Tandem Demise

by Duffy Brown

Sutter gave me a half smile. “Yeah, you are that.” He slid his arm around my waist, pulled me close, and kissed me like there was no tomorrow. “Bye, Chicago,” he whispered. “Remember that I love you.”

  Then Nate Sutter headed for the door to the kitchen and closed it behind him.

  “What? No! Wait!” The outside back door clicked shut and I turned to the kits. “Do something.”

  Bambino and Cleveland looked as forlorn as I felt. “What the heck? Who says I love you and leaves? What am I supposed to do now?”

  “I know what I’m going to do,” Fiona sing-songed as she burst through the front door with the last of the thunder rumbling across the sky. She shook the rain from her navy windbreaker with a red streak and collapsed her umbrella. She dropped it on the floor and tangoed my way, leaving raindrops in her wake. “I’ve decided to go with Finn and Nate on Barefoot Gal. Isn’t that the best idea ever?”

  She toed the suitcase she’d dragged in behind her. “I’ll be the perfect cover for Nate. Finn and I will be together looking like we’re on a romantic getaway and when the ferry leaves Sault Ste. Marie and Nate’s safely away in Canada, Finn and I will stay on the ferry until it gets to Detroit and ooh-la-la.”

  “It’s a working ferry, not the Queen Mary, and this isn’t a ooh-la-la romantic rendezvous, Fiona. In case you forgot, Nate’s life is on the line.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. You’ll find the killer, you always do. My great romantic ferry plan makes Finn’s trip look spontaneous. It’s more like Finn and I couldn’t wait to be off together and it takes Nate’s escape completely out of the equation. Finn forgot his jacket and I thought I’d bring it to him when I visited next month, but I thought why not just take it to him now on the ferry. Then again, why not just stay on the ferry. Brilliant, huh? I packed champagne and a sexy nightie.”

  Fiona flashed me an impish grin. “All I need now is for you to water my plants. Are you listening to me at all, Evie?”

  “Sure.” Maybe.

  Fiona pulled a key from her purse then took a string from pocket. “I’m tying my house key to this screwdriver with the red handle that’s here on your workbench so when you screw something you’ll remember to water my ficus. Got it?”

  “What’s a ficus?”

  “Green leafy thing in the hall that will curse you forever if you don’t water it.”

  Fiona flung her purse over her shoulder as Cal rolled in the front door. “Finally,” he said shoving back the hood of his windbreaker. “I’ve been trying to call you all night to see what’s going on with Nate and the phones are down because of the storm. Why are you two sitting in the dark and what’s with the suitcase?”

  “Evie’ll fill you in. I have a boat to catch.” Fiona handed Cal the screwdriver and kissed him on the cheek. “Water my plants, okay? Miss Marple’s brain is in whodunit land and she’s not going to remember a blasted thing I said.”

  Fiona grabbed her suitcase and umbrella and pointed at the door. “Watch out, Canada, here I come. I’ll send postcards and bring back syrup.” She laughed and ran out.

  “Fiona’s going to Canada in the middle of the night?” Cal stared at the door. “I’m not going to like your answer, am I?”

  “Finn’s smuggling Sutter onto the Barefoot Gal and then into Canada and Fiona’s along for the ride and I need a Nutty Buddy fix real quick.”

  “Smuggling Nate?” Cal and the kits followed me to the kitchen. “Oh, good. What can go wrong with that plan.”

  I flipped on the lights to the last raindrops splatting against the back window. I headed for the fridge. “I can’t come up with a better plan and with all the evidence against Sutter, what else is there to do? You know he won’t last a week in jail.”

  I handed Cal a beer, gave the kits sitting on the windowsill Fancy Feast treats, and pulled a Nutty Buddy from the freezer. “My stupid black cloud keeps getting bigger and bigger.”

  “And the woman I love is headed off with another guy and I get to water her plants. It’s a great day for both of us.” Cal clinked his beer bottle to my Nutty Buddy and I snagged the screwdriver from his hand.

  “I’ll do the watering. If you go to Fiona’s,” I said around a melting mouthful that usually tasted wonderful and tonight smacked of wallpaper paste. “You’ll mope.”

  “Marines do not mope. Well, maybe a little when no one’s looking.”

