Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [97]
“What the hell you doing?”
I stifled a squawk but jumped as someone glared at me through the windshield of the broken Geo.
“I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m just—”
“Get away!” shrieked the guy in the car. His face was wizened, his hair stretched out of his head like gray antennae.
“Don’t—”
“Get out of my yard!”
“I’ll—” I began, but just then the sound of breaking glass crackled through the neighborhood. I swore as I watched shards spray down from a third-floor window. After one more frantic glance at the aggravated car-sitter, I dropped my robe to the cracked asphalt and kicked off my flip-flops. The homeless guy emerged from the Geo to stare at me like I was the second coming, but I was already running, hotfooting it down the shattered sidewalk toward the apartment building, counting in my head, trying to guess how long it would take for Jackson to realize Laney had broken the window. How long before he could believe she had jumped through the shattered glass and landed safely on the weedy dirt below. How long before he would careen into the hall to chase her. I had no way of knowing. Adrenaline was pumping through me like hot tequila by the time I reached the building.
It wasn’t until then that I realized I’d been followed by the old guy from the Geo.
“Whatcha doin’?” he rasped, but at that second I heard someone hiss an expletive from above. I glanced up, saw a dark form leaning from the window, and knew my plan was working. Elaine had broken the window and subsequently hidden.
I bolted toward Thirty-seventh.
“Hey! Come back!” screamed Geo.
I stumbled on the curb, almost fell, and glanced back. Half-dressed and lean as a greyhound, Geo was catching up. I shrieked as his fingers brushed my back, hacked up a burst of speed, and cut an angle between two houses. Marigold lay dead ahead. I hit the asphalt just as a car turned from my left and screeched to a halt ten feet from me. I froze in the headlights.
The driver’s door opened. “LAPD! Put your hands where I can see them.”
“Not me!” I was panting like a field hound. My pursuer seemed to be long gone. I made a frantic motion toward Thirty-seventh Street. “The apartments.”
“Just relax now.”
Another cop stepped from the passenger side. “What’s going on, ma’am?”
“Kidnapped! Apartments! Third floor! Elaine!”
“Take a deep breath.”
“Patricia Ruocco is up there!” I shrieked. “Naked.”
They looked at each other, then launched themselves in their squad car and squealed off down the street. Alone and abandoned, I ran after them. By the time I had panted up to the third floor, Laney was standing in the hallway, wearing Solberg’s T-shirt.
Jackson was lying on the floor, cradling his ribs and gritting his teeth. The two officers I’d met moments before stood over him, guns drawn. A cracked bat lay in the corner. Aalia was nowhere to be seen.
Elaine’s gaze met mine. Her eyes were wide, her face pale, but she was well. Safe. Whole. “Emma wasn’t naked,” she said.
I bent double, trying to breathe as I slanted a look at her.
“In that episode of Starsky and Hutch. Everyone was fully clothed,” she said.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t think Jackson would believe you’d somehow obtained a pair of jeans on your jump to freedom.”
“Or you just really like running around East L.A. naked.”
“Yeah.” I dug the heel of my hand into my side to relieve the pain. “That’s probably it.”
“You okay?” Laney asked. Her voice had gone soft.
“A little out of shape,” I said, still trying to breathe. “But other than that I’m fantastic.”
“You really are,” she said, and smiled through her silent tears.
34
Any couple that begins a marriage by inviting both of their families to the same ceremony clearly deserves whatever they get.
—Dr. Henri Farthing,
marriage counselor
The wedding took place at the top of