Shadow of the Hunter
By Stuart Strautmanis

I woke up on top of the desk in my office just as the sun was rising over Lake Michigan. An odd position to be in, I admit, but I was trying to get out of the habit of sleeping in the desk chair. A few minutes later Anita arrived for work. She sang some kind of Spanish ballad as she unlocked the office door. Then she froze for a second after she opened it, because she couldn’t make out who I was in the half-light. 
           
“Morning, Anita.”
           
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, as she turned on the light. “You need to buy a sofa for this room.” She walked into the bathroom, and kept talking from behind the door. “Detective Rojas is here. He was waiting outside when I got here.”
           
Rojas entered the room without saying anything. He just glanced around my office for anything out of the ordinary, and then nonchalantly squeezed my left arm at the bicep.     
           
“Aghh! Thanks Rojas. I don’t think I’ll need any coffee now.”
           
“Just checking, Blick.”
           
I sat up on the desk, and took my sport coat off. My shirt sleeve was cut off at the shoulder, and the bandage around my arm was soaked with blood and sweat. I popped a couple of Tylenols from the bottle on the desk.  
           
Rojas stood over me with a thinly disguised grin on his face. 
           
“Why’d you lie to the patrolman at the hospital?”
           
“Rojas give me a break. I just woke up.”
           
He sat on the edge of my office chair, and studied the bandage on my arm.
           
“Knife wound?”
           
I nodded. 
           
“Any real damage?”
           
“Patrolman didn’t tell you all that?”
           
He slid back into the chair and made himself comfortable.
           
“I didn’t know you were acquainted with Darlene Bening.”
           
“Who’s that?”
           
“We found her in the alley behind her apartment building. Beautiful, young, blond.  Just your type.”
           
“What’s she got to do with me?”
           
“We found your business card in her purse.”
           
I thought it over for a second, and I knew he could see the wheels turning.
           
“The case is a day old, Rojas. I don’t know much. She came to me for help, and at night I get jumped on the street.”
           
“What’d she hire you for?”
           
“She wanted me to recover stolen information. Her laptop was stolen. She had a short list on who did it.”
           
“I want to see that list.”
           
“I’ve got to look for it.”
           
“Well, I was going to eat breakfast at The Old Town Cafe, but I can have it brought here while I wait for you to find it. Do you want me to get you something?”
           
“I’m busy, Rojas. The office is a mess. I’ll have it for you at the end of the day.”
           
“You could sit in a cell while I look for it myself.”
           
“I can’t be convicted for being disorganized.  Besides, you’re too lazy to look for it yourself.” I hopped off of the desk. I went to the closet to find clean clothes. “There’s some stuff I have to do, so….”
           
“You’ll get a little space from me Blick, but not much. You better get results, one way or another.”
           
“One way, or another. What the hell does that mean?”
           
He got up and walked to the door.
           
“You’re not going to have me followed are you?”  
           
He didn’t answer. 
           
I knew I had less than twenty-four hours before he got Darlene’s cell phone records, and learned that I used her phone to make the 911 call last night. 
           
Anita walked out of the bathroom dressed in her business suit, and freshly painted face.
           
“Did you hear all that?”
           
“Uh-huh.”
           
I wrote down three names on a piece of paper.
           
“Don’t give him this until after four,” I said.
           
“Can he put me in jail?”
           
“No, not you.”
           
“Ok, I’ll do it then.” She took the note and folded it neatly, tucking it away in her skirt somewhere. “Do you know what you need to do?”
           
“Not exactly, but I might after I visit Mr. Martholer.”
           
“I’m going to study for my exams. But, I’ll be right by the phone in case you need me.”  
           
“Ok, Anita.”
           
“Buena Suerte.”
           
Craig Martholer was sitting alone in the library room of his city townhouse. The drawn curtains blocked off all but a sliver of the window. Smoke from the cigar in the ashtray drifted through the beam of sunlight that cut the room in half. He didn’t move a muscle when I stepped into the room. He seemed somehow attached to the enormous, leather chair. Behind him was a connecting door to another room that was even darker than the library.  
           
“I’m sorry about your friend Darlene, Mr. Martholer.”
           
“You probably know by now, Mr. Blick, that she was more than just my friend.”
           
