Al winked at me. At least, I thought she did. Weasel put down the bottle and belched.
She went over to the refrigerator and took out a bottle. While the door was open, she ducked down to open the freezer compartment at the bottom. From where I sat, I saw her whisk something out and hold it behind her back.
She walked over to Weasel on the couch. “Here y’go.” She held out a bottle in her left hand.
He reached for it. As his fingers wrapped around the glass, Al raised her right arm. A frozen leg of lamb came down on the top of his head with a thumping sound. Weasel slumped back on the couch. She gave him another whack, and his head lolled to one side, his mouth open.
I grabbed the gun that had dropped out of Weasel’s hand. It was heavier than I’d expected.
I saw that Al was about to swing the leg of lamb again. I grabbed her arm. “Stop!”
She glared at me.
“Do you want to kill him?”
“Yes!” she hissed. “For what they did to Fang.”
“Leave him for the police.”
She stared at me for a few seconds, then her body relaxed. I let go of her arm and nudged Weasel’s motionless form with the toe of my boot. “He may be dead already.”
“Brain-dead? Yeah.” She flung the leg of lamb back into the freezer. “It’d take more than a bop on the head to top a tough nut like Weasel. Keep that gun on him.”
“You take the gun,” I said. “I’ve got to call my friend who’s minding Tommy.”
She held out her hand. “Boy’s not at the house?”
“No, thank goodness.” I gave her the gun.
I went to the phone on the kitchen wall and dialed the rectory. The line was busy, so I left a message telling Celia that Leather Vest had gone to Black Bear Lake for Tommy.
“Do you have another vehicle in the barn?” I asked Al.
She shook her head. “Jen took the pickup and Ruby’s got the van.” She bit her lower lip. “I gotta check the sheds.”
“Weasel said there was nothing in them.”
“Weasel’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Probably missed somethin’.” She thrust the gun into my hand. “Watch him real close.” She hurried out the back door.
With one eye on Weasel, I tried Foster’s cell phone number. When he didn’t answer, I left a message.
I stared at the telephone receiver in my hand. I considered asking Tracy to drive up after work and take Tommy back to the city. But where would he stay? Leather Vest could easily find our address. I thought of Tommy’s grandmother but quickly dismissed that idea. Norah Seaton had a heart condition. I didn’t want to involve her.
Weasel was still out cold. I hit redial, but the rectory line remained busy. I slammed the receiver into its cradle in frustration. Who else could I try?
I flopped back into the chair, the gun trained on Weasel. “The cavalry had better arrive soon,” I muttered.
A few minutes later, Al burst through the back door holding a red plastic gasoline container.
“Trees back there should be okay,” she said. “Still lots of snow in the woods.”
I looked out the window and saw smoke rising from the back of the property. “You’ve set fire to the sheds.”
“I didn’t do it.” She pointed at Weasel. “He did it before his buddy lit out. We didn’t know what he was up to, did we?”
She opened a closet door, grabbed a rag and carefully wiped the gasoline container. “Don’t want to leave no fingerprints.” Holding the container with the rag, she placed it beside the door. She wiped her hands and tossed the rag into the closet.
She stared down sadly at Fang. “Ruby will take it hard. Fang was her favorite.”
I watched as she unrolled a big piece of plastic and hoisted the dog onto it. “I know you don’t want the police out here,” I said, “but we’ve got no choice. As soon as Weasel comes to…”
She held up a hand. A vehicle was coming up the lane. She dashed into the front room.
“The cops,” she called out.
Car doors slammed outside.
Al came into the kitchen with the rifle. “Bouchard and the cop from Orillia.” She opened the closet door and stashed the rifle inside with the mops and brooms.
I stayed at the table with the gun pointed at Weasel. He had fallen on his side and was snoring. Through the kitchen window, I saw Bouchard and Foster sniff the air and look in the direction of the smoke. Bouchard unclipped his walkie-talkie, scowled and put it back on his belt. He pointed Foster to the kitchen door and sprinted toward the back of the property.
