by Dan Ames
I didn’t see anything.
Suddenly, I heard the slam of a car door and tires squealing, an engine racing and then everything was quiet, except for my ragged breathing.
Was it a trick? Was there more than one shooter? I waited. My face was on the pavement and I could see shards of glass in the street. If the shooter was walking around, I would have heard him. I checked both sides of the car, as well as the front and back as best I could. Since I was under the car, I didn’t have much room.
Finally, I decided to risk it and I slid back out from under the car and staggered to my feet. Blood was pouring down my left arm and I felt dizzy.
There was no other car in the street.
I was alone.
Peering inside my car, I couldn’t see my phone. For a brief moment, I wondered if I was still in bed having a nightmare, because it seemed like no one had heard the crash or the shots.
It was surreal.
Had it actually happened?
And then I started shaking and I realized I was actually here, not at home. This had actually happened.
Someone had tried to kill me.
I’d been set up.
Carrie Barnes had called me so someone could ambush me.
Why?
It was then that I heard a siren from not too far away. I walked over to the grass and sat down. Or, more accurately, fell down.
My head was spinning so I toppled over onto my side.
God, I missed my pillows.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“You’re up way past your bedtime,” Ellen said. “Anna kick you out of bed again?”
My eyes had been closed and I’d vaguely heard some cars arrive, but I hadn’t bothered to see who it was. As long as they weren’t here to shoot me, I was fine, which was the good news.
The bad news was, my sister had arrived on the scene.
“No, a client called and said her alcoholic husband was going to hurt her, so I was racing to the rescue, like an idiot. I drove right into an ambush.”
“Who was it?” Ellen asked.
“Carrie Barnes.”
A paramedic barged in between us and Ellen walked away.
After a quick inspection, the paramedic told me I hadn’t been shot. It was a laceration, most likely from a shard of window glass that had sliced my arm open. A few stitches and I was all set.
The paramedic left and Ellen was back.
“Why’d she call you? You’d be the last person I would call,” Ellen pointed out.
“Oh, you know Grosse Pointe.”
Ellen smiled. “Yeah, I sure do. It’s all about keeping up appearances, right?”
“Any word on the shooter?” I asked.
“Nope. No one saw anything. They heard the shooting, but you know how that goes.”
I did. Because Grosse Pointe bordered Detroit, Grosse Pointers were used to lots of gunfire at night. Sometimes it sounded a lot closer than it actually was.
“How about you?” she asked. “What’d you see?”
“Not much,” I admitted. “I saw the gun, first. And then just a shadow, really. It was dark and the muzzle flash started immediately. All I can tell you is that it was probably a male, judging by the size and shape of the silhouette.”
“Marvelous.” Ellen looked at me and her face was bored disappointment. “Let’s get your statement, make sure the doctors are done with you, and then I’ll take you home.”
“That’s it?” I asked. “No one saw the car that rammed me?”
“No one called. No one heard a thing,” she said.
Ellen left and talked to the paramedics and then she came back.
“Let’s go,” she said. “I’ll take you home.”
“We have to make a stop first.”
Ellen rolled her eyes. “The pharmacy? Need some Tylenol?”
“No. We have to go see Carrie Barnes.”
On the way over, which was only a few blocks away, I filled in Ellen on the Adam Barnes situation, including the part where he threatened me if I continued to interfere with he and his family.
“Never heard of him,” she said. “At least he kept his addiction under control to avoid trouble with us. Either he’s not that bad, or he’s just more careful than most.”
“I think when he’s sober he’s very careful,” I said. But when he’s drunk, he’s probably a pretty scary guy.”
My head was pounding and I suddenly wished I had some Tylenol. My arms didn’t feel all that great, either.
“Par for the course,” she said. She looked at me. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
Just then, the Barnes household came into view. “Here it is,” I said.
Ellen pulled the squad car along the curb in front of the house. There weren’t any lights on. She had called for backup, and a second squad car pulled in behind us,
“Let’s go,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Ellen snapped at me. “You’re in no shape for this. You’re waiting here.”
“I’ve been in the house, I know the layout,” I said, desperate to accompany her.
She paused and I could tell I had a good point. “Lame, but I’ll let you tag along. Stay behind me.” She waved to the cop in the second squad car. He got out and took up a position in the driveway.
We walked up to the house and Ellen took out her flashlight, There wasn’t any signs of life inside.
She banged on the door with the butt of her flashlight.
“Hello?” she called out.
“Want me to call her?”
“Sure.”
I took out my cell phone I’d managed to find inside my car and called Carrie Barnes’ number. It went straight to voicemail.
“No dice,” I said.
She reached in and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked.
“There’s a basement to the left,” I said. “The steps lead up to the kitchen and to the right is the main part of the house.”
We stepped inside and Ellen pointed the flashlight up toward the kitchen. She took a step, but then we both heard a thump from the basement.
Ellen reached out and flicked on a light switch that revealed the stairway going down, which we took.
