Castle Danger--Woman on Ice

by Anthony Neil Smith

  I crossed my arms. “We don’t have the killer. Not yet. But my partner—”

  “Yes, the Marine, right?”

  “—yeah, my partner is chasing down a lead on a witness. Maybe. We don’t know.”

  “What witness? What are you talking about?”

  “Someone who saw Neudecker and Hannah that night. Someone who told Raske—”

  The look that came upon his already amused face was what we call ‘fake surprise’. Talk about which one of the two should’ve gone into theater, well, maybe they both kind of had. And maybe I wasn’t so sure he had my vote after all.

  “Daniel Raske? Really? Damn it all, Manny, now what are we supposed to do?”

  “I can call him. I can see how far along—”

  But he was already tsk-ing me. “I don’t know what you could offer this witness of yours to turn on his old pal. I assume it’s a pal, right? Not someone else who just happened to be walking their dog as it happened? Or someone watching out a window from their ice-fish house?”

  “Someone who was with them, yes.” I pulled my phone out and started dialing. “If I can just check.”

  He reached out his hand, not to grab the phone, but to give the air in front of me a ‘settle-down’ pat. “Let’s think about this for a moment. Think about what this really does to the Chief. He’ll get a lawyer, and they’ll sue as many people as possible before he even gets to his first hearing. They’ll throw every legal roadblock they can in our way. They’ll enlist every character witness that’s still willing to support him, and without some honest to god proof, like DNA, or videotape, or a fucking body even, there will still be plenty, all those people my parents are friends with. All those people paying for my campaign.”

  Could not believe my ears. Could not believe a word.

  “That deal of yours might protect you from prosecution, but from a civil suit? From endless depositions? Will you be able to pay for your attorneys? Will you ever be able to get a real job again? Will Joel? What it looks like right now, you two are bad cops who got what they deserved, harassing gays and transsexuals, abusing the system. Face it, their machine is bigger than yours. Theirs has more firepower.”

  “Please, stop.”

  “Sure, Manny, I’ll stop. But it’s going to happen. If you want, we can knock over the first domino, get your detective friend parked outside to drive you back and sign the papers, and you can watch your life go down the toilet, slowly, like the shit they’ll make you out to be. At first you won’t even notice, but then, one day, you’re not even there anymore.”

  “Shut up, okay! Shut up!”

  “But will you hear me out?”

  “About what?”

  He stood again. He spread his hands on the island like a general hovering over his war plans. His eyes went serious. “There’s an alternative.”

  I dropped my eyes to the countertop, his conviction almost making me believe that, instead of a cereal box and an empty bowl, there really was a map with cast-iron army men and cannons, tanks and M-60s. “What alternative?”

  “Let’s get you and the Marine deputized for one more day, give you some pistols, point a car towards Castle Danger, and you go kill this bastard yourselves?”

  “Excuse me?” I hoped to hell I’d misheard.

  “Think about it. Drag him in front of cameras, turn this into some O.J.-sized trial, it’ll be a soap opera. He’ll get famous. My sister? Exploited. Why not avoid all that for some real justice?”

  My mouth was dry. But I had to admit … these politicians could make anything sound right. Marquette made it seem as if we were all in it together, that his mourning and my obsession were cut from the same cloth, a funeral cowl as heavy as a broken heart.

  I know now that it wasn’t. I understand clearly. But at that moment, we’d found a common cause. If the next governor of the great state of Minnesota thought vengeance was a perfectly acceptable plan of action, who was I to disagree?

  A long moment of silence while I thought about pros and cons, ins and outs, pluses and minuses. Consequences.

  Then Marquette asked, “Doesn’t this ‘witness’ you sent the Marine after seem a little too good to be true? Do you really think Daniel Raske would put any of his empire at risk for one person? Or do you think, just maybe, he has something else in mind? Something that benefits only Raske himself. And his son.”

  Finally, I nodded. Thought about Joel driving into a trap. Thought about my mom, sister, and Robin, most likely still held hostage by cops loyal to Neudecker. I’d run out of options. Got myself dragged in deeper than I’d known. “I’m listening.”

