The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Swept Under the Rug

“Who killed her? And Richard?”
    “That, I don’t know which is why I agreed to come here. Maybe if I get a chance to look through the files, I can piece it all together.
    “Do you want me to come up with you?” Sylvia asked, looking as though she might vomit if I said yes.
    I shook my head. “No, the police will be here any minute.” As if to punctuate my words, sirens blared in the distance. “Do me a favor though, call Neil and tell him what’s happening. Marty too.”
    Sylvia squeezed my hand. ”Be careful. And don’t get arrested.”
    “I’ll do my best.”
    Parking garages always creeped me out. Even though they were monitored via video camera, something about the absence of light, the absolute quiet unnerved me. I power walked over to the elevator, assuming I needed to check in at the security desk before going up to see Sierra.
    I pushed the down button and the doors opened immediately. Pools of filthy water, probably tracked in from various boots were visible on the floor of the car. I tip toed around them, and pushed floor number one. The car lurched, and I yipped in fright, but the ride progressed smoothly. Fishing in my bag so my ID would be handy, I didn’t pay attention to the lit numbers tracking the car’s progress.
    A soft ding sounded before the doors slid open. Where the heck was my driver’s license? Security might give me a hard time if Sierra hadn’t already notified the desk of my impending arrival.
    Distracted, I stepped off the elevator, glancing up when my boot heels clicked against concrete instead of the anticipated carpet. The elevator hadn’t delivered me to the brightly lit lobby. Instead I found myself in some sort of basement.
    “Oh, what the hell.” Annoyed, I turned to face the elevator when I felt the prick of something sharp penetrate my jacket right below my left shoulder blade. Then a jolt of energy and unexpected pain ripped through my system and the world slid away.

Twenty Three

    T he smell of mildew invaded my nostrils, forcing consciousness back. Something gurgled, water I though, rushing through pipes. Face pressed against cold, damp concrete, I had no idea if my eyes were open or closed. I tried blinking, but nothing came into focus. My body, sluggish and weak as a newborn, didn’t respond as I willed my arm forward to check my eyelids.
    My hands were tied behind my back.
    What the hell happened? Remembering the elevator, the basement, the sting as something sharp bit through the layers of clothing, I pieced together that’ I’d been zapped, most likely by a Taser or stun gun. Who’d done it though? And why?
    “Hello?” My voice was as weak as my body, my tongue thick and heavy in my mouth. “Who’s there?”
    I listened, but no one replied. “Sierra?” She was the only person who knew I was coming here. “What’s going on?”
    Footsteps sounded distantly and I struggled to sit upright, no easy feat with my hands tethered. Florescent light sputtered to life, blinding me as effectively as the darkness. Scrunching my eyes closed, I called out again. “Sierra?”
    “Oh, she’s not available right now. I have her stashed elsewhere.” The man’s voice and cadence sounded familiar and foreign all at once. I slitted one eye open but still couldn’t see worth shit.
    “Who are you?” I asked as I felt more than heard him move closer.
    A high pitched giggle, almost effeminate was my only answer. Retrenching, I asked, “Why did you tie me up?”
    “You’ve proven yourself to be resourceful and I can’t have anyone mucking with my plans.”
    Dread, slimy and cold settled in my gut. “What plans?”
    “The destruction of Safari and all of Valentino’s minions, of course. The time has come, and out of the ashes of his wicked empire, the phoenix will rise and live for a thousand years.”
    Hell, my unconscious mind had set me up in a crappy B movie. This couldn’t be real. “Tell me who you are, why you’re doing this.”
    A flashlight with enough juice to power the greater Boston Area, clicked on directly in my eyes. I yelped and slammed my eyelids down before my retinas sizzled up like fatty bacon. The man laughed again, and perspiration popped out on my forehead as I picked up on the hysterical note.
    “Every villain must have a foil and I am Markus Valentino’s. My father was the lead engineer on Valentino’s power solutions team in Austin. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of signing an intellectual property rights agreement