A Hard Rain Read online

  Four minutes later they were brushing the water off their coats and hats and heading into the interrogation room at police headquarters.

  Bell had used Dix’s phone to call ahead and have Arnie Andrews put in the interrogation room. Dix had sat in that room, in that hot seat, on his first case, the one he called “The Big Good-bye.” It hadn’t been fun after a short time.

  If he and Bell had anything to do with it, the seat wasn’t going to be fun for Arnie Andrews either. They were going to have to work fast. They didn’t have the time to slowly sweat anything out of this guy.

  Bell went in first and nodded for the guard to leave. Dix closed the door behind him.

  Arnie Andrews was seated under the hot light, his hands cuffed behind his back. His hair was short and cut to fashion, his clothes looked expensive, and he was already starting to sweat.

  Dix studied him, trying to look for any weakness. Andrews had the chin of an actor and the blue eyes to go along with the chin. Dix had talked to him once before, when he first had started on the case of Marci Andrews’ murder. He had thought Arnie was a slimeball then, and seeing him sitting under the hot light, hands cuffed, didn’t change that opinion in the slightest.

  Bell had said on the way downtown that if he remembered right, they had found the gun that had killed Marci in Andrews’ car, tucked under the back seat. Had her blood on it. That had been enough to get him arrested.

  “So, Andrews,” Bell said, taking off his coat and then his jacket and slinging them over the back of a nearby chair. “Comfortable?”

  “No,” Andrews said, pulling against the handcuffs.

  Dix took off his coat and jacket as well and laid them on another chair, then loosened his tie.

  “You’re going to have to be more talkative than that,” Bell said, walking around Andrews like a cat stalking a wounded and trapped bird, “if you want to get out of here anytime soon.”

  “I told the other cops earlier, I didn’t kill Marci,” Andrews said.

  Bell laughed. “And I suppose you don’t know how the gun got in your car either?”

  “I don’t, I swear,” Andrews said, twisting to follow Bell as he moved around and around him. “I don’t own a gun, don’t even like guns, even when they’re props on stage. You can ask anyone. Honest.”

  Bell nodded, patting Andrews on the cheek just a little-too hard. “Now talking was easy, wasn’t it? Big long sentences. I like that, and you keep me happy, you’ll get out of here faster.”

  Andrews nodded real quick, his head bobbing like a lovesick puppy wanting to please a master. Dix almost expected his tongue to hang out as well.

  “Okay, look,” Dix said, moving up and smiling at Andrews. “How about we start with some easy stuff, then work backward. That work for you?”

  “Start anywhere you want,” Andrews said. “I don’t care. I still didn’t kill my wife. I loved her.”

  “Sure you did,” Dix said.

  “Well,” Bell said, “you convince us of that and we’ll drive you home. All right with you?”

  Andrews nodded.

  “Start with the last twenty-four hours,” Dix said. “What did you do yesterday after you got out of bed?”

  “Breakfast at the deli, then I went down to the theater,” Andrews said. “Just like I do every morning. I’m working on the new play that starts there in two weeks.”

  “So how long did you stay at the theater?” Bell asked. “And can people vouch for you?”

  “Sure,” Andrews said. “I was onstage most of the time, rehearsing. I stayed until about four-thirty, then headed to your office, Hill.”

  He almost spat Dix’s name.

  “What did you see there?” Dix asked, his stomach twisting at how long this was taking. Every minute seemed to stretch, yet flash past. There just weren’t that many minutes left.

  “Not you,” Andrews said, “that’s for sure. I got there about twenty-till-five, waited around a few minutes and then got disgusted that you’d stood me up, so I left. I don’t know why you wanted to talk to me in the first place.”

  “No one was there?” Dix asked. “This is important to convince us you are telling the truth. Was there anything strange-looking in the hallway?”

  “Nothing but some stray cat,” Andrews said. “Why?”

  “So what did you do next?” Bell asked as Dix turned away to hide his disappointment. He believed Andrews. The guy hadn’t been lying at all.

