by Allan Cole
When the cab left hopped out of the Mustang. "Get in back," he told Danny. "We’re expecting company, remember?"
As he headed for the nursing home, Danny gave a weary sigh and climbed into the back seat.
"I hate it back here," he complained to the empty air. "What’s the big deal? Shit, she’s such a ditzy old broad she wouldn’t know where we put her."
*****
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ELLEN WAS BACK in her painting togs – spattered cutoffs and halter – and putting the finishing touches on the picture of Sam.
She stepped back to examine it, frowning. "I don’t know," she said.
Her feelings about the painting and her intentions were no clearer now than when she’d started with the stick of charcoal.
The door bell buzzed. Ellen turned and she automatically started for the door. But then she came to an abrupt halt, as the new moves cut in. She opened her mouth to call out, but once again caution came to her rescue.
The door kept on buzzing, putting her into motion. Very carefully she crept up to the door and peered through the eyepiece.
She jumped a mile. "Shit," she hissed. It was that damned Sergeant Propp.
Propp banged on the door and Ellen reeled back, as if he’d struck her. "Ellen," he shouted. "Open up. I know you’re in there."
Ellen raced into her bedroom. Propp kept up his hammering. A moment later she came running back out. But now she’d pulled on a shirt over her halter top and slipped on a pair of sandals.
More importantly, she had her stun umbrella – handle poking out of a beach bag stuffed with some quick necessities. Ellen moved swiftly to the living room window and as Propp buzzed the door bell again and hammered some more, she slid the window open and climbed out.
In the backyard, she quietly pulled the window shut, then sprinted across the lawn to the gate. There, she lifted the bar lock, pulled the gate open then raced out. And, boom! she collided with someone and let out a small shriek.
The other person did some shrieking of her own. It was Ruth. Her friend staggered back from the collision and Ellen had to grab her arm to keep Ruth from tumbling over.
"Oh, Ruth," Ellen said. "I’m so sorry."
Ruth laughed. "Just about peed my pants," she said. Then, eyeing Ellen’s odd outfit and the beach bag – "Where are you goin’ in such a hurry?"
Ellen glanced over her shoulder into the backyard. Nothing. So far, so good. "To tell the truth, Ruth," she said, "I was trying to avoid someone."
"Old boyfriend, huh?" Ruth said.
Ellen’s flesh goose-pimpled at the thought. "Something like that," she said.
"I know how that is," Ruth said. "Some men turn out to be real pains in the ass, if you’ll excuse my French. Won’t go away when they’re told to." She gave Ellen a sympathetic pat. "Want me to get Sam to have a word with him?" she asked.
Ellen gave a vehement shake of her head. "Oh, no, Ruthie," she said. "That wouldn’t work with this guy at all. But I would take it as a real favor if I could maybe hang out at your place for a little while. Just until he goes away."
"I’ve got a better deal for you than that, honey," Ruth said. "Just so happens I was gonna come get you in a few minutes. Sam called and said a buddy of his is letting him use his boat. He said to come on down to the Cove and we could take a cruise and have a little picnic."
"I wouldn’t want to impose," Ellen said. "You two have done enough for me as it is."
"Don’t be silly," Ruth said. "He told me to fetch you and that I wasn’t to take ‘no’ for an answer."
Ellen looked down at her paint-spattered outfit. Ruth saw the look and understood her concern. "They’re just fine, hon," she said. "You don’t have to go back to your place to change. Not with that bozo lurkin’ around. This is gonna be real relaxed. You’ll be sort of like our – what do you call it – Bohemian guest. Real artsy fartsy, if you’ll pardon my French again."
She indicated a bright yellow Volkswagen parked in the driveway, with a large picnic basket in the back. "Come on," she said. "I’ve got the car all loaded."
Ellen was happy to comply. The two women got into the car and Ruth backed it down the driveway to the street.
But just as the car straightened out and started to drive away, Sergeant Propp came running out of the apartment building. He spotted the Volkswagen with Ellen inside and sprinted to the curb where his dirty diaper brown Chevy Nova waited.
