R Is for Ricochet

running through my frame. My heart rate was picking up and my insides felt like a fuse box with all the lines shorting out. She punched in Beck's home number just to hurry things along. At the first ring, Reba leaned her head against mine and tilted the handset so she could listen in. I said, "This feels like high school. I hate this."
    "Would you shut up?" she hissed.
    After three rings, he picked up. "Yes."
    My mouth was dry. "Beck, this
is
Kinsey."
    "God damn you! Where's Reba? The fuckin' bitch. I want what's mine and she better make it quick."
    Reba grabbed the handset, all sweetness and light now that she had him by the balls. "Hey, baby. How's by you? I'm right here."
    Whatever Beck's reply, it must have been tart because she laughed with delight. "Oh my, now. You don't have to be crude. I was thinking we should get together and have a chat."
    I waited, staring off across the parking lot, while she spelled out the proposal and the nature of the trade. Then they argued about the rendezvous, tussling to see which of them was going to come out on top.
    The East Beach bathhouse, at the corner of Cabana and Milagro, was where I did the turnaround on my morning runs. Even at night, the area is exposed and well lighted, the Santa Teresa Inn just across the street from the entrance to the parking lot. There's a small separate lot at the far end of the building, but she'd opted for the more public of the two. This showed a grain of common sense unusual for her. She insisted on meeting in fifteen minutes while he swore he couldn't be there any sooner than half an hour. To this, she finally agreed. Score one for him. I was uneasy. I figured the more time she gave him, the more likely he was to round up some help. This must have occurred to her as well. "And Beck, one more thing. You bring anyone but Marty and you'll eat it, big time. Yeah, well, same to you, you little shit!" She slammed down the phone and then shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. "God, I hate him. What a hairball."
    I picked up the handset and reached for some coins. "I'm calling Cheney."
    She took the handset and returned it to the cradle. "I don't want Cheney. I don't want anyone but us."
    "I can't do this. You and Beck can play all the games you want, but I'm out of it," I said.
    "Okay. Fine. Take a hike. Drop me at my car and you're off the hook," she said. She turned and walked off.
    I'd hoped to jolt her into getting help, but she was having none of it. I blinked, staring at the pavement. What were my choices? Do it her way or risk… what? That she'd die or get hurt? Because Marty'd stolen the computer, she'd assumed Beck was the one who'd ordered the snatch, but what if he hadn't? It might have been Salustio Castillo, who had just as much to lose. Beck might be bluffing. He might not have a clue where Marty was being held, and then what? All he had to do was grab the suitcase and what could she do? If it came right down to it, what could I do? Nothing. At the same time, she knew I wouldn't leave her. There was too much at stake.
    Reluctantly, I followed. The car doors were locked and she waited, gaze averted, while I let myself in and tossed my bag on the backseat. I slid under the wheel, leaned over, and opened the door on her side. Reba got in and we sat there. I had my hands on the steering wheel, stalling while I racked my brain for some alternative. "There has to be a better way to do this."
    "Great. Spell it out. I'm all yours," she said.
    I didn't have an answer. The meeting was scheduled for 11:00 P.M., in roughly twenty-five minutes. Technically we had time enough to drive to my place, where I could pick up my gun. I nearly banged my head on the steering wheel. What was I thinking? A gun was out of the question. I wasn't going to
shoot
anyone. Over a
computer?
How absurd.
    On the other hand… shit… on the
other
hand… if Marty's home phone was tapped, the FBI must have a tap on Beck's telephone lines as well. One of their agents must have heard Beck and Reba wrangling, so maybe they'd taken note and the cavalry was already on the way.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Reba check her watch, saying, "Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Time's a-wasting."
    "So where's Marty all this time?"
    "He didn't say. I'm assuming somewhere close."
    I shook my head in frustration. "I don't believe I'm doing this." I turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the space. "Let's at least take a minute to scope out the area, or have you done that?"
    "Not