Runaway Heart (2003) by Cannell Stephen

Author:Cannell, Stephen [Stephen, Cannell,]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-01-05T05:41:29.734000+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six.

Zimmy wasn't at JPL, but Jack got his home address from the Security Office by flashing his fancy new imitation ostrich P.I. license holder and saying: "Police."

The girl handed him a slip of paper and said, "Zimmy told me yesterday they're painting his apartment. I think he's staying at his ex-wife's place."

"Could I have her address, please?" Jack smiled, giving her his best ten-megawatt meltdown.

"Montrose Apartments, 2300 Montrose Boulevard in Montrose. Apartment ten."

He ran back to Barbra's Mercedes, where Herman and Susan were waiting. He jumped in the car and headed west on the Foothill Freeway, hoping

Montrose was in that direction. He was lucky. Montrose Boulevard was a freeway exit.

The apartment house was a two-story, sixties-type building: a gray stucco box with white trim. He pulled past and parked across the street in somebody's driveway.

Jack had grabbed his backup gun from the trunk of the Fairlane before they left Malibu. It was an S&W Model 60, lightweight, three-inch barrel, burnished finish, and it was under his coat, jammed in his belt Billy-the-Kid style. "Okay . . . whatever you do, don't leave the car until I get back."

Herman and Susan nodded grimly.

He walked to the corner and bought the Los Angeles Times from a newspaper box, transferred the revolver from his belt to the inside of the folded newspaper, tucked it under his arm and crossed the street.

He entered the building courtyard, spotted apartment ten on the second floor at the end of the corridor, then climbed the interior stairwell and banged on the door. "Dr. Zimbaldi?"

Nothing.

He knocked again and tried the door. Locked. When he rattled the knob, it felt like there was no deadbolt, just a button lock. Another job for Wells Fargo Bank. Jack took out his credit card, slipped it into the space between the door lock and the jamb, then pushed.

Credit approved.

It was a very ordinary, sparsely furnished apartment. He moved quickly through the neat two-bedroom, one-bath layout, then ended up in the small kitchen. There was no sign of Zimmy or his ex-wife.

He walked out onto the balcony, which offered a quasi-view of the Valley. Jammed into that small space were a wooden chair, an orange Webber barbecue, and a chest-style Amana freezer from the horse and buggy era. Jack opened the freezer, praying that Zimmy wouldn't be inside curled up next to the flank steak.

The Amana was filled with ice cream. He snagged a container of Rocky Road, pried it open, then went back inside to borrow a spoon from the kitchen.

The P.I. takes an ice cream break.

Two blocks away a windowless, brown Econoline van pulled up and parked off Foothill Boulevard. Inside Vincent Valdez watched a GPS monitor with a small locator light flashing on the LED map screen, then said: "He's around the corner on Montrose."

Marine Captain Norm Pettis, who had flown in from D.C. with Valdez on a private jet that morning, was seated next to the assistant director in a little command chair bolted to the floor of the van.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.