Ramsey Rules

by Jo Goodman

Ramsey explained what happened without mentioning any of the goings on at the Ridge. “He needs the ER but he didn’t want us to take him. You’ll probably want to open the garage so we can help him into your car. He can’t drive himself.”

  “Dammit, Ramsey,” Paul growled. “Will you let me speak for myself?”

  Jay, who’d come around to assist, actually sniggered. He held out a hand to Cheryl Shippensmith and introduced himself. “I just happened on the scene and wanted to help out.”

  She offered a grateful smile as the slim, manicured hand she extended was enveloped and warmed by Jay’s larger one. “Thank you. You’re very kind. I’ll get the door. I just need to change my clothes. Do you need me to help you get him in the car?”

  “We’ll manage,” said Jay. “We have so far.”

  Paul gave a shout that demanded everyone’s attention. “I want to go in the house and put some ice on this. I can go to the ER later.”

  Cheryl frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Paul.”

  “And yet I’m set on it.” Paul leaned heavily on Jay’s arm when it was offered. “Do we still have your mother’s walker from her surgery?”

  Cheryl nodded. “It’s in the garage. I’ll get it.”

  Ramsey called after her to also get a coat. She gave Paul her shoulder to help him keep his balance and waited for Cheryl’s return. It took nearly twenty minutes to get Paul safely in the house and settled. Cheryl’s profuse thanks was embarrassing and Ramsey was almost grateful for Paul curtly cutting her off and telling them to get the hell out.

  Ramsey heard her phone ringing again as she and Jay approached the car. She didn’t even try to get to it first. Jay stumbled a little when he tried to elbow her out of the way and she moved aside first. He glowered at her, blaming her for his misstep. She held up her hands and shrugged in the universal gesture of innocence.

  Jay was able to sweep her phone from under the front seat with little effort. He looked at the call that had just come in and then tapped the recent calls to look at the one that had come in earlier. No identification. Probably robocalls. He started to pocket the phone, but when she asked to at least look at the numbers, he held it up for her to see.

  Neither were Sullivan, at least not directly. She recognized both calls as coming from police dispatch. She’d seen them often enough over the years to know them. “Robocalls.”

  “Figures. You want to get in?”

  She didn’t, but there wasn’t an alternative. She climbed into the passenger seat and while he was walking around the SUV, she opened the glovebox and got out her key fob and the Walther. After pocketing the fob, she slipped the pistol under her jacket and bulky pullover sweater and tucked it into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back.

  “You never answered my question,” she said when he got behind the wheel and started the car.

  Jay began to back out of the driveway. “What question was that?”

  “How you found me.”

  “Oh, you mean because you removed the tracker.”

  “Yes.”

  “Clever girl. I don’t need it as much as I did when I first arrived. I’m familiar with your haunts and I know you work at Southridge. You weren’t home this morning when I stopped by so I did some general reconnaissance. I was at the store a few times before I spotted your car and then you standing outside of it with that man.”

  “Paul,” she said. “That man’s name is Paul.”

  “Very attractive wife. I confess, that surprised me. He’s something of a hulk, isn’t he?”

  Ramsey dropped her head back on the leather rest and closed her eyes. “Where are we going?”

  “Your house. I want you to call your financial advisor while I’m there. You’ll make all the arrangements in my presence.”

  “It’s Saturday, Jay.”

  “I know. I wasn’t thinking of that when you put me off yesterday. Then I realized you’d use it as a reason to put me off again today and tomorrow. Here’s what I know, Liz. When you have twenty-three million in investments, your advisor works on your schedule. He’ll make things happen for you.”

  “He won’t be in his office.”

  “Don’t pretend as though you don’t have a cell number for him.”

  Ramsey fell silent and stayed that way until she was home.

  41

  “Turn that off,” Jay said when the security alarm began to beep.

