Murder at The Blues Stop Page 11

  I had to contact the police. After punching numbers into my cell, the screen went blank. “Damn it.” This was not the time for my phone to need charging.

  I ran back to the club and pulled at the front door. It didn’t budge. Mack and Stu must have locked up right after Donna and I left.

  Undeterred, I went around back. As usual, the door was propped open with a small chunk of wood.

  I heard voices coming from inside. It sounded like more than Mack and Stu shooting the breeze. But who else could be there? And did it have anything to do with Shane’s disappearance?

  I inched my way along the dark hallway and thanked God no one had seen fit to replace the burned-out bulb in the light fixture. The scrape of chairs against the floor and raised voices caught my attention.

  I peered into the bar area and stopped to process the scene. Two men pushed Mack aggressively against the edge of the bar. Where had they come from? I couldn’t see Stu, but from my angle, I didn’t have a clear view of the entire space.

  “Where is he?” One of the men had a gun and pointed it in Mack’s face. I didn’t know what had happened prior to this point, but he had a cut on his left cheekbone.

  “I told you he was in the closet last time I checked.” Mack’s face had gone ashen.

  “That broad was snooping around. Did she let him out?” The guy that spoke I knew was O’Brien. He’s the one that had threatened Shane both in court and later here. It looked as if he had a black eye. In addition, his arm was bandaged.

  Before Mack could respond, the other guy spoke. “We said from the start we needed you to get rid of the bitch so O’Neil wouldn’t want to spend so much time here, but you screwed that up royally. Now we have a mess because of your incompetence. We’ll have to go find her once we leave.”

  When seconds later a small ‘pop’ sounded and a stream of red flowed down the front of Mack’s shirt, I could only stare in disbelief.

  Blood. Lots of it.

  Somehow, I stopped the scream clawing at the back of my throat while self-preservation took over to prevent me from singing. My body shook as the scene flashed before me as if distorted by strobe lights. Mack crumpled to the floor. The other men in the room acted as if nothing had happened, discussing options and yelling at one another about finding the bastard. What had happened to Shane?

  Shaking, I tiptoed toward the back as swiftly and as quietly as I could manage and slipped out the door. I didn’t much care for Mack, but wishing him dead was another thing. Based on their last comment—about keeping the bitch away—I knew their next stop would be to search for me.

  Where could I hide? Who could I call? O’Brien was a cop. Were the other men cops as well? Did I dare contact Patrick?

  Suddenly, I felt like Alice falling into the looking glass. I’d tumbled into a world I knew nothing about.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I tried to steady my pulse. It didn’t work. My heart banged inside my chest like a kettle drum during the Fourth of July parade. My limbs quivered uncontrollably.

  I took in my surroundings, trying to adjust to what had happened and tried desperately to think. At nearly three in the morning, the alley behind The Blues Stop was quiet. Only the occasional distant sound of a car disrupted the stillness.

  First, I needed to find a phone. Right after getting as far away from here as possible.

  Stumbling along as quickly as I could on four-inch heels, I made my way around the dumpster directly outside the back door. While the heels slowed me down, I didn’t dare pull them off to walk through the littered alley.

  I wanted to get the hell out of Dodge, go to the nearest police station, and hope they got back to the bar before it was too late. Before I could act, a man burst through the back door. I crouched down, plastering myself against the brick wall of the building to hide. Only a few feet away, I didn’t dare breathe, lest he hear me.

  “Where the hell did he go?” the man shouted.

  As I cowered against the building, I pinched my nose to ward off the noxious fumes coming from the dumpster: whiskey, stale food, and something I didn’t want to think about.

  “He was out cold,” the other man said.

  I peeked through the small slit between the building and the dumpster. With no lights in the alley and no moon tonight, there was nothing to alleviate the darkness. Which was probably a good thing since if there were, I’d have been spotted by now.

