“I don’t know.”
“He’s going to be here in a moment,” Jason said, slamming down the window and locking it. That was going to delay Bruno just about ten seconds.
“Maybe I should talk to him,” Carol suggested.
“Will he listen?”
“I’m not sure. He’s kinda bullheaded….”
“That’s my impression,” Jason said. “And I know he’s not fond of me. I think I need something like a baseball bat.”
“You can’t hit him, Jason.”
“I don’t want to, but I don’t think Bruno wants to sit down and talk this over. I need something to threaten him with to keep him away from me.”
“I have a fire poker.”
“Get it.” Jason turned the light out in the kitchen. Putting his nose to the glass, he could see Bruno struggling to pull himself onto the first ladder. He was strong but he was also bulky. Carol returned with the fire poker. Jason hefted it. With a little luck he might be able to convince the guy to listen.
“I knew this was a bad idea,” Carol said.
Jason glanced around the room and noticed that the floor was old-fashioned linoleum. He looked at the door leading from the kitchen to the rest of the apartment. It was thick and solid, with a lock and key. At one point the room had been something other than a kitchen.
“Carol, would you mind if I made a mess? I mean, I’ll be-happy to pay to have it cleaned up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you have a big can of vegetable oil?”
“I suppose.”
“Can I have it?”
Perplexed, Carol opened the pantry door and lifted out a gallon can of imported Italian olive oil.
“Perfect,” Jason said. After another quick check out the window, he hurriedly pulled the two chairs and table out of the kitchen. Carol watched him with growing confusion.
“Okay, out,” Jason ordered. Carol stepped into the hall.
Jason uncorked the olive oil and began pouring the contents over the floor in wide, sweeping movements. As he closed and locked the door, he heard banging on the kitchen window, followed by the crash of glass.
He wedged the kitchen table between the door and the opposite hall.
“Come on,” he said, taking Carol’s hand. In his other he still held the poker. He led her to the front door of the apartment, which was adequately secured with double latches and a metal-pole police lock. In the kitchen they heard a tremendous crash. Bruno had fallen down for the first time.
“That was ingenious,” laughed Carol.
“When you’re one hundred and sixty pounds, you have to compensate.” Jason’s heart was still racing. “Anyway, I have no idea how long Bruno will be entertained in there, so this has to be fast. I need you. The last chance I have of reconstructing Alvin Hayes’s discovery is to go to Seattle and try to find out what he did there. Apparently, he…”
There was another crash followed by a volley of swear words, some of which were appropriately in Italian.
“He’s going to be in a foul mood,” Jason said as he undid the locks on the front door.
“So you want me to go to Seattle with you. That’s what this is all about?”
“I knew you’d understand. Hayes brought back a biological sample from there, which he processed at Gene, Inc. I have to find out what it was. The best bet is the man he saw out at the University of Washington.”
“The man whose name I can’t remember.”
“But you saw him and could recognize him?”
“Probably.”
“I know it’s presumptuous to ask you to come,” Jason said. “But I really do believe Hayes made some sort of breakthrough. And considering his previous track record, it has to be significant.”
“And you really think going to Seattle might solve it?.,
“It’s a long shot. But the only one left.”
The door to the kitchen rattled and they heard Bruno begin a steady pounding.
“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Jason said. “Bruno won’t hurt you, will he?”
“Heavens, no. My boss would skin him alive. That’s why he’s so rabid now. He thinks I’m in danger.”
“Carol, would you come with me to Seattle?” Jason asked while removing the pole to the police lock.
“When would you want to go?” Carol asked, vacillating.
“Late today. We wouldn’t stay long. Would it be possible for you to get off on short notice?”
“I have in the past. I just say I want to go home. Besides, after Helene’s murder my boss might be relieved to have me out of town.”
“Then say you’ll go?” Jason pleaded.
“All right.” Carol gave him one of her heartwarming smiles. “Why not?”
“There’s a flight to Seattle at four this afternoon. We’ll meet at the gate. I’ll get the tickets. How does that sound?”
“Insane,” Carol said, “but fun.”
“See you there.” Jason ran down the stairs to his car, fearful that Bruno might have reversed direction and gone back out the window.
CHAPTER 12
Jason woke early and called Roger to brief him on his patients. He wasn’t going to the hospital today. He had another trip he wanted to take before meeting Carol for the four o‘clock flight to Seattle. He packed quickly, being careful to take clothes for rainy, chilly weather, and called a cab to the airport, getting there just in time to store his bag in a locker and take the ten o’clock Eastern shuttle to La Guardia. At La Guardia he rented a car and drove to Leonia, New Jersey. It was probably even less of a possibility than Seattle, but Jason was going to see Hayes’s former wife. He was not about to leave even the smallest stone unturned.
Leonia turned out to be a surprisingly sleepy little town that belied its proximity to New York. Within ten minutes of the George Washington Bridge, he found himself on a wide street lined with one-story commercial establishments fronted by angled parking. It could have been Main Street, USA. Instead, it was called Broad Avenue. There was a drugstore, a hardware store, a bakery, and even a luncheonette. It looked like a movie set from the fifties. Jason went into the luncheonette; ordered a vanilla malted, and used the phone directory. There was a Louise Hayes on Park Avenue. While he drank his malted, Jason debated the wisdom of calling or just dropping by. He opted for the latter.
Park Avenue bisected Broad and rose up the hill-side that bordered Leonia on the east. After Pauline Boulevard, it arched to the north. That was where Jason found Louise Hayes’s house. It was a modest, dark-brown, shingled structure, much in need of repair. The grass in the front yard had gone to seed.
Jason rang the bell. The door was opened by a smiling, middle-aged woman in a faded red house-dress. She had stringy brown hair, and a little girl of five or six, a thumb buried to the second knuckle in her mouth, clung to her thigh.
“Mrs. Hayes?” Jason asked. The woman was a far cry from Hayes’s two other girlfriends.
“Yes.”
“I’m Dr. Jason Howard, a colleague of your late husband.” He’d not rehearsed what he was going to say.
“Yes?” Mrs. Hayes repeated, reflexly pushing the young girl behind her.
“I’d like to talk to you if you have a moment.” Jason took out his wallet and handed over his driver’s license with its photo and his GHP staff identity card. “I went to medical school with your husband,” he added for good measure.