The Dunbar Case(41)

‘He doesn’t have a choice,’ Hector said. ‘I’ve sent Clem for some bolt-cutters. Persuaders, you might call them. You remember Clem, Hardy. He’ll be happy to see you.’



That changed things. I could imagine Clem’s enjoyment at the situation. It was time.



‘Better tell him then, Jack,’ I said.



Twizell’s head had been slumped on his chest. He jerked up and shouted, ‘Whose side are you on, you—’



Hector focused on him for long enough. I was out of the chair and had my gun free in one movement. Hector swung back towards me but too late. I smashed down on his gun hand with mine; his fingers opened and he dropped the gun. I put the .38 to his temple.



‘You wouldn’t,’ he said.



‘You’re right.’ I moved my hand away, changed my grip and brought the gun butt sharply back against the side of his head. On the button, as the boxers say. His eyes rolled up and he fell hard.



‘Jesus, Hardy, thanks.’



I had my Swiss army knife sawing at the plastic restraints before the words were out of his mouth.



‘Get dressed quickly and collect up anything you need. We have to get out of here. The guy he mentioned, Clem, is bad news and he has a big-time grudge against me.’



Twizell looked as though he’d like to kick Hector but his bare feet wouldn’t do much damage. ‘Can’t you handle him?’



‘Get moving! He’s a big bastard. If he came at me with a set of bolt-cutters I might have to shoot him and I don’t want to do that on your account.’



Twizell got the point. The last thing a recently released parolee needed was to be involved in a shooting. He bolted into the bedroom and I heard him opening and closing drawers and cupboards. He came out dressed in his suit and carrying a bulging overnight bag.



Hector hadn’t moved. I checked his pulse; it was strong and his breathing was regular. I picked up his gun, a Beretta automatic, and stuffed it inside my shirt.



‘Let’s go! Leave the door open.’



We went down in the lift past the startled concierge. Big Clem was coming up the path carrying a Mitre 10 shopping bag. It seemed like a silly thing to do but I pulled out both pistols and pointed them at him. ‘Go up and see your boss. He needs help.’



He gaped, recovered fast and reached into the bag but we were past him by then and running for my car. I had a quick look back as I started the motor. He stood in the middle of the path holding a pair of large bolt-cutters with blue blades and red handles.



Twizell saw him, too. ‘Jesus Christ, he’d only have to have taken those things out of the bag and I’d ...’



We got moving. ‘Don’t think about it. Do you have anywhere else to go for a while?’



‘No. What about my car?’



‘If they know what it is, Clem’s likely to go to work on it with the bolt-cutters.’



‘They don’t know.’



‘Okay. You can come to my motel and fix yourself up a bit. Then we can go back and get your car. Hector’ll have another shot at you.’



‘I owe you, Hardy.’



‘Blood oath you do, and you can pay me back by finding Kristie.’



~ * ~



I figured protecting Twizell was a justifiable expense, so I booked him into the room next to mine in the motel. He took some time to get himself cleaned up and composed. When he knocked on my door he looked presentable. He’d showered, washed and combed his hair, and the scratches on his face had stopped bleeding. I could smell whisky on his breath. I had the feeling that Jack Twizell was looking to hitch a ride with me for as far as he could. Maybe even as far as the money.



I drove back to Mayfield for his car. Twizell was quiet.



‘What’s the matter, Jack?’



‘Just thinking.’



‘About the buried money?’



‘Kristie told you, did she?’



‘Yeah, you’ve got a problem there you might not know about.’



‘I’ve got enough to be going on with, but you’d better tell me.’



Without naming her, I told him about Marisha’s book and the possibility that information about his hiding of the money was more widespread than he realised. Templeton was in the know as well, but I didn’t mention him. No telling who he might or might not have told.



‘So?’ Twizell said.



‘Could be pretty hard people, the ones who stole the money in the first place. They wouldn’t have been happy when they found it wasn’t where they left it.’



‘Tough.’



‘Probably kept their ears open for information.’