned in my direction and I jerked my head back.

  “I can’t see a damn thing,” Ray whispered. His voice was dangerously near.

  I held my breath.

  “What’s that?” Tony whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Ray said. He was just on the other side of the trash cans.

  “Shut up. Someone’s coming.” Tony’s voice was barely audible. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Fine,” Ray said, his tone indicating he would rather find me…and beat me up.

  I let out my breath slowly, then waited, trying to regulate my breathing. Footsteps scraped the asphalt, then nothing.

  I counted to one hundred and then I looked up. The alley was empty. Somewhere far off, a dog barked. A lone car raced down the next street, then the silence resumed.

  They must’ve parked in front of Willie’s house, I thought. And they were gone.

  I edged around the trashcans and snuck slowly along the fence toward Willie’s backyard. The moon slipped behind some clouds, leaving the alley in deep shadows. I reached the gate and took a step forward, and what felt like a battering ram slammed into my stomach. I doubled over, then dropped to my hands and knees and wretched. Someone kicked me and I toppled over on my side, near the back end of the car. Huge hands frisked me.

  “He doesn’t have it,” Ray said. He kicked me again.

  “Leave him alone.” This from Tony. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Their footsteps echoed away.

  I coughed and tried to sit up. I finally made it to a crouch, but my vision blurred. I grabbed the bumper of the car to steady myself. I closed my eyes, then opened them again and focused on the car’s license plate. UGH-432. UGH. It reminded me of how I felt right at that moment, and that struck me as funny. I started to laugh but my gut twisted into a knot and I groaned. I could see again, but now red rage shimmered at edge of my vision.

  I pushed myself up and stumbled through Willie’s backyard. I made it back to my condo, holding a hand over my stomach. I let myself in and went down the hall to the bedroom and right to my dresser where I rummaged around for my flashlight.

  Willie stirred behind me, and the room suddenly lit up. I whirled around, holding the flashlight. She’d turned on a lamp and was propped up on her elbows, looking at me. “What are you doing?” Her jaw dropped. “What happened to you?”

  I glanced at myself in the bureau mirror. Ash and dirt streaked my face and dotted my hair, and I had a small scrape on my chin. I had no idea how that got there.

  “There were two guys looking for something in Nick’s apartment,” I said. “I’m going back over to see if they took anything.”

  “What?” She rubbed her eyes and stared at me.

  “Don’t worry, they’re gone.”

  “You can’t go over there now.”

  “Watch me.”

  She got up and came toward me. “Reed, it’s pitch black out there. Even with a flashlight, you could get hurt.” She put her hands on my face and looked me in the eye. “Calm down. There’s nothing you can do now. Why don’t you take a shower and we’ll talk about this tomorrow?”

  Wisdom prevailed, but it wasn’t mine.

  “It’s okay,” she said, although her brow wrinkled with worry.

  I blinked hard a couple of times and nodded.

  “I’m going to take a shower.” I plodded into the bathroom, showered, and crawled into bed beside her.

  I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, still trying to calm down. I thought about all the noir heroes in the movies I loved so much. Too many times they let something blind them, like greed or lust or envy, and it led to their downfall. If I wasn’t careful, my anger would do the same to me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

&n
bsp; “Be careful,” I said.

  “I am.” Willie stayed a few steps behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. She was stepping gingerly up the stairs to the attic apartment like she was walking on Jell-o. We’d gotten up at eight, and waited to let the warm morning sun burn off the moisture from last night’s light spring snow. Then we’d ventured back over to Willie’s house to find out why someone was in Nick’s apartment last night.

  “I said ‘careful’,” I said. “You look like you’re just learning to walk.”

  She scowled at me but relaxed just slightly. “I don’t trust these stairs.”

  “They’re okay.”

  She shifted her weight and the stair creaked, and I got a look that said ‘see?’. But she pressed on, and we made our way up to the third floor. We stepped into the attic and looked around.

  “What do you think they were looking for?” she asked.

  “The logical thing is money, but that would’ve burned up in the fire.”

  “Unless it was in a fireproof safe or container.”

  “I don’t recall seeing anything like that when I was here with Spillman,” I said. “But it could’ve been buried under rubble.”

  I scanned the room. It was such a mess, it was hard to tell what Tony and Ray had disturbed. I bent down and looked under the bed frame. Still nothing but ash.

  Willie moved into the kitchen area and pushed at a board with her foot. It moved, exposing some silverware. A few broken dishes littered the floor. “What a mess,” she said, echoing my words to Spillman.

  “There’s the bed, and that metal looks like a table,” I said, pointing out items in the room. “A television. He didn’t have much.”

  “And nothing to hide money in.”

  “Wait a minute.” I worked my way around the floor, carefully sifting through the rubble and lifting a couple of half-burned two-by-fours.

  “What’re you looking for?”

  I finally stopped and stared at her. “It’s gone.”

  “What?”

  “When I was here with Spillman, there was a bronze statue. It was kind of Asian-looking.” I held my hands apart, showing how big the statue was.

  “It survived the fire?”

  I nodded. “For the most part. It looked like part of it was melted, but it could’ve been made that way.”

  “So those guys took it last night?”

  “They had to have,” I said. “But I heard one of them say ‘Where is it?’ ” I thought for a second. “But when Ray hit me, he said something about me not having it.”

  “Having what?”

  “I don’t know.” I gnawed my lip. “And I saw the other guy.”

  “What other guy?”

  “When I came out of the house last night, er, this morning, I saw someone else.” I gazed at the floor, muttering to myself. “He must’ve been a lookout for them. Or maybe they gave the sculpture to him and he was taking it to their car while they stayed upstairs. Or I scared them all off, but they came back later and took it.” I turned to Willie. “Did you wake up and see anyone?”

