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pants a little.
A cell phone rang. Don Quixote swore and answered
gruffly, taking a deep drag on the cigarette. He turned to
me and rolled his eyes, and I wondered if I was supposed
to commiserate over the frustration of being interrupted at
work. Speaking in rapid Spanish, he tossed the cigarette
absentmindedly to the floor and crushed it under the sole
of a tooled leather boot. I was never so glad to see some-
one litter in my life.
Okay, okay, he groused, and snapped the phone shut.
He looked at me speculatively. What do you know about
Robert Pascal?
Pascal? Well, he s an artist, a sculptor. He s awfully
rude. He s best known for developing a style called . . .
Don Quixote gestured impatiently and the goons shoved
me to my knees. I fell hard, wincing as bits of gravel dug
into my skin through the worn overalls. The Don stood
over me and punched me in the face. Pain shot through me,
and I saw stars and sagged to the ground. Rough hands
pulled me back to my knees.
Ape Man giggled. The Don rebuked him. The cell
phone rang again.
More Spanish flew, but I did not even try to understand.
SHOOTING GALLERY 247
My eye was throbbing, my cheek burned, and I felt dazed.
I realized I was covered in stone dust like a corpse I d seen
not so long ago. I was starting to put the pieces of the puz-
zle together, and not liking what I saw, when I was yanked
to my feet and dragged. I struggled and was kicked in the
thigh, hard.
Stop it! I cried impotently.
Ape Man giggled again.
A motor started up, and the heavy steel hook that was
used to move the stone slabs lowered. Barrel Chest slipped
the hook under the rear strap of my overalls, the hydraulic
lift engaged, and suddenly I was three feet off the ground.
Don Quixote grabbed the front of my overalls and pulled
me toward him until I was almost horizontal. We were nose
to nose, my butt sticking up in the air.
If you live through this night, do yourself a favor, the
Man of La Mancha hissed. He hung my once-posh evening
bag around my neck like a sign and smiled cruelly. Mind
your own business. And stay away from Haggerty and Pas-
cal.
He gave me a shove and I started spinning as the cable
hoisted me higher. I was dizzy and nauseated and petrified
that my overalls strap would tear, sending me plummeting
to the concrete floor. When the cable at last ground to a
halt, I was five feet from the ceiling.
Don t leave me here! I yelled at the retreating figures.
Por favor? Let me down!
Ape Man pulled out a gun and fired in my general direc-
tion. I ducked, which made me swing even more. My as-
sailants laughed as the bullet ricocheted off the metal roof
and several stone slabs before burying itself in a bag of
mortar. I heard the muffled sound of a distant door slam-
ming. Silence descended.
I reached behind my head and grabbed the cable, forc-
248 Hailey Lind
ing myself to take slow, deep breaths to control the nausea
and to relax. It was nearing midnight and I was alone in a
stone warehouse, dangling several stories above a concrete
floor, held up by the grace of denim and a couple of brass
buckles. A boring life in a crappy tract house in Pinole was
sounding pretty good right about now.
Clear the mind, Annie, that s the girl. Now, think. It was
late Tuesday night. What time would the Marble World
people arrive for work in the morning? Seven? Maybe
eight? I could hold on until then, no problem. I just wasn t
sure if my overalls felt the same level of commitment.
The spinning gradually subsided, and I wished I had not
procrastinated about losing those extra fifteen pounds. Tilt-
ing my head back cautiously, I looked up. Near the ceiling,
where the cable met the joist, was a wide steel I beam and
what looked like a ladder that was probably used to work
on the pulley mechanism. All I had to do was shimmy up
the cable, swing over to the I beam, hook one arm around
the ladder, and climb on down.
It was a good plan. Unfortunately my upper body
strength was, to be kind, laughable. Even when I had been
in peak physical condition which was to say when I was
in the eighth grade I had not been able to do a single pull-
up. Since then my shoulders hadn t gotten much bigger,
but my hips and butt sure had. A shimmy up the cable was
not in my future anytime soon.
I needed a Plan B. Think, Annie, think.
Nothing, absolutely nothing.
I felt a bubble of panic start to grow. Time to look on the
bright side.
Bright side? I was dangling from a hook!
Okay, try logic. If I survived, I was going to have one
hell of a story to tell at cocktail parties. If I fell, there was
an outside chance it would not be fatal. And if it was fatal,
SHOOTING GALLERY 249
well, we all had to go sometime. At least it would be quick.
And I would not have to pay off my swollen credit card
bill.
But still. My sister, Bonnie, would take it hard. And
Mary. And Sam. And Pete. Maybe even Frank. I sniffled a
little, thinking about my memorial service. My mother and
father looking pale and stunned. My grandfather, sup-
ported by his old friend Anton, would have aged twenty
years since he d heard the news. The chapel would be filled
with flowers and sobbing friends. Maybe Naomi Grego-
rian, even. Agnes Brock would send a gaudy floral wreath
with a sash inscribed, So Young, So Lovely, So Long.
And in the corner, a handsome, green-eyed stranger
would struggle for composure as he realized his one love,
his true love, was lost to him forever. Why oh why had he
been so cold, so cruel, so abandoning? The organ, which
had been playing a melancholy hymn, would fall silent as
the minister stepped up to the pulpit. Dearly beloved, we
are gathered . . .
No, wait. That was the wedding ceremony. Talk about
your Freudian slips.
I heard a muffled trill. Wha ? My cell phone! Geez! I
had been so focused on not plummeting to my death I had
forgotten I had it with me. Now I felt like an idiot on top
of everything else. Don t hang up, I prayed to the unknown
caller. Please don t hang up. My right hand carefully re-
leased its death grip on the cable and reached for my hand-
bag. I unzipped it, fished around for the phone, and hit the
on button.
DON T DROP IT!
Hello?
Annie? Listen, I know you think I m a jerk, but
My eyes started to tear up, and my voice shook.
Michael! Oh, thank God! I need you!
250 Hailey Lind
And I need you, too, my darling, he replied, sounding
surprised but pleased. I m so glad you ve reconsidered
Not that, you moron! I need help!
Annie, what is it? What s wrong?
I m at Marble World! In Burlingame! I m hung up,
high up, and I don t know how long my overalls will hold
out!
Take it easy, Michael said calmly. I m on my way.
You say you re at Marble World, hanging somewhere?
Yes, on a cable, suspended from a hook near the ceil-
ing.
Are you in imminent danger?
Only if I fall.
Annie, honey, that s kind of what I meant . . . Stay on
the line with me, now. What are you doing in Burlingame?
You re supposed to be eating ice cream in bed.
I know, I know. I wish I were, too. Hurry, Michael. I
hiccuped.
I am, sweetheart. I am. Are the police on their way?
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