The Gun Also Rises

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The Gun Also Rises Page 14

by Sherry Harris


  “Yeah, I noticed that when he jumped on the back of my Suburban.”

  “He was expelled from the group.”

  “Why?”

  “Well . . .” Trevor paused.

  I listened to him breathing in and out over the phone. “Well, what?”

  “We think he has found rarities with the help of the group and sold them on the dark web. It goes against every principle we have.”

  “Have you told anyone about this?” I asked. “Anyone official, like the police?” I felt like I needed to clarify, because all these people seemed a little off to me.

  “Interpol.”

  Gobsmacked didn’t begin to describe what I was feeling. This all seemed so ridiculous, I had a terrible urge to giggle but didn’t want Trevor to hear me. I managed a choking sound instead.

  “I know, it’s awful,” Trevor said, apparently taking the noise I’d just made as some sort of disgust. “My best advice is to avoid him at all costs.”

  “I will,” I said.

  “And really, if there’s any way I can help you, just let me know.”

  “There is one more thing.”

  “What? How can I be of service? I’ll do anything. And I want to apologize again for scaring you.”

  Trevor was really over the top. “Can you call off the other members? I’ve been chased, and they’re camped outside my house.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, but don’t hold your breath. We’re an independent bunch. Probably half of them just want to talk to the person who held the lost manuscripts in their hand. You’ve seen words few have had the privilege to see.”

  “Do your best. Please.”

  * * *

  My stomach rumbled at two. It seemed I’d eaten very little yesterday, and I’d hardly eaten anything at DiNapoli’s because of Trevor showing up. I had a craving for a fluffernutter, the state sandwich of Massachusetts, with its white bread, peanut butter, and Marshmallow Fluff. The salty goodness, the sweet Fluff, sounded like perfection. Because making one wasn’t possible, I drove to West Concord Seafood. I hadn’t been there in a while. I peeked in the big plate-glass window. There were a couple of customers, but they were in normal summer clothes, not tweed, so I felt safe walking in. It wasn’t a fancy shop, but they had a long counter of fresh seafood and, beyond that, a window to order food. I scanned the menu. Everything sounded delicious, but I stuck with my favorite, their lobster roll.

  They piled the lobster high on a hamburger-type bun instead of the more traditional split-top hotdog bun. They mixed it with a touch of mayonnaise, but not too much, and there were no other fillers like celery or lettuce. I felt exposed in the shop, so I took my order, which included a side of fries, to go and found another side street to park on. I cracked the windows open but kept the doors locked. Bull had scared me. The houses were modest here, and hopefully, no one would mind if I was on the street for a bit.

  After I ate, I decided to close my eyes for a minute to try to strategize. I’d read an article recently saying I was supposed to envision the future I wanted and then it would come to me. So I closed my eyes and pictured myself in my apartment, leafing through a magazine with the Red Sox on the TV. I had a glass of wine and there was a knock on the door. Then another, louder knock, right by my head.

  I jerked up and realized I’d fallen asleep. A glance at the clock told me it was three.

  A cop stood outside my Suburban. His face was creased with concern. I was sweating and drooling. I swiped at my mouth as I rolled down my window.

  “Is there a problem, Officer?” I didn’t know any cops in Concord. Not that knowing any in Ellington had ever helped me out that much. I kept my hands where he could see them. Something CJ had drilled into my head.

  “We got a call to do a welfare check.”

  “I’m fine. Thanks.”

  “Stay here for just a minute.”

  I watched in my side view mirror as he trotted back to his car. I knew he’d run my plates. He might even check the National Crime Index computer database to check for warrants, or to see if I’d been reported missing. I adjusted my rearview mirror so I could see how I looked. My mascara was smeared, as was my lipstick. I looked like Bette Davis in Baby Jane. No wonder he was worried.

  He came back over to me. “Please step out of the car.”

  I did as he asked without protest, even though inside I was yelling why, why, why.

