sixty-four

The Kit Kat West was dark. The outside floodlights that normally bathed the club were off and the parking lot—overflowing any other evening—was empty. The club was closed Wednesdays and it was Wednesday, or so said the sign posted near the entrance. The oasis of light that lit up the sky for miles around was a dark, empty shell now.

I’d spent the past two hours looking for any missed clue that might lead me to William Mendelson’s killer. I’d been to the bank annex and William’s vault. I’d searched William and Marshal’s homes again for any scrap. I’d even returned to Bear’s office, but he and Cal were nowhere to be found. So far, I’d come to one big conclusion: I hadn’t a clue who killed him.

The Kit Kat was next on my list.

I wasn’t as certain as Angel that Raina Iskandr hadn’t killed William. Maybe she hadn’t recovered her grandfather’s antiquities, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t killed William trying to. Or maybe it did. Raina Iskandr was one crazy lady—albeit sexy—and anything was possible.

But I’m a pro and couldn’t let good looks, brains, and a little case of whacko cloud my judgment. Four people came out of Egypt in World War II who knew about William’s stash. Cy Gray, who was dead. Claude Holister, who was dead. William Mendelson, who was dead. And Keys Hawkins, who was, last I checked, not dead—yet.

As I stepped off the spook express and onto the front steps of the club, Ollie was waiting. His normal upbeat smile and easy mood were still gone. In their place were concern and angst.

“ ’Bout time, kid. I thought I was gonna have to deal with this on my own.”

“Deal with what?”

“That crazy Egyptian skirt.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s inside with some party guests.”

“Okay, what’s the plan?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t have a plan. How about you?”

“Me?”

“You’re the detective, kid. I’ve been dead too long. And all I want to know is who killed Youssif. After I find that out, well, I’ll make it up as I go along.”

“Make it up? I thought you were a big hero? OSS, CIA. What kind of spy makes it up as they go along?”

“The best ones.” He winked. “I remember back in the Sudan, I was …”

“Later, Granddad. Let’s go see the crazy Egyptian skirt.”

We walked into the Kit Kat’s bar and into a gathering of very unhappy people.

We were definitely going to need a plan.

Keys was bound to a chair near the bar with heavy gray duct tape. His face was swollen and bloody. His head rolled from side to side and he mumbled something I couldn’t understand, but the man standing in front of him did—he was interrogating him and Keys’s answers weren’t stopping the onslaught.

Raina stood across the room. She seemed unconcerned about the pain inflicted on the elderly Keys, and her attention—along with her gun—was focused on Lee Hawkins sitting in a chair six feet away and crying.

Raina and the man—a short, muscular man dressed in jeans and a dirty sweatshirt—readied for another round of “questions.” If I were a betting man, I’d make two wagers. First, the thug beating Keys had a balaclava in his wardrobe, and second, he also had a bandage around a gunshot wound on his arm.

This was the bank robber who’d tried to take Angel hostage.

Lee was unblemished—for now—and tried to run to her grandfather to comfort him. The thug grabbed her and pulled her away, pushing her back into the chair she’d been sitting in.

Raina walked slowly to Keys and leaned down, face to face. “I do not like this violence, Keys Hawkins. I regret B.C. must use it. But he and I have a new arrangement and how he fulfills his end is not my concern. B.C. is a dangerous man, is he not?”

“What do you want, Raina?” Keys’s words slurred together. “I don’t have your grandfather’s loot. I told you, this thug stole it from William’s vault before he killed him.”

Raina tapped Keys on his leg with her gun. “I want the truth, Mr. Hawkins. Which of you killed my grandfather—William or you? Whoever did that to my family is a murderer and a traitor.”

“William!” Lee shouted. “I already told you a dozen times. It was William!”

“I am not so convinced. A granddaughter will do many things for family. Lie, perhaps? Worse?”

Keys coughed a strange, nervous laugh. “Or kill, like you, Raina?”

B.C., the thug and bank robber, landed two powerful punches into Keys’s midsection. The blows on an ordinary man would be painful, but at his age, they could be deadly.

Keys gasped for air—almost failing—and spit blood. He cried out and went limp.

“Stop it. You’ll kill him,” Lee cried, and ran to him again. “You bitch! B.C. has what you want. Leave us alone.”

“For now, perhaps it is enough.” Raina waved her gun at B.C. “When will I see the rest of my possessions? I was promised they would be here.”

B.C. shrugged and rubbed his knuckles. “I told you, lady—I ain’t got that junk. I never did. I left that bank empty-handed.”

“I think you are all lying. Unless you provide me my grandfather’s property, I will have to convince you. For now, get to the truth.” Raina moved close to Keys and placed the barrel of her gun against his forehead. “Consider your next words carefully, Keys Hawkins.”

Ollie walked over to Raina. “This dame’s serious as a heart attack, kid. You better find a way to get your cop pals here, fast. If you don’t, Keys is a goner. But not too fast, you know? I want to know the truth, too. I want Youssif’s killer. I think maybe she can find out.”

“Are you insane? They’ll kill him.”

“Naw.” Ollie grinned an evil grin. “Not yet, anyway.”

Keys lifted his head and tried to steady his eyes on Raina. “Kill me then. What difference does it make now who killed your grandfather? I’m dead either way. You can go to hell wondering, bitch.”

“We had a deal, Raina!” Lee yelled. “You said if we helped you get your grandfather’s treasure, you’d leave us alone. I’ll do anything for Keys, anything. Just tell me what you want.”

Raina turned the gun on Lee. “That was before William’s passing. Now there is only your grandfather to tell me the truth about my grandfather. How fitting, is it not? Be quiet and don’t force one granddaughter to kill the other.”

I said, “Ollie, you can do more than I can. I’ll get Bear and you …”

Cold fingers jabbed into my head and stole my breath. My vision went fuzzy and if I weren’t dead, I would have vomited. Then, from far away, a whisper grew into a long, hollow cry.

Tuck! Help me! Tuck!