  I stared at the screwdriver and the silver key dangling off the end. “Fiona’s a Wonder Woman kind of girl or maybe Catwoman or Cher if she’s feeling frisky. She hates Hello Kitty.” I took another bite of ice cream and started to feel a little sick. “Why did she use a Hello Kitty ribbon to tie her key to the screwdriver?”

  “Is this a trick question?”

  “Maybe. I mean why did she even have it, I can’t see her buying Hello Kitty ribbon and... I know this ribbon. Look right there.”

  I used the tip of my ice cream cone to point to a spot. “It’s a yellow lube stain, Teflon C130 for bikes. It’s got that icky green tint to it that looks like snot. Anyway, I keep it on my workbench ’cause I’m always greasing up the bike chains. The last time I saw this ribbon it was tied around that pistol award box that Nate got. The glass lid kept sliding off,” I said as much to myself as Cal, trying to remember exactly what happened. “I tied the lid on with the ribbon so the glass wouldn’t break and I got the ribbon off the Hello Kitty kite up there,” I pointed to the ceiling, “when I unpacked it from the delivery box and-”

  “Waitaminute. Holdon. The ribbon was tied around the pistol that shot Bladen?” Cal set the Bud on the table. “Are you sure?”

  “I kept the box on my workbench and when it was gone I figured Sutter or Molly took it but then they found the pistol wadded up in the material at the fort. So how did this ribbon get in Fiona’s pocket?”

  My heart dropped into my stomach, my Nutty Buddy dripping all over my hand and onto the floor. “It’s not Fiona’s pocket. That jacket Fiona had on isn’t hers. It’s Finn’s. It had the red paint streak across the front that I put there. He forgot the jacket at her house.”

  “Finn took the award box? Finn took the pistol?”

  I tossed the ice cream in the sink and grabbed a towel. “He was in Detroit, he was here, he was at the fort. He knows guns and he knew Bladen and John and Sutter. He spearheaded the undercover operation, all the details of the takedown in Detroit, where the cops were looking next, so he could ship out the smuggled booze to another port.”

  “But why kill John and Bladen? They were his guys. They worked for him.”

  “Except they didn’t know that.”

  Cal’s eyes widened. “He did it to frame Nate for the murders.”

  “And frame him for taking the money. Then Finn could walk off with it free and clear. He’s got the loot stashed in some offshore bank account and he started the rumor that Sutter was here on the island so John and Bladen would find him. Finn showing up was a great cover, romancing Fiona made him one of us and none of us suspected a blasted thing. How could we be so totally stupid?”

  I turned to Bambino and Cleveland. “They knew what was going on. They never trusted Finn, never sucked up to him like they do to the rest of you. No purrs, no lap-sitting.”

  “And now Finn’s going to dump Fiona and Nate in the lake. With all that money, he has enough to pay off the captain and crew to look the other way. Or he’ll say Sutter and Fiona never got on board in the first place and ran off together.”

  “The phones are down. I have to get to the ferry before it leaves port.”

  “And do what?”

  “What would a Marine do?”

  “Have enough firepower to take over a small country.”

  “Other than that.”

  “Diversion. Stall. I’ll come up with something on this end. Go!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I pushed Firefly out onto the front porch as the last trickles of rain dribbled off the shop roof and splashed onto Main Street. I grabbed the gold shamrock around my neck
and held it tight. “Okay, I can do this,” I said out loud to myself. “Get on bike, stay on bike. For a change, a big change, do not fall off bike.”

  “Darling daughter, you can’t stay on a bike in broad daylight with the sun shining.” Dressed head to toe in badass black, Mother walked up beside me pushing the really sweet road bike Angelo gave her for Christmas.

  “Where are you going?”

  “With you, of course. Cal came over and gave me the ten-cent version of what’s going on and threw in something about needing a diversion. Since I probably can’t talk you out of going after Nate, I’m here to divert.”

  “Not a good idea. You could get hurt and if that happens Angelo will hunt me down.”

  “Bloomfields do not get hurt, we do the hurting if any needs to be done. Now let’s go, we’re wasting time.” Mother pedaled off as if she’d been born on a bike. I took a deep breath, let go of the shamrock, and pushed off, waddling my way down the street behind her

  “Temperature’s dropping,” Mother called over her shoulder. “Looks like fog is replacing the rain. We have low clouds overhead and a nice mist covering the pavement.”

