When it came right down to it though, all he could do was hang back and catch glimpses of the bride and groom when they exited the chapel, and of a woman he felt he recognized as the girl he‘d been with long ago. He was sure he didn’t know the man with her, though he looked vaguely familiar. Alan even followed them later, but he didn’t have the courage to approach them.
By the time he could get away from work again to visit the newly married couple, it was too late. The next door neighbor provided the information Mrs. Embree had sold her boutique business and they had moved to the United States. Desperate now to learn where his son had settled, he decided to place a long distance call to the San Diego Police. That’s where it would get tricky.
When he reached someone, probably a desk sergeant, he identified himself as Thomas Embree. He needed to get in touch with his mother, and he lost their phone number. The cop was very helpful, having remembered that Ivan Dunn had been in the news not long ago. He looked up the number, which was not unlisted, and cheerfully gave it to the man he thought was Thomas Embree. He was glad to be of service.
The man now known as Alan Harrington made the call.
Chapter Thirty-one
The way things had been going, with all the trips to market and store, the odds were Rachel would be using the Cadillac that morning. She still had much to do preparing for the party. That all changed when we received a call from the Sheriff’s substation that Thursday morning requesting my presence at their station in Pacific Beach at ten a.m. sharp. Seems they weren’t finished with their questioning regarding the demise of a mister Lane Summers. I had the feeling the detectives weren’t on the same page. For one thing, the call didn’t come from Detective Everett Paulsen. And if it was only a request why did the invite specify ten sharp? I considered just not showing up, but then my mind addressed the thought they had caught the son-of-a-bitch and just wanted me to identify him.
Anyway, I dressed casually for what I hoped would be a short visit. I was going to be fashionably late just to piss them off. I still remembered Snotgrass’s interrogation.
I considered taking my wife’s Ford, but I liked the comfort of the Caddie. As I pulled the big car out onto the circular drive I noticed the brakes were a little mushy, but I thought little of it. All I had to do was pump the brake pedal and they would tighten right up. That seemed to be the case. American cars were famous for developing leaks in the braking system. If I wasn’t running a little bit late I would have checked the brake fluid reservoir. It was one of the few things regarding maintenance I could do.
As I started down the hill toward the south I picked up speed rapidly. The big car’s momentum forced me to put pressure on the brake to slow up. The pedal went clear to the floorboard, so, not panicking, as my wife probably would have done, I pumped the damn thing. Nothing changed. I was now going about fifty miles an hour. I geared the big car down to low, grinding the transmission as I did so, but I got it into gear. With a high transmission ratio, the vehicle only slowed to about thirty-five. I had no choice then but to turn the wheel sharply. Otherwise I might hit another car, or God help me, a pedestrian. I still had about a quarter mile to go to reach the bottom of the steep hill. I yanked it to the right. This is where owning a big car probably saved my life. It didn’t roll. I did, however plow through a fence, and hit a resident’s porch before coming to an unceremonious stop. It was a good thing I braced myself. Without the benefit of seat belts, the force of the collision with the concrete porch could have put a big dent or crack in my cranium.
After stopping, I gently placed my head on the steering wheel, and let out a big sigh of relief. Thank God Rachel wasn’t driving, or in the car for that matter.
Just then a guy came out of the house in front of me, yelling “What the hell’s the matter with you? Are you drunk?”
I wasn’t in any mood to take guff, so I replied, “There’s nothing wrong with me you idiot. What’s your house doing in my way?”
Well, he didn’t like that very well. Maybe it was my tone of voice. He came to my driver’s side door, and opening it, he tried to hit me with his fist. Had I stayed put, his swing would have ended on my jaw, but I leaned back and he missed, his fist continuing on into my windshield. Pity. Hopefully the insurance would pay for that crack too.
As he was wincing in pain I pushed by him leaving the car. I put my hands up, in give-up fashion, and yelled, “Hey, my brakes failed. I had no choice but to use your porch to stop. I will not only pay for the damage, I’ll paint your damn porch.”
This seemed to appease the guy, and he began laughing, which was a good thing because he was a lot bigger than me. It might have been an even fight though, because he only had one good hand.
When the cops showed up, me and the big bruiser were shaking hands, him using his left,and sitting on his porch.
An inspection under the car showed a nice slice in the brake line, obviously man-made. Right away I knew who had done it, and I asked one of the investigating cops if he would give me a ride home. Suddenly I was worried about my wife. After his partner used his car radiophone to call a tow truck, he obliged, and we both piled into his cruiser to go up the hill, and his partner stayed to fill out his report on what could have been a fatal accident but for some quick thinking and a little luck.
After checking on Rachel, and seeing she was okay, I called the Sheriff’s office, and told them what had happened. It had been the La Jolla police who responded to the accident. The Sheriff’s deputy on duty rescheduled my interview for the next day, still not volunteering what the hell they wanted to see me about.
“What happened,” she asked, when I hung up the phone.
I hesitated to tell her, because I didn’t want to worry her any more than she already was, so I sloughed it off, saying I’d forgotten to check the brake fluid, and because of my stupidity, I crashed the car.
