Breacher (Tom Keeler Book 2) by Jack Lively (reading well TXT) 📕

At the bottom the landing went three directions. Straight ahead to the bathroom, left into a broom closet, or right down a hallway to another door. There were two guys outside that door, silhouettes backlit by a brightly glowing exit sign. One of the guys had pointy ears and a shaved head, the smooth lines were perfectly recognizable. The same silhouette I had seen outside the Edna Bay apartments. A foot soldier for Mister Lawrence. He was speaking into the other one’s ear, not looking at me.

It clicked, another piece in the puzzle. They’d been watching George Abrams’ apartment. Seen me going in with Chapman and called the police. They must have thought that was a clever way to get rid of us. It had not worked out that way.

I had my right hand in my jacket pocket, resting there casually on the pistol grip. The Glock has no real safety mechanism, so if I needed to rock and roll I’d just pull the gun and squeeze the trigger. But the pointy-eared guy had not seen me. The guy he was speaking to had, but there was no recognition there.

I pushed through across the hallway to the bathroom.

Thirty-Six

The bathroom was a dark corridor with one stall on the left and another on the right. In the middle at the end was a shared sink area with a mirror. I wondered how June had been able to see into the private area down there. Then I noticed an entrance to the right of the sink. I looked in on a coat room. No counter, no service. Just a small room filled with rails and hangars and around fifteen or twenty coats. On one side of the room were spare chairs and on the other, a makeup station with a round mirror framed in light bulbs.

I heard music. Through the coat room was another doorway, this time with an actual door. I figured this was one way of getting into the private room, the other being past the bald guy with the pointy ears. I liked this one better. I brushed aside the coats and arrived at the closed door. It wasn’t shut all the way, so I put my eye to the crack.

The room beyond was dimly lit. The crack in the door was tiny, and my field of vision confined to a slim cone extending and widening uselessly at the end of the room. On the wall opposite I could make out a neon sign. Not exactly a sign, more like the illustrative electric outline of a golden wok in orange and a pair of hot pink chopsticks stuck in it. They were going for the nightclub vibe. A woman began to sing, but I couldn’t see her. I could see the backs of four people. Two male, two female, and the shoulder of a third guy. They were oriented toward the singing, and I figured there was a stage there. I figured this was a room dedicated to karaoke. The voice was low and smooth. The singer made an abrupt movement, like a dance move. A part of her became visible for a fraction of a second. I saw no face, no fully formed figure, only a flash of blonde hair. I carefully pushed the door open another inch.

Then the phone rang in my pocket.

Hank’s phone. An old school mobile phone with real buttons. Thankfully, also a phone with a low buzz and a physical vibration instead of a high-pitched beeping ring. I stepped back through the hanging coats and pulled it out of my pocket. I pressed the green button to accept the call. Put it to my ear without saying anything.

Dave’s voice. “Keeler?”

I spoke softly. “Yes, Dave.”

“Keeler, can you hear me?”

I said, “Speak.”

The connection was bad. Dave’s voice came through like it’d been squeezed down into pure sound with none of the essential elements of conversation. No voice or meaning except for the obvious urgency of his cadence. I moved closer to the bathroom and the voice cleared up some. But, by then he was done.

I said, “Say that all again, Dave. I got nothing.”

There was a pause. Then Dave’s voice came rushing. “Keeler, they’ve just come in. Do you see them? I couldn’t call you before because they were watching me.”

“Slow down. Who’s coming in where, the restaurant?”

He said, “The Golden Lights Wok, yes, the restaurant. Four guys. I just wanted to tell you. I think they’re the same people. Another Hummer.”

Then I heard voices from the bathroom and hung up on Dave.

I knew what was going on. Whoever had just arrived was coming into the coat room. I had about ten seconds. I removed my jacket and fit it on a coat hangar. Then I got under the makeup station and hung the jacket in front of me. I stayed in an upright seated position under the table, the jacket just in front of me. It swung slightly in and out, I held my hand against it until it stopped moving. The pistol was in the jacket pocket. If it came to that, I’d have to fumble for it.

A couple of people walked into the room. I only had a view of legs. There was one big guy with a pair of steel-toed hiking boots, and a smaller guy with pair of penny loafers. Another big guy with another pair of steel-toed hiking boots came after them. All three walked through the door and into the adjacent karaoke room. When the door opened, the music and laughter came in loud and clear. Male laughter, female singing. The singing didn’t stop.

There were a couple of excited shouts and the growls and grumbles of conversation. I heard a man speak clearly.

He said, “Alright the cavalry’s arrived. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The door closed with a bang and the music was muffled once more. There were voices, conversation. I heard furniture shuffling. A single female laugh. I stayed there under the