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “No. Why would you even ask that? I just fell asleep.” The officer made me go through all the drunk-driving field tests. My balance wasn’t that great on any given day, but I managed to pass with flying colors, and no breathalyzer was involved. I thought about adding a twirl to the end of my walk but decided it might not be prudent. This cop seemed seriously lacking in the humor department.

  “Do you make a habit of sleeping in your car? It’s dangerous on hot days.”

  “No, and I had the windows cracked.” I heard a car rattling toward us. As if my day couldn’t get any worse, it was Bull. How the heck did he find me? Ugh, he probably had some kind of police scanner app and picked something up.

  After showing the officer my license and registration, he said I could go. He added a quick warning about vagrancy and trespassing. I just nodded, glancing back at where Bull had pulled up to the curb half a block back.

  “Is there a problem with the car back there?” the officer asked.

  He might not be humorous, but at least he was observant.

  “I think that man is following me.”

  The officer studied me for a moment. The look in his eyes changed. “You the Sarah Winston that’s been in the news the past couple of days? Used to be married to Chief Chuck Hooker in Ellington?”

  I hated the nickname Chuck but let it pass. “That would be me.” I hoped this bit of information would garner some help.

  “I hope my ex never creates as many problems as you did for Chuck.”

  Great; my reputation preceded me, and not in the way I hoped. “I hope she doesn’t either. Would it be possible for you to block the street long enough for me to get a head start on him?” I glanced back at Bull. He had a newspaper out, as if he wasn’t even watching us. I hoped he got the welfare check next.

  “Sure. Then I’ll have a little chat with him about how we do things in this neck of the woods. It doesn’t include following women around.”

  I thanked him and waited until he climbed back into his car. He moved it diagonally across the road, effectively blocking it. For the second time in one day, a police officer had blocked a road for me. I headed off at a sedate pace, trying to figure out where to go next.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I called Ryne to see if I could hang out at his uncle’s antique store for a while. I was parked at a Dunkin’s in Lexington.

  “Not a good idea today.”

  “Why not?”

  “A bunch of people came in here asking about you. If I knew you, if you shopped here, that kind of thing.”

  “What were they wearing?”

  “That’s kind of a creepy question, isn’t it?” His tone was joking.

  I shook my head, not that Ryne could see me. “Tweed? Hats?”

  “Yes. Do you have some kind of strange fan club now?”

  “Hardly. They call themselves literary treasure hunters. I’m starting to think it’s some kind of weird cult.”

  “Like Trekkies?” Ryne asked.

  I laughed. “Kind of, but maybe weirder. I’ve been running from them or reporters almost all day.”

  “Sorry I can’t help you out. Why are they chasing you?”

  “It’s not me they’re after but the Hemingway manuscripts. Some of them have the crazy idea that I still have them.”

  “Oh, geez. I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  I went into the Dunkin’s and ordered an iced coffee with extra sugar and cream. Before I’d gone in I’d taken the precaution of tucking my blond hair up under an old Red Sox cap. O
ne that I thought might have been CJ’s, but it was mine now. I also left on my pair of large sunglasses. I tried to look as little like me as possible. But I felt a little foolish as I headed to a table in a back corner.

  I looked out the window, scanning the parking lot for signs of Bull or people in tweed. My Suburban stood out like a big woolly mammoth out there. Easy to spot. The elephant in the parking lot. I might as well have a big neon arrow pointing down with an announcement that said, Here’s Sarah.

  After scooting across the hard-plastic seat, I checked the news on my phone and quickly scanned articles. The only good news was, no one knew about the rare edition of Hemingway’s book. Yet anyway.

  I reviewed my options. I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t go to Miss Belle’s. I couldn’t go to Ryne’s uncle’s antique shop. I couldn’t even go to the DiNapolis. They had family in town, so staying with them was out. Carol had kids to worry about, so I couldn’t risk bringing trouble to her house. Checking into a hotel or motel anywhere nearby seemed dicey; all the treasure hunters had to be staying somewhere. Boston and any place near the water was too expensive for my budget.

