Deadly Overtures: A Music Lover's Mystery Page 13

  Still moving as stealthily as I could in my high-heeled boots, I hurried down the stairs after him. Why he was going down to the basement, I didn’t know, but I intended to find out. If this were his building, it would have been possible that he was on his way to fetch a load of laundry, but this wasn’t his building.

  I paused on the landing to make sure I was maintaining enough distance between us. The way was clear so I continued on down the remaining stairs, slowing my pace, not knowing what waited below. As I descended the last three stairs, a sudden sense of apprehension almost made me pause. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had. While I doubted that Cameron was involved in Pavlina’s murder, I still believed he could be a criminal. So did I really want to follow him into the basement of some old building?

  It was too late for second thoughts, I decided. I’d come this far so I figured I might as well keep going. After stepping off the last stair, I stood in a dimly lit hallway that stretched off to my left and my right. There was no sign of Cameron, but in each direction one door stood open, no lights shining beyond them, leaving the doorways as dark rectangles. Not hearing any voices or other sounds, I tiptoed to my left, approaching the door cautiously. When I reached it, I stopped and peered into the darkened room.

  My eyes hadn’t yet had a chance to adjust to the darkness when someone grabbed me from behind. I yelped, but a hand clapped over my mouth, cutting off the sound.

  “You shouldn’t have followed me,” Cameron said into my ear.

  I couldn’t see him since he held me from behind, but there was no mistaking his voice. I tried to wriggle free of his grip, but he only tightened his hold on me.

  “I don’t want to do this, but you’ve left me no choice.”

  My eyes widened at those words and my heart set off at a gallop.

  He shoved me forward, the force of the push sending me flying through the darkened doorway. My feet flailed beneath me, trying to find their footing, but the floor seemed to fall away. I went crashing to the ground and bounced painfully down three steps to a cold floor.

  Ignoring the pain coming from various parts of my body, I scrambled to my feet and clambered my way back to the rectangle of light at the top of the short stairway. But as I reached the top step, the door slammed shut in my face, leaving me in darkness.

  Grabbing the doorknob, I rattled it hard, but the door held fast.

  “Cameron!”

  I pounded on the door and rattled the knob again, but to no avail.

  He’d locked the door and gone away, leaving me trapped.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I HAMMERED ON the door again, releasing some of my anger into the solid wood. Again, my pounding got no response, and I broke off with a growl of frustration.

  Remaining at the top of the concrete steps, I felt along the wall next to the door. My fingers found a light switch and I flipped it on. A bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling came to life, allowing me to see my prison.

  Cameron had locked me in what appeared to be a storage room. Wooden shelves along one of the concrete walls held cans of paint, cleaning products, and other odds and ends, everything covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs. Although the corners of the room were shadow-filled, I could see flattened cardboard boxes, a rusty bicycle frame, a dirt bike, a paint-splattered wooden ladder, and a piece of Formica countertop.

  None of those items kept my attention for long, however. I was far more interested in the small window across the room. Carefully descending the three steps so I wouldn’t fall and add more bruises to my collection, I hurried over to the dirty window. The spark of hope that had ignited inside of me at the sight of the window sputtered and died when I noticed that there were bars on the outside. The window was also painted shut, which only added to my frustration. I wouldn’t have been able to climb through the window with the bars there, but it would have been nice to have had a chance to open it and yell for help.

  Studying my surroundings again, I wondered if I could find something to cut through the paint so I could open the window rather than break it. Of course, first I’d have to be able to reach the window, which I couldn’t do very easily at the moment. The ledge sat just above my eye level so I couldn’t see what was on the other side of the dirty glass.

  Approaching the wooden ladder, I shoved aside some cobwebs and flattened cardboard boxes and dragged it out into the open. Fortunately it wasn’t heavy and I was able to haul it over to the window without much trouble. It wasn’t the sturdiest ladder in the world, but I wasn’t about to complain in the circumstances.

  Sneezing from the dust that tickled my nose, I tested the first rung with my weight. It held fast so I continued up the ladder, moving cautiously and fervently hoping that it wouldn’t break. On the second rung, I stopped. Wrinkling my nose at the grime covering the glass, I leaned closer and tried to see through it.

  The window looked out on a small parking lot, giving me a view from near the ground. Two figures strode into sight and I reached up to bang on the windowpane, hoping to get their attention.

  My fist froze an inch from the glass.

  Cameron walked into view from the other direction, coming to a stop when he met up with the other two men. I leaned closer to the glass again, my nose almost—but not quite—pressing up against the dirty pane. Cameron was speaking rapidly to the other men, but they didn’t seem impressed. They both shook their heads, and then one of them jabbed a finger at Cameron’s chest, getting up in his face.

  I had no idea what any of the men were saying—only that it wasn’t anything pleasant—but I was more interested in who they were. I didn’t recognize the burlier of the two men talking to Cameron, but the other one looked awfully familiar. I shifted on the ladder so I could peer through a somewhat cleaner part of the window. The better view only confirmed my suspicions.