Of course she was furious. “What if I’d been driving?”
Like an idiot, and because I was still shook up, I responded, “then a perfectly good marriage would have gone to waste.”
So she slapped me. Normally I enjoyed physical contact with her. This was the exception.
Chapter Thirty-two
I didn’t really expect to get them both with that brake trick, but I thought Rachel would be in the car, and she’s the one I need revenge on. I knew she wouldn’t be able to handle the emergency on that steep hill. Just my bad luck Dunn got to the car first. Hell, he wasn’t even hurt.
It had been easy to jimmy the side door of the garage, and the dumb cop didn’t even see me. I didn’t want to kill him, so it was a good thing. No one was going to stop me now, not since I’ve come this far, and burned my bridges as far as the law is concerned.
Killing that guy was dumb. If I’d been able to think quick enough I could have come up with an excuse for being in Dunn’s yard. I thought that hedge would give me enough protection from spying neighbors. How was I to know there was a walkway through it?
So now it’s on to plan B. The house next door is empty so I can gain entrance that way with no one to interfere this time. I’ll wear black so, in the dark, it’ll be a piece of cake to slip by the cop stationed out front.
This time I won’t fail. Maybe I can catch them both in bed, and finish the job right there. It would be good to take care of the husband first, then with the bed right there I can have my way with the bitch, then kill her. Maybe it will work out that way. If not I will just kill them both and walk out the way I came. I wish I had a silencer for my gun, but I’ll just have to put up with the noise. That might even be a good thing, if I use my knife on Dunn, then, if I want I can plug the woman. The cops will come in the front while I slip out the way I came in. Or I can just slit her throat too, and watch her bleed out. I’ll just see how it plays out.
I’ll plan on doing it Saturday. Let’s see that’s two days from now. Then it will be over. I’ll just slip into Mexico for a while, until the heat is off, maybe six months, then I’ll come back into the
States with a different name and start my new life. Yeah, I’ll look forward to that.
Chapter Thirty-three
I didn’t think the timing was very good, but Rachel was pushing on with the party planning. It looked like it was a go for Saturday night. I thought it might be better if they caught that lunatic Lambright first, but when she gets an idea or a project, it’s full speed ahead, no matter what.
At least she’d forgiven me for my tasteless humor, and my face was returning to its original color. I would have to be careful for a while, at least until our get together was over. She was even considering hiring a band, and had picked out the spot in the living room where they could set up. God help us.
Now that the crime ropes had been removed from the neighbor’s place, people would have more space to park. The way Rachel was inviting the whole county, we’d definitely need the room. So far the guest list included the Sheriff, the Mayor, the Chief of the La Jolla Police, Detective Paulsen, Harry Shields of the FBI, Angelo Rodrigues and his date, hopefully Linda Carey. Rachel really liked her, and thought they’d make a good match, even though he was much younger. Other invitees included, of course the guests of honor, Thomas and Kim Embree, and Joe and Ariel Ellison. My wife had even made arrangements for a baby sitter for them. Don’t forget the lawyer who had gotten me off on that murder rap a couple of years ago Jered Longfellow. Naturally Andrew Dark would attend, as would half the western hemisphere. Rachel was keeping an eye out for women to accompany Harry and Andrew. She wondered if Everett Paulsen was married.
We didn’t have the Cadillac back from the garage yet, so I was elected to drive Rachel’s Ford to purchase the hundred or so things we would still need. She filled her time on the phone making sure she didn’t leave anyone off the invited guest list.
We expected to be ready by Friday, which was the next day. I’d cleaned up our back yard and the patio so people could spill outside should there be a lack of space in the house, which I anticipated, even though the place was huge. I went to the furniture store and made arrangements to rent some chairs and such. No problems with the brakes this time.
Joe stopped by to see if he could help, as did Andrew Dark, who was staying over until his flight out on Monday. He had an idea he might help with the hunt for Harold Lambright, though he didn’t know how. The old guy was lonely and maybe feeling a little useless. I thought about asking him to make a few trips to the store, but Rachel nixed that.
Except for the brake thing, the killer seemed to be keeping a low profile. Since the traffic stop a week or so ago, then the aborted murder try yesterday, there was nothing new from the psycho. But I was sure we hadn’t seen the last of him. I worried about Rachel, and I was glad she was staying at home. I didn’t think the idiot would storm the front door. The way things worked out I was a little too optimistic.
By Friday night we were indeed ready. Rachel did hire a three piece band. She was told they all played instruments and occasionally sang. They did both pop and country music. When I heard about it, I had a thought that I should maybe check our bank balance. Rich one day, party, then poor the next.
The weather forecast called for rain in the evening on Friday, but with clearing early the day of the party. I figured that gave us a fifty percent chance of staying dry, and being able to use the back yard. Don’t get me wrong, those weather guys do a hell of a job. It’s just that there’s more atmosphere out there than there is of them, so they’re outnumbered.
Rachel called the only woman in the area she really knew, Linda Carey, hoping she might know a couple of women who she might pair up with Harry and Andrew. Linda promised she would try, but she wasn’t optimistic, especially on such short notice.