  “I went from there down to the Banner Restaurant,” Andrews said. “You can ask the barkeep there. It’s a good ten-minute walk, maybe longer, and he served me my first drink right before five. Then I had dinner. You want to know what I ate? Or drank? I can tell you. I was on my way home when the cops got me. And I haven’t had anything to eat since.”

  Dix felt his stomach sinking, the hope draining away. If Andrews was telling the truth, and he really had no reason to lie, then he hadn’t been there when the Adjuster was there.

  “Don’t worry,” Bell said, again slapping Andrews’ face a little too hard, “you’ll be fed as soon as the sun comes up.”

  At that moment the door to the interrogation room opened and a man stuck his head in the door. “Hill, you got a call.”

  Dix nodded to Bell and followed the man out and down the hallway where he pointed to a phone lying beside its cradle on a counter.

  He grabbed the phone like it was a lifeline. “Dixon Hill here.”

  “This is Bev. Mr. Data didn’t find anything at Arnie Andrews’ apartment.”

  Dix wasn’t surprised, after what Arnie had just told them. “Did Mr. Data search it carefully?”

  “Very carefully,” Bev said. “But Mr. Data tells me he thinks the cops had already searched it. If Andrews took the Heart, it might be locked up there at the station somewhere in some sort of evidence room.”

  “Good point,” Dix said. “I’ll have Bell check it out.”

  “Also, a Brad Barringer called a few minutes ago,” Bev said. “He wants to talk to you. Says he has something you need and wants to give it to you.”

  “Did you ask him what it was?”

  “I did,” Bev said, “but he said he had to give it to you personally. Said he missed you earlier.”

  “Earlier?” Dix asked.

  “That’s what he said,” Bev replied. “I called you as soon as I hung up on him.”

  “So you think he might have come by the office earlier?”

  “I think so,” Bev said.

  Dix took a deep breath to calm his thinking. Suddenly there was yet another hope. “Did he leave an address or number to call?”

  “Number,” Bev said.

  “Give it to me and I’ll call him and set up a meeting. Gather everyone up and stand by. Be ready to move fast.”

  Bev gave him the number, Dix hung up and then dialed Brad Barringer’s number.

  “Yeah?” a man’s voice said on the other end of the line.

  “Brad Barringer, this is Dixon Hill.”

  “Yeah,” the man said.

  “I hear you’ve been lookin’ for me.”

  “I sure have,” Barringer said. “Been up to your office earlier and just talked to your secretary on the line. She sounded hot. Is she hot, Hill?”

  Dix ignored his question. “I sure don’t know how I missed you at my office.” Dix kept his voice as low and level as he could make it, “When did you stop by?”

  “Around five I would guess,” Barringer said. “No one was in your office and two guys were working on a wall in the hallway. Wish the broad had been there.”

  “Maybe next time. Where can I meet you?”

  “I’m tired of coming to your place,” Barringer said, “you come by here.”

  “Where is here?” Dix asked.

  Barringer gave him the address, a building about five blocks away.

  “I’ll stop by on my way back to my office,” Dix said.

  “Great,” Barringer said, “I’ll be expecting you.”

  With that the ph
one went dead in Dix’s hand.

  Dix quickly dialed his own office and told Bev to get everyone to a location outside of Barringer’s apartment in five minutes. Then, at a run, he headed down the hallway to get Detective Bell.

  Within one minute Bell had someone checking the evidence locker for the Heart, just in case it had been found in Andrews’ apartment, and he and Dix were headed back out into the hard, cold rain.

  Section Three: Breaking Laws

  As they sped toward Brad Barringer’s apartment in Detective Bell’s big Dodge four door, the rain suddenly stopped and half a block later the stars were out and the sky clear.

  “This night ever goin’ ta end?” Bell asked as he slid the big Dodge into a four-wheeled slide over the wet pavement and around a corner, correcting the slide perfectly and roaring down the middle of the street, the acceleration pressing Dix back in his part of the front bench seat.