  The man up in Cameron’s face was Elena’s cousin Igor.

  What the heck was going on?

  Cameron removed a handful of cash from his pocket, and Igor’s companion snatched it away from him. The burly man counted the money and said something to Igor, shaking his head. Igor got back up in Cameron’s face and jabbed a finger at his chest again. Then he and his companion turned and walked away, leaving Cameron standing in the middle of the parking lot. He remained in the same spot for a few more seconds, and then he too walked off, disappearing from sight.

  Despite my interest in what had just transpired, I was more concerned about getting the heck out of the storage room. I hoped Cameron was planning to set me free before taking off in his van. Maybe that wasn’t too likely, but at the moment it was my only hope.

  I climbed down the ladder and returned to the door. Pressing my ear against it, I listened for approaching footsteps, but heard nothing.

  I pounded the door with my fist.

  “Cameron? Cameron, let me out of here!”

  When that elicited no response, I rattled the knob and threw myself shoulder-first into the door. It rattled in its frame but gave no indication that it was going to give way under my assault. I drove my shoulder into the door again, but with the same unsatisfactory result.

  Rubbing my aching shoulder, I forced myself to accept the fact that Cameron wasn’t coming back for me. Most likely he’d already driven off, leaving me to . . . What? What had been his intention? Did he simply want me out of the way temporarily or did he have something more sinister in mind?

  Surely he didn’t think he was leaving me to die. It might take a while, but somebody would eventually hear my cries for help.

  Wouldn’t they?

  Remembering the silence of the building, I wondered if it was occupied. My spirits sank toward the floor. If it was an empty building I could be in here for days, maybe even weeks, before somebody discovered me.

  I wasn’t about to let that be a possibility. I’d simply have to call for help, no matter how embarrassing
that might be. After digging my phone out of my purse, I checked the screen. My spirits sank down through the floor this time.

  There was no reception. I wandered around the storage room, holding my phone up, willing bars to appear on the screen, but with no luck.

  This can’t be happening, I thought as I held my phone up higher in the air, still with no change.

  My frustration was rising to a crescendo. Since I didn’t know for sure if the building was unoccupied, I took out some of my anger on the door again. I drummed an insistent, heavy beat against the thick wood, shouting for somebody—anybody—to help me.

  My voice was starting to grow hoarse by the time I gave up and slumped down on the top step. What a disaster. I couldn’t believe I’d managed to get myself into this situation. I had to get out of this place.

  JT would notice I was missing when he went by my apartment to pick me up that evening, but that wouldn’t do me much good. He had no idea where I was. Even if he figured out that I’d been following Cameron, would the drummer admit to what he’d done?

  Probably not. More likely he’d deny that he had any idea where I was.

  No, I definitely couldn’t rely on JT coming to my rescue.

  Maybe if I could get the window open, or perhaps break the glass, I could direct my shouts for help to the outdoors. With that in mind, I returned to the ladder and climbed up two rungs for another look out the window. I couldn’t see anyone out there, but that didn’t mean there was no one around to hear me.

  I was about to climb back down to search for something to use to break the glass when I decided to check my phone one last time. When I activated the screen there was still no reception, but as I moved the phone right up to the window, three beautiful bars appeared in the corner of the screen.

  The sight made me so happy that I wanted to sing the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah, but instead I directed all my attention on selecting JT’s name from my list of contacts. I had to lean close to the window to maintain reception, but within seconds I heard ringing on the line.

  Please answer the phone, JT.

  It rang once, then twice.

  Just as I was losing hope, JT picked up.

  “Hey, Dori,” he said.

  His voice was like beautiful music to my ears.

  “Hi. Um . . . I have a bit of a problem,” I said.

  A short pause followed, and I swore it rang with suspicion and exasperation.

  “Does this have anything to do with asking me where Cameron lives?” JT asked eventually.

  “Sort of.”

  He said something, but the connection cut in and out so all I heard was garbled sounds rather than words. I leaned closer to the window.

  “Sorry, I lost you there for a second. I’ve barely got reception here.”

  “Where’s here?”

  “A basement storage room in some apartment building.”

  Silence met my words and for a moment I thought the reception had cut out again. But then JT spoke.

  “Do I even want to know why you’re there?”

  My neck ached from holding my awkward position, but I didn’t dare move. “I’m not here by choice. Cameron shoved me in here and locked the door. Now he’s taken off to who-knows-where.”

  “Cameron locked you in a storage room?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dori, what the hell is going on?”

  “I’d prefer to explain later. I just want to get out of here. Can you please come and help me?”

  He sighed but said, “I’m already on my way out the door. Where is this place?”

  Relieved, I told him which street I was on and gave him a description of the apartment building. I hadn’t had enough forethought to note the exact address before I’d entered the building, but luckily it was the only white—or whitish—one on the block.