  “I knew you would.”

  “But.” I held up a finger. “I do this for you, there are gonna be some things you’ve got to do for me and Joel.”

  A big grin. “You’re learning. I like that.”

  So I told him what I wanted …

  5

  Let’s just say Joel, even with all his military training, isn’t the most strategic of thinkers. But sometimes, that’s not a bad thing.

  He told Titus to put some distance between himself and the trailing car, with only a mile and a half until the exit. No problem. Titus floored it. Of course the other car would try to catch up, but Joel didn’t need much time.

  They hit the exit, one that led to an overpass, a stop sign, left to go across the interstate and right to head towards the lake. As Titus slowed for the sign, Joel said, “Take a right, find the first parking lot, pull in and wait.”

  And with that, Joel hopped out of the van, pounded the side with his fist. “Go, go, go!”

  He had the dark on his side, and the fact that there wasn’t much traffic that time of night. He took several steps back from the shoulder into the dead brush re-emerging after the melt. Pistol in hand, cocked and ready. He crouched down and watched. Shivered. Nothing. Nothing. Maybe the trailing car wasn’t needed anymore. Maybe the sedan was up ahead to fuck with them, and this car just made sure they made the right exit.

  One more moment of nothing.

  And there it was. Headlights blinding as they came up the ramp. Was this the same car? He thought so, but it was hard to see. Joel didn’t have time to be sure. This was combat. In combat, you and your fellow Marines came first. That was the way you trained, the way you fought, the way it had to be.

  As the car slowed just a little, not even planning to do a full stop at the sign, Joel stood and calmly walked forward, blasting the side of the car, the tires, five, six, seven times until he heard brakes squealing and saw the car sliding sideways, an angry red flash shooting from the back end. Only two people in this car, and he didn’t know either one. As the passenger door opened and someone started to get out, Joel smashed the door against the shape. Finally got a good look, a hipster beard and a wool cap, a beat-to-death canvas jacket. The doorframe was good and smashed against the guy’s chest. Joel pointed his gun over the guy’s shoulder, rested his arm on top of the car, and took aim at the driver. A familiar face. Goddamnit. Another Duluth cop, definitely out of uniform and way off his patrol route.

  “I’m not fucking around, you got it? Hands on top of the car, now. Let’s see them.”

  The driver didn’t look too worried. Eased his hands straight out, fingers wide, and laid them on the top. “You have no idea. No idea, asshole. Not. A. Clue.”

  “I have plenty of ideas. I know all the clues. And I know who you’re working for.”

  “No clue.”

  Joel kneed the door harder against the passenger, who yelped, squirmed. “You’re hurting me!”

  “I know.” Back to the driver. “What were we heading into up ahead? This whole thing’s a set up.”

  “The boss didn’t think you’d figure it out until it was too late. And, shit, like father, like son.”

  Wait. Think. Titus?

  “The son knows?”

  “And they said you weren’t the smart one.”

  Joel thought back, Titus’s reaction when they asked him. Joel could’ve sworn
he was scared shitless.

  Yeah, because he hangs around with a lot of actors. He watches a lot of horror movies. He knows how to do ‘fear’.

  “Are you going to keep us here the rest of the night like this? Because, you know, you won. You can walk away.” He looked down the ramp. “And we’ve got company.”

  Another car, slowly climbing, until the occupants realized what they were seeing. Then they backed down in a big hurry. Joel guessed the cops would be there in a few minutes. Of course they would be.

  But from the top road another vehicle was approaching. Joel wrenched his neck to see, giving the passenger enough of a break to shove the door off and fall away. The driver’s hands slipped off the car, going for a gun, had to be. Joel fired three shots blind, all misses. Math in his head — seven shots plus three shots, five left. No extra clip. Who would’ve thought he’d have to shoot so much?

