PART 2
I had rang Kyle early that morning and asked where I'd find Pierce, at first he seemed reluctant to give the information, but when I told him I'd just find it out from someone else and that he shouldn't actually be seen wasting my time he gave it up.
It seemed Pierce hang out at the local gym; still craving those sporting wonder years. After Kyle I rang mum and thanked her for the dinner last night and said I'd be there tonight. My mother took this opportunity to say that she needed the Jetta but not to worry because my auntie's old Nova was still in the garage. Mum loved me, I told myself, she was not trying to say that every time a borrowed a car other then the Jetta it would come back in worse condition then I had borrowed it in. My mother loved my aunty and she wasn't still bitter over the fact my aunty had ran away with my father twenty years ago…
The gym sat in the middle of its block. Across the street, a shadowy figure pulled back from a filthy third-floor window, the movement catching my eye as I approached the gym. Someone had been watching me. No surprising seeing as though I'd roared down the street not once, but twice. My muffler had fallen off first thing this morning. This wasn't what you'd call an undercover operation.
I took a wide stance when I entered the gym, more to keep myself from falling over in fright rather than to impress the huge men, which were pumping iron. Hitching up my shoulder bag I kept my voice steady. "I'm looking for Daniel Pierce."
A muscle rose from a workout bench. "I'm Pierce." His voice was silky, his lips curved into a dreamy smile. The overall effect was eerie; his voice and smile at odds with his stealthy, calculating eyes.
I crossed the room and extended my hand. "Maria DeLuca."
His grasp was too gentle, too lingering. More of a caress than a handshake and unpleasantly sensual. There was something about the density of his eyes, black holes where everything gets sucked in and nothing comes out, they suggested a hiding place for evil. And the smile, a little goofy, a little sick in its sweetness, hinting insanity. I made an attempt to free my hand, and his grip tightened.
"So, Maria DeLuca," he said in his velvet voice. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for Michael Guerin. Have you seen him?"
Pierce shook his head and I quickly freed my hand as he did so. "I don't know a Michael Guerin. I only know he blasted Kathleen." He looked around at the rest of the men. "Any of you seen that guy Guerin?"
No one responded. "I've been told there was a witness." I stated. "Do you have any idea who that witness might be?" Again no response, I pushed on. "How about Isabel Harding? Do you know Miss Harding? Did Kathleen Topolsky ever speak of her?"
"You ask a lot of questions." Pierce said scanning my body. I shifted my attention to the building across the street. Again, the shadowy figure in the same third-floor window. Pierce stroked my jacket sleeve. "Would you like a Coke? I could buy you a soda."
"Thanks for the offer, but I have a busy morning. If you spot Guerin, I'd appreciate a call." I gave him my number and as soon as the paper left my hand into his I regretted it.
"Most girls like me to buy them a soda." His voice had turned tight and the civility had slipped from his voice. "I think you're lying about being busy."
I felt tendrils of panic curl into my stomach. Pierce was playing with me. Showing off in front of his friends. Probably stung because I hadn't succumbed to his charms.
I made a display of looking at my watch. "Sorry you feel that way, but I'm supposed to meet Whitman in ten minutes. He's not going to be happy if I'm late."
I took a step back and Pierce grabbed me by the scruff of my neck. "You're not going anywhere, Maria DeLuca," He whispered. "The champ isn't done with you yet."
"Let go of my neck."
"Nobody tells the champ what to do," Pierce roared, his face twisted and ugly showing his true covering, evil within. He grabbed the front of my shirt and I heard the fabric tear.
I heard a crack of a alien-powered weapon, and the windows of the gym shattered. Men were running and shouting, looking for cover. Pierce was among them. I was moving, too, across the floor. I reached the stairs, standing I lunged for the railing. I missed the second steps, to panicked to coordinate my movements and half slid the rest of the way down.
I dragged myself to my feet and staggered outside into the heat and blinding sunlight. My knees were bleeding and I was hanging onto the door handle, labouring to breathe when a hand clamped onto my upper arm. I jumped and yelped. It was Michael Guerin.
"For chissake," he said, yanking me forward. "Don't just stand there. Haul arse!"
He dragged me forward and the sirens from the gym, pain and fear combined, making me unsure of what direction we were traveling as I clattered after Michael, my chest burning from oxygen deprivation.
Michael stopped abruptly and jerked me into an empty garage. I was struck by the irony of it. Here I was, after all these years, once again in a garage with Michael Guerin. I could see the anger in his face, hardening his eyes, pinching at the corners of his mouth. He grabbed me by the front of my top and pinned me against the wall.
His voice was tight with barely controlled fury. "What the hell did you think you were doing walking into the gym like that?" He punctuated the end of the question with another body slam, "Answer me!" he ordered.
The pain was all mental. I'd been stupid. And now, to add insult to injury, I was getting bullied by Michael Guerin. It was almost as humiliating as getting rescued by him. "I was looking for you."
