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Krauzer checked his smartphone. “Fourth floor. Apartment F.”
“Okay, and if she’s there, you’re not going to shoot first and ask questions later?”
“I’m not going to shoot unless I have to. I don’t want to hurt that crystal.”
* * *
“THIS COULD ALL be some kind of mistake,” Annja said as they stepped into the fourth-floor hallway from the stairwell. The hallway was narrow and poorly lit. Evidently, Melanie Harp’s career had been skidding farther over the edge than the entertainment shows had reported.
“You’re saying Melanie accidentally stole my scrying crystal?” Krauzer demanded.
“She got cut from the picture—”
“She got cut because she drinks and snorts so much she can’t get to work on time. Thankfully, she’s not in many of the scenes I’ve shot so far, so I can just get another actress in. The only reason I hired her in the first place was for the extra publicity having her working for us would bring. You know, entertainment media cruising around to see if Melanie Harp was going to have another meltdown.” Krauzer cursed. “I just really didn’t expect this. Her agent promised me. The schmuck is definitely gonna hear from me.”
“Taking the scrying crystal could be a cry for help.”
Krauzer growled irritably and shook his head. “Figures you’d stick up for her.”
“I’m not sticking up for her.”
“Sounds like it to me. You’re a girl. She’s a girl.”
For a moment, Annja thought about drop-kicking Krauzer in a way that would remind him he was not a girl. She blew out a calming breath and reminded herself that there was a lot of research she was looking forward to this evening.
And she would definitely get to look at the scrying crystal and satisfy her curiosity about the piece if Melanie had it and was still home.
Krauzer stopped in front of the door to apartment 4F, took the pistol from his waistband and gripped it in his fist. He stood there for a moment, ran his free hand through his hair, let out a quick breath and shook himself. Then he knocked on the door.
There was no answer.
For a moment, Krauzer stood there. Then he looked at Annja. “Why isn’t she opening the door?”
“I don’t read minds.”
He shrugged. “So what would you guess?”
“Maybe she’s not home. Maybe she’s on her way back to the studio with the scrying crystal and feeling really guilty.”
Krauzer thought about that for just a second. “Or maybe she’s taking a clever forgery back there to pass off as the real thing.”
Annja regretted mentioning anything about insurance companies and counterfeit items.
His attention back on the door, Krauzer banged on the door with his fist. “Melanie! It’s Steven Krauzer. I know you’re in there! You can’t hide from me. Open up. I want my scrying crystal back!”
They could hear movement sounding inside. There were at least two pairs of footfalls.
“See?” Krauzer said, frowning at the door. “Told you she wasn’t alone. The mastermind of this whole thing is in there with her.”
Krauzer stepped forward and banged on the door again, harder and faster this time. “Melanie! Get out here in the next minute and I’ll keep you off the entertainment shows. I’ll have the PR people whip up a story that the reason you’re no longer in the movie is that you had something else come up. You know how this town works. You start putting a story out there, even if it’s a lie, pretty soon everybody has heard about it. Then somebody, if you play your cards right, will actually offer you something.”
“I have been offered something, you self-absorbed little Hitler,” Melanie called back through the door.
Krauzer gazed at Annja in disbelief. “Did she just call me ‘little’?”
Annja ignored the question. “Melanie, it’s Annja Creed.”
“What are you doing here?”
“We need the scrying crystal.”
There was a short pause. “It’s not here.”
Krauzer kicked the door. “What do you mean it’s not here?”
They heard a quick flurry of whispering.
“I mean it’s not here unless you pay me for it,” Melanie replied.
“I’m not going to pay you for something you stole from me!” Krauzer howled.
“If you want it back, you are.”
Krauzer stepped back and kicked the door. The frame splintered as the lock tore free. In the room, Melanie Harp stood next to a beefy bald guy wearing a biker jacket and dirty jeans.
The actress’s arms were crossed in front of her defiantly. Her blond hair was piled on her head in a twist that was coming undone and looked as though a surge of electricity had shocked it free. She was underweight, something the makeup people had struggled to deal with, and bags bulged beneath her red eyes, one of which was brown and the other an exotic lavender. Evidently, she’d lost one of her contacts.
“You can’t just break into my home,” Melanie protested.
Krauzer looked around in disdain. “This dump?”
“Hey,” the big bruiser rumbled. He sounded like a cement mixer coming to life. He was in his forties and had scars on his head and cheeks that Annja could see through the graying beard that hung to his chest. He wasn’t wearing a shirt under the biker jacket. His jeans were tucked into motorcycle boots. “Don’t disrespect the lady.”
Krauzer turned to the biker. “Did you help steal my scrying crystal?”
The biker stepped forward. “Hey, man, you stole Melanie’s job. I’m just helping her even the score.”
“I gave her that job, you idiot! I took it back because she can’t handle it. She’s the one who prefers squalor and nose candy over working. And her taste in boyfriends isn’t so great either, evidently.”
The biker closed his fists and took another step forward. “Now you’re gonna get beat.”
Krauzer pointed the pistol at the biker’s face. “Keep coming, you big ape.”
Melanie closed her brown eye and squinted the lavender one at Krauzer. “Oh my God, Barney! He’s got a gun!”
Barney the biker? If Krauzer hadn’t been waving the big pistol around, Annja wouldn’t have been able to keep from laughing.
Eyes popping, Barney stepped back. “Hey, man. No fair.”
Annja knew Krauzer was already in danger of getting arrested for threatening Melanie and her guy, and maybe she was, too, at this point. Getting arrested for felonious assault with a deadly weapon would not sit well with Doug. She also knew that if Krauzer accidentally shot someone, things would get even worse in a hurry.