We came around the landing and saw Carrie Barnes, hog tied on the floor with duct tape across her mouth.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ellen cut away the restraints and let Carrie take her own duct tape from her mouth.
“What took you so long?” Carrie screamed at me.
I was about to explain the ambush and how I’d nearly died trying to get to her, but I was interrupted.
Upstairs, we all heard the sound of feet in the hallway.
“Your kids are home?” I asked.
Ellen had stepped away and was talking into her radio. At the mention of her children, Carrie burst into tears and Ellen took the opportunity to come back and punch me in the shoulder for my insensitivity.
And yes, it was that shoulder.
I almost started crying.
“Are you okay?” Ellen asked. “Do you need medical attention? Either way, I’ve got an ambulance coming to check you out.” She glanced at me. “They’ve had a busy night.”
“No, I don’t need anyone,” Carrie said, pushing past us. We followed her up the stairs where she intercepted her daughter, and they walked back toward the bedroom.
“This is bullshit,” I said. “Adam planned this. There’s no other explanation. He just happens to have a huge fight with his wife, minutes before someone just happens to crash into me and shoot up my car?”
“Why, though?” Ellen asked. “Why did he come after you? Were you still following him around?”
“No, I hadn’t set eyes on him since he confronted me in my office.”
We each took a chair at the Barnes’ kitchen table. It was a nice house, with a terra cotta floor, gleaming white cabinets and granite countertops. Despite Adam’s addiction, it looked like they were doing okay financially.
“You don’t look so
good,” Ellen pointed out.
“Neither do you,” I countered.
She laughed, just as Carrie reappeared.
“The kids are okay?” Ellen asked.
“Yes. But that asshole, that’s it,” she said. “I’m through with him. This was the last straw.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“He was drunk again, went into a rage because I didn’t have dinner ready. Which is totally ridiculous. It was almost like he wanted to fight with me and he was just looking for an excuse.”
Carrie went to the sink and got herself a glass of water. I desperately wanted one, too, but didn’t feel it was the right time to ask.
“That’s not the worst of it,” Carrie said.
She burst into tears.
Ellen looked at me out of the corner of her eye.
“What else happened, Carrie?” I prodded.
She set aside the glass of water, grabbed a wine glass and a bottle from the rack above the sink, and poured herself a huge glass of wine.
“Did he hit you?” Ellen asked.
Carrie had her back to us and I could see her small shoulders shaking as she silently cried.
“He said he was leaving me,” she finally said, her voice barely above a discernible whisper.
I winced inwardly. I knew that Carrie had held on through Adam’s drinking problem for years and now her loyalty was being repaid with her being kicked to the curb.
What a rotten deal.
“But that’s not all,” Carrie continued. “He said he’s never really loved me. That I bore him and that’s why he drinks. In fact, not only does he not love me, he loves someone else. And he’s been cheating on me for years.”
It was horrible hearing her words. And yet, I wondered if they were true. When I had tailed Adam, I’d never seen him with another woman. Was he just saying that? Coming up with an excuse to leave? Or was it true?
Ellen stood and went to Carrie, awkwardly putting her arm around her shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said.
Carrie slumped against my sister and stifled her sobs so her children couldn’t hear her down the hall.
“I can’t believe he’s leaving me for…for…”
We waited.
Finally, she spit out the name.
“Judy fucking Platkin.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Back outside, Ellen and I chatted while paramedics looked over Carrie Barnes.
“I’ve got an APB out on Adam,” she said. “And Judy Platkin. I had my guys go over to her house. She’s not home.”
“I know where they are,” I said.
“Oh, really,” Ellen said, skepticism heavy in her voice.
“Well, I know the general area. Remember the warehouse I told you about?” I said. “And the sex club? I’m almost positive that’s where they went. I just don’t know the exact location and its entrance. I think it’s hidden, or disguised somehow. Can you track Adam’s cell phone?”
Ellen’s face made an unhappy expression, which was pretty much a permanent condition.
“Sure, but that will take some time,” she said.
“Hey, we’re up,” I said. “I feel like shit. I know you ordinarily need fifteen hours of sleep every night, but why not make an exception and head down to the warehouse district with me?” I said.
Someone had handed me a bottled water and some Tylenol, so I took those and chugged the cold water. It tasted wonderful.
“And drive around in the dark with no idea of where we’re going?” she asked. She checked her watch. “I’ve got a shooter on the run, a mess on Kercheval, and this,” she said, gesturing at the scene outside the Barnes’ household.
One of the extra cop cars pulled away from the Barnes’ driveway and Ellen nodded to him as he passed us.
“You’re the Chief of Police, aren’t you?” I asked. “Can’t you chase down this lead with me? You’re the boss, right? Who’s going to complain?”
“Oh believe me, someone will complain.” I knew what she was saying. Being a female police chief made her a constant target of some of the Neanderthal elements in the department. They were always waiting for her to slip up.
