Читать книгу One Smooth Stone - Marcia Lee Laycock - Страница 7

Chapter Three

Back at the detachment Sorensen drummed his long fingers on the open file in front of him. His large frame rocked back and forth as he leaned back in his chair. He stared at the pimply-faced teenager in the small photo clipped to the first page. Twenty-one, Sorensen thought. This perp would be 21 now. And who knows how many more young girls he’d hurt in the past five years. The inspector let his chair snap back to vertical. He turned the pages, scanning for details. “Fee, fi, fo, fum,” he mumbled. “I smell the blood of criminal scum.” He flipped back to the picture, unclipped it, and propped it up on his coffee cup. “They don’t call me the Swedish giant for nothing, Alex Donnelly. And it’s time I sniffed you out.”

* * *

George knocked on Alex’s hotel room door at 7:30 the next morning. When there was no answer he knocked louder. A scantily-clad Sal opened it. He stepped back and looked at the floor.

“Uh, sorry...is Alex up...uh...in?”

“He’s in, but he’s definitely not up.”

George knew Sal was enjoying his embarrassment. “Uh...can you tell him our flight leaves at 10:00? So we should be at the airport in less than an hour.”

“Sure.” She smirked. “I’ll get him dressed.”

George felt himself turn a deeper shade of pink and Sal laughed. “We’ll meet you in the restaurant.”

He nodded and backed away. “Yeah, okay, in a few minutes then.” He bumped into the wall, whirled around, and strode quickly down the hallway.

When they arrived at his table George tried not to show how uncomfortable he felt. When he failed he pretended not to see Alex and Sal exchange amused glances.

Alex slid into the booth. “How’s the coffee? Or do you drink milk in the morning?”

Sal giggled and slid in beside him. George ignored them.

She suddenly jumped to her feet again. “Hey, I’ve gotta go, Alex.” She leaned down and kissed him. “So I’ll see ya when you get back?”

Alex nodded. “Sure. Practise your culinary skills.”

She smirked. “I’ll think about it. You take care of yourself, okay?” She turned to George. “Nice to meet you, George.”

He nodded, but she turned away before he could say goodbye. He picked up his cup and answered Alex’s question.

“The coffee’s strong.”

“Good.” Alex picked up his menu and talked over it. “So you got me on the same plane?”

“Yes. We have a bit of a wait in Vancouver, but we get into Seattle at a decent time tonight. I’ve booked you a room and made an appointment with Kenni Adams tomorrow morning at 9:00.”

“Who?”

“The researcher who worked on your case. You’ll meet the others later.”

“It took others?”

“Three, actually. One to do the research, one to do the legal work, one to do the legwork. I’m the leg man. As I said the firm is anxious to close the file.”

“Why?”

“Stipulations in the contract.”

“What?”

“They don’t get paid ’til we’ve delivered the documents and the inheritance into your hands.”

“Ah. And how much do they get if I sign the papers?”

“I don’t know the exact amount, but you might want to prepare yourself. It did take six months to find you.”

“What if these other lawyers—”

“Lawyer. Kenni Adams is just a researcher, not a lawyer.”

“What if Kenni Adams isn’t so sure I’m the right guy?”

“I think Kenni will be convinced. All the research led to you.”

“Oh?”

“The trail took a while to follow, but Kenni says you fit the profile.”

“The profile? What profile is that?”

George sensed he was on dangerous ground. “Uh...you can discuss that with Kenni.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. I’ll do that.”

The waitress arrived to take their orders. When she left, Alex lit up a cigarette and squinted through the smoke. George wanted to object, but leaned away and said nothing.

When Alex spoke again his tone was still hostile. “So what happens if I refuse to sign these papers?”

George didn’t care that his shock showed. “Why would you do that? You’d be cheating yourself out of a million dollars!”

“Maybe I don’t want it.”

“If you don’t claim it, the government will pocket it all.”

“After you and your firm take your cut, of course.” Alex was sneering openly now.

George frowned. He’d had enough of this guy’s attitude. “So don’t go. Stay here. Run back to your cabin and hide in the bush. No one will care.”

Alex ground the cigarette into an ashtray. His eyes flashed. “Maybe I’d like it that way.”

George opened his mouth to reply, but the waitress came to their table and poured more coffee. He stared at the steaming liquid. When she was gone he cleared his throat. “I apologize.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have said....”

Alex waved him off. “Forget it.” He stared out the window until the waitress brought their breakfast plates. They ate in a silence that hung heavy in the air.

George finally broke it. “You’d really consider turning down that much money?”

Alex stared at his plate. “That much money draws attention.” He looked at George. “It already has.”

“Kenni had to find you. It wasn’t a matter of invading your privacy.”

“I don’t like the idea of everybody knowing all about me.”

“Welcome to the twenty-first century.”

“Big Brother is watching.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Alex sighed. “You’d think I’d be used to it.”

“How so?”