  “If we find that golden ball it will,” Dix said, holding on to the door handle and trying to focus ahead. “If not, this is the last night any of us will ever see.”

  “It would be nice to see another sunrise,” Bell said as he bounced the car through an intersection without a thought of another car coming from either side. “And my wife and kids. How long do you think we have before this all goes away, or whatever is going to happen happens?”

  “About an hour,” Dix said. “Maybe less.”

  The words sort of hung in the car, covering even the roaring of the engine with the deadening reality.

  Neither of them said anything as Bell slid the car to a stop a few hundred paces from Barringer’s apartment building. From the other direction Dix could see Bev, Mr. Data, Whelan, and the others running toward them, spreading out, covering back entrances and the alley between the buildings.

  Both Dix and Bell jumped out of the car and headed toward the address Barringer had given Dix.

  “You know we’re about to break about a hundred laws here,” Bell said, not slowing even slightly as they ran up the sidewalk.

  “Arrest me tomorrow,” Dix said, “if there is a tomorrow.”

  “Couldn’t do that,” Bell said, “I’d have to arrest myself at the same time.”

  “Boss,” Mr. Data said as he met them at the base of the steps leading up to Barringer’s apartment. “We have the building surrounded.”

  Bev came to a stop beside Mr. Data, then leaned down and rubbed the tops of her feet. “If we get out of this, I’ll never wear high heels again.”

  “Too bad,” Bell said, winking at her, “they look good on ya.”

  “Yeah,” Mr. Data said, looking down at the Luscious Bev’s legs. “Nice gams. Great sticks. They go all the way to the ground. You couldn’t—”

  Dix held up his hand for Mr. Data to stop, then pulled his gun out and looked around the dark street. There were no lights on in any of the windows, including those in Barringer’s building. “We go in quick and fast. Mr. Data, I want you to knock down his door.”

  “Understood,” Mr. Data said.

  Without another word Dix headed up the stairs, with Bell and Mr. Data behind him.

  Two flights up, and down a fairly dark and damp corridor that smelled of urine, they found the address that Barringer had given him. With Bell on one side, gun drawn, and Dix on the other, gun heavy in his hand, Mr. Data stood in front of the door.

  “Do it,” Dix whispered.

  Mr. Data raised his foot and kicked right next to the lock.

  The door smashed inward, banging like a shot against the wall.

  Mr. Data went in first, right at Barringer.

  Dix ducked right, Bell left.

  Barringer was caught completely by surprise, sitting at a small kitchen table, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. He was wearing a sweat-stained muscle shirt and his hair hadn’t been combed in some time.

  “What the—”

  “You move, we’ll shoot you and ask questions later,” Bell said, moving at Barringer. He took the spoon out of Barringer’s hand, forced the man to his feet, and quickly handcuffed his hands.

  “You can’t do this!” Barringer shouted. “I got rights!”

  “You got rights to be dead,” Detective Bell said, “and that’s exactly what’s going to happen if you don’t take it easy and answer some questions.”

  “Mr. Data, get everyone up here,” Dix said, glancing around at the three-room apartment filled with old furniture and stacks of movie and theater magazines. “We’re going to need to search this place and do it quickly.”

  “For what?” Barringer asked as Detective Bell slammed him back into his chair and pushed it away from the table so he’d be easier to guard.

  “For what you took out of the device sitting at the top of the stairs in my office,” Dix said, moving toward Barringer. “Save us the time of tearing this place apart and tell me where it is.”

  “We take it, we leave, no harm done, I never report it,” Bell said. “Seems fair enough to me.”

  Barringer stared at Dix, clearly confused. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “A golden ball,” Dix said, “that you took from the machine at the top of the stairs.”

  “There was no golden ball in that machine,” Barringer said. “And I didn’t take anything else either. I just paced around your office once and left.”

  Dix stared at Barringer. Was it possible this was yet another dead end? “So what did you want to give me?”

  Bell nodded at a stack of letters on the end of the table. “Those.”