  My closest friends from the base had all moved away or had kids. I thought about calling Mike Titone but dismissed the thought quickly. Although he seemingly had a good side, I knew the bad side was there too. Favors came at a cost, and a place to stay was big.

  Bull had managed to track me down twice. How had he and the literary treasure hunters so efficiently sussed out my life? It was as if someone had told them every place I went and everyone I talked to. Who would do that? I looked at my phone again. Ugh. Social media. I was on Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, and Facebook. I was always posting pictures of places I loved around here. I checked my Instagram. Yep, there was a picture of me at West Concord Seafood from a few months ago. That meant I was going to have to avoid every place I loved. A tear rolled down my face. More followed. I grabbed a napkin, dabbed at the tears, and blew my nose. How long would it be before things reversed and my life went back to normal? I was alone and hunted.

  * * *

  I slunk back to my car and sidled in. I decided to call Awesome. Maybe small police departments had safe houses where they could stash someone. As unlikely as that seemed, it also seemed like my only hope right now.

  “Does the Ellington PD have a safe house?” I asked when Awesome answered.

  “No. Why?”

  I swallowed once, twice. I didn’t want to cry. I drew in a deep breath and let it out as silently as possible while I blinked my eyes rapidly in an attempt to chase away lurking tears. “I don’t know where to go.” It came out less shaky than I would have imagined, but not as confident as I would have liked. At least I didn’t sob. “The literary treasure hunters seem to be everywhere.”

  “Ah,” Awesome said. “There’s probably a lot of press around too. I’d suggest my place, but I’ve already chased off a couple of those twits in tweed.”

  It wasn’t very reassuring. “They found you too? How?”

  “It must have been when I left Stella’s. I’ve been lulled into a sense of peace living here.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Let me see what I can do,” Awesome said. “I’ll call you back. Just try to lay low until then.”

  I agreed, but easier said than done. I just sat in my Suburban waiting, for Bull to show up, for Awesome to call back, for someone to find out who killed Kay, and for the manuscripts to show back up proving that I wasn’t a liar. Bull didn’t show up, and Awesome finally called back an hour later. I think I’d dozed off again and was grateful Dunkin’s hadn’t called the cops on me for loitering, trespassing, or another welfare check.

  “Meet me at the place we get the food for our guests at the jail. Then you can follow me to the site.”

  “Will do,” I said before I hung up. They got the food for the jail at McDonald’s in Bedford. The site; that sounded secure. It did worry me just a bit that he didn’t want to give away the location over the phone. It meant he and/or the police department must be worried too. That didn’t seem like a good thing to me.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was following Awesome around Bedford. There was an old Nike missile site west of Bedford that Harvard owned now. Maybe there was some kind of living space there. But no, we drove right by it and turned back in toward town. In my tired, overwhelmed state, it didn’t dawn on me where we were headed until we were only a block away. I slammed on my brakes. Someone behind me laid on their horn. I pulled over to the curb and got a less than friendly one-finger wave from them. But I didn’t judge them harshly because I probably deserved it.

  Awesome pulled over ahead, rolled down his window, and motioned me to follow. I tapped the steering wheel, again at a loss for what to do. We were almost to Seth’s house. Why in the world would Awesome be taking me there? Seth was out of town. I figured there was only one way to find out, so I eased off the brake and pressed the gas. Minutes later, I parked across the street from Seth’s.

  Awesome was parked in front of me. I was out and by his door before he turned off his engine. He unfolded himself from the car. I looked up at him.

  “What the hell are we doing here?” I asked.

  “Seth’s out of town and you need a place to stay.” Awesome motioned me toward Seth’s garage. He punched in a code, and the door rose. “Park in here. There’s a spare house key in his top desk drawer.”

  I stood there staring at him.

  “Go on. Your car sticks out like a sore thumb.”

  I got back in my car and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. I could take off, but I really needed some place to stay. Seth’s house was a modest Colonial, white with a bright red door. By the time I’d parked the Suburban in the garage, Awesome had gone through the door that connected the garage to a mudroom, then a hall. I found Awesome standing in the kitchen.