“Yeah, I do.”
           
“I suppose there’s no fool, like an old fool.” He took a sip from a glass of red wine.
           
“Were you married?”
           
“To her?”
           
“Yes.”
           
“No, she was a kept woman. If you can even call it that these days.”
           
“So, she was fleecing you.”
           
“That’s what I hired you to find out. What did you find out?”
           
“I went through her apartment. I found three data CD’s. None of them had your missing files. Then she climbed in through the window. By the way, that’s a first for me. I’ve never had someone whose apartment I was searching climb in through a window and attack me. We fought for a while. I had to block kicks and punches. She even wanted to wrestle me, and wouldn’t back off until I grabbed her by the hair.  Then she screamed. I must have pulled a clump of her hair out by accident, because I could feel the hair lift off her head before she franticly grabbed my hand. After that I got out the front door.”
           
“Did you kill her?”
           
“No, but I think someone may be trying to frame me for her murder.”
           
“What do you mean?”
           
“I was attacked two blocks down the street from Darlene’s apartment. The guy had a knife, but I was only slightly injured. Anyway, after the scuffle I found a cell phone on the ground. It was Darlene’s cell phone.”
           
“Chicanery.”
           
“Yeah, something like that. Do you have anyone else working on the case?
           
“I hired a man to search my new secretary’s house.”
           
“Did he find anything?”
           
“No. I dismissed him this morning. The oaf couldn’t even find my secretary, much less follow her. However, I’m keeping you on.” He took another sip from the wine glass. “Please, sit.”
           
I sat down in the chair opposite him.
           
“I’d like to keep the cell phone for a while then,” I said. “In case she gets any calls.”                                 
He waved his hand at me while looking away. The stream of light coming in seemed to catch his eye. He stared at it for a few seconds.
           
“I spent the night thinking about my ex-wife, Mr. Blick. I think she was a far better woman than the ones I’ve met since.” 
           
He looked to me for a response. There was nothing I could say, so I looked down at the floor. Then I heard him clear his throat. When I looked up he seemed to have gathered himself, and he was pointing his finger at me.
           
“Find the files, and find out who bludgeoned her to death in that alley.” His eyes welled up, and he looked away for a second. “Find out who killed her, and then find the files.”
           
“They’re probably one and the same, Mr. Martholer,” I said as I stood up to go. “By the way, do you have that card I gave you when we first met?”
           
“Yes.”
           
“Could I see it?”
           
“Why?”
           
“I jotted something down on the back of it, some numbers.”
           
“I have it in my wallet.” He searched and searched, but he couldn’t find it. “I don’t understand. I keep it here, so she...I mean, I kept it here, so she wouldn’t find it.”
           
“Never mind, it’s not that important.” 
           
I walked out, itching to go out on the street and feel the sun on my face. But as soon as I closed the door to the library and took a step, a bullet blew through the door, and shattered a picture frame hanging on the opposite wall of the hallway. I drew my gun and aimed at the library door while I backed away slowly down the hall. I opened the door to the next room. It was pitch black. I reached around the door jam from the hallway and felt around for a light switch. I hoped to hell a shot wouldn’t come out of the darkness and tear apart what was left of my arm. It took a while before I found it.  No one was in the room. I slowly turned the handle on the connecting door, but it was locked, so I kicked it open. 
           
The part of Craig Martholer I could see over the back of the chair was all torn-up. There was a Lugar on the carpet, and his left hand was dangling above it. I didn’t need a closer look to figure out what had happened. 
           
It was the perfect time to search the place, but I didn’t have gloves with me. And, if the police identification team found traces of my fingerprints all over the place then I would have been even deeper into the mess than I already was. I was directly connected to two deaths. One of them a murder. I needed to make nice with the police, namely Rojas. I called him and told him I was ready to talk. 
           
Rojas was sitting in Darlene’s living room when I arrived at the door to her apartment. The patrolman put his hand on my chest to keep me from entering.
           
“That’s him. Let him in. Talk while you look, Blick. That was the deal.”
           
“Well, she never hired me,” I said. “It was her sugar daddy, Craig Martholer. He wanted to find out if she was fleecing him. A valuable compact disk is missing. He thought she might have taken it.”
           
“How did she get your card?”
           