“Look, it won’t take long,” I said. “Let’s go downtown, I’ll buy you a coffee on the way.”
Ellen sighed.
“This seems like a really bad idea.”
Without waiting, I opened the front door of her squad car and hopped into the passenger seat.
“I ought to put you in back,” she said, as she slid behind the wheel.
We retraced my route down Jefferson and minutes later, found ourselves outside the abandoned warehouse.
“So this is it,” she said. We were moving at a slow crawl around the perimeter of the building. Most of the streetlights in the area were long gone, most of them shooting victims. Target practice on streetlights was a favorite hobby of gun enthusiasts in Detroit. Plus, if you were a thief looking to assault and rob someone, complete darkness was your friend.
“What the hell was your buddy doing down here?” she asked.
Great question, I thought.
Ellen used the spotlight mounted above her side view mirror to illuminate all of the nooks and crannies of the warehouse.
Nothing.
“This is a real swinging place, John,” she said.
“I don’t think this is it,” I replied. “But we’re close.”
“Close only counts in horseshoes and something else.”
“I think it’s herpes. Close counts in herpes.”
Ellen let out a tired sigh.
“I’m just going to keep driving around but if this is all you’ve got,” Ellen said, “you owe me breakfast.”
We did another circle around the warehouse, then went on to the next abandoned building. It looked like it had once been a brick factory, at least according to faded paint on the exterior that had to be at least sixty years old.
“This must have been some place back in the day,” Ellen said. “All the bootleggers coming over from Canada. The Purple Gang. Good times.”
Another, smaller building painted a dark red had a metal sign with letters missing that had probably read Old Star Yeast. Most likely they had been suppliers to some of the distilleries that had cropped up when whiskey was in high demand.
We turned onto the next street and there was nothing but empty fields piled with rubble.
“I think you owe me–”
“Wait a minute,” I said. Something had been triggered in my partially addled brain. “Go back. To the yeast place.”
Ellen did a u-turn and slowly prowled past the dark red structure.
“If you’re looking for a bagel, I think you’re out of luck,” Ellen said. But she slowed to a stop near the metal sign.
“What,” she said. Not a question. A statement.
I looked up at the sign Old Star Yeast. The problem was the ‘s’ was missing. So it actually read Old Star Yea_t.
And then I realized it was missing the first letter. A ‘g.’
Gold Star Yeast.
And the sign was above the building’s main entrance. A single door next to a wide window that had a metal covering.
It popped into my mind.
One of the chat rooms in the online sex club.
Gold Back Door.
“This has to be it,” I said to Ellen. I filled her in on my theory and we both got out of the car. Ellen locked it, went to the trunk and pulled out a large pry bar.
“I need some probable cause,” she said. “I’m not sure the name of a chat room in an online sex club is enough.”
“I can say I saw Judy Platkin enter this building a couple nights ago, now that she’s a known associate of someone you’re searching for,” I offered.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Ellen said. She glanced at the door.
“Ah,” she said. “See the camera?”
Peering into the dark, I caught the tiniest reflection of a lens, above the door, pointi
ng down. But I knew a lot of those had extremely wide ranges of view.
Ellen stayed far away from the door and then came up to the edge of the doorway from the side. I followed behind her. She held the pry bar with its pointed end up in her left hand and with her right she steadied herself against the wall.
“Boost me up,” she said.
I laced my fingers together and she stepped into it, and then I lifted.
Something cracked and I assumed it was my vertebrae even though I had used proper lifting technique – with the legs not the back.
Glass tinkled onto the concrete and I knew the little camera was out of commission, thanks to the working end of Ellen’s pry bar.
The door was metal, as was the frame, but the metal flange covering the latch was thin and Ellen was able to pry it back, exposing the innards of the door mechanism. She adjusted her angle, leaned against the bar, and then motioned me to join her. Together, we heaved against the pry bar and the door broke free.
It swung outward and I instantly smelled a chemical odor and in the distance, heard a buzzing sound.
My sister went first and I followed closely behind.
Hey, she was the one with a gun.
Chapter Thirty-Six
For a sex club, it seemed to lack, shall we say, a certain ambiance. All of my favorite sex clubs were usually very plush.
A concrete landing led to a set of concrete steps with a rusted black metal handrail. Very industrial, very unfriendly feeling.
Ellen went up the stairs, which led to another landing and another set of stairs. Finally, the stairs stopped in front of an accordion-style door with a giant padlock. But the padlock was open.
The buzzing sound suddenly stopped and we could hear voices. It sounded like someone arguing.
Ellen slid her handgun from its holster and held it in front of her, pointed toward the ground.
She tilted her chin at the door and I slid the padlock from its slot. I grabbed both handles of the accordion door and held my breath.
This was going to be noisy.
With a heave, I wrenched the doors apart and the metal banged and crashed as Ellen darted through the opening. I followed her into a wide, expansive room with several stainless steel tables, a single harsh overhead light and a door to the left that suddenly banged shut.