"Well congratulations, you found me. You also blew my cover!"
"You were the shadow in the third-floor window…"
Michael didn't say anything. In the dark garage his eyes were solid black coals. He took my shoulder bag from me and looked inside, his eyes then opened wide in astonishment. "You have a gun! Why didn't you use it on Pierce?" It didn't take Michael long to put it together, with a disgusted sigh he said. "If you aren't willing to use it, you shouldn't be carrying it. Where'd you get it from anyway?"
"Max Evans got it for my."
"Cagier? Christ." Shaking his head again Michael then stared at me unblinking and the gaze pinned me to the wall. "Stay away from Pierce. He's nuts. He's been charged with rape on three separate occasions and been acquitted each time because the victim always disappears."
"I didn't know…"
"There's a lot you don't know." God he pissed me off! He was such a jerk! I grabbed my bag from his grasp and headed for the garage door. Michael pulled me back and motioned to the other garage door muttering. "You're hopeless, you were like this as a little kid too."
That did it! I pushed him against the wall and snarled, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Michael pushed off the wall and got right in my face. "You were nuts, you'd do anything. You used to jump off your mother's garage, trying to fly."
"Didn't you ever try to fly?"
"No. Never. I knew I couldn't fly." He opened the door and motioned for me to go through.
As I did I snootily remarked. "That's because from the day you were born, you had a one-track mind."
Following me out of the door he grinned. "It's true. My interests were narrow."
Scowling at him I realised suddenly that he had taken me directly to my car. "You tricked innocent little girls into your fathers garage, so you could look in their underpants."
Michael slouched against the Nova. "Let's be truthful here, you were hardly tricked. You practically knocked me over trying to get into my garage."
"That's because you said you were going to teach me how to play choo-choo."
Michael rocked back on his heels and his grin widened. "And I kept my word." He then stopped grinning as he saw my ripped shirt. "Get off my case, I have enough problems without having to worry about saving your arse."
"No one asked you to save my arse. I would have saved my own arse if you hadn't interfered."
"Honey, you couldn't find your arse with both hands."
"Eat dirt and die." I replied haughtily getting into the Nova.
Michael tipped his head back and laughed out loud. His laughter was deep and rich and infections, and if I hadn't been so distraught, I'd have laughed along with him. As it was, I turned the key in the ignition, gave the dash a good hard smack and left him choking in a cloud of exhaust and a blast of noise that had the potential to liquefy his insides.
It was only five minutes later when I realised I was meant to take him with me. Who was I kidding? The only way I'd get Michael would be if I happened to stumble across him cuffed and gagged. I had stumbled onto him twice; hey it could happen again. Yeah, and maybe a blue BMW would drop out of the sky just for me.
Back at my apartment that night a looked myself over, I wasn't a complete mess. I nice shower, some trusty band-aids and I'd be fine, thanks to Michael… goddamn him!
He had this annoying habit of just popping up and making me have totally inconvenient feelings. Like when he had been angry with me I had secretly wanted him to kiss me. Ugh! What the hell am I doing? I'm meant to be catching the bad guy and then turning him in, not wanting him to repeat those soft caresses and… ugh! I am going mad, maybe it's the lack of food.
As a teenager Michael had been feral. Two years in the navy and seven more as an adult had taught him control, but I was convinced nothing short of the removing of his gonads would ever completely domesticate him. There was always a barbarous part of Michael that hummed beneath the surface. I found myself helplessly sucked in by it, and at the same time it scared the hell out of me.
Someone tapped on my front door. I wasn't expecting anyone. Most of my neighbours were seniors and at the moment I must truthfully say – I wasn't playing train, and hadn't for a long time.
The tapping continued. I looked through the peephole and saw nothing but blackness. Someone had a finger on my peephole. Not a good sign. "Who's there?" I called.
A whisper of laughter filtered through the doorframe and I jumped back. The laughter was followed by a single word. "Maria." The voice was unmistakable.
It was melodic and taunting. It was Pierce. "I've come to play with you, Maria," he sang.
I felt fear swell in my chest and my knees became numb. "Go away!"
Pierce's voice cut through the door. "Don't like having unfinished business with a woman, Maria DeLuca."
The closest thing I've come to an out-of-body experience was when Michael Guerin took his mouth to me nine years ago, behind the Crashdown counter, so up until this moment, I hadn't realised an out-of-body experience could be one with a sole basis of fear. My head had begun to pound and I could almost feel him smiling through the door.
Pierce tried the doorknob and for a gut-cramping moment my heart leapt to my throat. The door held. I did some deep controlled breathing to lower my heart that was lodged still in my throat and decided the best course of action was simply to ignore him.
I shut and locked my windows and drew the drapes tight. I got my gun, thanking Max as I held it to my chest and went back to the peephole for another look. The peephole was uncovered, and the hallway seemed empty. Ear to the door I listened. Nothing. I slid the bolt and cracked the door, leaving my mega-chain firmly attached and my gun at the ready.
