Hostile Witness

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 35

He moved like a dancer, each vertebra rolling into place as he obliged her. His arms floated up and were held out to the side. He wiggled his fingers and rotated his hands to show his palms. Nothing up his sleeve. He shook out one foot and then the other. A real funny guy but Josie wasn't laughing.

She took long measured steps toward him and short cautious ones to maneuver around the broken glass and the open door. She closed it with her foot. He was a good boy and didn't move. Her back was to the wall, the hula girl plates were above her and beneath those plates was the dimmer switch for the lights. Josie turned it on high. The man at her table closed his eyes and turned his head against the sudden brilliance. Josie squinted but didn't look away.

He was young, black, and well fed but skinnier than she first thought. From the back, all she had seen was his big jacket and baggy pants; the pant hems were frayed from dragging on the ground, the jacket was army surplus, not service issue. He wore a heavy sweater that was striped in dark colors. There was a diamond in his ear. His skin was smooth, his nose small, and his eyes glittered with amusement. He sported a small goatee and an impressive mass of dreadlocks that cascaded over his shoulders and dangled over his brow.

"Hold up, mama." A gold tooth glinted as he smiled, trying to appease her. "I ain't gonna hurt one hair on your head, and I sure as hell don't want none of my hairs to be hurt neither."

"No problem. Nobody will get hurt because we're just going to wait right here until the police come." Josie reached for the phone on the kitchen counter and lifted the receiver.

"Aw, you didn't do that, baby." He started to lower his arms but Josie notched the muzzle up an inch. "Come on, mama. I'm gonna drop 'em right here. Right here, okay?" He lowered his arms inch by inch, testing her. The barrel of the gun kept pace.

"Keep them where I can see them," Josie warned.

"Call the man and I don' tell you what I got for you," he warned, agitated now. Cautiously he picked up a spiral bound book that lay on the table and held it close. "You want to help Hannah, then you be smart about the cops."

Josie's heart skipped at Hannah's name. The hand with the receiver quivered. She narrowed her eyes, trying to read this man, trying to find that edge in her gut that would give her a heads up to be cautious. It wasn't there.

"One time offer, baby. For Hannah," the man sing-songed.

Slowly Josie put the receiver back in its cradle, never taking her eyes off him. The gun was getting heavy. She held it with both hands and waved him toward the hall. Josie opened the door to the closet.

"Get in," she said.

"What? You crazy? I won' be going in there," he cried backing up and waving his hands.

"Yes, you will. Now get in until I let you out."

Complaining, muttering, the man walked past her and into the hall closet. He crossed his arms over his chest. Josie held the gun at the ready.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Miggy," he answered.

Josie nodded, shut the door and braced it with a chair. Miggy Estrada. How about that? Josie headed for the kitchen and the phone once more. She dialed fast. One ring and it was answered. Josie leaned on the counter and said:

"Archer. I need you."

***

"'Bout time. You better be believin' you're gonna be sorry for treatin' me so bad."