Chapter Thirty-four
Alan Harrington tried to disguise his voice when a woman answered the phone, thinking it might be the woman he had known as Rachel Embree.
“Hello. I’m trying to locate Tom Embree. I wonder if you could help me?” He held his breath, anticipating Rachel’s voice.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know where he is. I’m just visiting. The lady of the house is out right now.”
Alan was disappointed. He had steeled himself to hear the voice of the woman he had made love to so long ago, on the most pivotal day of his life. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“No. I’m sorry. Perhaps if you call this evening she’ll be home, or maybe Mister Dunn will be here, and he can give you the information you need.”
He’d gotten up at seven a.m. to make the call, realizing it was seven hours later in San Diego, even though it was a day earlier. It was confusing to him, trying to figure that out. So in order to call in the evening, say six o’clock on the West Coast, he would have to place his call at eleven a.m. Japan time. Nothing to it. He was going to do it, regardless of the cost of the intercontinental call. It seemed to be his only option. If he could find Tom Embree, not only would he be able to confront the ex-soldier with the knowledge his father was the man looking him in the eyes, but it might give him an introduction to the woman who had given birth to his son.
Alan Harrington was feeling very lonely these days. He was putting his life back together, but he really needed someone to share that life with. He’d already made the decision and the reservation to fly back to the States. Perhaps he was being delusional, but he thought maybe he might reunite with the girl who had been his teenage love.
Mortality was very much on his mind lately. He had almost died many times during the span of his forty-four years. The first time was in the bank that day in 1929.The second was on the train, when it could just as easily have been he who was thrown onto the ground near the tracks. Then there was the explosion aboard ship that catapulted him into the swirling sea, and an almost certain death. He could have died later in that hospital when his will to live had been at its lowest point.
It’s funny. When he was a kid, before he walked into his father’s bank on Black Friday, he gave no thought to death and mortality. He like most kids thought he would live forever.
When he once again placed the call, he got the same woman, who had a slight Latin accent. She informed him that the lady and gentleman of the house were still out and about, but that Mrs Dunn had called to inform her they’d be late. When told that a mister Alan Harrington, a friend of Thomas’s had called, she was asked to relay the information that her son and his wife had just left for the West Coast and they would be arriving shortly, if the man should call back.
The information he received over the phone might complicate things for Alan Harrington, but at least he wouldn’t have to arrive in Tokyo much earlier than when his flight was scheduled to depart. He would just have to see Rachel and Tom in San Diego. That could turn out to be quite a momentous meeting.
They, the proverbial they, say timing is everything. Had he known what was in store for him, and the others whose lives were intertwined with his, he would have given even more thought to the mortality question.
Chapter Thirty-five
It’s crazy, but death has been on my mind a lot these last few days, even before the crash. I can’t seem to shake it. Lord knows I’ve pushed the envelope so to speak over the years. The bullet that found me in the jungle of Makin Island during World War II could have done the trick, had it been a little higher. As it was my knee still doesn’t feel right, especially when it rains. Then there was the guy who forced his way into my hotel room in Richmond with a loaded pistol. It could have gone off, and they would have been pulling pieces of me off that hideous wallpaper. Harold Lambright also took a shot that whizzed past me and caught Rachel in her shoulder. Sure he’d been shooting at her, but I was awful close. When all hell broke loose in that house on the lake outside Chicago, and bullets were flying in every direction, I should have been hit. There was also the time I rolled that rental car and ended up top down. Then for good measure I took a dive out of my car just in time to avoid a seventy-five foot fall down a cliff in the mountains, and it could have all ended on that rooftop down s
outh when a crazed killer was shooting at me. At least that time, though I thought I was in danger, I didn’t know he was shooting blanks, and neither did he. He was definitely trying to kill me.
So the way I look at it the rest of my life is gravy. If I die tomorrow, or this afternoon, I’ve had a pretty full life. I’ve been loved, twice I think, and I’ve been able to buy the material things in life that some poor souls never see, thanks to my inheritance from Elizabeth Brecker, my Mother.
I would have liked to see my half brother Phillip Atchison, but the war in the Pacific took that away from me. I would like to have had the opportunity to ask all the questions that had been floating around in my mind ever since I’d been hired to find him way back in 1950. First and foremost was the big one; was he really a killer, and why? Hell for all I knew he would try to silence me too, rather than let me bring him in to face the music. Had he survived I’m sure we would have met up somewhere. He would have been entitled to half the money too, but he’d have a hard time spending it in the lock-up.
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By Saturday noon, God help us, we were ready to party. Thomas and Kim had shown up the afternoon before. I was impressed with his new wife all over again, even with her bulging belly housing their soon to be first born. She was wearing a traditional kimono, and she looked very demur. Her wavy black hair was pulled back on one side and, on the other it was allowed to flow over her shoulder almost to her breast line.
Thomas was dressed casually, and he apologized for that, saying he would look better for the party.
Return from the Shadows-Ivan Dunn the Final Chapter Page 11