Propp jumped inside and headed off after the women.
*****
At the Paradise Cove marina, Ruth found a parking place next to the boat slips. They got out and looked around at all the boats.
"I wonder which one it is?" Ruth said. "He said it was called the Freebooter."
Ellen pointed to one of the nicest yachts in the cove – with Freebooter painted across its bow. It was Harry’s boat, but Ellen couldn’t know that.
"Is that it?" Ellen said.
Ruth frowned. "It’s much too grand," she said doubtfully.
At that moment Sam came out of the bridge. He spotted them and waved. "Hey, Ruthie," he shouted. "Over here, baby."
Ruth put a hand across her ample bosom. "Oh, my heart," she said.
Then she and Ellen hoisted the picnic basket out and hurried over to the yacht. They put the basket down on the deck and looked around.
"I didn’t know you had fancy friends like this, Sam," Ruth said.
Sam laughed at her clumsy remark and Ruth blushed. "I didn’t mean that how it came out, hon," she said. "Still-"
Sam gave her an affectionate whack on her shapely behind, cutting off the rest. "I move in classy circles these days, Ruth," he said.
He looked at Ellen, saying, "Seriously, though, my buddy got lucky getting into the market and smart getting the hell out. He’s big bucks city, now."
Ellen looked around the yacht, impressed. "So, I see," she said.
Sam indicated the luxurious main cabin, which could be seen through the big picture windows. "Why don’t you ladies check out the amenities," he said, "while I get things moving?"
Ruth touched a hand to her bosom. "Amenities?" she said. Then laughed. "Oh, my."
The women started to go below.
"Oh, one thing, though," Sam said. "Stay out of the cabin next to the wetbar. My buddy’s got some stuff in there he’d like to keep private."
As the women ducked into the main cabin, Ruth muttered, "Probably porn."
Ellen laughed. "As long as I can use the ladies’ room," she said, "I don’t care if he has Paris Hilton in there cavorting with one her beaus."
*****
After watching the women go into the cabin, Sam trotted up the steps and went back into the bridge. Danny was there – on his knees, a mass of cables pulled from the control console.
He had two wires stripped bare and held them up for Sam to see. "This is a helluva lot easier than stealing cars," he said.
He touched the wires together and the big engines roared into life. Quickly, he twisted them together and wrapped a piece of duct tape around them. Then he adjusted the throttle until the engines steadied.
He gave Sam the thumbs up.
Sam hurried down the stairs to the main deck. He cast off the lines, then turned and cupped his hands to his mouth. "Hit it," he shouted.
And Danny smoothly pulled the boat away from the dock, his face alight with joy.
*****
Sergeant Propp watched the Freebooter head out into the main channel.
This was getting damned interesting.
He had a cell phone glued to his ear. "Hey, Susie," Propp said. "This is Sergeant Propp. I need you to check a boat registration for me…"
*****
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ELLEN AND RUTH lounged on soft leather couches, sipping wine and thoroughly enjoying themselves.
"I’m so relaxed," Ellen said, "I almost feel giddy. I can’t believe that less than an hour ago I was sneaking out my apartment window."
"I had a boyfrien
d like that once," Ruth said. "A real stalker. It was before I met my last husband."
"How did you handle him?" Ellen said.
"I didn’t," she said. "I got married and let my husband take of it. He was Cuban, you know."
"You mentioned that," Ellen said.
"So, he like cut the guy," Ruth said.
Ellen sat up straight. She made stabbing motions. "Like with…"
Ruth nodded. "Yeah, a knife," she said. "He didn’t kill him or anything."
Ellen shook her head – No, of course not.
"My husband was a very civilized person," Ruth said.
Ellen nodded – Yes, of course he was.
"But the old boyfriend didn’t come back anymore to bother me," Ruth said. "No more stalking." She giggled. "Men," she said. "Can’t live with them. And you can’t live with them."