  “Obviously, you were wrong. I’m going to go find a flashlight. You bring around the car. In his condition, he couldn’t have gotten far. We’ll take care of him once and for all. Then pick up the bitch and they can go for a little swim in the Calumet.”

  Fear seeped inside my bones. I’d seen what they’d done to Mack. Whoever they were, they meant business. Where was Stu?

  They had to be looking for Shane.

  I pressed even closer against the side of the building and inched my way along. If I could make it to the corner of the building, I could slip into the alleyway and find my way to the street.

  Planting my left foot, I stepped on something squishy. Yuck. Whatever disgusting thing it was didn’t matter now. Only a few more yards, and I’d be home free.

  Just as I was about to move again, hands grasped my ankle in a steel-like grip. A scream sat like a logjam in my throat. Instead of letting it loose, I kicked at the offending hand, but there wasn’t much force behind the kick.

  Still with a vice-like grip, the hand inched up higher. This would be my luck. I had escaped being murdered by thugs, only to be accosted in an alley by a vagrant needing a dollar for his next bottle of whiskey.

  “Let go of me,” I whispered as I tried to pull free.

  But he seemed to be using my upright body as a means to pull himself up. The wash of whiskey coming off the man almost gave me a contact high.

  About mid-thigh he stopped, pulling in a deep breath. “Gabriella.”

  Ohmygod. “Shane.” I grabbed him under the arms, bringing him completely upright.

  “We’ve got to get out of here.” His voice sounded weird, hoarse with a sprinkle of delirium mixed in.

  “They’re looking for you. They’ll be back any minute.” It stood to reason the person who had escaped was Shane unless somebody else stumbled around this alley. Either way, I wasn’t looking to find out.

  Shane leaned against me as we blundered our way down the alley. As I tried to move as quickly as I could—or we could together—terror twittered at the base of my spine until I thought I might go mad from it.

  “We need...” Shane pulled in a deep breath, then started to sputter and cough, spitting a gob of something or other into the darkness, “get to my car.”

  “I saw it.” Finally, something I could feel confident about. “It’s down the block.”

  “We need...run.” If he could possibly be passed out and still moving, that’s what he appeared to be doing. He seemed to fade in and out, and each time he faded out, his weight nearly overpowered me.

  “I don’t know how to break this to you, but I can’t carry you. Frankly, I don’t think you’re going to make it another ten feet, let alone another block.”

  Despite my words, I kept moving and dragging him along. I was scared to death, but leaving him wasn’t an option.

  I struggled for breath as we inched along. We couldn’t make it all the way to the car like this without being discovered. I had to think of something.

  “You wait here. I’ll bring the car in front.” I pointed to a small doorway to the right leading to a series of apartments.

  Propping him between my hip and the brick of the building, I turned the knob, helped him inside, and positioned him at the base of the steps.

  While the light inside was only marginally better than outside, I could see that his face was battered. It was amazing he was able to move at all.

  He slipped his hand into his pocket and dragged out his keys. “Here...” He stopped, and for a second, I thought he might have passed out. “In front. Five minutes. I’ll be w
aiting for you by the street.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble tough guy, but I can see what you look like. Believe me, it’s never going to happen. You can’t make it to the street under your own power. I need to find the closest phone and call the police and an ambulance, not necessarily in that order.”

  He grabbed at my skirt. “No cops. That’s how this happened.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, although, to be honest, I knew at least one of the guys—O’Brien—was a cop.

  “Just get the damn car.” He slumped against the stairs.

  “Okay. But let me go on record as saying this is not a good plan. If you die, don’t haunt me.” Without another word, I slid out the door, moving as fast as I could toward his car.

  My heart raced. My nerves were frayed to a near breaking point. Still, I raced on. I had no other choice.

  The engine turned over on the first try. It had been a long time since I’d driven a stick shift, and it died a couple of times before I managed to turn it around and in the right direction.

  My whole body trembled. Was there a word for worse than terrified? If there was, my scattered mind couldn’t come up with it.