  “All right, hang tight,” JT said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I thanked him, and he cut off the call. Carefully, I climbed down the ladder and sat on the concrete steps leading to the door. Although I wasn’t thrilled to have to spend more time in the storage room, I knew I was lucky that help was on the way. JT wouldn’t be impressed when he heard the details of how I’d ended up in this predicament, but that was the least of my problems. He could be as annoyed with me as he wanted. I’d still be thrilled to see his face when he arrived.

  AS I WAITED, the cold from the cement steps seeped through my clothes, little by little until I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I got up and paced back and forth across the storage room, but I still got colder as time passed. The room was clearly not heated and although I could see that the sun was shining brightly outside the window, the air still had a definite frostiness to it, especially in my basement prison.

  After rubbing my gloved hands together, I checked the time on my phone, even though I’d done so only moments earlier. I was beginning to wonder if JT was having trouble finding the right building when I heard footsteps out in the corridor.

  I rushed up the steps to the door.

  “Midori, are you in there?” JT’s muffled voice asked.

  “Yes!” I said with immense relief. “Thank goodness you found me! Can you break the door down?”

  “I shouldn’t have to. Hold on a minute.”

  I did my best to wait patiently, one ear pressed against the door, listening to what was happening on the other side. All I heard were a few quiet clicking sounds and a slight rattling of the door.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, wishing I could see through to the other side.

  “Almost there,” JT said without answering my question.

  I heard more rattling. A second later, the knob turned and the door opened. A big smile spread across my face when I saw JT standing there in front of me.

  “Am I ever glad to see you!” I gave him a hug. “How did you get the door open?”

  After returning my hug, JT held up a credit card for me to see. “I jimmied the lock.” He shut the door and tucked the credit card into his wallet.

  “You know how to do that?” I said, surprised.

  “Thanks to a childhood obsession with private eye stories and an uncle with some less-than-aboveboard talents.”

  “I had no idea. What other hidden talents do you have?”

  JT grinned. “You’ll find out one day. I have to keep a few surprises up my sleeve.”

  I wondered what those surprises might be, but he clearly wasn’t going to enlighten me.

  “Well, thank you,” I said. “Thank you times a million.”

  “You’re welcome. Now how about we get out of here?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  We headed up the stairs to the main floor.

  “So, spill,” JT said when we reached the top of the stairway. “Why did Cameron lock you in that room?”

  We paused as an elderly woman using a walker ambled slowly past us down the hall. We both said hello to her, but she ignored us. Or maybe she was hard of hearing. She stopped at the door to one of the units and put a key in the lock. Obviously the building wasn’t abandoned after all, but I still didn’t like my chances of someone finding me in the storage room if I hadn’t been able to get phone reception. The basement didn’t seem to get many visitors.

  As we continued on to the lobby, I gave JT a preliminary explanation. “I decided to follow Cameron from your place earlier.”

  “Why?” The word practically reverberated with exasperation.

  “He was on the phone and seemed agitated. And I was suspicious of him. For good reason, as it turns out.”

  “Locking you in a basement does seem suspicious,” JT said as he held the front door open for me.

  I stuffed my gloved hands in my pockets and stepped out into the bright but cool afternoon. “Not just that. There’s a window in the storage room tha
t looks out on a small parking lot behind the building. I saw Cameron meet up with two other guys, one of whom was Elena’s cousin Igor.”

  “The guy who was at the theater the other night? The one who’s a suspect in Pavlina’s murder?”

  “The one and the same.”

  “Huh.”

  “Interesting, right? Anyway,” I continued on without waiting for a response, “Cameron gave them some cash, but the guys still didn’t seem happy with him.”

  “So then what happened?”

  “Nothing, really. They went their separate ways.” I noted the empty space by the curb where Cameron had parked earlier. “And Cameron took off in his van.”

  “Leaving you locked in that room,” JT said, an edge to his voice.

  I stopped next to my MINI Cooper, noting that JT’s truck was parked two cars behind it. “Yes.” Now that I was free, my annoyance with Cameron took center stage in my mind. “I can’t wait until I see him again. I’ve got a bone to pick with him. A whole skeleton of bones, actually.”

  “You’re not the only one.”

  There was an unusual storminess to JT’s brown eyes and his jaw was set. “I say we track him down right now.”

  “But what about your gig?”

  “Forget the gig. We’ll have to cancel. I can’t play in a band with that guy after what he did to you. And it looks more likely than ever that he was involved in stealing my equipment. I can’t pretend like nothing happened.”

  “No, of course you can’t. But couldn’t you wait to confront him until after the gig? I don’t want to be responsible for messing things up for your band.”

  “You’re not responsible,” JT assured me. “This is all on Cameron.”

  “But canceling would be bad for your band, and it would be unfair to the other guys. Please, JT. Just leave it for a few more hours.”

  The muscles in his jaw worked as he considered the idea. “All right,” he said after a moment, although not without a good dose of reluctance. “But as soon as our set is done, he’s going to have to start explaining.”