For some reason – maybe from the feeling of sudden relief – Ellen found this hilarious. She laughed so hard she spilled her wine.
Ruth laughed with her, helping her mop up and refilling her glass.
She said, "Who was your guy?" Meaning, the guy who’d made a fool out of Ellen.
Still laughing, Ellen choked out the name: "Andre."
Ruth’s eyes grew big with humor. "Andre?" she laughed. "Andre. Holy hell, woman, with a lover named Andre I just know for certain that you were taken to the penis cleaners. Don’t lie to me. You know I’m telling the truth."
Rolling with laughter, Ellen just helplessly nodded. Ruth was right. So right. Boy, had she been taken to the penis cleaners.
At the at moment Sam entered the cabin. He looked over the scene with a big smile on his face, as if he were in on the joke, which of course he could never be.
Sam was carrying a Polaroid camera, as if he were going to take souvenir snaps of their outing.
"Comfortable, ladies?" he asked.
"Are you kidding, honey?" Ruth said, wiping her eyes, calming down. "We feel like queens."
"That’s good," Sam said. "Because before we get too deep into this deal, there’s something I want to discuss with Ellen. A little bit of business, then we can get on with our fun."
Ellen was puzzled. "What kind of business?" she asked.
"Hang on," Sam said. "Let me get my partner in here. He’ll want to hear this."
He turned to the door. "Okay, Danny, boy," he said. "You can come on in."
Ellen’s eyes widened when she heard that name. Her reaction was even more severe when a grinning Danny entered the cabin.
"What’s he doing here?" Ellen demanded.
"That’s what I want to discuss with you, Ellen," Sam said. "See, it’s like this. Every since we met I’ve had a good feeling about you. A feeling that you were going to make me a whole lot of money."
He indicated Ruth, then Danny. "Enough to share with my friends.
Danny chuckled at this, but Ruth became furious at the turn of events.
"I don’t want any part of your scheme, Sam Barr," she said. "I took you on in good faith that you were gonna change your ways. No more crooked stuff. No more hurtin’ people."
Ruth clambered to her feet. "You’d better turn around right this minute and take us home, you hear?" she fumed.
Sam shook his head, looking sad. Then he gave her a push. Not a hard push – just enough to tip her back into the couch.
"I’m disappointed that you feel that way, Ruthie," he said. "But that’s okay. It just makes the shares of the pie bigger for me and Danny."
Ellen finally got her wits about her. Oddly, she didn’t feel one tremor of fear. She was only really, really pissed.
"You must be crazy," she said. "I don’t have a penny to my name. Except in trust. And my brother controls that."
"I know all about it, Ellen," Sam said. "And for awhile it had me stumped. I couldn’t figure out how to get my hands on that trust money."
Sam went to the small cabin door next to the wet bar. "But then I found my answer," he said. "Here. Let me show you."
He opened the door.
Ellen gasped in horrible realization. For sitting there was her mother.
"Harry," Mrs. Berman whined. "Where’s the TV? It’s almost time for Perry Mason."
Sam whipped up the Polaroid camera. "Smile, Mom," he said cheerily. "You’re on Candid Camera."
A bright flash of light followed as he snapped her picture.
*****
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
HARRY WAS POUNDING his running machine again, shadow boxing as he trotted on the endless belt. On his desk, the intercom crackled into life.
His secretary, Linda, said, "Mr. Berman? There’s an urgent call for you."
Harry was annoyed. "I asked not to be disturbed, Linda," he said. "This is my personal time. Our clients are just going to have to learn-"
Linda broke through what was obviously a familiar speech. "I’m sorry, sir," she said. "But it’s a man about your mother."
This jolted Harry so hard he almost lost it on the machine. He had to hit the kill button to keep from falling.
Gasping, he said, "Put him through, Linda."
Immediately, the phone buzzed. Harry leaned over and tapped a button to activate the speaker. He got a towel and started swabbing off. "Harold Berman," he said. "How may I help you."
"Hey, Harry," Sam said, in his cheeriest voice. "Sam Barr here."