  “Give me a moment. There’s time.” She put down her grocery totes, shrugged out of her jacket, and hung it on the tree before she began to quiet the warning beeps. The first time she put in the numbers nothing happened. She tried again. The beeping continued.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded. “You know your code, don’t you?”

  “Of course, I do. You’re making me nervous. I get another try. There’s still time.”

  Ramsey applied herself again to the six-digit code and the beeping remained steady. She bit her lip, frowning deeply as she stared at the keypad. “I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s my birthday. You try.”

  “Valentine’s Day.”

  “Yes. Just use two digits for the year.”

  Jay did, stabbing each key hard as if that would make a difference. The beeping went on for another four seconds and then exploded into a siren that filled every corner of the house. He let Ramsey push him aside and try the code again. When she punched it in this time, the siren abruptly stopped. The blessed silence was interrupted by her phone ringing.

  “That’s the security company. I have to give them my safe word or they’ll send the police. You can look at the phone. It’ll come up as Allied Security.”

  Jay pulled out her phone, looked at the screen, and then handed it to her. “No funny business. Put it on speaker.”

  “Right.” Ramsey answered the call and set the speaker button. “Hello?”

  A calm, professional female voice came over the air. “This is Allied Security. I have an alarm triggered for 2419 Keenan Avenue. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I was having trouble with my keypad. The alarm is disarmed now.”

  “Very well. To whom am I speaking?”

  “Ramsey Masters.”

  “Safe word?”

  “Jabberwocky.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ramsey let the Allied employee end the call first and then put the phone in her back pocket before Jay tried to take it. Unconcerned, he let it pass.

  Chief Bailey picked up his phone on the first ring. “Bailey. I’ve been waiting. How’s it going?”

  “John Goodfellow here,” said the head of the task force at the other end of the call. “We have a bit of a situation.”

  “Yeah? Tell me.”

  “Dave Grady was sitting with the Ridge manager while the operation was in progress. No arrest yet, so no cuffs. Just sitting. Paul Shippensmith, that’s the manager—”

  “I know him,” Bailey said impatiently. “What’d he do?”

  “He offered to make coffee for Grady, threw the hot coffee at his face and chest, and then slammed one of those heavy Ridge mugs against the back of Grady’s head. Grady collapsed, out like a light. I’m with him now and he’s sitting up, refusing medical, more embarrassed than hurt is my take. He still has his weapon.”

  Bailey frowned. Grady had a head like a cinderblock, so if he went down, he was hit with considerable force. He probably had some burns from the coffee too. Bailey had little patience for macho posturing. At least the detective hadn’t lost his weapon. “And Shippensmith?”

  “Gone. Still need to find out if anyone saw him leave and where he might have gone. I’m going to send a car to his house as a first step. Got the address from the personnel files. We have a statement from one of the warehouse employees who folded like origami paper when he saw us coming. Didn’t even try to run. Says that Shippensmith arranged the delivery of Caribbean Coast to the store. Nothing accidental about the arrival. We got some other names. One of them pretty high up in the Ri
dge organization. It’ll be helpful if Shippensmith turns on him too.”

  “You have to get him first.”

  “On it.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Will do. Also, thought you might want to know since you personally recommended him for the task force, that Sullivan Day was a real good pick. All his intel was solid and he played well with others.”

  “Thought he would. Still, good to know. Thanks.” Bailey hung up and went to the door of his office. He looked out at the men working at their desks and his eyes landed on Karl. “Longabach. Get over to the Ridge, find Grady—he’s probably still in the manager’s office—and haul his ass to the ER. If he gives you any trouble, you tell him I said he had to go. Make sure he does all the damn paperwork for a work injury.”

  Karl pushed away from his desk and stood. “There hasn’t been a shooting, has there?”

  “No. Just an unexpected encounter with hot coffee and a ceramic mug. Make him tell you about it. That, and going to the ER, will be sufficient consequence for not keeping up his guard.”

  The chief returned to his desk as Karl got his coat and hustled out of the station.

