Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [112]
“What? Huh? Calm down. What are you talking about?” Jeff frowned. “Tried to kill you? Oh, come on.”
I gasped. Max hopped off the bed and stood staring at Jeff, his face creased with concern.
“Slow down,” Jeff said. “I can’t understand . . . The cops? No, course I didn’t . . . What are you talking about?” His gaze shifted to Lopez. “Er, was the police detective Latino by any chance? Oh, just guessing.” Jeff covered the receiver and said irritably to me, “Esther, the next time you sic him on a friend of mine, maybe you should tell me?”
“I didn’t sic him on Frank, I was worried about—”
“You’re not saying this cop tried to kill you, are you?” Jeff said into the phone. “Then what are you . . . Uh-huh. Uh-huh . . .” Jeff’s puzzled expression transformed into shock. “What?”
“What happened?” I asked in alarm.
Jeff shushed me. “When? And he . . . Uh-huh. But, Frank, are you sure? Was it definitely . . . Okay. Yes, I believe you . . . No, I don’t know, either. Listen, where are you now? Because I’m going to come get you, that’s why . . . Come get you to help you. Calm down.” He winced and held the phone away from his ear for a moment. The he said to Frank, “Listen to me. You can’t just wander the streets. I’ll come get you and take you somewhere safe . . . I don’t know where. I’ll think of something.”
“My home,” Max said promptly. “It’s warded. He’ll be safe there.”
“I’ll take you to my friend Max’s place,” Jeff said into the phone. “It’s ‘warded,’ whatever that means. A good security system, I guess. There is also, I’ve been told, a big dog there. Uh-huh . . . Okay. We’ll be there as soon as possible. In the meantime, I beg you to try to calm down, Frank.”
Jeff ended the call and stared at his phone with a puzzled frown.
“Well?” I asked. “What happened?” When he didn’t move or respond, I prodded, “Jeff?”
“This isn’t good.” His expression was serious and bewildered.
“What isn’t good?”
He looked from me to Max, then said, “Biko just tried to murder Frank.”
19
“ What?”I said.
“I know this sounds insane, but, uh . . .” Jeff spread his hands helplessly. “Frank says that the same young guy who helped him when he was attacked Monday night broke into his apartment a little while ago, armed with a sword, and tried to kill him.”
“What?” I repeated, unable to think of anything else to say.
“It’s what Frank said.”
“Did Biko speak?” Max asked. “Did he give a reason for his behavior?”
“Frank said he didn’t talk at all. Just broke down the door and came in slashing.”
“What was Biko’s demeanor?” Max asked.
“Frank didn’t say, but does it really matter?” said Jeff.
“Biko just tried to kill a guy.”
“Max,” I said, aghast, “what do we do now? Should we call the police?”
“Probably not a good idea,” Jeff said. “At least, not until Frank calms down. Lopez paid him a visit out of the blue, only a few hours before this attack, so now Frank thinks the cops are in on it.”
“In on what?” I asked.
“I have no idea,” Jeff said wearily. “Frank sounds hysterical. Barely coherent.”
“Max, what’s going on?” I asked, my hand still clutching Lopez’s shoulder.
“Without more information, it is impossible to be certain. Therefore, Jeffrey, we must go collect Mr. Johnson immediately and take him to safety.”
“I guess I’m the one who got him into this by asking him to take over some of my workshops at the foundation,” Jeff said with a sigh. “So whatever ‘this’ is, I suppose I’d better help him get out of it.”
I followed the two men out of the bedroom, shocked enough by this development to take my eyes off Lopez for a few moments. “I don’t understand. What is Biko doing?”
“Let’s call him and find out,” Jeff said, pulling out his cell phone again.
Had Lopez been right after all? Was Biko a danger to the community, roaming the streets with a sword in search of someone to punish for the death of his dog? I couldn’t understand what was happening. An unexplained attack on a frightened mundane seemed totally out of character for the intelligent, responsible young fencer.
There must be some sort of monumental misunderstanding.