Alex used his teeth to pull another cigarette out of the package. “When I was shifted around in the system they always knew all about me. My file was there before I was. I’d walk into somebody’s office and there it’d be, my whole life, flopped open on a desk for anybody to read.” He lit the cigarette. “Sometimes I did things just to make it more interesting.”

“Bad attention better than no attention?”

Alex shrugged and blew smoke out the side of his mouth. “Something like that.”

“Well, this time the attention will all be positive. I have no doubt you’ll be treated like royalty once we get to Seattle. My firm takes good care of its clients.”

“Especially rich clients?”

“Yeah, I admit they get special treatment, but Mr. Adams runs a good firm. He’s a good man, a fair man.”

“What about the other guys?”

“Other guys?”

“Didn’t you say it was Adams, somebody and somebody? You haven’t mentioned the other guys.”

George nodded. “Mr. Ferrington is pretty much a silent partner. He’s in his late sixties. The others are full partners, but Mr. Adams is the boss.”

“Ah. So Adams runs the show.”

“Pretty much. Why?”

Alex let the smoke billow between them. “I’d just like to know whose pockets I’ll be lining...if I sign the papers.”

“Right.”

“So how will they prove it’s me?”

“Were you ever fingerprinted?”

George noticed how Alex stiffened, then leaned back and hung his arm across the back of the booth, cigarette dangling between his fingers. “You saw my profile. You tell me.”

“Twice.” George drained his coffee cup. “For break and enter, then robbery.”

“My rebellious stage. I was fourteen.”

“But you didn’t graduate to bigger and better. Why not?”

Alex shrugged as his hand moved to the scar on his neck and his head tilted sideways. “My foster father’s belt had a lot to do with it and—you might appreciate this—a pastor.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Pastor T, they called him.” Alex’s mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. “The second house I broke into belonged to him. He convinced the judge to give me 300 hours of community service in his church. Worked me hard too, but he was a good guy, ya know? Knew how to get a kid to talk. If not for him I probably would’ve ended up in prison. Maybe even dead.” He stared out the window and his voice dropped an octave. “Couple of times I thought Wild Bill was going to kill me.”

George decided to push it. “Who’s Wild Bill?” When Alex’s eyes met his he felt he’d opened the door to a freezer.

“They called him my foster father. I called him other things. The man had a mean temper.”

“I thought foster parents weren’t allowed to get physical.”

Alex snorted. “On paper, maybe.” He took a deep draw on the cigarette. “We were always getting knocked around.”

“We?”

“Usually five or six lived in the house.”

“Didn’t anyone ever notice? Neighbors? Teachers?”

“Oh yeah, they noticed.”

George saw Alex’s face darken as the memory surfaced.

“Like the time in junior high when I had a gym class the morning after Wild Bill had laid into me with his belt. We were doing wrestling moves that morning, you know?”

George nodded and Alex continued.

“My partner knew pretty quick something was wrong. I told him to shut up and fake it, but the coach noticed. Told me to hit the showers, then walked in on me. Stood there for a while, having a good look. Then all he said was, “Looks good on ya, Donnelly.”

Alex shifted and flicked the ash from the end of the cigarette. “Guess I wasn’t one of his favorite students.”

George dropped his voice a notch. “How long did that go on?”

“’Til….” Alex stopped. His eyes shifted around the room. “’Til I decided not to take it anymore and got outta there.” He waved his coffee cup at the waitress. “Wasn’t that in my file?”

George didn’t meet his eyes. “I didn’t read the whole thing.”

Alex slumped in the seat and massaged his forehead. “Don’t get me started on the horror stories.”

“Maybe it’s good to…to talk about it,” George replied.

Alex stared out the window again. George watched his hand clenching and releasing around the coffee cup. When he turned back his words came out in a mumble.

“I don’t usually…talk about it. The memories—they can take over sometimes.”

The waitress arrived then with their bill. George picked it up quickly. “We’d better get going.”

* * *

Alex had a hard time sitting still in the cab. Get out, he kept telling himself. Get out now. But he followed George through the airport, through the security checks, and down the sloped ramp to the plane.

Once on board Alex had another question. “Okay, so you have my fingerprints, but what is there to compare them to? I mean they’ll tell you I’m Alex Donnelly, the kid who got arrested, but how will they tell you if I’m the Alex Donnelly who should inherit this money?”

George shrugged. “I’ll let Kenni sort that one out. I do the legwork, remember?”

“So when we get there your work is done?”

“If you sign the documents, it will be.”

Alex was quiet for a while, then twisted in his seat to face the lawyer. “Is there anything else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Any other information you’re not telling me. I still don’t get how I could inherit a pile of money now, and go through the hell I did for eleven years.”

“I honestly don’t know anything more, Alex. There is a package waiting for you in our office, but I don’t know what’s in it.”

Alex ran his hand through his hair and slumped back into the seat. “So I have to wait ’til tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow at 9:00 a.m.”

Alex glanced up at the no smoking sign above him and cursed.