  “No,” she raised her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you wake up if I woke up?”

  “I was so tired at that point…”

  “Reed,” she said, very deliberately. “Who was this other person?”

  “Oh. I saw someone else out on the lawn.” I explained that part of the story.

  “You didn’t think to tell me that?”

  Uh-oh. I was in trouble. “I thought telling you about two bad guys was enough.”

  She let out a purposeful sigh. “You’re not funny.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said under my breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Maybe this other guy, that you so conveniently forgot to tell me about, hit you in the stomach with the statue,” she said.

  “Well, I assumed it was Ray that slugged me, but I guess that’s possible.” I noticed the smirk on her face. “Oh, now who’s being funny?” I glanced around again. “Regardless, the sculpture’s not here now.”

  “You think it was worth something?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it was hollow and something valuable was hidden in it. It didn’t look like much to me, but it wasn’t my taste either.” I gestured toward the stairs. “Let’s go back home.”

  Willie was just as cautious on the way down to the first floor, but we eventually made it. She looked down the hallway to her front door.

  “I sometimes feel like this is all a dream,” she said as we locked up.

  “I know.”

  We traipsed across the street and back to my condo, then went into my office and I once again got on the internet.

  “If those mafia guys have that sculpture, how are you going to find out if that was what they were after, or if it just had money in it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s not like I can just walk in and ask them.” I decided not to tell her that I’d already tried that when I wanted to ask them about Nick, and that’s why I ended up in the Dumpster.

  I started typing. Willie came and looked over my shoulder.

  “Asian sculpture,” she said, reading what I’d typed into the search engine. “You think you’ll find it?”

  I gazed at the number of sites and images that came up. “No, there’s way too many.”

  My phone rang and I punched the speakerphone. “Yeah?”

  “It’s me,” Cal said. “I finally got some sleep and I’ve got a little time, so I thought I’d see if you need anything.”

  “That’s nice of you to offer,” Willie said, “but I think we’re doing okay.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at her and she smiled.

  “Willie!” Cal’s voice grew ten times brighter. “You hanging in there?”

  “Yeah, thanks for asking. I think I’m doing better than our detective.” She put a hand on my shoulder.

  “Why’s that?” he asked.

  I told him about my late-night adventure.

  “You do seem to find danger,” he said.

  “And it all seems to be over an Asian sculpture.” I scrolled through search engine results as I talked to him.

  “What’d it look like?”

  I described it. “Are you an expert on Asian art?” It wouldn’t have surprised me, as Cal seemed to know just about everything about just about everything.

  “Not hardly.”

  “We’re trying to figure out how to narrow our search,” Willie said.

  “We?” I mouthed at her.

  “Huh.” Cal sounded genuinely puzzled. “I don’t know anything about Asian art, so I think you’re on your own on this one. Although I can give you a bit of Asian trivia.”

  “What’s that?” I half-tuned him out as I tried another web search.

  “Li.” He spelled it. “Or Lee, is the most common Asian surname, if you’re talking China, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, Philippines and Malaysia.”

  “What nationality is Li?” Willie asked.

  “Chinese.”

  I rolled my eyes at her. “Don’t engage him.”

  “Hey, if it was about film noir, you wouldn’t have any problem with a trivia quiz,” Cal said.

  “I would too. I’m busy.”

  “Who was the femme fatale in Gilda?”

  “Rita Hayworth,” I said automatically.

  “See?” He snickered.

  “Yeah, but that’s one of her most famous roles, so that’s easy.”

  “Who directed Touch of Evil?”

  “Orson Welles.”

  “Sure, and everyone knows that.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Admit it, you love film noir trivia.”

  “Fine. What’s the most common Japanese surname?” I shot back.

  “Sato.”

  “I’ll bet on a list of the top surnames in the world, Chinese names would show up a lot,” Willie interjected.

  “True,” he said. “They have a billion people there. Their top five names are Li, Wang, Zhang, Liu and Chen. Li, Zhang and Wang ar
e in the top three world-wide, then it’s Nguyen, García, González, Hernández, Smith, Smirnov, and Müller.”

  “You’re looking this up, right?” she said.

  He laughed. “Nope. I read it somewhere.”

  “That’s impressive.” She punched my arm. “He remembers everything, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah, and why are you hitting me? I –”

  “What?” She gave me a curious look.

  I stared at the phone. “Cal, what did you say about the Chinese?”

  “Uh, that they have a lot of people there?”

  “No, you listed names.”

  He rattled them off again.

  “Stop,” I said when he got to Chen. “That’s it!”

  “What’s it?” he and Willie said at the same time.

  “Chen.” I sat back in my chair. “I overheard Tony and Ray talking about ‘The Chin’, and I thought they were talking about some mafia guy. Those guys all have nicknames, right?”

  “Right,” Willie said slowly, trying to follow me.

  “But what if they said ‘the Chen’?” I closed my eyes, thinking back over the conversation. “Ray said ‘You think Spade knows about the Chin?’.”

  “Who’s Spade?” she asked.

  “I sometimes use Sam Spade as an alias.”

  “Ah,” she nodded, but her expression said she didn’t get the reference.

  I explained who Spade was, and she nodded without much interest. “Anyway,” I went on. “I assumed Ray was talking about a person.”

  “So,” she said. “They said ‘the Chen’, like…”

  “Like they’re referring to a piece of art,” I finished. “Like ‘the Picasso’ or ‘the Monet’.”

  “That makes sense,” Cal said. “But there are over 54 million Chens in the world.”

  “Okay, please tell me you didn’t know that statistic.” Willie was incredulous.

  “He might. He’s that good,” I said.

  “I confess, I just looked that one up,” he laughed.