Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Jake wanted to ask more questions, but he knew staying on the line would only make him easier to trace if the cops had his office phone tapped. With a sigh, he ended the call.
“What did he say?” Rachel asked.
“The cops have been searching my office–and probably my house too.”
“And by now they’ve undoubtedly turned my shop into a wreck. I mean more than we already did with that detective.”
“Don’t worry about that now.” He gestured toward the phone. “Patrick says somebody wants to talk to me.”
“Who?”
“The guy didn’t give his name.”
“It could be the police being tricky.” She hitched a breath. “Or that guy who’s been after us.”
“We’d recognize his voice.”
“But what if it’s the police?”
“I think I should follow it up. I mean, what if it’s someone who knows about Evelyn Morgan–or the clinic?”
“How could they?”
He shrugged, then turned toward her. “If you tell me to forget about it, I will.”
“I think we have to follow it up,” she answered.
“Do you have a bad feeling about it?”
She considered the question. “Maybe. But I’m not in very good psychic shape. It could just be my general level of anxiety.”
He started the engine and turned out of the parking lot, then, in the interest of caution, drove ten miles down the road before pulling into a picnic area. Once again he cut the engine. As he punched in the number, Rachel put her hand on his arm.
They both waited tensely.
A guy picked up on the second ring.
“This is Jake Harper. You wanted to talk to me?”
“Thanks for getting back to me, man.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Mickey.”
“And?”
“I have some information that can help you.”
“Like what?” Jake asked.
“I’d rather not discuss it over the phone.”
Jake’s grip tightened on the cell. “You need to be a little more specific.”
“About your background.”
“That covers a pretty wide area. Give me a hint,” Jake said, trying not to sound impatient. He had never met this guy, but he picked up on a strong feeling of dislike.
The man laughed. “Okay. You been having any mental changes recently?”
“Maybe.”
“I can tell you some stuff about it. But we got to meet in person.”
“Where are you?”
“In New Orleans.”
“Do you know the city?”
The man hesitated. “Not so much.”
“Okay. There’s a warehouse on Burgundy Street.” He gave the address. “I’ll meet you there at seven.”
Before the guy could ask any questions, Jake hung up and sat there, staring through the windshield.
“Who was he, do you think?”
Rachel’s question broke into his thoughts. “You heard all that?”
“Yes.”
Jake shrugged and looked at her. “Did you pick up anything from him?”
Her brow wrinkled. “It was more what I didn’t pick up. I mean, it was like there was a wall between us and him.”
Jake nodded. “It came across that way to me, too. There was something . . . dishonest about him.”
“Like he was trying to hide his real intentions.”
“Yeah.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Meet him.”
“That might be dangerous,” she pointed out.
“Do we have any choice?” Jake asked. “We’re trying to get information, and he may have some. I mean he mentioned ‘mental changes.’ Maybe he knows what kind of experiments they were doing at that clinic. And he doesn’t want to talk about it over the phone. Not after what happened to Evelyn Morgan.”
“That could be right.”
“I’ll stash you somewhere safe and keep the appointment.”
Jake felt Rachel’s fingers digging into his arm. “No way are you leaving me hiding some place while you go off and do something dangerous.”
His stomach clenched. “What if something happens?”
“To you? You don’t think that would affect me?”
He nodded tightly. “I guess that’s right.”
“You guess?”
He swallowed hard. “All, right, I know.”
They were both silent for several moments before she finally said, “We’d better take precautions. Like get there early and be hiding when Mickey arrives.”
He smiled. “You’re developing your spy skills, I see.”
“I’m trying.”
“We’d better make it very early, in case he has the same idea.”
On the way back to town, they discussed some plans, but it quickly became clear that they would have to hang loose.
As they crossed the bridge into New Orleans, they saw a patrol car, and Rachel went rigid.
“Slide down,” Jake said, as he’d done on several earlier occasions.
She scrunched low in her seat, but the cop kept going past them.
“How hard are they looking for us?” Rachel asked.
“Don’t know, but I’d like to minimize the amount of time we stay in the city.”
She nodded.
Jake drove around the back of a pawnshop in a neighborhood where Rachel probably wouldn’t want to walk around at night by herself. But he was comfortable here.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“Getting guns.”
“I don’t want one.”
“I do. And I’d feel safer if you’re armed as well.”
“Why do we need them? Can’t we use our powers?”
“They’re not reliable enough. Don’t you remember how it was with that detective at your shop? He was able to resist us.”
