20th Victim (Women's Murder Club #20)(75)

His neighbor, friend, and coconspirator, Marty Floyd, opened the door and gave Barkley a wide smile.

“I was worried about you, man,” said Floyd. “I never saw so many cop cars as was on TV yesterday. Hey. I’ve got pork chops and potatoes still hot. Sound good?”

“Fantastic. Got milk?”

“Sure do. And I set up the game. Maybe we can go a few rounds.”

“I’ve walked miles,” said Barkley. “I need to wash up, change out of these clothes. And no kidding, I need to sleep.”

“Eat first. Shower later. Sleep when you’re dead. Sounds like a T-shirt slogan, doesn’t it?”

Barkley laughed. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. He couldn’t remember when he’d last laughed.

“You win, Marty. Eat first.”

Marty Floyd—transit cop, political junkie, and full-ranking member of Moving Targets—carefully placed a heaping plate of food in front of his friend Barkley and sat down across from him at the kitchen table.

“Barko,” he said. “You’re a folk hero. There’s going to be ballads written about you someday. How’d it go down?”

Barkley put his phone down next to his plate. A clamshell burner. He sawed off a hunk of pork chop with a steak knife.

“Eat first,” he said. “Then talk.”

Floyd laughed, got up, and poured Barkley a glass of milk.

Five blocks away Randi White Barkley was riding inside a squad car with her minder, Officer Pat Hudson.

The dog had been left behind, because as Randi had told Hudson, she just needed to pick up her electric toothbrush, her own pillows, a box of dog treats, a phone charger, and her personal massager, none of which she’d taken when the police kidnapped her.

Hudson found Randi quite amusing. She pulled up to the Barkley house on Thornton near the junction with Apollo and parked in the short driveway.

She said, “We should hurry.”

“I told you, Officer. Pat. This’ll take two minutes. Just wait for me.”

“You’re in custody, dear,” said Hudson. “Besides, I’m coming too.”

“Suit yourself,” said Randi, as if she had a choice.

She walked up the three wooden steps to her door, cautioning herself not to look at Marty’s house two doors down, where a kerchief had been tied to his car antenna, signaling her that Barkley was there.

The house key was in her hand when she heard Marty Floyd call out to her across two patchy front yards.

“Randi, how’s it going?”

“Good, Marty. I have company.”

“Yeah, I see. You look rested.”

“Later, buddy. Be good,” she called out.

Feeling nervous because Leonard was so close and knowing that she wouldn’t get to see him, Randi opened the front door.

“Home sweet home,” she said without enthusiasm.

Then she went inside with her jailer.





CHAPTER 110





THE CHRONICLE’S CITY room was loud and busy, everyone bending their heads over their computers, working toward a six o’clock closing.

Jeb McGowan knocked on the glass wall of Henry Tyler’s office, and Tyler motioned him in.

“Sir, I need a minute.”

“Anytime. Take a seat.”

McGowan chose to stand.

“Mr. Tyler, something happened and I have to tell you about it.”

“Go ahead, Jeb. And for Christ’s sake, sit down.”

Jeb sat on the edge of the leather sofa facing Tyler’s desk. He said, “I don’t know how to say this.”

“Speak, Jeb. Out with it.”

“Yes, sir. This is it. Cindy ambushed me in the garage. She kissed me, and clearly she wants more. It’s classic sexual harassment, Mr. Tyler. She sees my potential. She wants to sideline the competition.”

Tyler picked up his desk phone and called Cindy. “I’ve got a fire in my office. Can you come down?”

Cindy told him she’d be right there.

She saved her file and, skirting the center of the city room, took the perimeter route, the long way around to Henry’s office. His door was open, and after knocking, she went right in.

“Where’s the fire?” she asked Tyler.

She saw McGowan sitting on the edge of the sofa but didn’t acknowledge him. She sat in the side chair next to her publisher and editor’s desk.

“Jeb?” said Tyler. “Tell Cindy what you told me.”

McGowan, now red faced, gutted it out.

“You know where the fire is, Cindy. I told Mr. Tyler about those unwanted advances you made in the garage, and since you’re technically my superior, that’s sexual harassment.”

Tyler asked, “Cindy? What happened?”

“He sneaked up on me, Henry. He grabbed the back of my neck, so that I couldn’t pull away, and stuck his tongue in my mouth. He asked me if I liked it. I told him if he ever did that again, I’d get him fired.”

Henry Tyler picked up the phone and punched in some numbers, and when the call was answered, he said, “Marie, Mr. McGowan is leaving our employ. Please do the paperwork. Say his job was downgraded and filled from within. Send security to the city room to take his ID, watch him pack up, and escort him out of the building. Thank you.”