“Don’t know. But, the one I gave him is missing.”
           
“So is she, Blick. You’re telling me something, so I’m telling you. The blond we found had Darlene’s purse, but she wasn’t Darlene. She was too young, according to the preliminary autopsy. Do you see anything here?”
           
“No. Did you find any disks?”
           
“We found two computer disks. One had photos, and the other one was a blank disk.”
           
Two disks. When I searched the place there were three. I was trying to figure out why he hadn’t asked me for her cell phone yet. He could have easily checked her phone records and seen that I used it to call the paramedics. Then I realized he probably didn’t have her phone records yet. It was either that, or he was letting me keep it, to see what I would do. 
           
“What’s supposed to be on the disk?” He asked.
           
“Don’t know. Martholer just told me the names of the files that were on it, and what it looked like.”
           
“Who’d he think took it?”
           
“He said it had to be Darlene, Phillip Goff, or his new secretary.”
           
“Phillip Goff?” Rojas drew his hand across the stubble on his face. “Isn’t he a famous architect, too?”
           
“Almost as famous as Martholer.”
           
Rojas was lost in thought, and began pacing. He was mulling everything over. I still had information he didn’t. He knew that. And, it was only a matter of time before he was forced to put me through the ringer to get what he needed. I knew I had to solve the case before it tied me up and hung me from a rope. 
           
As soon as Rojas’s back was turned I ducked out of there. I caught a cab to the Goff Industries building in the south loop. I headed straight for the elevators without even looking at the directory. I hit the button for the highest floor, fifty-nine. Goff owned the company. He owned the building. Hell, he designed the building. I was certain he had built a nice pad for himself at the top.
           
The elevator stopped at fifty-eight, and as soon as the doors opened a man came charging at me, pushing me back against the elevator wall.
           
“Do you have a permit for the gun?” He calmly asked in a way that was both cordial, and chilling.
           
“Wallet’s in the breast pocket, Mark.” I read his name off of the ID.  
           
He grabbed the back of my neck and slowly pushed me out of the elevator, not taking his hand away until I was seated. 
           
While he looked over my investigator’s license three guys appeared out of the woodwork. Two of them, both lean, and both serious, stood back on either side of him like sentries. The third was a big guy with two nine-millimeters on his belt. He had one of those grins that appeared to make him look clever, but from experience I guessed masked stupidity. 
           
“Private Investigator Bernard Blick, who are you working for today?” Mark asked after he threw my wallet back at me.
           
The big guy moved in toward me and lightly slapped the side of my face.
           
“Talk sly boy,” he said.
           
I grabbed his right wrist, and twisted his arm. The big guy contorted, and tried to grab me with his other hand, but couldn’t. The other two moved forward, but Mark waved them back. I lowered the big guys arm until his knees buckled, and he had to sit on the carpet. Then I let him go. I looked up at Mark, who looked down at me with a pleased smile.
           
“What do you want?”
           
“I want to see Phillip Goff.”
           
“There’s a front desk for that down in the lobby.”
           
“I didn’t have an appointment. And I didn’t know he was at war with someone.”
           
“There was an attempt on Mr. Goff’s life last year.” He put the gun he took from me down on a desk. “What do you want to see him about?”
           
“I know something about Craig Martholer he would definitely want to know. And I have a few questions for him.” 
           
“He probably couldn’t care less about what you know.”
           
“He’ll want to know this. To protect himself.”
           
He dialed a cell phone that looked the same as Darlene’s, but I couldn’t be sure, because a lot of cell phones look alike.
           
“You two watch him. And you stay down on the carpet where you are. I don’t want you causing any trouble.” After he said that he walked out of earshot to talk on the phone. Then he walked back and stood over me in complete silence for a couple of minutes. 
           
The big guy looked over at me every few seconds and mumbled something. 
           
“Get up Charles,” Mark said to the big guy.
           
The elevator door opened. There was a woman leaning halfway out the door. She was tall and thin with long, black hair that went past her shoulders. She wore a blue business suit, but moved in it like it was athletic gear. She was so intense she reminded me of one of those network news anchors.
           
“Mr. Bernard Blick.” She made a hand motion for me to come over. Then she gave the tough guys a smile and a wave.
           
