For Blood or Money
17. Bone-Chilling Cold
I WOKE UP ALONE IN A COLD BED. Peg had been gone for some time. My clothes, fresh from the cleaners were hung on the back of the door. The shoes were going to be a pain. She’d filled them with crinkled newspaper and sat them next to a register to dry, but they were stiff and tight. As I put them on, I noticed her sexy boots sitting beside them. They were ruined. She dove into the river to save me, and somehow I had emerged intact. I examined the brand and size.
A note was sitting next to the things she had taken from my pockets on the dressing table. It was simple and to the point.
“Dag, it was a lovely time (except for the bath). Help yourself to coffee and anything in the fridge before you go. The door will lock behind you automatically. Kisses, Peg”
She was not expecting me to be here when she got back.
She was not expecting anything.
I sneezed. A cold, acquired, no doubt, from my dip in the river and subsequent fever, was settling into my head and chest. Just the thing the doctor warned me against. It would be a great flight back to Seattle.
I gathered my things and checked them off. Dead cell phone. Dead GPS transmitter. Keys. Wallet, dried beside my shoes. Credit cards and cash all there. In the kitchen, I cleaned up the remains of last night’s delivered food and washed the dishes. I looked around and found the pad of paper she had used for my note. I wrote simply.
“Peg, thanks for reviving me. I have to fly back to Seattle, but I’ll be thinking of you. Hugs, Dag”
Some things you simply don’t put in writing. I called Jordan and he was waiting at the front door of the apartment building when I left. He lectured me soundly on going out without backup and said he was glad I had survived. Riley would have held him personally responsible if anything had happened to me. We went by my hotel and picked up the remainder of my clothes and roll-aboard. I got him to stop at an electronics superstore, and bought a new laptop, a GPS transmitter, and a cell phone. On the way to the airport, I put the things I needed from the computer box in my bag and activated the GPS transmitter. I called Riley from the phone and realized that everything I had would need to be charged before I used them for long, but it wasn’t like the bad old days when you couldn’t turn a new device on without charging the battery first.
“What are the arrangements?” I asked Riley on the phone.
“I’ve got you booked back to Seattle with a plane change in Minneapolis,” she answered.
“Weren’t there any direct flights?” I asked.
“Travel agent’s discretion,” she answered. “This may prove to be nothing, but I got a call last night from the airplane leasing company. Simon’s plane has been routed to Minneapolis.” She left unspoken the assumption that I would want to be there.
“That’s interesting,” I answered, “but I can’t imagine how I’d go about finding Simon’s plane in Minneapolis. There must be more than one airport there.” It was intriguing, but, damn it, I was tired. I’d nearly drowned, I was sick, and I wanted to go home.
“Angel’s flying to Minneapolis late this morning.” She dropped that bomb on me and waited for my reaction. I was too numb to react.
“Good work, Riley. Watch my new GPS.”
This time I checked my flights carefully. There was a new hollowness inside me, along with the cold and a feeling of getting old all too quickly. In Minneapolis, I found a place near the gate where I could plug in the phone and computer. I logged onto the Internet and looked up the brand of the sexy boots Peg had been wearing when I met her. I ordered a new pair in her size and had them shipped to her.
I’d been sitting in the gate area for nearly an hour, having heard the announcement that the incoming flight from Seattle was late and we would depart about half an hour later than scheduled. The gate agent picked up a mic and announced that the flight had just arrived from Seattle and passengers would deplane shortly.
I began packing up my equipment and just looked up as the passengers were coming off the flight. The double-take I did was mimicked by nearly every man in the gate area. Leading the line of people getting off the plane was Angel Woodward. Riley had done her work well. I snatched up my roll-aboard and fell in with the line of people headed toward baggage claim. Just the glow on Angel’s face told me everything I needed to know. She had to be in Minneapolis to meet Simon. I stayed well back from her in the crowd, but she was hard to miss as she strode along in high heels that put her height at well above mine.
She wasn’t carrying anything but her handbag and small roll-aboard like my own, but she skirted the baggage claim carousels and headed for the metro train stop in the lower concourse. I stopped long enough at a machine to buy a ticket and stepped onto the train at the back of the car she entered. I was going to have to be careful here. I was sure that she could recognize me if she had paid any attention at all that night we faced each other in an all-night diner. I looked around uneasily, thinking that she might have a bodyguard with her even here. I didn’t spot Davy.
Angel rode the southbound train to its last stop—The Mall of America—and headed for Bloomingdale’s. I followed more closely because the crowds in the Mall were insane. Huge displays for the holidays were already up and the stores were playing Christmas music over their loudspeakers. Santa Claus and The Polar Express had already arrived and were doing a booming business.
I watched as Angel selected at least two dozen outfits from several areas, mostly in sports and casual clothing. Then with a saleswoman in tow, she headed for the dressing rooms. Conveniently, the men’s shoe department was located in the line of sight from the dressing rooms and I walked over to get a new pair of shoes so I could ditch the stiff pair that was still not completely dry from the river dowsing. I was being fitted when I saw the sales woman come out with a load of the clothes that Angel had taken in. She draped them over a counter and ran out to pick out at least a dozen more outfits to take back in to Angel.
My cell phone rang and I quickly silenced it and ducked down in case Angel glanced toward the sound. It was Riley. She wanted to know why I was at the Mall of America.
“I followed Angel,” I answered. “This could be a waste of time. It looks like she’s just on a shopping trip.”
“Dag, I’m worried about you.”
“Riley, I’ve already decided not to die on this trip. That last brush was close enough. I’ll be careful, and you keep watching me on TV.”
