Gangster Walk

by Melissa Bowersock

Lacey nodded, but noticed that Glenn was very quiet.

  ~~~

  THIRTEEN

  The next morning, since they had some free time, Glenn gave them several suggestions for things to do.

  “Obviously there’s plenty to do here,” he said. “Tennis, golf, swimming. Or if you want, you can explore the countryside. I can have Ian take you anywhere you want to go.”

  The idea of sitting in the limo and peering out through the dark privacy glass seemed absurd to Lacey. The gilded cage again. She had a better idea.

  “How about if we take the golf cart?”

  Glenn blinked at her. “Uh, well, yeah, you could do that. It’s street legal. I’ll have George bring it around to the front.”

  He was waiting for them by the time they were ready to go. Paloma had packed a small cooler with drinks and snacks. Glenn gave them a map. Lacey couldn’t squelch a feeling that they were escaping as they walked to the cart, leaving Glenn standing at the door.

  George handed Sam the key to the cart. The gardener’s face split into a wide smile.

  “You have good day,” he said.

  Sam shook the man’s hand. “We will, George. Thanks for all your help yesterday. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  George beamed. He watched them settle into the cart and waved as they drove off.

  Indian summer had taken hold of the countryside. The trees were ablaze with color beneath a bright blue sky, and the air was fragrant with the smells of water and fresh-mown grass. Sam drove down to the main road, picked a direction—left—and they trundled down the road beside the river.

  “This is gorgeous,” Lacey said. She leaned back in her seat and exalted in the cool air that washed over her. The Hudson was wide and slow-moving, a stark contrast to the washes of LA that were either bone dry or, on brief occasions, raging torrents. The Hudson was perennial. She liked that.

  They stopped at a graveled pullout beside the road and walked to the riverbank. Lacey found a large rock to sit on, and Sam searched for flat stones to skip across the water.

  “This is nice,” Lacey said. “Peaceful. Restorative.”

  “And inside that mansion, you’d never even know it was here.”

  Lacey pondered that. Early people, of course, built shelters to protect themselves from the elements, but they weren’t far removed from the earth and the vagaries of the weather. Even Ben, Sam’s grandfather, in his hogan was safe and dry, yet the home itself was of the earth—mud and wood—and connected him to it even as it protected him. Somehow humankind had veered further toward protection—she doubted if anyone in Cam’s mansion would even noticed a thunderstorm or blizzard—and had lost the connection. They had isolated themselves from the powers of the earth—the powers to destroy, certainly, but also the powers to heal, to renew, to restore.

  She thought about Cameron. As a millionaire, he had power, certainly. Power to move about freely, to take his ideas and see them built into reality. Power to command other people.

  Like Harcourt.

  With one big difference, of course. Cameron’s employees were free to leave at any time. She couldn’t say for sure, of course, but she’d seen no sign of jealousy or vengeance in the millionaire. She suspected he might even help people find a better place if they were unhappy in his employ. But as long as they stayed, they were his.

  Harcourt’s situation was different. He couldn’t let anyone walk away. If they did, they took with them knowledge, information, and the power to take him down. No, no one left Harcourt’s “employ” except in a coffin.

  So it was them… or him.

  Sam apparently ran out of good rocks, because he came and wrapped his arms around Lacey from behind. She leaned back into his embrace and sighed.

  “Do you know how lucky we are?” she murmured.

  “Yeah, I do. Why do you think so?”

  “Because we’re not rich. It’s very seductive. It would be hard not to get caught up in all the trappings, all the glitz and show.” She pulled his arms tighter around her. “We’ve got the best life. Comfortable enough. And real. Warts and all.” She tipped her head back so she was looking at Sam upside down. “I love you.”

  He kissed her nose. “I love you, too. Want a snack? Paloma packed some of those great cookies.”

  Lacey laughed. “Sure.”

  They drifted along with the river. In the golf cart, they ambled in and out of the trees along the store, collected brightly colored leaves, stopped in a tiny little town to buy fudge and walked quietly through an old graveyard. It was a perfect morning.

  “Where to next?” Sam asked as they climbed back in the cart.

  “Much as I hate to say it, let’s go back. I want to do some last research, see if I can find anything at all about Angela and Bobby. Do you mind?”

  He started up the cart. “Nah. There are more bunkers on the golf course that need raking.”