I stood up, and walked toward the desk where the gun was.
           
“You’ll get it later,” Mark said.
           
As soon as the elevator doors closed she leaned against the wall and folded her arms.
           
“I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name,” I said, extending my hand.
           
She looked me over, and grudgingly put her hand in mine for a millisecond. 
           
“Joy Keeler. Mr. Goff’s personal secretary.”
           
“Well Joy, what….”
           
When the elevator stopped she turned away from me abruptly, and walked out. The foyer of the fifty-ninth floor was like the interior of a Greek temple. The marble walls and floors bathed in sunshine that was coming through a domed skylight. The other rooms I went through were equal in luxury, and after we made more than two turns I realized I was being led the long way around, so that I arrived at my destination in awe. 
           
“Are most people impressed with the tour?”
           
“Most people don’t get the tour,” she said.
           
“Does that make me important, or impressionable?”
           
“Goodbye, Mr. Blick,” she said as she opened the door to his office. 
           
Glancing around Goff’s office helped me forget that I had struck out. It was nicely done in mahogany, except for the stainless steel desk that gave it a touch of modernity.  Pictures all around the office walls were littered with signatures, and cute messages.  One wall was exclusively for diplomas, mostly from universities abroad. 
           
There was only one chair to sit in besides his, and I dropped down into it like an exhausted man. I shut my eyes for a second until Goff strolled in through a side door.  He was in his fifties, with grayish white hair that was disappearing at the crown. The three piece suit he wore hung loosely from his large frame.
           
“Bernie Blick.” He said my name like he was impressed with me. “You have important information for me.” Then he looked me straight in the eye. “This isn’t a crank is it? Some kind of trick to get you in here, so you can hit me up for your cause, whatever that may be.”
           
“No sir. I wanted you to know that the much rumored about, and secret architectural designs belonging to Mr. Craig Martholer have been stolen.”
           
“How do you know that?”
           
“He hired me to recover them.”
           
“You seem privy to some sensitive information. I’ve never heard of you. Are you a new acquisition of Marhtoler’s?”
           
I didn’t respond to that.
           
“Well, in any case, you should know I had nothing to do with the theft.”
           
“But you do know about the designs?”
           
He must have pressed a button somewhere, because I heard the quiet thump followed by the noise of static that a speaker makes when it’s turned on. 
           
“Joy, get Mark up here to remove this guy from the building. And tell Mark to be more careful about the trash he lets up here.” He looked at me when he said that last part. 
           
“I think you misunderstood why I’m here Mr. Goff. I came to tell you that Mr. Martholer is dead. Something I’m sure you would like a heads up on. And, that I’d like to continue on with the recovery of the documents, the disk to be precise, for your benefit and mine. There’s no sense in me wasting a lot of good work for nothing.”
           
“I see. You’ve been stiffed, and you want to recoup your losses.”
           
“No, I’ve been paid. I just don’t see why I shouldn’t go on getting paid.” 
           
Mark walked in with his boys, ready to knock me around. 
           
“Wait outside,” Goff said to them politely. “You see I have my own detectives.”
           
“Your guys don’t know what I know about the case, Mr. Goff.”
           
“What do you know about the case? I don’t think that Craig was so stupid as to let you know what you’re hunting.”
           
“Yeah well, I tried to gloss over that tiny, little fact.”
           
“Yes, you did.” 
           
“Anyway, you can tell me what’s on the disk now, since you seem to have decided to hire me.”
           
“I can use you. Let’s say that. But tell me, how did Martholer die?”
           
Just then I heard a voice in the hallway that I didn’t expect. Rojas barged in with some junior detective, Goff’s security team, and Joy Keeler in tow.
           
“Cooper, cuff Blick.” 
           
The junior detective lifted me up out of the seat. He was a strong kid. He patted me down, and then looked at Rojas and shook his head.
           
“Mark over there has my gun,” I said.
           
Then Rojas read me my rights. He made a big show of it in front of those people.
           
“You’re going to arrest me for not reporting a suicide? Have you gone nuts?”
           
“What suicide? I’m arresting you for murder. Keep playing dumb, Blick, that’s what you’re good at.”
           