  But that vehicle, the van, turned around and headed straight for the Duluth cop’s car. Titus gave it a hard tap as the driver jumped back before the door could catch him. Paula slid her door open and motioned to Joel, who was more than ready to hop inside. Titus squealed into reverse just as the other driver started shooting, close calls, puncturing the van, Paula screaming as she shut the door. Titus sped off across the overpass, down onto the highway, and back towards the Cities.

  Paula lifted her hand. Her little finger, barely there. A bloody stub. She wrapped her shirttail around it and sank to the floor of the van.

  Joel fought his way to the front, knelt between the chairs, and stuck the gun in Titus’s ear.

  “You knew!”

  “I swear! I didn’t!”

  “They ratted you out. You fucking knew. You fucking knew this whole time!”

  “I’m sorry! It’s my dad, for fuck’s sake! I didn’t want any of this to happen!”

  A grunt from the back seat. “Fucking liar! I made him turn around. He tried to make a call.” Paula, writhing in pain, had still been listening. “How could you do this to me? You said you were done with him. You said you were on my team.”

  Titus, hunched tightly, shoulder trying to shrug away the gun barrel. “There is no your team or their team. He’s my dad! I can’t let him down! We were just going to hold you at the house and call Manny, tell him to give it up. He can’t win. It would just be a huge mess, and it would end the Club. You don’t know how many people would kill to keep their names out of this. Please, just … please.”

  Joel breathed like a bull, every exhale sending a rippling wave of twitches from his head to his fingertips. He pulled his phone from his pocket. The screen was cracked, shards missing. But it still worked, so he screwed the gun a little deeper into Titus’s ear and dialed Manny with the other hand. It was time to end this shit.

  Before we get to that phone call, let’s try to look at this rationally, the part where I was considering taking Senator Marquette up on a ‘hit’. You think I’m mad, don’t you? You think it’s not in my character. You think I would never do such a thing.

  And you’re right.

  Of course, I was at a disadvantage. I wasn’t wired-up at Marquette’s house, so I couldn’t use this as evidence against him. It was more likely he was taping me, and that I’d already said too much.

  Which was fine with me, because, really, who had more to lose?

  This was Russian roulette.

  I ran my finger along the granite island-top in figure eights. Didn’t want to look him in the eye. “Let’s say I do this. Let’s say I get Neudecker for you.” I did not say ‘kill’.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want Hannah’s life.”

  Marquette didn’t know how to take it, as a cruel joke or some new age mish-mash. “I think she’s long past giving that away.”

  “I mean, I want her job. With you, what she did with you.”

  “Manny, she’s been in politics for years. As a man from a well-connected family. She learned from the best. You can’t just start doing her job.”

  “But you can teach me. Someone can teach me. I’m smart, you already know that. I can’t be a cop anymore. I can’t be a man anymore. So I want Hannah’s life. I want the cottage. If it takes some paperwork, fine. I’ll give you a dollar. Everyone will eventually give up the search and Hannah can be declared legally dead. Before that happens, though, I’ll already be part of your campaign, living in her cabin, making her salary.”

  He nodded along. If I’d surprised him, he didn’t show it. “How about her townhouse in Highland Park? You’ll be spending a lot of time in the Cities, obviously.”

  Damn. Ask for the moon and get Jupiter, too. I nodded. “Rent it to me. Make it legit. A dollar a week sounds right.”

  “So in return I get an inexperienced campaign advisor and fundraiser who was until recently an insubordinate police officer?”

  “You get two insubordinate police officers. Joel is an independent contractor these days. You need a new security advisor.”

  “What about the ones I have?”

  I shrugged. “What about them?”

  “That’s a lot. You’re asking for a lot.”

  “Really? More than you’d have to deal with if I went public?”

  I could tell he was losing his patience. He was used to people doing his bidding, no questions asked, and certainly no conditions imposed. Having him wink at you, make a vague promise or two, that was his way. If that didn’t work, you’d soon find out the Senator had wriggled some sort of leverage with your employer, wife, clients, etc., to make sure you got your comeuppance.

  I can’t say why I took the risk. I was asking for a lot. But I’d already lost a lot, hadn’t I?