  ~~~

  Lacey was just printing out the last few pages of her research when she heard voices from the other end of the house. She checked her watch: almost one. No doubt Paloma had lunch for them.

  Bringing her papers with her, she cut through the dining room toward the back, and was surprised to see four places set at the large table.

  Surprised and dismayed.

  As she stood there gaping, Paloma and Cameron came through the door from the kitchen.

  “… and cucumbers,” she heard Cameron say. “Make sure they’re fresh. Oh, Lacey. Good to see you.”

  “Hi.” Her gaze switched from Cam to Paloma. “Would it be a big bother to eat on the patio? It’s so nice out there.”

  Now it was Paloma’s turn to look unsettled. She glanced at her boss.

  “Outside?” Cam said.

  “Yes. We’ve been having all our meals out there. Do you mind? The fresh air is wonderful.”

  Cameron frowned at the elaborate place settings already on the table: dinner plates and salad plates, wine glasses and water glasses, an ever-widening array of silverware.

  “Since it’s just lunch, maybe we could go informal?” Lacey asked. She kept her voice light, hoping it didn’t sound like she was pleading.

  “Uh, well sure, okay,” Cameron said. He nodded to Paloma and she immediately disappeared into the kitchen to alert her staff.

  “Great.” Lacey gave him a grin and walked his way. “How did your meetings go?”

  Together they went out to the patio and took seats. She laid her papers before her.

  “Good. I’m sorry I had to cut out, but these meetings were both on the books long before we called you in.”

  “Sure,” Lacey said. “No problem. It’s just too bad you missed the excitement yesterday.”

  “Yeah, I was sorry to miss that. I wish…”

  “When Sam’s zoned in on spirit, it’s kinda hard to put it on hold,” she said. “He has to take advantage of a connection while he’s got it.”

  “Oh,” Cameron said. “Yeah. right. Well, at least we’ve cleared up the mystery, right?”

  “Most of it,” Lacey said. She tapped her papers. “I’ve got a few loose ends here. We can talk about it over lunch, then go up to the shed to finish it.”

  Glenn joined them. “Okay, you’re all set to meet with Tyson on Friday,” he told his boss. “Three p.m.”

  “Great. We’ve got to figure a way to cut the cost of radiation shields if we’re ever going to build an orbiting hotel.”

  Lacey blinked at them. “Tyson? Not Mike Tyson?”

  Cam laughed. “No. Neil deGrasse Tyson. Just a little different.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Neil deGrasse Tyson. Of course. Only the best astrophysicist on the planet.

  Paloma and her staff started bringing out lunch just as Sam walked in from the golf course. While Jennifer and Neva set chilled cucumber salads all around, Sam grabbed a glass of iced tea and drained half of it.

  “Pretty warm doing your Zen thing out there?” Lacey asked with a smile.

  Sam nodded, then downed the rest of
the iced tea. He took the chair beside Lacey. “Warmer than I thought it would be.”

  “How warm was it in Pasadena?” Lacey asked Cameron.

  The millionaire stared at her a moment. “Uh, I don’t know. I didn’t notice.”

  Kinda hard to notice in the two minutes between the limo and the air-conditioned building, isn’t it, she thought. She cast a quick look at Sam and thought she caught one edge of his mouth quirking up.

  “So, Lacey,” Cam said, “I wonder if I could see the video of the action yesterday? Glenn told me about it, but I’d love to see it.”

  “Sure.” Lacey put down her fork and dug her phone out of her pack. She found the video, fast-forwarded to the point where George brought out the sledge hammers, and passed it to Cameron. While the rest of them ate their salads, he played the video.

  Lacey heard the thuds of the sledges, the shattering explosions of bits of concrete. Sam asking for a flashlight.