  “I can’t see the road.”

  “And the bad guys won’t be able to see us. Well, not all that well. Just follow me and you’ll be fine.”

  “Your lips to God’s ears,” I mumbled to myself as Mother pulled ahead. She neatly dodged a puddle the size of a small pond, and I zigged and zagged and ran straight through the puddle, splashing water everywhere and getting totally soaked.

  “Are you okay back there?”

  “Just ducky.” Considering my drenched state, the duck reference was very accurate and I was still upright. The age of miracles was not dead.

  Mother’s headlight ahead of me and Round Island lighthouse flashing every ten seconds to the right kept me oriented. I played connect the dots, riding from one hazy cone of streetlight to the next all the way to Mission Point Resort. Mother and I rounded the last bend, leaving the resort lights behind, the two of us now cocooned in total darkness between the inky black lake and high cliffs.

  “The turn-off’s here,” I called to Mother. Good news is that the lane was before Lake Shore turned into Mount Everest. The bad news was that I had no rescue plan and wet gravel slid me headfirst into a tree.

  “Evie, say something.” Mother peered down at me.

  “I want my Honda Civic.”

  The stench of diesel fuel saturated the damp air and I pointed to the ghostly-gray fluorescents illuminating the dock. “That’s Barefoot Gal at the end of the dock. We’ll go the rest of way on foot.” I pulled Sheldon from my pocket. “We’ll use one light so they don’t see us coming.”

  Keeping to the weedy bushes on the right, we slogged our way through the mud to the warehouse. “The crew’s untying the mooring lines.” Mother nodded up ahead. “The engines are powering up. They’re getting ready to shove off.”

  “Stay here. I’ve got an idea.” I crept across the gravel lane and made my way up the dock, darting between the recycling crates lining the pier. Angry lake waves larger than usual from the storm splashed over the dock and incoming fog twisted around my ankles. I headed for the rope that the deckhand had already untied and when he got busy untying another line from a piling, I grabbed the freed rope to retie it. Except I couldn’t lift it and retie at the same time because the stupid rain-soaked rope weighed a ton and I’d been eating Nutty Buddies when I should have been going to the gym. I tried again and this time hoisting the rope was much easier due to the fact that Mother was on the other side lifting with me.

  “I said to stay put.”

  “And where’s the fun in that? Besides, no one tells Bloomfield women what to do, even other Bloomfield women.” Mother flashed me a big smile and together we looped the rope over the big fat wood piling.

  “Now Barefoot Gal isn’t going anywhere.” Mother gave the rope an extra pat. “Unless she takes the whole dock with her. I think that counts as a diversion, don’t you. Let’s go find your boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend, though he did say he loved me.” I needed to tell someone.

  “And you need to remember that, dear.” Mother clam-crawled up the metal gangplank while the deckhand undid the last rope at the back of the boat. I followed, our footfalls being drowned out by the rumble of the big engines revving for takeoff. We passed a stairway to the left and hid behind a recycling crate as the deckhand clambered up the gangplank. He paused by the railing and pushed a button. The gangplank started to rise.

  “Staterooms are on the deck below,” Mother whispered as the guy headed to the back of the boat, “a little something I picked up on that Caribbean cruise with Angelo last February. Have any idea what to do when we find Nate?”

  “Hit Finn over the head with one of the champagne bottles that Fiona brought along and run like hell?”

  “That’ll work.”

  Together Mother and I peeked out from behind the crate. “You lower the gangplank so we can get off this tub,” Mother said. “I’ll find the stateroom.”

  Mother tippy-toed her way to the stairs as I edged my way over to the railing. The button marked Lower was a good bet so I pressed it. The gangplank stopped, then reversed. I made my way to the steps and stopped dead as I heard a gruff voice below say, “Hey, lady, what are you doing here?”

  “Selling Avon. Can I interest you in a new lotion or aftershave.”

  “Save it for the captain.”

  “Is he an Avon man?”

  “He’s an angry man. Get moving.”

