Beer Money (A Burr Ashland Mystery) by Dani Amore Page A
Authors: Dani Amore
Tags: General Fiction
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With a sinking feeling in my gut, I walked forward, my feet crunching on the ice.
A few feet away, I stopped. In the middle of the cordoned off area, faint patches of red seemed to lurk in the patches of ice. It hadn’t warmed up enough to melt the blood away. Tim’s life force was trapped in the icy grips of winter.
I looked overhead and saw the broken window, a glimpse of the yellow crime scene tape as it flapped around the broken panes.
I backtracked down the sidewalk and went to the front door. It was padlocked, with a small warning label that read “Milwaukee Police Department.” I tugged on the door handle, but it was rock solid. I glanced around the deserted street, saw no one.
From my wallet I took the slim jimmy and slipped it into the padlock. I tested the guts of the lock, pinpointed the honey hole, withdrew the jimmy, crimped it, slipped it back in and watched as the padlock sprung open. I put the jimmy back in my wallet, and put my wallet back in my coat pocket. I slipped off the padlock, and hung it, still open, from the hook.
I opened the door and stepped inside.
It was a musty, dingy smell. Part mold, part rat droppings. The interior was demolished. Everywhere lay scrap lumber, chunks of plaster and old wiring. The lone structure was a weary staircase situated at the far end of the main room. I climbed them, my feet creaking with each step. I touched the warped banister and my hand came away thick with dust and grime.
At the second floor landing, I peeked out into a room similar to the first floor in that its only features were piles of scrap building materials. A small shadow darted from one corner of the room. Either a large rat or a small cat.
Orienting myself to the layout of the building, I climbed higher until I reached the third floor.
The sun dipped below the horizon and what little light was left diminished quickly from the area. I pulled a pen light from my jacket and shined it up ahead. I oriented myself so I faced the north side of the building and then looked for the crime scene tape.
I walked forward, guided in part by the flashes of yellow I saw ahead in the small beam of my penlight, as well as by the sound of the tape fluttering in the wind.
I was no more than five feet away from the boarded up window when I heard the sound of plaster being ground behind me. Squashed by a foot.
I made the move to duck and turn, but then I felt my head bounce forward as a funny feeling buzzed its way down my spine.
I sank to my knees and saw three men encircle me. Two were in back, one was in front. The one in front was a big man. His black pants and black sweater hugged a large upper body. In the darkness of both the room, and the fog that was enveloping me, I could only make out vague shapes.
"Hey-" I said.
The man in front lifted his foot and before I could think to duck he kicked me in the head. Bright lights flashed before my eyes and I flew backward where my skull cracked against something very, very hard. Rough hands picked me up by the back of the shirt. A giant fist came out of nowhere and crashed across my jaw. Stars exploded in my head. A piece of tape went across my mouth. Another piece went across my eyes.
I was dragged across the floor then thrown down the stairs headfirst.
By the time I reached the bottom step, everything had gone black.
Twenty-Nine
A loud bang woke me from unconsciousness; another clang echoed around me and I tried to sit up, my head screaming in pain with the effort. My head felt too big for my body. Stabs of pain took turns announcing themselves. I felt like a pregnant woman trying to take deep breaths between contractions.
I couldn't move much if I tried. A sudden thought chilled me: Is this what happened to Tim? A rage burned through me and I struggled against the cords to no avail. They certainly knew how to tie someone up. They were craftsmen, exhibiting a painstaking attention to detail.
The metal against which my head was pressed was cool, and
A few feet away, I stopped. In the middle of the cordoned off area, faint patches of red seemed to lurk in the patches of ice. It hadn’t warmed up enough to melt the blood away. Tim’s life force was trapped in the icy grips of winter.
I looked overhead and saw the broken window, a glimpse of the yellow crime scene tape as it flapped around the broken panes.
I backtracked down the sidewalk and went to the front door. It was padlocked, with a small warning label that read “Milwaukee Police Department.” I tugged on the door handle, but it was rock solid. I glanced around the deserted street, saw no one.
From my wallet I took the slim jimmy and slipped it into the padlock. I tested the guts of the lock, pinpointed the honey hole, withdrew the jimmy, crimped it, slipped it back in and watched as the padlock sprung open. I put the jimmy back in my wallet, and put my wallet back in my coat pocket. I slipped off the padlock, and hung it, still open, from the hook.
I opened the door and stepped inside.
It was a musty, dingy smell. Part mold, part rat droppings. The interior was demolished. Everywhere lay scrap lumber, chunks of plaster and old wiring. The lone structure was a weary staircase situated at the far end of the main room. I climbed them, my feet creaking with each step. I touched the warped banister and my hand came away thick with dust and grime.
At the second floor landing, I peeked out into a room similar to the first floor in that its only features were piles of scrap building materials. A small shadow darted from one corner of the room. Either a large rat or a small cat.
Orienting myself to the layout of the building, I climbed higher until I reached the third floor.
The sun dipped below the horizon and what little light was left diminished quickly from the area. I pulled a pen light from my jacket and shined it up ahead. I oriented myself so I faced the north side of the building and then looked for the crime scene tape.
I walked forward, guided in part by the flashes of yellow I saw ahead in the small beam of my penlight, as well as by the sound of the tape fluttering in the wind.
I was no more than five feet away from the boarded up window when I heard the sound of plaster being ground behind me. Squashed by a foot.
I made the move to duck and turn, but then I felt my head bounce forward as a funny feeling buzzed its way down my spine.
I sank to my knees and saw three men encircle me. Two were in back, one was in front. The one in front was a big man. His black pants and black sweater hugged a large upper body. In the darkness of both the room, and the fog that was enveloping me, I could only make out vague shapes.
"Hey-" I said.
The man in front lifted his foot and before I could think to duck he kicked me in the head. Bright lights flashed before my eyes and I flew backward where my skull cracked against something very, very hard. Rough hands picked me up by the back of the shirt. A giant fist came out of nowhere and crashed across my jaw. Stars exploded in my head. A piece of tape went across my mouth. Another piece went across my eyes.
I was dragged across the floor then thrown down the stairs headfirst.
By the time I reached the bottom step, everything had gone black.
Twenty-Nine
A loud bang woke me from unconsciousness; another clang echoed around me and I tried to sit up, my head screaming in pain with the effort. My head felt too big for my body. Stabs of pain took turns announcing themselves. I felt like a pregnant woman trying to take deep breaths between contractions.
I couldn't move much if I tried. A sudden thought chilled me: Is this what happened to Tim? A rage burned through me and I struggled against the cords to no avail. They certainly knew how to tie someone up. They were craftsmen, exhibiting a painstaking attention to detail.
The metal against which my head was pressed was cool, and
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