  “You might fast-forward a bit,” Glenn suggested. “They couldn’t see anything without making the hole bigger.”

  Cam did that. Then more thuds, and Sam’s quiet voice. “I think we found Harcourt.”

  “There are some still pictures I took of the bones,” Lacey said. “Let me pull those up.” She took back her phone and brought up the individual photos. “Swipe left,” she told Cameron as she handed it back.

  “My God,” he said in a low tone. He swiped to a new picture, stared closely, then went on to the next. “That’s … just amazing. He was there all the time.” He shook his head. “Man, I wish I’d been there.” He handed the phone back to Lacey and glanced at Sam, a frown on his face.

  Without apology, Sam regarded the millionaire quietly for a moment as he chewed his salad. He swallowed, chased it with a sip of tea, and said, “You gave me a job to do and I was doing it.”

  Cameron stared thoughtfully at the medium. “Yes, of course. That’s fine.” He cleared his throat and went back to his lunch.

  “So I found out more about Angela,” Lacey said brightly. She pulled her papers up beside her plate. “Just for grins, I pulled up my favorite genealogy site, and I got a hit right away. Angela died in 1981—in Pineville, Iowa.”

  “Iowa?” Sam repeated. “She hid out right there? In plain sight?”

  “Not exactly.” Lacey grinned. “She had three kids. The first was born in Playa del Sol, Argentina in 1933. His name was Henry Robert Gillette.”

  “So they did go to South America!” Glenn exclaimed. He laughed out loud. “Mystery solved.”

  Lacey nodded and pointed to her papers with her fork. “Her second child was born in 1935: Elizabeth Gillette. And her third was born in 1939: David Westerman.”

  “So what happened to Gillette?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t find a death date or place for him. I checked census records for Pineville, Iowa and found the first mention of Angela Westerman in 1960, along with her husband and the two younger children. I’m guessing she figured enough time had passed—and she had a different name—so no one would ever connect her to Harcourt’s disappearance.”

  “And no body was ever found,” Sam added.

  “Right. As far as anyone might guess, Harcourt could have died of old age in Argentina, too. There was no evidence to call it murder.”

  “But to put this stuff up on a public genealogy site?” Glenn asked. “That’s kind of risky, isn’t it?”

  Lacey shook her head. “I checked the date the family tree was created: 1999. Angela was long gone. And then you have to wonder if her children, or whoever made the tree, knew her history. Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. I doubt it was the kind of family story talked about at Thanksgiving or Christmas.”

  “The secret life of Grandma, huh?” Glenn laughed uneasily. “I wonder how many families have secrets like that?”

  Sam and Lacey traded looks.