  Marlena Templeton had worked for the Clifton police department as a dispatcher for fifteen years. She was a steady, reassuring presence when the 9-1-1 calls came in. Even when the babysitter she used was on the line to report that a child in her care was turning blue on account of a hotdog nub—and the child was Marlena’s own two-year-old—Marlena calmly talked the sitter through the Heimlich while she dispatched EMT’s to the house. She was known for not rattling, and while she wasn’t precisely rattled with the call from Allied Security, the hairs at the back of her neck did stand tall.

  Because she didn’t know if Ramsey Masters owned a police scanner, Marlena dispatched the call to the station via a phone line. As it was Saturday, she didn’t expect to get the chief but was relieved when she did. She was confident he would understand why she was calling instead of using the radio.

  “Got a lot going on today, Marlena,” said Bailey when he saw the caller ID. “What do you need?”

  “Allied Security called for police presence at 2419 Keenan Avenue. That’s Ramsey Master’s residence. Her security alarm went off and she didn’t give Allied the correct passcode on the call back. She said, “Jabberwocky.” Does that mean anything to you?”

  “It means I’m sending out a car. Thank you, Marlena.”

  “Where do you want to do this?” asked Ramsey. “The kitchen would be my preference. I want to put away my groceries.”

  Jay nodded. “Fine with me, but your groceries can wait.”

  “No, they really can’t. I have milk and meat and other perishables.” She picked up two bags and indicated he should get the third. Ramsey judged that Jay must have been feeling good about his chances of getting what he wanted from her because he lifted the last tote and carried it out to the kitchen. When she told him to have a seat, it was more of a directive than an invitation.

  Ramsey opened the refrigerator door and began to pick through the totes for the items that needed to go inside. Aware that Jay was watching her, she was careful not to give him much opportunity to study her from the back. The Walther felt as big as a cannon under her sweater. She did not want to risk Jay glimpsing the outline.

  Ramsey picked up the half gallon jug of milk and slid it to the back of the fridge. She closed the door and leaned a shoulder against it. “There’s something I don’t understand, Jay.”

  “Really?” His fingertips beat a soft tattoo against the tabletop. He stopped drumming. “Just one something?”

  She ignored his condescension. “Why half a mil? Why only half a mil?”

  “I explained. It’s what I need to make things right with Willow Garden and get this financial auditor pointed in another direction.”

  “Sure, but it’s unusual for you, wouldn’t you say, to only ask for what you need? Besides that, I don’t understand how you’ll make the reimbursement. It’s not as if you can deposit half a million in the Willow Garden accounts and no one will notice.”

  “That’s my problem. Let me worry about that.”

  “Does that mean you don’t have a plan?”

  “It means I’ll figure it out.”

  Ramsey pushed away from the refrigerator and finished emptying the totes. She placed bread, cereal, oats, pancake mix, syrup, olive oil, and peanut butter on the counter before she began putting it all away.

  “Cap’n Crunch?” asked Jay, lifting an eyebrow. “You used to eat yogurt and granola.”

  “Tastes change. At least mine did.”

  “Hmm. C’mon. Finish that. You need to make that call.”

  “You need me to make that call, you mean.”

  “Whatever.”

  Ramsey decided she had pushed his patience as much as she dared. It was all she could do not to keep glancing toward the front of the house in expectation of the police arriving. She had no concept of how long it would take until someone showed up, and she knew very well that the station would have its men busy with the bust at the Ridge. She was hardly a priority.

  Jay gestured to the chair beside him when Ramsey finished. “Sit here so I can see what you’re doing.”

  She pulled out her phone and sat. “I need to tell you that I don’t like this. You’re making me a party to covering up your crime.”

  “You’re giving me a loan for a real estate venture. That’s what you know. That’s all you know.”