  “What are they?” Dix asked, picking them up and glancing at the envelopes. Almost instantly he answered his own question.

  “Letters from Marci,” Barringer said, “to me. In a couple of them she tells me she’s worried about her husband killing her if he found out she was back seeing me. I figured they could help you put that slime husband of hers away for good.”

  Behind Dix the sound of his people coming up the stairs filled the hallways. Dix turned around as Bev came through the door first, followed by Mr. Data, Carter, Whelan, and the rest.

  “Search this place,” Dix said. “And quickly.”

  “Hey, I told you I didn’t take your golden ball or whatever it was!” Barringer shouted.

  Bell kicked the leg of Barringer’s chair, jarring him.

  “Calm down now and let these people do what they have to do,” Bell said.

  Without a question Dix’s people spread out.

  “You’re making a mess!” Barringer said, his voice pathetic.

  “I’ll pay for a maid to come and clean,” Dix said, “assuming you’re telling me the truth.”

  “And fix my door.”

  “And fix the door,” Dix said. “I promise.”

  But unless they found the Heart in this apartment, he doubted he was going to have to pay up on that promise, or any other for that matter.

  Clues from Dixon Hill’s notebook in “The Case of the Missing Heart”

  • Detective Bell didn’t make it to Dix’s office around five.

  • Arnie Andrews was there, but claimed he saw nothing. Nothing was found in his apartment.

  • Brad Barringer was there during the time the Adjuster was unguarded.

  Chapter Ten

  The Obvious Ain’t Always Obvious

  Section One: Empty

  DESPAIR FILLED THE AIR like thick humidity, pressing in on everything, wrapping around Dixon Hill’s face and hands and body, making him want to just sit down. He pushed it away. There was still a little time yet. Some solution might yet be found. Brad Barringer’s apartment had turned up nothing in the way of a small golden-looking ball. And between Mr. Data and Bev and the rest of Dix’s crew, they had touched and looked at everything. Mr. Data had even found a special hidden drawer where Barringer kept a bottle of special hair lotion, guaranteed to help him grow more and thicker hair. Mr. Data had told him it wouldn’t work and Barringer had just shrugged.

  “You goin’ to pay for all this mess?” B
arringer asked as Bell uncuffed him from the chair and patted him on the shoulder.

  Dix’s people, except for Mr. Data and Bev, had all filed out and were waiting downstairs. Outside, it looked like it was still clear; the rain was holding off, at least on this block. Who knew what the weather might be like back at Dix’s office.

  “Looks just like it did when we came in, doesn’t it, Dix?” Bell asked, pretending to look around the apartment and the mess they had just created.

  “Yeah,” Dix said, glancing around hoping for something they had missed. He picked up Marci’s letters to Brad from the corner of the table. They smelled faintly of a woman’s perfume. A light perfume, not like the stuff Jessica Daniels must have poured over her entire body.

  He handed the letters to Detective Bell. “I just bet these are enough to put Andrews away for a very long time. You want to make sure the cops doing the case get them.”

  Dix wanted to add If there is a tomorrow. But he didn’t.

  Bell took the letters, glanced at the top envelope and slipped them into his coat pocket.

  “Can I get those back some time?” Barringer asked, looking slightly panicked. “They’re all I got left to remember her by.”

  Bell nodded. “Sure, you don’t mention our little visit tonight and you’ll get these back right after they slam the lockup on Andrews. Deal?”

  Barringer frowned, then nodded. “Deal.”

  “Let’s go,” Dix said to Bev. He headed out into the urine-smelling hall. It seemed darker than when they had come up, but more than likely that was just his mood.

  They had less than an hour until everything was destroyed.

  An hour and no leads.

  No real chance of finding that gold ball that would save this world, and all the rest of the world and the people he loved.

  Outside he moved up to the group of his people waiting for him on the sidewalk. None of them were talking. They all knew what failure meant. They were all dealing with the coming destruction and death in their own way.

  Bev, Mr. Data, and Detective Bell joined them. “What’s next?” Bell asked.