She nodded tightly.
He could see she didn’t like it, but he also knew she saw the wisdom of conventional protection.
The back door to the shop was locked, but Jake had a key. When they were in the storage area, he turned to Rachel. “Wait here for a moment.”
Rachel’s nerves were humming. She didn’t like being left alone in this place.
When Jake came back and motioned for her to follow, she stepped into a crowded little shop where a wizened, stoop-shouldered black man stood behind a display counter.
“I see you’re in a mess of trouble,” he said, looking Jake up and down.
“We didn’t do it.”
“I didn’t think so. You’re capable of a lot of shady stuff, Jake Harper, but not murder, if I’m any judge.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Kendall, this is Rachel Gregory. Rachel, this is my friend, Kendall Wexler.”
“Nice to meet you,” they both said.
“She’s your partner in crime?”
“We didn’t commit any crimes,” Jake reiterated, then grimaced, probably when he remembered the incident in her shop with the police detective.
Kendall shuffled from behind the counter to turn the sign from “Open” to “Closed.”
As he locked the front door, Rachel looked around. Guitars, banjos and other musical instruments hung on the walls. Display cases were full of everything from laptop computers to sets of flatware, diamond rings and gold beads.
A case behind the counter held an assortment of firearms.
The man swung his gaze to Rachel and smiled. “Could be you hooked up with the wrong dude.”
“I don’t think so.”
“If I can’t persuade you to ditch him, what can I do you for?”
Jake answered. “We need a couple of guns.”
“Thought that might be it.” Kendall stepped aside so Jake could join him behind the counter. They conferred for several minutes before Jake picked out two handguns, a small revolver for Rachel and a larger automatic for Jake.
Kendall brought out ammunition for each weapon, and the two men proceeded to give Rachel a short course in gun safety and operation. When they were finished, she put the revolver in her purse where it felt like a deadweight.
“Don’t go shooting any cops,” Kendall said.
“It’s not for cops.”
“If you say so.”
Jake hesitated for a moment, then said, “If any of them come by asking questions, say you haven’t seen us.”
“You got it,” Kendall answered, and he didn’t ask why they needed the firepower.
When they were back in the car, Jake said, “I wish you could have some actual target practice. But we’d have to drive out of the city, then back again.”
“I don’t like carrying a gun at all. Let’s hope I don’t have to shoot.”
“I feel better knowing we’re not walking into an unknown situation unarmed.”
A thought occurred to her, and she said, “Wait a minute. You didn’t pay him.”
“I don’t have to.”
“Because you’re holding something over him?”
“No. I’m part owner of the shop.”
She stared at him. “Part owner.”
He shrugged. “I go to a lot of estate sales. There are always things I pick up that are worth buying but don’t fit into my antique business. So I asked Kendall if he wanted to go in on a pawnshop with me.”
“Let me guess. You put up all of the money.”
He kept his gaze steady. “Does that matter?”
“Just trying to get a handle on Jake Harper.”
“It’s a convenient arrangement for me. I can sell merchandise that wouldn’t work for my upscale clientele.”
“And it’s convenient for him, too. I’ll bet he lives in the building, right?”
“Yeah.”
“But it’s more than that for you. You like being his friend.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, you use the friendship as a way to connect with . . . humanity.”
He nodded.
“An adaptation mechanism.”
“You mean like your connecting with humanity by reading Tarot cards?”
“Yes. I guess we both found substitutes for real intimacy.”
Jake reached for her hand, and they held onto each other, both thinking about how much their lives had changed.
For long moments neither of them spoke aloud until Jake said, “We should get some food. Better not to face the enemy on an empty stomach.”
“Is he the enemy?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
While they were still in the neighborhood, he stopped at a takeout luncheonette and got them each a poor boy and a soft drink.
Then they drove to the address he’d given the mystery caller. The two-story brick building looked like it had formerly been a garage.
Jake stepped inside the door and keyed in a code on an alarm system pad, then he turned on a few lights.
As they walked into the huge room, Rachel saw it was being used as a storage facility for Mardi Gras floats.
They were partially dismantled, but Rachel looked around in wonder at the display.
A sea monster was against one wall, next to a giant king and queen.
Across from them was an artificial lawn with a tree in the middle.
The branches were adorned with monkeys holding necklaces and other glittery treasure.
Behind the monkey tree was a set of giant musical instruments that looked like they needed no human performers.
“I’ve seen some of these floats at the parade.”