  “Do you want to know what I think, Jay?”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “I think you’re planning to get out of Dodge. That account number you gave me? I’d be very surprised if it belonged to a bank in this country.” She wished she knew it for a fact, but neither the chief nor Sullivan had been able to give her that information yet. Again, she acknowledged that they were busy and she was not a priority, although knowing that did not appreciably relieve her anxiety. “I think you asked for an amount of money that would not alarm my advisor when I went to him to withdraw it. You don’t know Mr. Finch, but half that amount would have made him suspicious. He’ll do it, of course. He really doesn’t have any choice. When you come back for more—and I know you will—we should probably agree on a schedule and a significantly lower withdrawal.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong, Liz.”

  “So you say.”

  “Call Finch. Do it now.”

  Ramsey held up the phone. “Do you want to do it?”

  He shook his head. “Put him on speaker.”

  Ramsey tried Finch’s office first in the event he was in on a Saturday. She got voice mail and left a message to give her a call back in case she didn’t reach him on his cell. She tapped his mobile number next.

  Chief Bailey called out to the Ridge for Lieutenant Goodfellow and got straight to the point. “Can you spare Officer Day?”

  “I guess. Why? What’s up?”

  “I already sent a car around to Ramsey Masters’ place, but I figure Day’s presence at the scene could be helpful. Tell him her security alarm went off and she gave the security dispatcher a bogus passcode. Something’s not right.”

  “Ramsey Masters? The same Ramsey that works here at the Ridge?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Huh. Give me a moment to locate and tell him, then I have something to tell you.”

  Bailey judged it was just under a minute before Goodfellow’s voice was back in his ear. “What do you have for me?” he asked after the detective verified he was still on the call.

  “Her name came up when we were asking employees near the exits about Shippensmith’s vanishing act. One of the cashiers mentioned that Shippensmith went by when she was checking Ramsey out. Ramsey called to him and he didn’t stop. Didn’t think much about it. After Ramsey left, the cashier was checking out another customer and rang up something that the customer claimed wasn’t one of her items. Took a little time to straighten it out and the cashier realized the item was something th
at Ramsey left behind. Cashier called her supervisor and the supervisor took over the register while the cashier ran the item out to the lot to see if she could catch Ramsey. She didn’t, but she claims she saw Ramsey’s SUV over in the employee lot and she was helping Shippensmith into it. Could be she’s in on something.”

  Bailey didn’t believe that for a moment. “Or it could be why she gave the alarm company a fake passcode. Do you know where Shippensmith is?”

  “No one at home. He has a double car garage. No vehicles in either bay.”

  “Does Sullivan know?”

  “I told him before I sent him out.”

  “Good. I’m issuing a BOLO. Are you wrapping things up?”

  “Yes, sir. Karl lit a fire under Grady’s ass and took him to the ER. Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “Just looking out for my men…and my own ass.” He heard Goodfellow chuckling as he returned the receiver to its cradle.

  “Mr. Finch?” asked Ramsey when the advisor answered his phone. “It’s Ramsey Masters.”

  “Afternoon, Ramsey. I wasn’t sure if you’d call back today. Have you made a decision?”

  “I have.”

  “All right. I need to get to my desk. Just a minute.” His voice was momentarily muffled. “Jenny, let go of my leg. Grampa has to work. I promise I’ll play princess and frog with you afterward.”

  Ramsey smiled. Jay did not.

  “Sorry about that,” Finch said when he was settled at his desk. “You have my full attention.”

  “First, I have to know if you’re the frog or the princess,” said Ramsey.

  He laughed. “Right now, I’m the frog. It changes, depending on her mood.” He paused a beat, then asked, “Ramsey, am I on speaker?”

  “Yes, is that all right? I’m putting things away in the kitchen. Can you hear me?”

  “I can. I’m cautious about being on speaker when the call is supposed to be confidential. Of course, that’s on my end.”

  Ramsey did not respond to that. She said, “I have the routing and account numbers for you.” She found her notes app, memorized the numbers, and returned to the call. Closing her eyes, she gave Finch the routing numbers first and then the account. When she was done, she had him read it back to her. At the same time, Jay was checking his phone to make sure it was right.