R Is for Ricochet

head. "I was in prison by then."
    We were both silent for a moment. Then I said, "Too bad we don't have plans for the offices below his. You're just assuming that's a room, but it could be a mechanical chase or something that goes all the way down."
    She curled the plans together and made a cylinder of them, replacing the rubber band. She tossed them into the backseat and turned the key in the ignition. "Only one way to find out."

    Reba drove around the block, slowly circling Passages Shopping Plaza, peering across me through the passenger-side window as she scanned the exterior. On the south side of the mall she pulled over to the curb, her attention taken up by an entrance marked "Deliveries." A steep ramp led down into the shadows and out of sight.
    "Hang on. I gotta see this," she said. She killed the engine and got out on her side of the car while I got out on mine. We walked down the ramp, which descended two levels to what must have been a subbasement. At the foot of the ramp was a portcullis secured with a big handsome padlock. Through the grillwork, we could see ten parking spaces, a blank double door at the end of a cul-de-sac, and a single metal door to the right. I said, "You think this is the only way in?"
    "Can't be. When merchandise is delivered, there has to be some way to distribute goods to the individual stores."
    We retraced our steps, huffing and puffing slightly as we made the climb. When we reached the sidewalk, she backed up a few steps, her gaze tracking the length of the building. At street level, along this aspect of the fortresslike structure, there were no shop windows and no access to retail establishments. "Second ramp just like this down the block," she remarked. "Oh, wait a minute. I got it. Let's just see if I'm correct."
    I looked at her. "Are you going to tell me or not?"
    "If I'm right, of course. If I'm wrong, you don't need to know."
    "You're very tedious."
    She smiled, unfazed.
    We returned to the car. She started the engine and glanced over her left shoulder to check for oncoming cars. She pulled out and continued her circuit of the mall, passing the twin of the entrance we'd just seen. She turned right at the corner and headed north on Chapel.
    At Passages there was no charge for parking on weekends, probably to encourage spending. The gate to the underground parking lot was up. Reba turned in and eased her car down the ramp. At the bottom she hung a right and drove the length of the garage, parking in a Space near the darkened glass doors that marked the lower-level en-trance to Macy's. The store at this hour was still closed and wouldn't open until 10:00.
    Reba pointed. Ten car lengths to our right there was a nondescript door marked "Service. No Admittance." Beyond that, the ramp for second-, third-, and fourth-level parking spiraled up and out of sight.
    "Won't that be locked?" I asked, feeling that queasy sense of excitement at the notion of going where we weren't supposed to be.
    "For sure. I told you I did some reconnoitering before, but I couldn't get in. Now I have these." She held up the chunky ring of keys she'd snitched from Onni's desk. She sorted through the keys one by one, smiling at the sight. "My, oh my. I'm sorry for every mean thing I ever said about the girl. Catch this."
    Onni, Little Miss Compulsive, had labeled every key with a strip of neatly embossed tape: OFFICE, BECK'S, CNFRCE ROOM, SRVICE COR, WRHSE, S.ELE., S.DEPOSIT MID-CITY, S. DEPOSIT, ST SV'GS amp; LO. Reba pinched the two safe-deposit keys together and jangled the rest. "Bet these contain a shitload of information. Safe-deposit box is where Beck keeps his second set of books."
    "A second set? That's not smart."
    "Not real books. The information's all on disks. He's over there every couple of days, dropping off the updates. What's he going to do? He's a businessman. Even if what he's doing is illegal, he still has to keep records. You think he doesn't have to provide a full accounting to Salustio?"
    "Sure, but it still seems risky."
    "Beck adores taking risks. He's addicted to the rush."
    "I can relate to that."
    Reba continued to finger the safe-deposit keys. "Wonder if there's any way to get into these boxes…"
    "Reba…"
    "I didn't say I'd
do
it. He changed banks the minute I went to prison, so I wouldn't be a signatory in any event. It's probably Marty now."
    "Swear you're going to put those back."
    "I told you I would. As soon as I've made dupes."
    "Goddamn it, Reba. Are you totally