  So I sucked in a breath and tried not to hyperventilate. I didn’t have time to think about where the bad guys were right now, but I knew wherever they were, it was close. I could have sworn I heard voices as the car screeched to a halt in front of the building where I’d deposited Shane. But I pushed away that ominous thought as I ran to grab him just as he tumbled out of the doorway.

  When I tugged at his arm, he pulled back, drawing his hand into a fist. “Whoa there, big boy. It’s me. But hurry up because they’re coming. I think they saw you.” Pure terror made my voice shaky. I wasn’t sure we could make it to the car before bullets started to fly.

  I grabbed him around the waist. Shouts in the background propelled me forward. Adrenaline coupled with all-encompassing fear made my whole body quake.

  After pushing him inside the car, I ran around to the driver’s side. A bullet ricocheted off the right front fender. I fiddled with the shifter, trying to find the right gear.

  “Get...out…of here,” his voice cracked.

  “I’m trying. It’s been a while since I drove a stick. I’m lucky I got this far.”

  Shane felt around with his left hand, grabbed the stick and threw it into gear. “Ooouuuch.” He pulled his hand back into his lap. “Ease up on the clutch and get the hell out of here.”

  The tires squealed, and the car lurched. Another bullet pinged close. “Which way to second gear?”

  He spouted off instructions, then winced as the engine spurted and almost died.

  “It will all come back to me in a few minutes.”

  He dug in his pocket, pulling out his phone. Then he glanced at me. “Yours?”

  “It’s in my purse.”

  “Give…to…me.”

  I found it and handed it to him. Seconds later, he tossed both phones out the window and relaxed against the seat, acting like he hadn’t just thrown out my lifeline.

  “What…I…”

  “They’ll…trace…us.” His words were barely audible before he passed out.

  It was remarkable he was still breathing. His face was a mass of purplish bruising, with one eye swollen shut completely, the other only a slit. It seemed that every time he moved, he winced. Pain etched across his face like a neon sign.

  I spared a glance in the rearview mirror and saw a dark-colored car closing in on us. Normally, I got lost circling the block. Trying to navigate my way out of the city with two men chasing us was bound to get us killed. But I had no other option.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I kept driving with no direction in mind. The only thing I knew for certain was I had a one in four chance of hitting Lake Michigan.

  I looked toward Shane, hoping to find guidance, but no such luck. He was out. To be sure, I called his name, “Shane,” and tugged on his pants leg. “I need you, Shane.”

  He moaned in response.

  All righty then, I was on my own. I glanced once again in the rearview mirror before negotiating the next corner at fifty. I didn’t want to risk downshifting, and I didn’t dare slow down. They were getting closer.

  The tires squealed, but the car hugged the curve. In a pinch, I could find my way back to the apartment, but that wouldn’t do us any good. Getting onto the expressway, even if I could find it, seemed like a fifty/fifty proposition. If deserted, as it would most likely be at three in the morning, I wouldn’t have a chance of shaking them.

  I pulled up Google Maps on his Apple CarPlay and ended up on Michigan Avenue. Water Tower Place whizzed by as I headed for the river.

  We were closing in when I made my first wrong turn onto a one-way street. Damn it. I hadn’t been paying attention. Multitasking proved to be challenging for me.

  Just my luck, the double jeopardy happened. Not only was I dodging cars going the opposite way, I also dodged the heavy metal structures holding up the el tracks, all while trying to establish a rhythm with the stick shift. Looking at the map seemed superfluous at this point.

  Somehow, I managed to go the right way on the next street. I glanced again in the rearview mirror. Nothing so far. Then again, they probably weren’t stupid enough to go the wrong way on a one-way street. Turning the corner, I ended up merging onto an expressway, which seemed to be the safest place to be right then.

  With the half-second I had to spare, I clicked over to Shane’s Spotify. If ever there was a time I needed music, it was now.

