We cautiously elbowed our way to the back, where people were dancing. Women were dancing with women. Men were dancing with men. And a man and a woman in their seventies, who must have been from a different planet and had accidentally landed on Earth, were dancing together.
Two men stopped Sally to tell him Sugar was looking for him. “Thanks,” Sally said, ashen faced.
Ten minutes later, we'd circled the room and had come up empty.
“I need another drink,” Sally said. “I need drugs.”
The mention of drugs made me think of Mrs. Nowicki. No one was watching her. I just hoped to God she was hanging around for her doctor's appointment. Priorities, I told myself. The apprehension money wouldn't do me much good if I was dead.
Sally went off to the bar, and I went off to the ladies' room. I pushed through the door labeled Rest Rooms and walked the length of a short hall. Men's room on one side. Ladies' room on the other. Another door at the end of the hall. The door closed behind me, locking out the noise.
The ladies' room was cool and even more quiet. I had a moment of apprehension when I saw it was empty. I looked under the three stall doors. No size-?ten red shoes. That was stupid, I thought. Sugar wouldn't go to the ladies' room. He was a man, after all. I went into a stall and locked the door. I was sitting there enjoying the solitude when the outer door opened and another woman came into the room.
After a moment I realized I wasn't hearing any of the usual sounds. The footsteps had stopped in the middle of the room. No purse being opened. No running water. No opening and closing of another stall door. Someone was silently standing in the middle of the small room. Great. Caught on the toilet with my pants down. A woman's worst nightmare.
Probably my overactive imagination. I took a deep breath and tried to steady my heartbeat, but my heartbeat wouldn't steady, and my chest felt like it was on fire. I did a mental inventory of my shoulder bag and realized the only genuine weapon was a small canister of pepper spray.
There was the scrape of high heels on the tile floor, and a pair of shoes moved into view. Red.
Shit! I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from whimpering. I was on my feet now. And I was dressed. And I felt sick to my stomach.
“Time to come out,” Sugar said.
I reached for my bag, hanging on the hook on the back of the door, but before I could grab it the bolt popped off and the door was wrenched open, taking my bag with it.
“I did everything for him,” Sugar said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I kept the apartment clean, and I made all his favorite food. And it was working—until you showed up. He liked me. I know he did. You ruined everything. Now all he thinks about is this bounty hunter business. I can't sleep at night. I worry all the time that he's going to get hurt or killed. He has no business being a bounty hunter.”
He held a gun in one hand, and he swiped at his tears with the other. Both hands were shaking, and he was scaring the hell out of me. I had my doubts that he was a killer, but an accidental gunshot wound is just as deadly as an intentional one.
“You've got this all wrong,” I said. “Sally just decodes messages for me. He doesn't do anything dangerous. And besides, he really does like you. He thinks you're terrific. He's outside. He's been looking for you all night.”
“I've made up my mind,” Sugar said. “This is the way it's going to be. I'm going to get rid of you. It's the only way I can protect Sally. It's the only way I can get him back.” He motioned to the door with the gun. “We need to go outside now.”
This was good, I thought. Going outside was a break. When we walked through the Ballroom, Ranger would kill him. I carefully inched my way to the door and stepped out into the hall, moving slowly, not wanting to spook Sugar.
“No, no,” Sugar said. “You're going the wrong way.” He pointed to the door at the other end of the hall. “That way.”
Damn.
“Don't think about trying something dumb. I'll shoot you dead,” he said. “I could do it, too. I could do anything for Sally.”
“You're in enough trouble. You don't want to add murder to the list.”
“Ah, but I do,” he said. “I've gone too far. Every cop in Trenton is looking for me. And do you know what will happen to me when I'm locked up? No one will be gentle. I'm better off on death row. You get your own room on death row. I hear they let you have a television.”
“Yes, but eventually they kill you!”
More tears streaked down his cheek, but his eyeliner didn't smudge. The man knew makeup.
“No more talking,” he said, pulling the hammer back on the revolver. “Outside. Now. Or I'll shoot you here. I swear I will.”
I opened the door and looked out. There was a small employee parking lot to the right and two Dumpsters to the left. A single overhead bulb lit the area. Beyond the Dumpsters was a blacktopped driveway. Then a grassy lawn and the seniors' building. It was a really good place for him to shoot me. It was private and sound wouldn't carry. And he had several exits. He could even choose to go back into the building.
My heart was going ka-?thunk, ka-?thunk, and my head felt spongy. “Wait a minute,” I said. “I need to go back inside. I forgot my shoulder bag.”
He closed the door behind him. “You don't need your shoulder bag where you're going.”
“Where's that?”