She moved automatically, trapping Krauzer’s gun hand, pinching a nerve in the back of his hand that caused him to release the pistol and catching the weapon before it hit the carpeted floor. She popped the cylinder open, dumped the bullets into her cupped palm and walked over to the window at the back of the living room.
Below the room, a half-filled garbage bin sat open. Annja opened the window, wiped the gun and the bullets clean on the curtain, and dropped them all into the trash. The gun and the rounds disappeared into the discarded debris.
She turned to face the three other people in the room, who stared at her in disbelief.
Krauzer peered out the window and looked apoplectic. “Did you just throw my gun away?”
“Yes,” Annja replied. “Way too many things could have happened with you waving it around.”
“Well, did you happen to think of the things that could happen since I don’t have it to wave around?” Krauzer looked back at Barney the biker, who had pulled a ten-inch hunting knife from behind his back.
“I’m gonna cut you, loudmouth.” Barney waved the knife as if it was a weaving cobra waiting to strike. “Then you’re gonna get that money you owe Melanie.”
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Krauzer cowered back and nearly fell through the open window. Annja caught the director and moved him over in front of the wall and put herself between him and the biker.
“Move,” Barney ordered, waving his arm in a serpentine motion.
“I just saved your life when I took the gun away,” Annja pointed out.
He scowled at her and maybe there was a little hurt pride in his slit eyes. “If I have to, I’ll cut through you to get to him.” He continued moving the knife in the air.
Annja grabbed the big man’s wrist with one hand and popped him in the throat with the open Y of her other hand. When he stepped back, gagging, she nerve-pinched his hand and let the knife fall to the floor, where it stood embedded upside down.
Barney yanked his hand back. She stood between him and the knife.
Shaking his head, Barney sucked in a breath, then said, “You’re gonna be sorry you did that.” He’d clearly meant the statement to be intimidating, but his words came out in a high-pitched squeak. He rushed at her, intending to use his size and weight against her.
Annja swept his lead foot as it came down, putting it in front of the other foot so that he tripped himself. At the same time, she grabbed his jacket lapels, twisted tightly to accelerate and direct his fall, and pulled him face-first into the wall hard enough to break the plasterboard.
Without a sound, Barney dropped to the floor unconscious.
Melanie held her open hands to either side of her face. “Did you kill him?”
“No.” Annja knelt to unlace one of Barney’s boots, intending to use the string to tie him up. She didn’t need him waking while she was trying to deal with the other two in the room.
Seeing how the tide had turned, Krauzer started to reach for the knife.
“Don’t,” Annja warned as she looped the lace around the unconscious biker’s wrists.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Krauzer replied, even as he pulled his hand back from the knife.
“I’m going to do exactly that for the moment.” Annja finished tying the biker’s hands behind his back and rose.
In the hallway, neighbors stood in slack-jawed amazement. Several of them were talking into their cell phones. And some of them were taking pictures and video.
Great. Nothing’s ever private these days. Annja sighed and turned her attention to Krauzer and Melanie. “The police are going to be here in minutes, so this is how this is going to go down.” She looked at Melanie. “You’re going to tell me where the scrying crystal is.”
For a moment, Melanie acted as if she was going to refuse. Then she collapsed onto a nearby sofa and started to cry. “It’s in the bedroom closet.”
Annja turned to Krauzer, not trusting him to be in the room alone with Melanie. “Go get the crystal.”
Krauzer frowned, but he went to the adjacent bedroom, rattled around and came back with a boot box. “Found it. And it doesn’t look counterfeit at all.” He smiled in relief and satisfaction, then glanced at Melanie. “Wow, you and Barney boy are into some kinky stuff.”
“And you,” Annja said, ignoring the comment, “are going to let me examine that scrying crystal.”
Krauzer wrapped his arms around the box protectively. “This is mine. I risked my life to get this. I’m never letting it out of my sight again.”
On the floor, Barney snuffled, waking, then struggled and tried to get up.
Annja plucked the knife from the floor and looked at Krauzer. “I risked my life to help you, and I’m still going to have to deal with the police for hours because of you, so I’m going to get to study that crystal. Otherwise, I’m going to cut Barney free. I figure you guys have time for a rematch before the police arrive. Do you like your chances?”
Krauzer gritted his teeth. “All right, but we should go, not hang around for the cops.”
Pointing at the people at the door, Annja said, “This is probably going out live on television right now.”
Outside, sirens filled the street and grew louder as they neared the building.
“And we’re all out of time for running.”
* * *
“THEY WERE READY to kill each other over this?” LAPD sergeant Will Cranmer looked at the scrying crystal Annja was studying. He was in his early fifties; his hair and mustache were gray and neatly clipped, and he wore aviator sunglasses against the dimming sun.
The spherical crystal appeared to have been cast of yellowish glass and was as big as both her fists put together. Each of its four flat spots were about as large as Annja’s thumb.
Annja leaned against Krauzer’s Lamborghini. “I think kill may be a bit strong.”
She’d had confrontations with police all over the world. They all wanted people to admit to things so court cases would go more easily. She wasn’t going to confirm anything that would possibly bring on more trouble. “The discussion did get heated.”
“There is the broken door—”
“That door is very flimsy,” Annja said. “I’m sure you noticed that.”
“—and the knife—”
“Which belongs to Barney.”
“—who also doesn’t look so good.” Cranmer nodded toward the big biker in the back of a nearby patrol car.
Handcuffs had replaced the bootlace Annja had used to bind the man. Dried blood covered his upper lip and beard.
“That was me,” Annja said. “Barney didn’t want to give up on the knife after I took it away from him.”
“You did that?” Cranmer looked impressed.