  The sign said Eisenhower Westbound which matched up with the map on the screen. I had no idea what that meant or options, but right now it seemed like my only choice. Despite the hour, a sprinkling of cars traveled the road. I maneuvered in and out of lanes, exiting the expressway at Harrison. A car followed, but I had a plan after consulting the map. I followed a haphazard pattern of streets and avenues before jumping back onto the expressway farther down the road. I hoped they’d assume I’d stay on side streets.

  Looking into the rearview mirror, I didn’t see the car. My breathing slowed. I might not hyperventilate after all. At least not yet. Still, we were hardly out of the woods.

  The car jostled from side to side as I repeatedly switched lanes in an attempt to capitalize on my edge. I spotted a sign that said I-294 North to Wisconsin.

  “We’re going to Wisconsin, Shane.”

  “Gabriella, you’re beautiful,” he murmured.

  “On second thought, maybe we’d better head to the nearest hospital. You must be dying. You just gave me a compliment. You called me beautiful.”

  “But you are.” He turned his head in my direction for a second or two before plopping it back against the headrest.

  “You can’t even see. Your eyes are swollen shut,” I shouted. I liked him better nasty. At least then I knew he was in charge. This new, dependent Shane scared the crap out of me. “I can’t do this, Shane.” My voice seemed to echo in the small car. “Did you hear me? I want out. I don’t like being shot at. I don’t like seeing people killed. I don’t like being scared out of my mind.”

  He didn’t respond, except for a moan followed by complete silence. For the time being, I had no choice. I was on my own.

  Once we passed the cutoff for O’Hare Airport, I drew in a long, steady breath. For the first time, I noticed the smell. It was as if he’d been marinated in a garbage dump and pickled in whiskey. I cracked open the window for some fresh air. What had happened to him and why?

  Slumped in the seat, he looked dead. Ominous premonition? Or simply fear getting the better of me?

  I drove, letting the gentle hum of the car and the music take the edge off my fear. Through trial and error, I flipped through his song lists. I needed something to keep my mind from racing. BB King started things off followed by a great selection of artists including Sarah Vaughn, Koko Taylor, Muddy Waters, Tommy Castro, and Johnny Lang.

  Except for the fact I worried Shane might die rig
ht there in the passenger seat of the car, things were looking better. Glancing at him, I felt relief when he stirred in his seat. Then he moaned. But he pretty much did that all the time. His silence worried me more than anything.

  A about an hour later, the sun peeked atop the horizon. Although starving, right now the need for sleep took precedence over raging hunger.

  Pulling into a motel parking lot, I stroked Shane’s arm. Surprisingly, he was able to pry open his left eye.

  “We’re checking into a motel.” I unbuckled my seat belt.

  “You can’t do that.” He straightened in his seat, then groaned and slouched back down. “I’ll...I’ll drive.”

  “No, thanks, tough guy, I don’t have a death wish.”

  “I’ll be fine.” With supreme effort, he managed to open his eye another eighth of an inch. “I can see now.”

  “What do you want me to do, slit your eyelid like they did in Rocky so you can see better?” I shook my head even though I was pretty sure he couldn’t see me. “Besides, it’s more the staying awake I’m worried about.” Along with a host of other things. I needed to focus on one thing at a time, or I might lose it.

  His head bobbed down, touching his chest. “Just for a few hours. We need...to...keep moving.” He drew in a breath, and I assumed he had fallen back asleep. Suddenly, his hand whipped out, grabbing my forearm. “Make sure you pay cash and use a fake name. There’re some license plates in the trunk. Switch plates before you do anything else. And don’t let anyone see you doing it.”

  “Hmmm?” Right now, I desperately needed my old life back. I wanted to worry about what to wear, not how to keep from getting killed.

  “The license clips on and off. Pick a state from far away,” he whispered through a grimace. “There’s a gun in a zippered bag along with about two thousand dollars under the left side panel. Push in on the right corner and it’ll slide open. If you see anyone who looks suspicious, shoot first, ask questions later.” He flopped back in the seat like he’d exhausted every bit of energy he had.