Superstalker: A Lady G Thriller

Chapter 21 - Footgames

I kneeled next to Dempsey who looked dead, eyes halfway shut like that, and reached over to pull the knife out of his chest.

But then stopped, not wanting to do more damage if he was still alive (me having done enough not mentioning Gaga's Sickblade vibes). Didn't want to put my prints on the handle either, or mess up any that were already on there.

I put my ear down next to his nose, heard wheezy breathing, not much, but some. Had a close view of the blood that was pumping out from around the knife, soaking his shirt.

Get his people here.

I jumped up and took a quick look around. Where was Gaga? I had a flash of Sickblade grabbing her and then stabbing Dempsey when he came to check on her. Which I should have been doing myself. But how did Sickblade get in here with nobody seeing?

I squeezed back out the door and ran down the hall for help.

Went to where I knew the nearest SWAT guy would be and brought him running back.

"Jesus Christ," he said, when he saw Dempsey. Blurted into his earbud mic, "Emergency, all units. Emergency in the dressing rooms. We have an officer down."

In less than a minute the room filled with SWATs. Three or four of them bent over Dempsey, one of them calling EMS for an ambulance. They moved him further away from the door, being careful, so people could go in and out. The knife was still in his chest, a long one, by the look of the handle, so it must have gone deep. Dempsey had to be breathing his last.

"Oh, shit" one of the SWATs bent over him said. He was poking around Dempsey's hip, his holster. "The prick took Dempsey's gun."

I could see the holster was empty.

Pissed-off sounds went around the room and out to the hall. Sickblade was sticking it to these guys, showing them he was the man.

"You didn't see anybody?"

Somebody speaking to me, a black cop in civvies, one of the undercover people.

"I found the place just like this," I said. "Gaga asked me to meet her here."

"Where is she?"

"That's what I'd like to know."

He was about to ask something else when a cop leaning over Dempsey called to him. "Sergeant Gibb..."

The black cop turned. "What?"

"He took Dempsey's cuffs."

# # #

Sickblade had Gaga handcuffed and gagged, the gun he took from Dempsey pointed at her face.

"One bad move," he hissed, "and your head is hash. I got nothing to lose."

They were both sitting on the floor in the small elevator that Belasco had long ago installed to connect his apartment upstairs with the speakeasy that had been in the basement. The lift, which wasn't much more than a glorified dumbwaiter, could be accessed from the star's dressing room (Belasco being a hospitable letch) by a seamless secret door that was built into the wall of the room's wardrobe closet. Because the former speakeasy was now a storage space filled with junk, the elevator was never used. Hardly anybody knew it was there.

But Sickblade knew.

Once he'd gotten Gaga inside the elevator, after pulling the closet door shut behind them, he slid the wall section closed so it blended perfectly, and no one would be the wiser. Then he ran the elevator down to the basement. To wait until everything was clear.