Zzzzzttt!
“Eep.” Maria fell to the floor. The gun dropped beside her.
Ritz stood directly behind her. Her hand was raised.
“A Taser? Ritz, where the hell did you get a Taser?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Guy I know.” This shouldn’t have surprised me. Ritz knew a lot of people whom you wouldn’t want to know your address.
“Good work,” I said, reaching down for Maria’s gun. “Moving around her like that to get in position.”
“Piece of cake,” she said. “You don’t have to get right up to a vic to use a Taser. Just get within range.”
Mac came to life. He jerked forward as if to touch Maria. Then he wisely stopped himself and stared down at the body. “Is she dead?”
I asked the person most likely to know. “Ritz?”
“Don’t think so,” said Ritz, pocketing her weapon. “Not planning to stick around to find out. You got the goods?”
I held up the sack. Mac stared at me. He was surprisingly calm about all this, considering. “Are we just taking the Morton necklace?”
It was my turn to grin. I really wanted to get back at this dame. “We take the bundle. Because I’ve got a cunning plan.”
FOURTEEN
Mac offered to drive me home. I think he wanted to talk alone. So I let Ritz take my car. When he stopped in front of my place, I didn’t invite him in. We didn’t kiss, and he didn’t propose marriage to me. But we did make a plan to meet for dinner in two days’ time.
“You owe me,” said Mac. “Somewhere expensive, like La Paloma.”
Not exactly the most romantic thing in the world to say. But I was a realist. This could be the beginning of an okay relationship. He might even be a keeper. Heck, he could turn out to be loser number three.
It was just after ten, so I wasted no time. I phoned my cousin Gina on the burner phone.
“If I wanted to get a parcel to the editor of the Steeltown Star without leaving a trace, how would I go about doing it?”
“Just a sec,” said Gina. “I’ll ask Pete.”
Pete is now the sports reporter for the local paper. He’s a great guy. He even puts up with the family. Not that I’m surprised. I’m sure he’d agree that Gina is worth it.
She came back on the line. “Here’s what to do.” And then she told me.
“Thanks,” I said. “Don’t you even want to know what’s in the parcel?”
“Nope,” she said. “Safer if I don’t.”
I laughed. Gina was a pro at the family business.
“Besides,” she continued, “if you’re involved, it’s probably going to be on the front page of the paper.”
Funny she would say that. I was still smiling when I hung up.
I put on plastic gloves for this job. I helped the little sack release its contents on my kitchen counter. Four diamond necklaces, each a stunner. Every one worth more than most people lived on in a year. Gorgeous things. Gina would have been salivating.
I put them all in a puffy padded envelope. I addressed the parcel as Gina instructed. But I was never one to do things the simple way. As my mother would say, I always like to “put a fringe around the edge.”
So I included a small note.
Please return these to their rightful owners, with my compliments. Robin Hoodie
Then I went to bed.
The phone rang at six on Thursday morning. I am not usually awake by six. I am certainly not civil.
“Are you completely nuts?”
It sounded like Mac’s voice, with a side order of laughter.
“Huh,” I said into the phone (which loosely translates to “most likely”).
“Have you seen today’s headline?” Yup, definitely Mac. “Robin Hoodie is a Hero!”
I could almost hear him smiling and shaking his head.
I sat up. “Read the rest,” I said, more lucidly.
He quoted: “A fortune in stolen jewelry mailed to the editorial offices of the Steeltown Star has everyone asking the question, Who is Robin Hoodie?”
I smiled. He read more. I was in bliss mode, just listening to his voice. This job had turned out right. We had bested a con artist. A really diabolical one. Those jewels would be going back to their rightful owners. It was a glorious feeling.
But I knew it wouldn’t last. The feeling of triumph would wear off soon. I was always a little sorry when a job was completed.
Mac rang off, still chuckling. Luckily, I had dinner with him to look forward to. I’d report back to the rest of the B-Team before then. Chances were, they would already have seen the paper.
I had drunk my starter coffee when Kitty phoned at seven.
“Nice work,” she said.
I was inordinately pleased. “I thought you would like the Robin Hoodie touch.” Robin was my middle name. Not even Ritz knew that.
“You wore gloves, of course.”
“For both the job and the packaging.” The annoyance came through in my voice. “I’m not a complete newbie.”
“I trained you well,” she said. Figured she would find a way to take credit. “I have another job for the B-Team. Someone has been preying on seniors again. Meet me here at nine tonight. Oh, and bring Mac. My intel says you’re seeing him tonight.” A pause. “I like that lad.” She hung up.
I smiled into the phone.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I suppose I should thank actor George Peppard. The leader of The A-Team was my kind of guy. I grew up with that show and, from the beginning, was determined to form my own vigilante group. I became a writer instead but never forgot that original goal. And so The B-Team now has life in print.
Many thanks to my wonderful set of writer friends who are my beta readers: Cathy Astolfo, Janet Bolin, Alison Bruce, Cheryl Freedman, Joan O’Callaghan and Nancy O’Neill. You all know how much I cherish your support and encouragement.
More thanks to Ruth Linka and her team at Orca Books. They take my manuscripts and make them sing. They are my A-team.
Melodie Campbell got her start writing stand-up comedy. Her fiction has been described by editors and reviewers as “wacky” and “laugh-out-loud funny.” Winner of ten awards, including the 2014 Derringer and the 2014 Arthur Ellis for The Goddaughter’s Revenge, Melodie has over two hundred publishing credits, including forty short stories and thirteen novels. She is the former executive director of Crime Writers of Canada. She lives outside Toronto, Ontario. For more information, visit www.melodiecampbell.com.
The Case of the Angry First Wife Page 6
