Manhattan Is My Beat (Rune 1)

"Wait there," the voice commanded.

This was weird. He'd always seemed so polite. He didn't sound that way now. Must be the intercom.

Several minutes passed. She paced around the entryway.

She was looking outside when, finally, she heard footsteps from inside, coming down the stairs.

Rune walked to the inner door, peered through the greasy glass. She couldn't see through it. A figure walked forward slowly. Was it Mr. Kelly? She couldn't tell.

The door opened.

"Oh," she said in surprise, looking up.

The woman in her fifties, with olive-tinted skin, stepped out, glanced at her. She made sure the door closed before she left the entryway so Rune couldn't get inside--standard New York City security procedures when unknown visitors were in the lobby. The woman carried a bag of empty soda and beer cans. She took them out to the curb and dropped them in a recycling bin.

"Mr. Kelly?" Rune called again into the intercom. "You all right?"

There was no answer.

The woman returned and looked over Rune carefully. "Help you?" She had a thick Caribbean accent.

"I'm a friend of Mr. Kelly's."

"Oh." Her face relaxed.

"I just called him. He was going to come down."

"He's on the second floor."

"I know. I'm supposed to pick up a videotape. I called five minutes ago and he said he'd be right out."

"I just walked past his door an' it was open," she said. "I live up the hall."

Rune pushed the buzzer and said, "Mr. Kelly? Hello? Hello?"

There was no answer.

"I'ma go see," the woman said. "You wait here."

She disappeared inside. After a moment Rune grew impatient and buzzed again. No answer. She tried the door. Then she wondered if there was another door-- maybe in the side or in the back of the building.

She stepped outside. Walked to the sidewalk and then continued on to the alley. The pert yuppie woman was still there, stretching. The only exercise Rune got was dancing at her favorite clubs: World or Area or Limelight (dancing was aerobic and she also built upper-body strength by pushing away drunk lawyers and account execs in the clubs' co-ed rest rooms).

No, there was nobody else. Maybe she--

Then she heard the scream.

She turned fast and looked at Mr. Kelly's building. Heard a woman's voice, in panic, calling for help. Rune believed the voice had an accent--maybe the woman she'd just met, the woman who knew Mr. Kelly. "Somebody," the voice cried, "call the police. Oh, please, help!"

Rune glanced at the woman jogger, who stared at Rune with an equally shocked expression on her face.

Then a huge squeal of tires from behind them.

At the end of the alley a green car skidded around the corner and made straight for Rune and the jogger. They both froze in panic as the car bore down on them.

What's he doing, what's he doing, what's he doing? Rune thought madly.

No, no, no ...