I got the silent treatment on the way to the police station, so I thought Rojas was saving his energy for the interrogation. But, in the interrogation room he just sat there and peeled an orange. He held out a couple of wedges after he was done.
           
“No thanks.”
           
“The bullet from the Lugar didn’t go though his head. We found another one in the bookcase. In case you wanted to know.”
           
“Rojas, you know I didn’t do it.”
           
“Relax Blick. Put your head down or something.”
           
Detective Cooper charged into the room.
           
“No, go away,” said Rojas.
           
I put my head down and tried to think how someone could have known exactly when I was at Martholer’s townhouse. And, I tried to figure why Rojas hadn’t asked me for Darlene’s cell phone yet. 
           
I had thought that maybe he wanted to see what I’d do with it, but it had been too long of a wait for that. Then it struck me that maybe Rojas really didn’t know about the phone. And if that was true, then maybe the similarity between Darlene’s phone and Mark’s wasn’t just a coincidence. After a while, junior detective Cooper came back and told Rojas I made bail.  
           
Goff’s attorney didn’t speak to me as we were making our way out of the building. He just handed me an envelope as soon as we got outside, and patted me on the back. At first, I thought it was some kind of condescending thing, but then I opened the envelope and realized I had just been made a member of the team. A check for five thousand dollars with a note attached:
                       
                       “A down payment on the immediate recovery
                        of Mr. Martholer’s explosion resistant
                        structural schematics. Report to myself
                        only.”
           
Standing on the steep steps of the downtown police station I could suddenly visualize the immensity of the city around me. The buildings hovered over me, and the streets stretched beyond my vision. I knew then I had to do something soon, or I’d wind up as just another bug squashed on the pavement. I grabbed a cab and headed for home. 
           
We hit a lot of traffic on Lakeshore Drive, so the cabbie cut across to Clark Street. I fiddled with the phone to pass the time. I was never technically proficient, but I thought I might find something if I flipped through all the menus. 
           
There were no numbers in the phone book. No received calls. Voicemail was inaccessible because I didn’t have the password. There was just her name on the main screen. I glanced at the bottom of the display and noticed the number two in the right hand corner. I pressed the button next to it, and a window popped up that read:
                                   
                                     -User 2 logged on-
           
I tried to find out who that was, but couldn’t. I could send “User 2” a text message, though. And as soon as I started typing a GPS tracking log came up showing that “User 2” had been tracking my location for the last twenty-four hours. Like a dummy, I had left the phone on hoping to receive a call from anyone looking for Darlene.
           
I typed the text message: “Are you following me now?”
           
There was no reply. 
           
I typed: “Meet me at 4519 N. Beacon, in uptown.”
           
The reply was: “Ok.”
           
Just then the cabbie mumbled something.
           
“What did you say?” 
           
“Nothing. I thought maybe someone was following us, but they just turned down that street back there.”
           
“What kind of car?”
           
“Looked like a green Altima. It’s been behind us ever since I picked you up. But, like I said, it just turned off.” Then he shrugged
           
I had the cabbie drop me off at a grocery store around the corner from my house. I gave him ten dollars on top of the tip for being observant.    
           
“Thanks a lot, man. I got cards. Here, take a few. Give them to your friends.”
           
“Ok, thanks.”
           
I bought some milk and eggs at the store, and jogged to the house. Nobody was waiting for me. And, as far as I could tell, no one was lurking in the shadows down the street.
           
When I got into my place the sweet smell of Puerto Rican food was floating in through the window from the house next door. I was really pissed that I had to work that night, because the family had given me a standing invitation for dinner a few nights before.
           
I turned all the lights off. The darkness always calms my nerves. I poured two shots of tequila, and placed them on the table next to the lounge chair. I got the cell phone and placed it up on the table next to the shot glasses. I dropped into the lounge chair and downed the shots one after the other. Then I closed my eyes and slowly fell asleep.              
           
Something woke me up. It sounded like a knock, but I wasn’t sure, because I was half asleep when I heard it. I got up and walked over to the window and looked on to the porch, but there was no one there. The door was still dead-bolted so no one could have gotten in while I was sleeping. I glanced at the clock. I had slept for a little over an hour. 
           
Just then I felt someone looking at me, so I turned to look out the window, but there was no one there. I looked out the other window, and still no one. I chalked it up to paranoia, but then thought better of it. After all, I was better off being suspicious. 
           