  Great! Now the bad guys had Mother. And they had Nate and Fiona! Where were the Marines? Weren’t they supposed to be landing about now with all that firepower? What to do? I had no idea what to do! I checked out the stairs, made sure no one else was there, and started down. Should I go after Mother or stick with the original plan? With whacking Finn as my only plan I went with that.

  Doors marked Storage, Crew Quarters, and State Room 201 lined the outside walkway. I kept below the line of sight of the window in Stateroom 201 and put my ear to the door. I heard Nate’s voice and was that Fiona’s giggle? Finn had tricked her, played her like a well-tuned violin and would break her heart. And that’s if we got out of this mess alive.

  I stuck the paperclips in the lock, and fiddled with the pins. The lock flipped, the revving engines strained against the rope holding Barefoot Gal in place, and I eased open the door. Crawling inside I hunkered down behind a leather club chair next to Finn’s duffle and Fiona’s suitcase.

  It wasn’t the Ritz, not that I’d ever been to the Ritz, but the stateroom had two queen beds, a nice sofa, and two club chairs with Sutter in the one across the room.

  “It’s going to work out fine,” Finn was saying to Sutter. Finn was on the couch while Fiona was sitting on the bed thumbing through what I imagined was Young Bride magazine. Sutter spied me, nearly dropping the glass in his hand, and I gave him a little finger wave.

  “It’s a good plan.” Sutter said not looking one bit glad to see me. “With all the evidence the FBI would have me behind bars for life that wouldn’t be all that long.”

  I pointed to Finn and made a gun with my thumb and forefinger and mouthed killer. Then I put my hands around my throat as if strangling myself and stuck out my tongue and crossed my eyes like I was dying, hoping that Sutter would take my fine acting ability to mean Let’s get Finn ‘cause he’s the bad guy.

  Finn continued on about what Sutter would do in Canada and Sutter stared at me for what seemed like an eternity. He shook his head no. I bobbed my head yes and Sutter shook another no. What was wrong with that man! My mother was in the hands of bad dudes, he and Fiona were about to be fish food, and I would be dessert. Finn crossed the room and turned around and I saw the gun stuck in his waistband. Oh, that’s why Sutter was saying no.

  The engines revved harder and any minute now the crew would realize what was going on with the ropes and all hope of escape would be over. I needed that diver
sion.Jumping up and yelling surprise didn’t smack of a good idea so I went with the champagne plan. Finn was too far away for me to run up behind him and clobber him before he clobbered me or I got his gun. But there were other things I could do with champagne. Reaching inside Fiona’s suitcase I felt around and slid out a champagne bottle. I held it up for Sutter to see and got another no headshake coupled with a steely look. But, like Mother said, no one tells Bloomfield women what to do.

  I shook the bottle hard, twisted off the little wire cage at the top holding the cork in place, prided up the cork just a tiny bit and--

  “Pow!”

  Finn spun around then reached for his gun. In that split second Sutter made a grab for the gun but wasn’t fast enough. Finn pointed the gun at me and Sutter stopped dead and backed away. “I knew you were trouble,” Finn hissed.

  “And I should have known you were scum.”

  “What? Who? Eviewhyareyouhere?” Fiona jumped off the bed and faced Finn. “Why are you pointing a gun at Evie?”

  “Get over there by Nate,” Finn said to me, his blue eyes now cold and calculating. He turned to Fiona. ”You too, cupcake.”

  “Finn’s the killer,” I said to Fiona.

  “No. That’s impossible. He was here to save Nate.” Fiona shook her head hard.

  “Not exactly.” I took Fiona’s hand and pulled her beside me. “He set Sutter up from the beginning. He framed Sutter for the two murders and he’s the one who ran off with five million dollars. Cops like money too.”

  “But...but you like me.” Fiona stared at Finn. “You...you love me, you said so. I’m your girl. I’m your sunshine.”

  Sutter put his arm around Fiona. “I’m sorry.”

  The door burst open with Abrams framed in the doorway and Molly right behind him.

  “Perfect timing.” Finn said to Abrams in official cop voice. “Good that you’re here. I tracked Nate to the boat and caught him trying to escape. No matter how good of friends we are I couldn’t let that happen. These two,” Finn nodded at Fiona and me, “were smuggling him into Canada.”