From Berkeley with Love

From Berkeley with Love Read Free Page A

Book: From Berkeley with Love Read Free
Author: Hamilton Waymire
Tags: General Fiction
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flimsy plywood door. It splintered and gave way. I tumbled into a dimly lit room. In the far-right corner stood a simple metal cot. The woman in it looked like she was eighty, but it was Tammy Zelter all right. The source of the abominable odor sat on a stool beside the bed: Dr. Ron Mayer, syringe in hand.
    “Drop it!” I pointed the Glock at him.
    “You son of a bitch,” he said, squinting. The woman showed no reaction.
    “What’d you do to her?”
    “Nothing yet. You interrupted me.” He held up the syringe and let a little liquid squirt out the top. “You’re good, Keirstad, you know that? I should’ve put up more resistance when Linda wanted to hire a private dick.” He shook his head. “It was such a neat plan. She totally bought Wainer as the blackmailer.”
    “Did you know he was dead?”
    “Did I know?” He laughed. “Man, I killed him myself and had Tammy sell his docs. He threatened me. Me!”
    “All right,” I said, holding him in check with my gun. “Time to drop that syringe, Mayer. Put it down.”
    “What if I don’t? You gonna shoot me?”
    “I wouldn’t take the risk if I were you. I won’t let you hurt this woman.”
    “As if it would matter to her.” He sneered. “She’s lost everything. She used to be beautiful, you know. Naive, but beautiful. Wainer messed her up. Now look at her. She’s lost her looks, she’s lost her sex appeal, she’s lost her mind—I’d be doing her a favor, don’t you think?”
    He dropped the syringe on the floor and, smiling nonchalantly, thrust both hands in the pockets of his jacket. It took me a split second to notice the movement in the right pocket. As I dived to the floor, I saw the muzzle flash tear through the fabric of his coat. Before I hit the ground, my index finger pulled the Glock’s trigger twice. I landed on my right arm, the impact knocking the gun from my hand and flinging it across the room. Mayer stood motionless, hands still in his pockets, gazing into infinity with a puzzled expression in his eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, he fell straight onto his face. I crawled over to him and felt for a pulse. I didn’t get one. The room was completely silent now, except for Tammy’s wheezing breath.
    * * *
    When I waved my gun at him, the geezer in apartment A kindly let me have some privacy while I used his phone. I called Linda Cramer first. This was no occasion for lengthy explanations; but I gave her the number of an acquaintance who might be able to retrieve certain photographs from Mayer’s house before the cops showed up. Next I dialed 9-1-1.
    * * *
    A month or so later, in a hotel room in Baltimore, Patty O’Connor said to me, “I don’t get it. What was Mayer’s problem?”
    I kissed the nape of her neck. “Turned out, the mob was on his ass. Gambling debts.”
    Her naked breasts swung fetchingly as she reached for the cigarettes on the nightstand. “All right, I understand he beat you to Berkeley by taking a plane. But why did he want to kill that poor woman?”
    “Linda had told him how I’d eliminated Wainer as a suspect. To save his scheme, he had to try and make Tammy look like the blackmailer. Given her condition, the only way to pull that off was to make her disappear.”
    “To think that he almost succeeded.” Patty shuddered and snuggled up against me.
    I took a long drag from her cigarette and sucked the smoke down into my lungs. “Fat chance. I had him pegged from the start,” I lied.
    END

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