Читаем The Lake полностью

The Lake

At the hospital, Leigh and Deana were treated for shock. Leigh had bruising to the neck and shoulder, contusions to her elbows, but not much else. Deana had severe bruising to her lower jaw. Thankfully, no fractures. They were issued painkillers and allowed to go home.

Mattie came around early next day.

“Hi, guys. How ya doin’?” She followed Leigh into the living room, waving away the offer of a seat. She got straight to the point.

“As you know, we have the meat cleaver from the scene. Now I’d like you to show me where Nelson keeps his. The ones you say he uses.” She shrugged. “Could be there are two, three, or even more in circulation. We need to narrow the field as much as possible.”

Deana asked, “Thought you weren’t officially on this case. As in, no longer working with Mace?”

“Right,” Mattie replied. “I’m here by special request.”

“Special request?”

“Uh-huh. Mace put in a request for me to work on this case with him, so I could look after you lucky ladies. And, well, here I am, folks. Personal bodyguard at your service.”

Deana looked at Mattie.

“That was good of Mace, being so concerned about us.”

“Yeah. Seems like he has a special interest in the Powers case.”

Leigh appeared nonchalant, but her heart skipped a beat. It was good of Mace to go to all this trouble.

Appointing Mattie as their bodyguard—no prizes for guessing who’d come out on top if she and Nelson happened to meet up.

Mattie drove them to the Bayview. She was an expert driver, Deana noticed. Comes with playing cops and robbers for a living, she guessed as they slid to a halt in the Bayview’s private parking lot.

Leigh’s pride and joy was a smartly painted, double-fronted restaurant on Main Street, looking out onto the harbor. Brass-framed menus in the doorway offered a wide choice of ethnic and traditional dishes.

Bay-caught fish were a house specialty.

Leigh led the way through the dark interior, then on through to the kitchen. The aroma of fresh bread hung on the air—Leigh prided herself on her bread rolls, ciabattas, and French sticks, freshly baked on the premises.

She shivered.

The place felt oddly strange without Nelson.

No lanky figure leaping about, mixing, mincing, creating his famous dishes, his one good eye rolling round in its socket like a billiard ball.

Instead, Nelson was on the run. With his cleaver.

They looked around the kitchen. Leigh went to the metal stand where Nelson hung his array of choppers, knives, and other kitchen implements.

Both cleavers were missing. Looked like Mattie had Exhibit A, the one Nelson dropped when he fled; then he’d sneaked back into the restaurant to pick up Exhibit B. So now Nelson, plus cleaver number two, were out there seeking vengeance.

The women exchanged glances.

“We need to nail Nelson, pronto,” Mattie said briefly.

Leigh met Deana’s eyes. “I’d say that was the understatement of the year, Mattie.”

TWENTY

Brrring…Brrring…

Leigh’s fingers felt around the nightstand, then stretched out to reach the telephone. Her grazed elbow twinged. She made a face, squinting at the red numbers on the clock.

11:22.

Christ. Who is this?

At this hour?

She fumbled around some more and clicked on the bedside lamp.

Something’s happened, she thought. They caught Nelson. They’ve…

“Yes?”

“Hi, Leigh. Mace here. Called to see if you’re okay.”

“Uhh…I was asleep, if that’s what you mean.”

“Sorry. Just thought you looked a little wrecked earlier.”

“Well, thanks a lot, Mace. You woke me up to tell me that?”

“No, Leigh. It’s just that I don’t want you worrying yourself over that maniac. Is all.”

“Cheers for that, Mace. But I’m—we’re—okay. Truly. Right now, I need some rest. Took one of those bazookas an hour ago and I’m sleepy as a kittycat.”