Foster didn’t bother to knock. He opened the door and came right in. His glance took in Weasel slumped on the sofa, the gun in my hand and the gasoline container. He bent over Weasel and felt his pulse.
“We need to get the volunteer fire brigade and an ambulance out here.” He looked from Al to me. “You’ve had a lot of excitement in the last little while. We were here ninety minutes ago and no one was home.”
I pointed at Weasel who seemed to be waking up. “His buddy went for my son. They want to take Tommy and…”
“They killed my dog.” Al pointed to the mound of plastic on the floor. “Shot him dead.”
“Quiet,” Foster said. “I’ll hear from both of you in a minute.”
Bouchard burst in. “I’ll call the boys, but I don’t think they’ll get here in time. And it’s only a couple of sheds.”
Foster scowled at him. “Call the firefighters and an ambulance. Phone’s on the wall.” He took a wallet from Weasel’s jacket pocket and flipped through it. “Driver’s license under the name of Reginald Skidmore. See if we’ve got anything on him.”
Bouchard went over to the phone. Foster pulled up a chair beside me. “Give me the gun.”
I handed it to him, and Al joined us at the table.
He put the gun into a paper bag, and dropped it in his briefcase. “What happened?”
“A leg of lamb?” he said when we had finished, leaving out the part about Jamie taking off in the pickup. “Like that Alfred Hitchcock television show?”
“That show was based on a story by Roald Dahl. ‘Lamb to the Slaughter,’ ” I said. “And nobody got killed in our version.”
“You can only hope.” He glanced at Weasel. “You knocked this man senseless. Self-defense, you say. But did you call us? No, you just sat here with a gun pointed at him. You don’t know what injuries he may have.”
“I called you,” I said. “I just left a message on your cell.”
“Did you call the Braeloch detachment?” He turned to Al. “Or maybe you didn’t want the police out here.”
I wanted to scream. Tommy was in danger, and he was going on about whether we’d called the police.
“Your story doesn’t include the fire,” he continued. “Was that before or after the leg-of-lamb business?”
“Before,” Al said. “Weasel went out for a stroll when the other guy was here. Came back with that gas container. How were we supposed to know he’s a firebug?”
Foster looked at me. “Was that what happened?”
I looked at Al, then at Foster and gulped. “Yes.”
“Hmmph,” he said. “As soon as the ambulance arrives, the two of you will come into Braeloch to give your statements.”
I glared at him. I may even have bared my teeth a little. “I just told you that a biker is out there looking for my son. I’ve got to find a safe place for him to stay.”
“Do you have a vehicle here?” he asked Al.
She glanced quickly at Bouchard and shook her head. “Ruby took it into Huntsville to do some shoppin’.”
Foster turned back to me. “We’ll drive you to the detachment. Pick up the phone and arrange something for the kiddie.”
The ambulance arrived fifteen minutes later. Weasel flailed his arms as the paramedics hauled him onto a stretcher. “Hey!” he shouted. “Whatsis all about?”
The paramedics strapped him down. His eyes were still closed, but he continued to
squirm and mutter as they wheeled him out of the house.
“Sergeant Bouchard will drive the two of you to your car, Ms. Tierney,” Foster said at the kitchen door. “Then you’ll follow him into Braeloch for your statements.” The screen door slammed shut behind him.
Al locked up the house, and we got into the back of the cruiser.
“You asked if the bikers killed Lyle,” Al said before Bouchard got in. “If they did, it had nothing to do with us. Maybe they had some other reason.”
Bouchard opened his door, and she clammed up. We rode in silence until he pulled into the parking lot at Becky’s Bistro. Then static erupted from his walkie-talkie. He cut the motor and unclipped the instrument.
“Bouchard here…How bad?...Where?...I’m on my way.”