No Pierce in sight.
Unhooking the chain I peeked out into the hall. He was definitely gone.
A splot of some noxious substance sliding down my door caught my eye. I gagged, closed the door and locked and chained it. Two days on the job and a world-class psycho had just jerked off on my door.
I had been bumming food off my mum for the past couple days and luckily before the psycho incident last night I had secured food from having dinner at her place for the following morning.
Unfortunately food had seemed a really good idea after Mr. Cum had payed me a visit and I had been up half the night eating the leftovers, so again, I had nothing for breakfast.
Last night in my insomniac state I had devised I plan to go to Isabel's Harding place and talk to her neighbours, with the pathetic hope of running into Michael again.
I pulled into traffic and refused to check my rear-view mirror for telltale clouds of smoke. The Nova is fine I chanted on my way to Isabel's, of course nobody could see the great big painted 'Pussy Car' tag on both sides of the car, a reminder of last night's visit by Pierce that I had discovered this morning.
Isabel lived a few blocks east of the gym. Not a great neighbourhood, but not the worst, either. Her apartment was on the second floor. The yellow crime-scene tape had been removed, but a padlock was in place. There were two other apartments on the second floor. I knocked on each door. No one home on the first. Ms. Osorio, a woman somewhere in her late fifties answered the second door with a baby on her hip.
"I don't know really what I can tell you," she said. "This Isabel only lived here a short time. No one really knew her. She was quiet and kept to herself."
"Have you seen her since that night?"
"No. I know she worked in a bar though, called the Takedown next to the Roswell gym. Maybe somebody knew her there." She answered rocking the baby gently.
"Were you home that night?"
"Yes. It was late and Isabel had the television on very loud… I was trying to get my sister's grandkids to sleep and there was loud banging on Isabel's door, and then a very loud blast, woke everyone in the building. That's when I called the police."
"What happened then?"
"Well, it was all so noisy, there was so much commotion, you understand? I had never heard a sound like that… we were all so um worried, we were lucky Hal Carver was there, took matters into his own hands, he did."
"There was supposedly a man in Isabel's apartment. Did you see him?"
"I guess so. There was a man I didn't know. Funny face, never saw him before. Had a face like a frying pan, real flat nose, that's why I noticed him."
"What happened to him?"
Ms. Osorio shrugged, "Don't know. Guess he left just like Isabel." I could tell she was beginning to get impatient, the noise from her apartment rose and I guessed she had at least three other kids in her home. "You might be able to get more from Hal, he seemed to be the only calm one that night, he should be home, he's in between jobs at the moment, got a bit of a sore knee, apartment 4B."
I thanked her and walked up two more flights of stairs, wondering what kind of person would be willing and able to disarm an alien…
I knocked on 4B, the door was thrown open and my question was answered. 6'4" at the least, 150 or so kilos, grey hair tied in a ponytail… a war veteran for sure. "Hal Carver?"
He squinted down at me. "What can I go for you sweetie?"
"I'm trying to get a lead on Michael Guerin. I was hoping you could tell me something about Isabel Harding."
"I didn't know her real good," he said. "I'd seen her around, a hot to trot kinda woman, even said hello to me a couple times… I was coming up the stairs when I heard the blast."
"Ms. Osorio, on the second floor–"
"Betty." Hal corrected nodding.
"Yes um, Betty said that you subdued Mr Guerin."
"Yeah, didn't know he was an alien, but then again I never did hear a blast like that before. There were a lot of people coming into the hall and he was telling them to stay away and calm down, and everyone was saying to him that he was a murdering spacey… so I hit him with a six-pack. Knocked him out cold."
The police report had stated that Michael had been hit with a blunt instrument. It hadn't said anything about a six-pack, I checked my smile though. "That was very brave."
Hal grinned. "Hell, bravery didn't have anything to do with it. I had had a little bit of liquor and well… you know."
He had been pissed, that explained further about Mr. Carver's bravery… "Do you know what happened to Isabel?"
"Guess she left in the scuffle, I didn't see her though."
"How about the missing male witness? Betty said he had a flat nose."
Hal gave a little chuckle. "Oh Betty would say something like that." He sniggered, then realising I was waiting for an answer said. "I remember seeing him too, but that's about it, couldn't draw you a picture like Betty could, but if I saw him again I could place him. I think Milton Ross was the only other person who got a good look at the guy."
"Is Mr. Ross a tenant here?"
"Milton was a tenant here. Got hit by a car last week, hit and run, right in front of this here building." I thanked Hal for his time and he commented on my pretty dress.
When I was outside my stomach gave a nervous flutter and I realised that it was due to the fact I was still enjoying the buzz from Hal's secondary smoke and that I hadn't asked him if he thought Milton's death tied in with Topolsky's…
It was noon now and Michael's apartment was next on my list.
Michael's apartment… All I could think was – 'I'm going into Spiderman's lair'. Well I guess I would just need Batman to help me out.
Tbc…