I stood in plain view in the middle of the living room, took the gun and holster off my hip and placed them on the table. I rolled up my shirt sleeves, untucked my shirt, and picked up the shot glasses on my way to the kitchen. I washed the shot glasses, and as I dried my hands with the hand towel I briefly moved into the enclosed pantry where I couldn’t be seen. I took the spare nine-millimeter off the shelf, and tucked it underneath my shirt at the small of my back. I continued drying my hands with the hand towel while walking back into the living room.
           
I tossed the towel on the table, and fell backwards into the chair. I pretended to sleep leaving my eyes open enough to see, but closed enough to appear to be shut. I could see three windows from where I was, but it was in the archway of the dining room that the edge of a man’s silhouetted face moved into view. 
           
He must have arrived before I did. He did nothing except watch me. And I did nothing except watch him.
           
Ten minutes later sweat was dripping down the side of my face. I was wondering how long I could play this game. Then the phone rang. I answered it with a sleepy voice.
           
“Hello?”
           
“Bernard?”
           
“Yes. Is this Darlene?”
           
“That’s right.”
           
“Are you here?”
           
“Yes. I’m walking up to the door now.”
           
I walked over to the door and unlocked it. I was afraid of being caught in the hallway between them, so I quickly moved back into the living room and sat down. 
           
She knocked.
           
“It’s open.”
           
She very softly shut the door behind her.
           
“It’s dark in here.”
           
“You can turn a light on if you want, but you might be identified by the police. There’s a good chance they have me under surveillance. Although, I can tell you they don’t have any listening devices here, I have gadgets to check for that.”
           
She moved like a dancer. Each step she took on her way into the room was quick, light, and measured. She sat down on the couch across from me, and crossed her legs.  She looked the same as I remembered her. She had on a black, quarter-length overcoat, and as far as I knew, she didn’t have on anything else but shoes. Her blond hair was parted on one side, and seemed to curl on top of her shoulders. She was sitting relaxed, and looked at me intently without any shyness.
           
“I know you’re wondering what I’m doing here,” she said with a smile. “I have a proposition for you. I’ve been following your movements; because I needed to be sure you were the one I should approach. I saw that man attack you on the street. He broke into my apartment after you did. I saw him from the fire escape. I didn’t want to get into another fight, so I followed him. I saw you pick up the phone off the ground after the fight, so I knew I could use the phone to find out what you were up to. I knew Craig had hired you, and I was wondering if you could help me. And when I saw you walk into Goff’s office, that’s when I knew we could do business.”
           
Right then and there was when I knew what had happened. 
           
“So, you have the disk.”
           
“First, let’s talk. If I did have the disk would you be willing to broker a deal between me and Mr. Goff? I’d pay you five percent, but I’d have to remain anonymous.”
           
“You trust me that much?”
           
“You seem like the soldier of fortune type to me.”
           
“I make no apologies for that.”
           
“You shouldn’t. But, I don’t have time to wait. Can you call Goff now?”
           
“Sure. But make it fifteen percent. It’s only fair.”
           
“I don’t see what’s so fair about that.”
           
“It’s payback for your friend slicing my arm open.”
           
“I don’t understand.”
           
“Your friend who jumped me on the street after I left your apartment.”
           
“Look, Bernie. There’s an element to this case that you know nothing about. Mr. Goff’s security team has been chasing after me ever since I obtained these documents. I would go into detail, but I don’t have the time. Do you want to help me, or not?”
           
“So Goff’s detectives jumped me on the street?”
           
“Yes. Unless you have some other case you’re working on right now.”
           
“And they killed the girl in the alley behind your apartment building? The one who looked like you?”
           
“Yes. They must have mistaken her for me.”
           
“She was Craig Martholer’s new secretary wasn’t she?  The one Craig’s other detective couldn’t find.”
           
“Yes. She and I had become close friends recently, and I’d rather not talk about that right now.”
           
“So, they killed Craig to gain access to schematics that could be worth billions.”
           
“Trillions. Yes.”
           
“Ok. But, there’s still something I don’t understand. Why would they kill Craig if they knew you had the disk? Why not just get it from you?”
           
“Well, he has originals at his place.”
           