  “Probably a lot more than you’d believe,” she said.

  ~~~

  FOURTEEN

  As soon as they’d all had their fill of lunch, Cameron expressed his desire to visit the shed. Glenn went to get the golf cart and Sam trotted upstairs to retrieve a smudge stick from their suite. Lacey jammed her papers into her pack and she and Cameron waited for the others to return.

  “This’ll end it?” he asked.

  Lacey nodded. “There’s a small possibility he won’t clear, but I think he will. He may have gone on already, once his remains were found.”

  Cameron nodded. He was quiet on the way up the hill.

  Lacey was surprised to see another golf cart—a two-seater—already parked beside the shed. George got out as they approached.

  Sam walked to the gardener and shook his hand.

  “Maybe I help again?” George asked.

  Sam laughed. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  None of them had been inside since the police had finished up. There was still a pile of supplies and rubble against the outside wall. George would have some work to do.

  Sam opened the door and stepped inside. He flipped on the light, then moved toward the back wall. Lacey followed, phone in hand, and the others crowded behind.

  “My God!” Cameron said.

  The police had done a job on the interior wall. A hole easily eight feet wide and six feet tall had been broken out. Debris littered the floor, and the thick dust was tracked with footprints. Clean-up was not part of police procedure.

  Sam moved to the hole and motioned to Cameron. “The body was back here.” He pointed to the hidden corner, then stepped aside so Cameron could see. “It was resting up against the wall.”

  Cameron stared at the empty space as if he could imagine the skeleton there. Lacey saw him swallow tightly.

  “Is he… still here?” His voice was soft with uneasiness. And fear? Here was something his millions couldn’t protect him from, Lacey thought.

  “He is, actually,” Sam said. “Just barely. We’ll give him a nudge.”

  Cameron backed quickly away from the broken wall as Sam pulled out his smudge stick. Flicking a small lighter, he held the flame to the bundle of sage and let the fire eat its way through the loose outer fibers to the more tightly packed interior. When the fire had a good hold, he blew it out and left the embers to smoke.

  Sam checked over his shoulder to make sure Lacey was filming, then raised the smudge stick high.

  “Charles Harcourt,” he intoned. “We know who you are. We know your story. We know you were betrayed by Angela and Bobby—betrayed and left here to die a slow, agonizing death. It’s obvious you didn’t suspect, didn’t see it coming. You thought you could buy loyalty, but that kind of loyalty only goes so far.”

  Sam stepped through the hole into the hidden passage, taking the smudge stick with him. He wafted the fragrant blue smoke to one side of the narrow space, then the other. He faced the end where the remains had been found.

  “Charles Harcourt,” he said quietly. “Your life has been a cautionary tale. Crime may have brought you money and power, but it didn’t bring you love; it didn’t bring you joy. Money and power are short-lived. They make caricatures of love, of loyalty. Of life. Learn from what you experienced here. Go on to the next level wiser, more compassionate. More giving of yourself. You know where ego and self-indulgence lead. Take another path next time. Move on, and take another path. More experiences await you.”

  His words faded into silence. The blue smoke drifted lazily, barely moving on the still air.

  Lacey sighed, and felt as if the little building sighed with her.

  Sam stepped back through the hole. “He’s gone,” he said. He stubbed the smudge stick out on the concrete floor. Looking past Cameron and Glenn, he smiled to the gardener. “George, you’ve got your supply shed back again.”

  George grinned at him.

  They were all quiet as Glenn pulled the golf cart up near the patio. He braked to a halt with just a very slight lurch, but it was enough to rouse the others. They climbed out slowly, as if waking from a dream.<
br />
  Cameron ran a hand over his face. “That’s … that’s all done, then?” he asked Sam.

  “It’s done,” Sam said. “The building is clear.”

  Cameron nodded. “Good. Thank you. Glenn will get you back home tomorrow. I’ll be flying out early, so I won’t see you in the morning, but we’ll have dinner tonight.” He arched an eyebrow at Lacey. “Do you want to eat on the patio?”

  Lacey grinned. “That’s okay. The dining room is fine for tonight.”

  ~~~

  FIFTEEN

  Lacey and Sam had time for long leisurely showers before they started packing up their suitcases. As she scouted about for small items scattered around the suite, her eyes trailed over the lush furnishings, the rich fabrics and the priceless art on the walls.

  “Take a good look,” Sam said. He studied her as he tossed socks in his suitcase. “After tomorrow, it’s back to the apartment. Mac ‘n’ cheese and curtains from J. C. Penney.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh and crossed to him, shaking her head. “You dolt,” she said as she slipped her arms around him. “Do you actually think I’d want this?” She tipped her face up to him.

  He shrugged. “I dunno. Would you?”

  She blew out a raspberry. “Oh, please. Don’t you see? This is Disneyland. It’s a fun place to visit, but you don’t live in Disneyland.” She gave him a shake. “I want to go home. To our home. With you.”

  He threw down his last sock and snaked an arm around her waist. “Yeah? You’d take me over Moneybags?”

  “With all the life lessons we’ve seen here? If you have to ask that, you’re not a very good psychic.”

  “Medium,” he corrected, leaning down toward her mouth.

  “Whatever.” But the word was crushed between them.

  ~~~

  When they came downstairs, the dining room table was already set with four places. Fine, Lacey thought. This was their last evening here. Maybe a little celebration was in order.