He turned to us. “Accident on 36. You two drive over to the detachment. They’re expecting you.”
He went back to his walkie-talkie, and we got out of the cruiser.
“I got to call Ruby,” Al said. “That biker will go back to our place when he don’t find your boy at the lake.” She turned toward the bistro door.
I grabbed her sleeve. “Let’s get out of here before Bouchard changes his mind and hauls us off to the station.”
We got into the Hyundai and I put the key in the ignition. “We’ll stop by the church,” I said. “You can call Ruby, and I’ll tell my friend that the bikers are looking for Tommy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The church doors were locked so we went over to the rectory. I rapped the knocker and Bruce came to the door. He and Al exchanged nods.
“Is Sister Celia here?” I asked.
He held the door open for us and pointed to the office where Celia was seated behind the desk. She had the telephone receiver tucked into her neck and was scribbling in a notepad. She looked up and waved the pen at us.
“Just a moment, please,” she said into the phone.
She smiled at us. “Got your phone message. Farah and Tommy are in the kitchen. Be with you in a jiffy.”
We followed Bruce to the kitchen where Tommy was on the sofa watching a fantasy adventure on television. Farah sat at the kitchen table with a newspaper spread open in front of her. Al pulled out a chair beside her. I went over to Tommy.
He looked up at me. “Are we going home now?”
“Not yet.” I bent down to give him a hug.
“Why not?” he asked.
“There is nothing to do here,” Farah chimed in.
Celia came into the kitchen with the pen stuck behind her ear, and I introduced Al. “She needs to use your phone,” I added.
Celia pointed to the telephone on the kitchen wall. While Al made her call, I related the events of the past few hours.
“Leg of lamb?” Farah asked at one point.
“Go on with the story,” Celia said.
“That’s about it,” I said. “Foster arrived and the medics took Weasel to the hospital.”
Al joined us at the table. “Ruby’s still in Huntsville. She’ll stay there tonight with a friend.”
“We can’t go back to Black Bear Lake tonight,” I said to Celia and Farah.
Tommy ran over to me. I folded him into my arms and he started to cry. “I don’t want the bad man to get me.”
“Shh.” I pulled him closer. “He won’t get you. I promise.”
I sat him down on a chair and gripped his shoulders as I bent down to face him. “I’m counting on you to be a brave boy, Tommy. You’ll stay here with Sister Celia and Farah while I help a friend of Tracy’s.”
“Hey, what about me?” Bruce said.
“Bruce will look out for you too,” I said. “Okay?”
Tommy sniffed, then nodded.
Al rose from the chair. “I need to find Jen before the cops do. She and Ivy should be at your branch by now.”
I went to the phone and called the branch. And got Ivy’s recorded message again.
“We’ll go over there,” I said.
Al nodded and headed for the front door.
Celia clicked the lock on the kitchen door and pulled down the window shade. She placed her hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “We’ll hold the fort here, won’t we, kiddo?”
Tommy looked up at her and then at me. “Sure.”
“Be careful,” Bruce said. “That guy’s a nasty piece of work.”
I nodded and hurried to catch up with Al.
The Closed sign was still on the door. I drove around the corner and saw that the parking lot at the back of the building was empty.
“Let’s see if she left the truck in the municipal lot,” I said.
Bingo! The blue Ford pickup was parked behind Stedman’s in the public lot.
“Jen and Ivy gotta be at the branch,” Al said. “It’s just past four and Ivy don’t finish till five.”
I wondered why the Closed sign was on the door.
Al opened the Hyundai’s passenger door. “I’ll park the truck in your back lot.”
“I’ll go in by the front door and take Jamie out the back.”
I left the Hyundai in the municipal lot and walked over to the branch. As I approached the front door, I saw a sliver of light though the closed blinds of Nuala’s front office windows.
I tried the door and the handle turned. The lights were off in the reception area and hallways. Through the gloom, I could see that Nuala’s office door was closed.
