The slap stung, but Jim had faced a lot worse. There was nothing this little man could do that could make him say something he didn’t want to.
“ I’m not a brave man,” Jim said. “If I knew what you wanted me to say, I’d say it.”
“ Why were you asking about the girl?”
“ When the guy at the front desk handed me the key, he said I was in the room the girl went missing from. He made me curious, so I asked. I didn’t know I was committing a crime.” He hoped the man would buy his story.
“ You didn’t come here looking to meet someone?”
“ Yes I did,” Jim lied. “My fiancee, she should be here around 8:00.” He looked out the window. It was dark out, he’d slept longer than he’d planned.
“ If what you say is true, why would Phil call and say different?”
“ Why don’t you go get him and ask? I’m not going anywhere.” Jim was beginning to enjoy confusing him.
The man grabbed the phone, pushed buttons. After a few seconds he began speaking,
“ Tell Manfred we have a problem. I think Phil was a little anxious to earn some extra money.” A few seconds silence. “No, Phil told this American that he had the same room as the missing girl, so the guy asks a few curious questions, and Phil reacts like he’s from Interpol.” More silence. “Okay,” the man said and hung up.
“ The boss will be here in ten minutes, then we’ll figure out what to do with you.”
“ Are you going to arrest me?” Jim tried to sound afraid. “Because if you are, I have something to say to you.”
“ What’s that?”
“ If this was Chicago, half the money in my wallet would be gone, these cuffs would come off and your wife would have a new dress tomorrow.”
“ Are you trying to bribe a police officer?” The man was smiling, apparently amused at being mistaken for a policeman.
“ No, sir,” Jim said. “I was just saying what would happen if we were in Chicago.”
“ How much do you have in that wallet?” the man asked.
“ Over a thousand American dollars.”
“ Cash?”
“ You can buy your wife a nice dress with half of that and have change left over.”
“ What keeps the cops in Chicago from taking it all?”
“ Leave a man broke and he might go crying to your boss. Leave him half his money and he says, thank you very much, and forgets it ever happened.”
“ And that’s what you would do? Forget this ever happened?”
“ I just want this over before my fiancee gets here. Can’t we make a deal? Call off your boss, take the money, and everybody goes away happy.” Jim tried to sound like he was pleading. However, he knew the man wasn’t going to let him go. When his boss arrived, they would question the desk clerk and more than likely it would be big trouble for Jim Monday.
“ Let me see the money.” The little man was greedy.
“ All right.” Even though his hands were cuffed, Jim had little trouble pulling Eddie’s leather wallet out of his hip pocket. The little man came close, reached behind Jim to take it, but before his fingers touched the leather, Jim kneed him in the face. The little man with the rugged features was dead before he hit the floor.
Jim scrambled out of the chair, sat next to the body on the floor. Any minute he expected company and he didn’t want to greet them with his hands behind his back. He faced away from the body and tried to maneuver his hands into the dead man’s jacket pocket as the glare of headlights streamed in through the front window, playing across the wall, followed by the sound of a car pulling into a parking place out front.
He jammed his hands deep into the pocket only to find it empty. He looked up at the front door and wondered if it was locked. The chain wasn’t drawn and he couldn’t tell if the lock was engaged or not. If it was locked, would the dead man’s boss break it in? No, of course not. He’d get a key from Phil. He worked his hand into the other pocket as he heard the engine shut off.
No key there either. He only had seconds left. He scooted toward the man’s midsection, fishing in the left front pocket of the man’s jeans as he heard the car door open. He wondered if the man outside had a gun. The dead man didn’t, at least he hadn’t seen one. Maybe he should have looked. He heard the car door close.
No key in the pocket. He quickly checked under the man’s leather jacket for a shoulder holster and found none. One front pocket left. Last hope. He had to slide up onto the body to get at it. He straddled the dead man’s waist and with his hands behind himself, he eased his right hand into the man’s pocket. There was a knock on the door.
Loose change and no key.
The knocking resumed, louder.
“ Hey, Tony, it’s us.” The boss man wasn’t alone. There were at least two of them, three, counting Phil, the desk clerk, and he was trapped.
“ See if there’s a pocket on the inside of the jacket,” Donna thought.
Jim spun around, still straddling the dead man, so that he was facing the feet. He cringed when it sounded like he pushed air out of the corpse. The body still felt alive. He hurriedly ran his hand inside the jacket and breathed a sigh of relief when he found a pocket there.
“ Get Phil and get a key to this room,” a squeaky voice whined from the other side of the door.
Not much time left. Bingo, the key was there. He fumbled it out of the pocket, fumbled it into the keyhole and felt a sharp wave of pleasure as the handcuffs unlocked.
He looked around the room for a weapon and realized that even without the handcuffs he wouldn’t be a match for three men. He was still trapped.
“ The window, there’s a park out back.” Once again it was Donna to the rescue.
He hurried around the bed and opened the window.
“ Hurry up,” he heard from outside the front door.
The wallet. He dropped the wallet when he kicked the man in the head. He had to get it. And his bag. He had to have it. The passport was in it. Without them he’d have no money, no credit, no ID, and no place to go.
“ It’s about time,” he heard from out front. He didn’t have time to go back for the wallet or bag.
He pushed the screen off, stepped out the window and into the night as he heard a key being inserted into the front door. He ran across the park toward a group of bushes about fifty yards from the motel and he slid into them like he was sliding into home, trying to beat out a throw from second base.
Chapter Twenty
He woke, kissed by the sun and fighting for breath. Thursday, he thought, exhaling into a violent coughing spasm. He gasped air between the racking coughs and jerked himself into a sitting position, slapping dirt from his face. He struggled for a breath, exhaled, took another and the coughing subsided. He recognized the symptoms. He was having an asthma attack. His last one had been over forty years ago.
The grass was wet with frost. His clothes were damp. The seasons, like his life, were upside down. It was winter in July and the cold night spent outside had brought back the dreaded asthma of his youth. He needed to see a doctor. He couldn’t go all day fighting for air, not if he wanted to find Donna.
He looked through the bushes to the park beyond and a profusion of bright flowers. Across the street were middle class homes with middle class lawns, and on the corner, a cafe. He watched as people came and went, knowing he wouldn’t be one of them. He had no money. He gasped again and again was racked by a coughing spasm. He would have to do something. He had to see a doctor.
He crept out of the bushes and stood to greet the dawn. He looked around, making sure he was unobserved, and brushed off. He wished he had a coat hanger to scratch under the cast and he wished he had some warm clothes.
He started across the park, hoping a walk would warm him. Every other breath was punctuated with a cough and every other cough, punctuated by a sharp spasm, his stomach muscles clenching and jerking, forcing him to bend over, hands on his knees, till it passed.
“ I’m back.”