  “Here’s the key.” He set it on the counter when I didn’t reach for it.

  “So, I’m just going to be a prisoner here until this all calms down?” I knew I was being overly dramatic, but I felt the push, pull, of all my emotions over the last few days gathering in my stomach. I hoped I could keep them from spewing out.

  Awesome shook his head. “I thought you and Seth were cool with each other.”

  “We’re not anything to each other. A couple of acquaintances.” Talk about downplaying a relationship. I didn’t know how much Awesome knew and wasn’t about to tell him, even though Stella might have. I thought about Seth saying he wanted to take me out to dinner. It made being here even more awkward.

  “Someone is going to drop a car off for you to use.”

  “Who?”

  “I’m not sure. But we all agreed it would be better for you to have something other than the white monster for you to drive around in. Trust me, no one thinks you’re going to sit around and wait this out.”

  A little chuckle slipped out. Awesome looked relieved, as if he thought I was a pressure cooker about to blow.

  “Thanks,” I said. “This will work for a couple of days, until I can figure out something else.”

  “Stella said she could bring you a wig from the Phantom wardrobe.”

  I could just picture me running around town in some elaborate wig with ringlets. “Thanks, but last time we tried wearing wigs, it didn’t go so well.” I smiled at the memory. We’d tried to be incognito at a restaurant and had failed miserably.

  “I’m going to head out. Call if you need something. Call Stella. She’s worried about you.”

  I nodded. “Will do.”

  * * *

  After Awesome left at four, I wandered into the living room I’d decorated for Seth. I plopped down on the couch, a garage sale find, and hugged one of the throw pillows I’d picked out. It was so quiet, I could hear the hum of the refrigerator. The word trespasser came to mind. I shouldn’t be here. I got up and roamed restlessly. The guest room was full of furniture from his last place, which some decorator had picked out. It wa
s all sleek lines and chrome. It seemed too modern for this house. I peeked in the door of his office staring at the desk that brought back memories that made me blush.

  I hustled down the stairs to run from the past. We’d set up the basement as a man cave, with its large TV, sports memorabilia, and bar. The vintage poster of Fenway, home of the Red Sox, I’d found and had framed, still hung in a prominent spot on the wall. I gave myself a little pat on the back for how great the room looked. I hoped Seth was enjoying it. I trotted back up the stairs to the main floor and hesitated at the stairs to the former attic. Whoever had owned the house before Seth had turned it into a master suite. It was the one room I’d never finished when I’d been decorating. But curiosity got the better of me and I headed up the stairs. I went slowly so my first view was of the wood floors, the legs of the bed, and then the whole room. Bed neatly made, a Robert Crais novel on the nightstand, curtains drawn against the August sun or the prying eyes of neighbors. The whole house was extraordinarily neat and clean for a bachelor living alone.

  At the top of the stairs I turned to the right, an empty space where I’d envisioned a cozy reading area. The shelves full of books and comfy, overstuffed chairs were still only in my imagination. Beyond it was the large master bath with requisite giant tub and separate multihead shower. I started to blush again, imagining what could go on up here. Maybe our chance at something had come and gone. Maybe I should say no to his offer of dinner.

  Then I fled back to the living room and fanned myself. I needed a plan. I didn’t want to stay here. Car doors slammed, and I peeked out the living room window. Oh, no.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A black SUV with dark-tinted windows sat at the curb. Mike Titone stood beside it with his driver, Joey. Was Mike here to see Seth? I craned my neck. A nondescript white four-door sedan sat in the driveway. Mike’s brother, Francesco, stood by it. This must be the car Awesome had mentioned. Did he really not know who was lending it to me, or did he think I’d refuse if I did? I let the curtain drop back into place and debated whether to go out or not. A firm knock sounded on the front door. Hiding didn’t seem like an option. Mike obviously knew I was here, and I really did need the car.

 

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