In the last episode of Special Delivery, Rocky managed to get his sister out of danger while getting a hold of the missing statue on behalf of con woman and wealthy wife Jesse Weller. We find Rocky, back in his apartment, later that night:
The evening became quiet. The last vestiges of the rain clouds which had camped over the city for the previous handful of days disappeared from view, leaving a colorful sunset in its wake, and as I watched it from the comfort of my apartment, I couldn't help but feel I should be proud at what I had accomplished. My sister was safe and spending the night at a friend's house. Whatever I happened to think of them, the rightful owners of the statue had possession of it once more, and what was more, the Communists who wanted to get their hands on it were out of luck. For my troubles I had a statue of my own, a depiction of Venus courtesy Jesse Weller, and despite the fact that I had no idea if it was valuable or not, it certainly gave the old place a touch of class. I should have been proud of myself.
Should have been.
A man in my business knows when something is over and when it isn't. As much as I wanted to believe the case was solved and we could all go back to our normal lives, I knew it was a lie that wasn't worth its weight in salt. As I looked out the window, my attention wasn't on the deepening orange and pink of the sun setting in the West, but at the street below. Sooner or later, Jesse Weller was going to be back. Maybe it was just to throw her body around and tease me, and maybe it was going to be something far worse, but I could see it in my head, could see her getting out of an expensive car, climbing the steps to my apartment. This time I would be ready.
Night fell and the street below was coated with dim light from streetlamps above. I made myself a sandwich and sat on the window sill. One of my neighbors, a family man named Collins in his early 40's with glasses and a cleft chin, parked his Pontiac across the street and sat there for just a moment before he got out. Another car pulled in behind, a burgundy-colored Ford belonging to the landlord of the building across the way, an owlish man by the name of Del Hackney. Collins got out of the car and said something to Hackney and Hackney fired back and they both laughed and went their separate ways.
I finished my sandwich and put my plate back in the kitchen. When I came back, a blue Packard was parked along the street, close to the entrance. It belonged to my neighbor across the hall, Mrs. Otis. Over the next hour, I welcomed home Francine Lomax from 3C, a man named Underwood who lived across the street, and Tom Porter and his son Gordon, who lived on the first floor. Harry Muncie and his wife Doris from 5A went out and their parking spot was taken by Ed Galbreath, the night watchman. Nothing out of the ordinary. I began to wonder if I was being too careful. Why would they bother with me right away? I thought. I can't sit around waiting like this forever.
I pulled out the first book I could find on the shelf and sat on the window sill. I opened the book and started reading, then glanced out the window, then back to the book, then back at the window. After twenty minutes of this I realized I saw nothing out the window and I had no idea what book I was reading. I checked the cover. The Pink Sundown by William Hargetter. I didn't remember buying it.
Eleven o'clock. My jaw was clenched and ached from the pressure. The book was good but I read only about half the words. And then I had a funny thought: She's not coming back. Jesse's through with you and you'll never see her again. I looked at that statue she gave me and wondered why that thought would float into my head. Why should I care? All she ever did was try to seduce me and trick me into taking part in her little schemes.
Vanity, you big dope, I thought. You just want her to act fresh when she doesn't want something from you.
And I was right. It made me laugh.
A few more pages of Hargetter's novel and I couldn't keep my eyes open. I snapped the light off and lay on the bed. I didn't even bother getting into pajamas, just laid there until the mist formed in front of my eyes and sleep overtook me. I stayed that way for what seemed like minutes but was in reality hours, but it was still dark when I opened my eyes again. A noise. Quiet and unassuming, it barely existed, and if I were a man who didn't live alone I wouldn't have thought twice about it. Someone was in the room, and the noise I heard was the door gently shutting.
She's back, I thought.
I reached for the lamp and turned it back on. Someone was there all right, but it wasn't the seductress Jesse Weller, it was a man short and stout enough to be mistaken for a little teapot. He wore a straw panama and had a bristly mustache wedged underneath his nose. I might have laughed at him if he wasn't carrying a gun in his hand.
I remained calm. “Can I help you, stranger?”
He sniffed at me, sending parts of his mustache in limbo. The barrel of the gun was up against the side of my nose. “You will come with me,” said my new friend.
Who is this man and where is he taking Rocky at gunpoint? Find out in the next episode of The Adventures of Rocky Stone!
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