“Hello!” I called out.
I turned to shut the front door and felt something hard poke into the small of my back.
Nuala stood behind me, a gun in her hand.
She waved me into the reception area. Then she clicked the door lock into place.
“I went to a lot of trouble to give you the day off, Pat. Why couldn’t you stay at home? Now I have two people to get rid of.”
Fear sliced through me.
She pointed the gun at me. “Into my office. Move it.”
The Tiffany lamp on her desk sent out a halo of soft light, but the far reaches of the room were in shadows. A woman with spiky black hair was seated in front of the desk, her back to us. She was bound to the chair with duct tape.
“Jamie!” I said.
She twisted her head around. Her green eyes opened wide with surprise when she saw me. Her mouth was gagged with a rag. Fear replaced the recognition in her eyes as she focused on the gun in Nuala’s hand.
“You two need no introduction,” Nuala said.
We were alone in the building and the cleaners weren’t scheduled that evening. No one would come to the branch until morning. Except Al. She would bang on the back door. When no one answered, she would go around to the front door. She would find a way in…No, get the police, Al!
Nuala waved the gun in the direction of my office. “Pat, you have something of mine that I want back. Let’s go.”
I shuffled toward my office. I had to buy time for Al.
“Get the lead out of your feet,” Nuala said behind me.
Thoughts tumbled through my mind like pieces of a kaleidoscope and a new pattern emerged. At dinner on Sunday, Nuala had told us she’d stayed at the Legion until the end of the evening. But she hadn’t heard Soupy’s band play “Mustang Sally.” She’d left before the party ended, probably right after us. And she tried to run us off the road.
A lot of things began to add up.
I turned to her. “I told you yesterday that we knew what Lyle was looking into before he died. That got your attention. You came over to the house last night and drained my car battery.”
“Leaving the headlights on will do it,” she said. “You should remember to lock your car. Keep moving.”
“Now what?” I said when I was behind my desk.
“Open it.”
“I don’t have my keys.”
She grinned and fished a key ring out of her jacket pocket. I recognized the office keys that Ivy kept in her desk.
She tossed them to me. “Quit stalling.”
I opened the drawer and fished out the memory sti
ck. I held it up in front of me. “What’s so special about this memory stick?”
“It’s no ordinary memory stick.”
I told myself to buy some time for Al.
I held the device in front of my face. “The keyboard connects to this, which connects to…” I snapped the fingers of my left hand. “Of course. This will memorize a password.”
“That and more,” Nuala gloated. “It’s a keystroke logger. It records whatever the user types into the computer—passwords, account numbers, reports, you name it.”
“You’re not afraid that someone will spot your logger?”
She smiled. “Who looks at the back of a computer?”
“Wouldn’t a techie clue in?”
“I remove the logger, there’s no trace.”
Her scheme was coming together for me. “You plug this into your computer to get the information you need. Then you tap into accounts and move money out.”
She gave me a big smile.
“Police examined the office and home computers of all the Optimum employees in Lindsay. Wouldn’t they have come across that activity on one of your computers?”
“They would have if I’d used my own computer. But I didn’t.” She smirked. “I used Ken’s. And when I downloaded the logger data, I did it at an Internet café, not on one of my computers.”
“Clever.” I had to keep her talking. “How did you manage the overseas accounts?”
“You’re a smart woman, Pat. You should be able to figure that out.”
“You have access to Soupy’s information in the personnel files.” I paused. “Now you can use it to open an account in his name and move your stolen funds into it. Just like you did with Ken Burrows.”
“Go on.”
She was enjoying this.
“Then you’ll create other accounts and move the money around online until it gets to wherever you keep your nest egg. Have I got it right?”
She raised her free hand to give me a mock salute. “Bravo! Now give me the logger.”
I closed my fist over the device and shook my head.
Bang!
I jumped when Nuala fired a shot at the floor inches from my feet.
Black Water Page 20