  Compared to … this guy? Or Hannah?

  It wasn’t about that. It was about taking advantage. It was cheating. I didn’t care.

  Not that he could see it, or that it would matter, but my body softened into the role. One leg straight, the other bent at the knee, up on my toes, swinging my knee back and forth. My hip, out to the side. Yes, a softening. A becoming. A being.

  My voice, softer: “Senator, we both want the same things. Andrew, we both want this to be over. Quietly. Otherwise you wouldn’t have asked me to do what you asked me to do. Let’s get it back on track, okay? Let’s put the pieces back into the puzzle where they belong.”

  I pulled out my phone, placed it on the table. I centered it with my thumbs and forefingers until it was perfectly parallel with the edge of the counter.

  “Make it happen, Andrew. And I’ll make everything better.”

  I sensed a grin coming from him. A sly one. One that recognized a fellow master negotiator.

  (What I should have realized was that, instead, he’d lured me right into his web.)

  Then my phone rang …

  It was difficult to hear exactly what Joel was telling me. Road noise, moaning from Paula, speaker rattle. I had to play it cool, but I knew Andrew was getting the gist of it. Something had gone wrong. Very wrong. Andrew nodded at me, said, “I’ll give you a minute,” then stepped out through the back door onto the patio, where he stretched and admired his territory.

  “Listen,” I seethed. “Just get back to the theater and wait. Hear me? Or get Paula a doctor or something, but just wait. Don’t do anything else to anyone. Just wait.”

  “Pretty fucking easy for you to say!”

  “I’ve got us another deal. A better one, I hope. If you hadn’t called … how do you know the worst times to call? How do you instinctively know the worst times?”

  I hung up on him.

  If I’d really understood the severity of his situation, maybe I wouldn’t have done that. But he wasn’t making any more sense than the road noise in the background, and I was really onto something. For both of us. Why couldn’t he just … Why did he have to …

  Why?

  I took a deep breath. Felt like molten lava was heading up my throat, straining to come out. But I held it down. I re-centered the phone on the counter and left it there, as I steppe
d over to the door to Marquette’s back yard. After looking at him for a moment, trying and failing to get his true measure, I opened it and walked onto the patio. He didn’t turn to face me. He knew I’d be there, shamed a little now. Fingers of one hand fiddling with the fingers of the other, held low in front of me. What right did I have to boss the Senator around? Who did I think I was?

  “So, Andrew, about that—”

  “New deal. You want to work for the campaign? Okay. You and Dylan can work on events, on Twitter, that sort of stuff. I’ll bring in someone else to do what Hannah did, though. You’re not touching the money. If you want to stay at the townhouse for the campaign, that’s okay too. But after that, you’re out. And Joel can work with Thorn. No independent anything. Just another security pawn on the edge of the stage. Okay?”

  I blinked. I must have been sleeping. Slapped my cheek. No, that hurt, so I was still awake.

  “The cottage.”

  Andrew shrugged. “What about it?”

  “I still want it. For good.”

  I thought he might fight me on it. But then, “Hell, I’ve never been there. We’ll work something out. Go ahead and take it for now.”

  “Just like that?”

  He turned, flashed that winning smile (the one that means he’d already won), and patted me on the shoulder. “We’ll be in touch.”

  With that he left me on his patio, alone to watch the sun rise.

  6

  By the time I called Joel again, he was about to be put in handcuffs after having caused a rollover involving his van and a sedan full of men who had fled the scene. Joel probably wouldn’t have been arrested if not for the somewhat incriminating fact that he was standing over the injured Titus and Paula, his forty-five drawn as state troopers skidded to a stop on all sides.

  And yet he answered my call. “Hey, I think I might need bail—”

  Tackling. Shouting. Cursing. The phone crashed against something and the call went dead.

  Not good. I was sitting alone in the Senator’s kitchen, having just made a deal to kill his sibling’s murderer, and now it seemed like my accomplice had just been arrested … surely that would screw up our plans a little, right?