“Yeah, but if they broke into his place and killed him, they would have gotten the information they needed. So, why would they still be chasing you to get the disk?”
           
“Because they know, that I know, that they killed Craig.”
           
“But, if you believe that’s why they’re after you, then why are you trying to sell Goff the disk? By that line of thinking, he already has the information.”
           
“Do you want to broker this deal for me, or not?”
           
“You followed me to Martholer’s townhouse using the GPS system on the phone.  When I left the room you entered from the side room door. He saw you, or heard you, and tried to shoot you with a quick, wild shot from a Lugar, almost killing me instead.  You shot him point blank. You used a silencer. That’s why I didn’t hear the shot. You left through the library door the same way I did. By the time I kicked in the side door, you were already in the hallway on your way out.”
           
She looked extremely incensed. She was probably trying to figure out what to do with me. 
           
“You killed that poor little secretary, too. You needed time to sell information and disappear. That would be easier if people thought you dead. That’s why you climbed in through the window of your apartment building. You didn’t want anyone in the building to see you alive after you were supposed to be dead.”
           
She wouldn’t answer.
           
“You’re a skillful opportunist. You had your playmate jump me on the street, and purposely drop the phone on the ground during the scuffle. You probably were trying to scare me off, and if that didn’t work you could keep an eye on me using the phone. Then, when I went to Martholer’s townhouse you discovered you could frame me for his murder, and kill two birds with one stone.”
           
“You really think you know a lot, don’t you?” She asked in a lethally, sly voice.
           
“I know one thing. You said you knew we could do business when you saw me walk into Goff’s office. Didn’t you mean Goff’s building? Because the only person who saw me walk into Goff’s office was Joy Keeler, his secretary. I know, it’s a miniscule Freudian slip, but couple that with the fact you were wearing a wig when we had our wrestling match at you apartment, and it’s a foregone conclusion that you’re Joy Keeler. It took some time for me to realize you were wearing a wig when we fought.  For a while there I felt like I was one of those jerks that fights women and pulls clumps of their hair out.”
           
“You are a jerk,” she said. 
           
“I’m also certain that you were following me tonight, but broke off so that you could get dressed up as Darlene Bening.”
           
Charles, the guy whose arm I twisted at Goff’s office, stepped out of the shadows. He had me covered the whole time.
           
“Don’t move,” he said.
           
“You can see who does the killing here,” she said. She took the blond wig off, and took out some pins to let her hair down. “So much for your little theory.”
           
“I wasn’t that far off.”
           
Charles was standing over me. He grinned a little and struck me at the temple with the barrel of the automatic.
           
I was out of it for a second, but I heard her tell him to use a silencer, because there may be police around. When I opened my eyes I saw that he had the gun pointed up and away from me as he threaded the silencer on to the barrel. 
           
That was my chance. I reached behind my back and leapt. I had the muzzle of the gun against the middle of his chest before he could do anything about it. Joy yelled something and jumped to her feet. Charles had that stupid grin on his face again when he slowly turned the silencer one more time until it clicked. 
           
He moved fast, but all I had to do was pull the trigger. She screamed before Charles hit the floor. I took aim at her until she started coughing up blood. I watched her collapse before I knew what had happened. 
           
I kneeled down and bent over her. The bullet must have gone clean though him. 
           
“Please,” she said, choking. 
           
She pulled both my shirt sleeves, and then her eyes slowly went black. 
           
Rojas arrived just after I finished making a copy of the disk. Then the medical examiner showed up, followed by what seemed like the rest of the Chicago police department. 
           
I stared at the paramedic’s finger as she moved it from side to side, and up and down. She looked into my ears, and nose. She checked my balance and coordination.
           
“Well, your eyes are a little glazed over, but my guess is that’s the tequila. Go see your doctor tomorrow to get the wound redressed and re-examined.”
           
Rojas tapped on a notebook with a pen as we walked out of the kitchen. He stopped walking when we reached the door. 
           
“Did you make a copy of this disk? Is that what you were doing on the computer when I came in?”
           
“I’ve got to earn my five thousand bucks. It’ll help with the down payment on a new place.”
           
“You got somewhere to stay for now?”
           
“Neighbor’s,” I said, pointing next door.