“I’m not blind, Arnold, I see what’s here. You’ve been holding things back, saying they couldn’t be found or substituting fakes. You betrayed us. Was Shawn beaten at your instruction? Did you rob me and pretend to be burglarized so no one would suspect that you were stealing back all the things you stole in the first place?”
“I didn’t.” Pitts sounded frightened, with no trace of the sly arrogance he had brought to his last encounter with Tess. “I wouldn’t. You can search here; I don’t have your things. Yes, I have things you wanted, you and Shawn, things I told you I couldn’t find. You used me as a procurer, but you wouldn’t share them with me. We were supposed to be a co-op, yet I never got my turn. So you can’t blame me if I wasn’t quick to turn over everything I had.”
“You were paid to find the items and obtain them, by any means possible. You were paid handsomely.” The word handsomely was ominous in Ensor’s mouth. “You were never a full partner in this enterprise. You were a contractor, plain and simple. You could not have afforded these things on your own.”
“And you couldn’t have found them without me! Now, where’s my bracelet? You promised to give me my bracelet.”
“I am so tired of hearing about that goddamn bracelet! You’re obsessed, you know that? We’ve lost priceless items because you trusted some cheap little hustler, and all you can talk about is that worthless mass-produced piece of no distinction. You think you’re so damn clever, but you’ve only increased our exposure with every one of your schemes.”
“It’s not worthless.” Pitts could not have sounded more aggrieved. “It was a limited reproduction put out by Hutzler’s upon Baltimore ’s sesquicentennial, and it belonged to my mother. It helps to have a grain of truth when you lie; it gives the lie its punch. Besides, how could I tell a private detective-or anyone-that we wanted to find the Visitor because Bobby Hilliard claimed he had passed the things to him? Not even that sleazy O’Brien woman would have taken the job.”
Tess shot Gretchen a look of sympathy. It was hard to outrun a bad reputation, even one you didn’t deserve. Especially one you didn’t deserve.
“Where’s the pike, Arnold? Did you stash that here or somewhere else? I hope you thought to have it cleaned first. I’m sure Shawn’s blood is all over it. And perhaps your own, too? Did Bobby Hilliard really steal the items from Shawn that night, or have you had them all along? Was all this an elaborate plan to persuade me that you didn’t pocket the items yourself?”
The pike? Gretchen looked at Tess, who shook her head. All she could think of was the sign downstairs, the one for Pikesville whiskey. But clearly Ensor meant something else entirely.
“I didn’t attack Shawn Hayes. And why are you so sure it was the pike, anyway? I think you beat him that night and killed Bobby when he showed up at the grave site because you realized you’d been duped, that he had the things all along. And maybe you killed the other man too, that television reporter. What was in his little black book, Jerry? What were you afraid he would find, if he looked hard enough? Maybe you and Bobby were lovers and conspired to double-cross me and Shawn. Anyone as conspicuously hetero as you claim to be is usually compensating for something.”
Tess heard a soft whooshing sound, as if someone was plumping a pillow with vicious strokes, followed by an almost inhuman squeal from Pitts. Ensor must have punched him in the stomach. She and Gretchen nodded, and she let Gretchen do the honors. She kicked the door open with a short, swift jab and screamed “Freeze!” with all her might.
The two men complied, at least for a moment, and it was a strangely comic tableau: Pitts on his back, limbs weaving like a beetle’s, Ensor’s hands on his throat.
And then it was as if they had confused their roles, as if Ensor was the victim and Pitts the aggressor. For Ensor looked relieved to see them, while Pitts’s lower lip began to tremble in fear.
“I didn’t do it,” Pitts cried. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Are the police on the way?” Ensor asked, standing and dusting his palms, as if they were soiled from touching Pitts’s neck. “I hope so. I’m ready to tell them everything I know.”
“Everything?” Tess asked.
“Everything,” he said with a somber nod, stepping forward.
And with that, he calmly backhanded Gretchen across the face, knocking her to the floor. Her head hit hard, with an all-too-solid sound, and although she somehow held on to her gun, the blow appeared to have knocked her out.
“Gretchen!” Tess yelled, and started toward her, giving Ensor the opportunity to bolt. Pitts wasn’t far behind.
“Grab one, for God’s sake,” Gretchen moaned. “I’m okay, but I’ll kill you if they both get away.”
Tess wanted Ensor, wanted to pay him back for hitting Gretchen, but he had a formidable head start. Pitts, however, had scrambled clumsily to his feet, only to hesitate at the top of the front stairs. True to the proverb, he was lost. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Tess closing in, and turned back to the stairs intent on his flight. His shiny shoes slipped on the top step, however, and his legs flew up in the air, so his descent was much swifter than he had planned. A toboggan on an ice-encrusted hill couldn’t have gone much faster.
Although a toboggan, in all probability, would have executed a smoother landing. Pitts ended up on the landing, his left leg twisted in an angle that mankind’s creator, whoever it was, had never intended. Then again, Tess thought, standing over the moaning man, mankind’s creator had probably never envisioned a specimen quite like this.
“Please,” he said, “please-” and he extended a hand toward Tess as if he expected her sympathy.
“What?”
“I must tell you, you must know-”
“Yes?” This should be good.
“I-I want to go to Johns Hopkins or University, not Bon Secours.”
Tess kneeled next to him. “How about if I give you a bullet to bite on while I set it myself?”
Chapter 28
Pitts got University Hospital. So did Gretchen, who was examined for signs of a concussion. The doctors thought it unlikely, but Tess was instructed to stay the night with her, just in case. The doctors continued to press Tess for more information about Gretchen’s injuries, until Tess finally realized they assumed Gretchen was the victim of a domestic assault and Tess was her assailant. Luckily, they had agreed on a story before the paramedics arrived, a story that would keep police at bay, at least for a little while: Gretchen had fallen when a beam swung loose, catching her across the face, and Pitts was rushing down the stairs to call for help when he fell.
“That’s a bad night,” a young female doctor said, her voice at once skeptical and compassionate, inviting confession.
“Tell me about it,” Tess said. “When can I see my uncle?”
“Yes, your uncle.” The doctor consulted a sheaf of papers inside a manila folder. Her ID badge, dangling on a chain around her neck, identified her as massinger, r. With her round face and large blue eyes, she looked serious and awed in the photo, as if overwhelmed by the enormity of her calling. She looked much the same in real life.
“Now, does he live with you and your partner? Is the Bayard address his residence or yours? You know, it can be very stressful, trying to combine relationships under one roof. Conflicts can increase exponentially in such multigenerational households, and people do lose their tempers. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, but it is something to get help for.”
The last bit sounded as if she had memorized it from a textbook or a pamphlet. In a different mood, Tess might have appreciated the irony of being held up by this heightened sensitivity toward domestic violence. Tonight, all she could think was that Baltimore ’s social service agencies seemed to work best when they were thwarting her.