I paid for the shoes and chose a hat from the nearby men’s department and picked up a heavy overcoat as well. It was cold in Minneapolis and my hat, at least, hadn’t made it out of the river with me. If I’d been wearing an overcoat in Chicago, chances are that Peg never would have pulled me out of the River. Of course, adding the coat and hat to my outfit would throw Angel if she caught a glimpse of me on the train. I hardly looked like the same man now.
When she finally emerged from the dressing room, she looked like a new woman herself. She was wearing one new outfit and had half a dozen more in her arms. She paid and the clerk wrapped the purchases up in parcels that Angel could carry. Some she packed in her carry-on bag. She made a stop at the ladies shoe department and bought three new pair of shoes, one that matched the new outfit she was wearing. In the space of two and a half hours, a casual observer would not have been able to tell it was the same woman except for the height. That has always amazed me about women. They can change so rapidly. Perhaps she, too, was worried about being followed.
She went from the department store to a wine bar in the food court and took a seat. The waiter brought wine and took her order for dinner, so I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to eat as well. I stopped at a walk-up sushi bar located just outside the doors to the restaurant and ordered several pieces. I could see Angel through the window as she ate and was interrupted by a phone call. She chatted for a few minutes while she arranged her packages, stood and slipped a bill onto the table next to her unfinished plate of food. She was on the move again. I followed suit and dropped a twenty to pay for the sushi and followed her out of the Mall and back to the train.
Well, it looked like we were headed back to the airport, and I settled into my seat near the back of the car. The doors were about to close at the third stop when I saw her on the platform walking away. I dove out as they closed and took a look around to see where I was.
I was cold. It was well below freezing on the desolate platform and the wind was picking up. No doubt the weather broadcasters were describing it in terms of wind-chill. I was thankful for the overcoat but wished I’d bought gloves.
The stop was for the charter terminal and Angel had just turned into a long covered walkway that looked like a construction shelter. I passed the end and realized it went all the way to the parking garage, straight as an arrow for a couple hundred yards. If she turned around or glanced back she would see me clearly since we were the only two people in the area. I stepped around the outside of the walkway to see where it went. The parking garage was straight ahead; off to the right was the terminal. This seemed to be the route you took to get from the train platform to the terminal.
On the diagonal, between the platform and the terminal was a wide, cold, windswept parking lot—all but deserted.
I didn’t have a choice. My only option was to cut across the parking lot and hope I didn’t freeze or have a heart attack before I reached the warmth of the terminal. It was touch and go. I had to stop to breathe, but I couldn’t stop or I’d freeze. I had to carry my roll-aboard and watch for ice that was scattered in huge black patches across the parking lot. Even though it was only a couple hundred yards, I had visions of freezing in the wilderness before I finally made it to the entrance.
I crossed the threshold at the near end of the terminal. I had no idea how this concourse was laid out. I scanned the length of it as I moved forward and saw that the entry from the parking ramp was on the second level. A long escalator led from it to the main concourse. There at the top of the escalator was Angel, stepping on and waving as if she’d recognized me. I started forward slowly. I was hurting bad from the forced march across the open parking lot. My ears were cold, and I could hardly feel my right hand carrying my roll-aboard. My eyes were watering from the chill, and my nose dripped profusely as I attempted to get a handkerchief to it.
Angel was faster and she reached the bottom of the escalator long before I got there. She ran forward and straight into the arms of Simon Barnett, waiting for her a few feet ahead of me. There was no need to hurry as the public display of affection that was underway showed no sign of a quick end. By the time they broke the clinch I was right behind Simon.
“Hello, Simon,” I said as casually as I could. He spun around to face me.
“Dag Hamar!” he exclaimed. “Well I’ll be go-to-hell. You finally found me. I was beginning to think I’d have to call you and give you directions.” He had aged some since the last time I saw him, but that was to be expected after thirty years. His tightly trimmed black beard was heavily streaked with gray. He might have put on a few pounds from good living, but he looked fit.
“What are you doing here, Jeremy?” Angel asked confusedly.
“Jeremy?” Simon asked. “He told you his name was Jeremy?”
“Yes,” Angel replied. “We met at the condo.” Simon turned to me.
“Jeremy Brett?” he asked. I nodded. “I will so be damned,” Simon laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Angel was turning indignant.
“Detective mysteries,” Simon wailed. “Jeremy Brett played Sherlock Holmes on television years and years ago. It’s a fake name, honey. This is Dag Hamar, probably the only man in the world who could have found me. I’ll bet you’ve uncovered the entire rotten kettle of fish that is known as Barnett, Keane, and Lamb Ltd.”
“It’s pretty smelly, Simon,” I said. I gripped his shoulder. I needed his shoulder. Simon was once my best friend and my head was absolutely spinning. I tried to speak again.
“Dag! Dag, old friend. Are you okay?”
“I don’t think I’ll make it, Simon,” I said. I could hear a ringing in my ears that was drowning out the noise of the terminal around me and Simon’s voice. I sat heavily on my roll-aboard and Simon caught me and propped me up. He kneeled in front of me and looked me straight in the eye. I could barely make out the words he was saying.
“Dag, I can call you an ambulance and send you to a hospital, or you can trust Angel and me to take care of you. But we’ve got to leave here tonight. It will all have been a waste if you don’t come with us.” I shook my head to clear it and struggled back to my feet.
Breathe, damn it. Inhale deeper. It will pass. I just told Riley I wouldn’t die on this trip. Focus.
I took a long shuddering breath, fumbled in my pocket for a bottle of pills and popped one in my mouth. I focused all my energy on breathing—which was no small task considering that my nose had plugged up as soon as I got in out of the cold.
Simon and Angel were both still looking intently at me. I nodded.
“What’s the plan?” I asked.
“Simon Says, board the plane,” Simon answered. We headed for security.
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