Harry was impatient. "What’s this business about my mother, Mr. Barr?" he demanded.
"Your fax machine on?" Sam asked.
"Of course it’s on," Harry said. "Now answer my question, please."
"Hold your horses, Harry," Sam advised. "This’ll only take a second."
Harry heard a low chuckle. "Man, you sure have packed this boat with trick gear, Harry," Sam said. "Satellite tracking, sonar, a computer station and even a by-god state of the art fax machine."
Harry frowned, puzzled. "My boat?" he said. "What are you talking about, Mr. Barr?"
Sam said, "Wait a minute…" and Harry heard a electronic whirring sound. A faint Sam voice said, "Okay, there she goes."
There was a pause, then Sam said, "Now, go check your fax machine, Harry, my friend, and come on back and we’ll have ourselves a nice little chat."
Harry hurried into the other office, the towel draped over his heavy shoulders. Linda looked up, startled, as Harry strode past in his jogging outfit.
"Harry?" she said, dropping the formality when she saw the look on his face. "What’s the matter?"
At the fax machine, a sheet of paper was rolling out. Harry took one look at it and nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Oh, my God," he said.
He raced back into his office, slamming the door behind him. Linda stared at the door a minute, then shrugged.
"Wonder who he screwed this time?" she said.
In his office, Harry rushed to his desk. He glared at the speaker phone as if it were his deadliest enemy.
"What the hell is this all about?" he thundered. "I want an explanation. And I want it fast. You’ve got my mother. You want something from me. So spell it out."
"I really do admire your style, Harry," Sam said. "I mean, we haven’t even officially met and we’re already on the same page."
Harry snorted. Looked down at the faxed Polaroid snap of his mother and growled, "Cut the crap and bottom line me, Barr."
Sam whistled in appreciation. "Bottom line me?" he said. "Wow, I have to remember that. Talk about a phrase that really cuts to the chase.
"Okay, so that’s what I’m going to do, Harry. I’m gonna bottom line you. Here’s the deal. I want you to fix this number into your mind: Five hundred thousand dollars. Got it? Five hundred thousand dollars."
Harry kept his cool. He would not be impressed, no matter what this asshole said. "Five hundred thousand dollars?" he repeated. "Why is that such a magic figure?"
The answer surprised the shit out of him. Reminding him of the old law school adage – Never ask a question you don’t know the answer to.
Sam said, "Becau
se that’s how much is left in your sister’s trust fund after you ripped her off for two and a half million."
Harry stared at the phone in total shock. Then he said, "See here, I’m an attorney. I have fiduciary responsibilities that I take seriously. Especially those obligations involving family members and family trusts. How dare you accuse me of such improprieties?"
He was about to go on, to really drive in his point. But then he realized the phone was dead.
Sam was not only gone, but he was not impressed. Harry got busy thinking of ways to turn that attitude around.
*****
Sam was laughing when he cut the connection. Man, he was having a good old time.
Mrs. Berman had been moved next to Ellen, who had a protective arm around her. The old woman was oblivious. She had her "book of secrets" in her lap and was turning pages, muttering to herself.
Ellen had pulled herself together. She gave Sam a curious look. "How did you figure out what Harry was up to?" she asked.
Sam crossed the cabin to Mrs. Berman and Ellen. "Didn’t your mom tell you about her book of secrets?" he asked.
Ellen frowned and said, "Well, sure, but-"
She stopped in mid-sentence as Sam leaned down and gently slipped the book from Mrs. Berman’s grasp. She looked up at him, concerned, grasping empty air where the book had been.
"I just need to borrow this for a sec, Mom, okay?" Sam said, very gently.
Mrs. Berman smiled at him. "Sure, Harry," she said. "But don’t forget to give it back."
"I won’t, Mom," he said.
Sam removed some loose documents from the back and waved them at Ellen. "You should have listened to your mother," he said. Pleased with his own joke, Sam went on, "Isn’t that the girl scout mantra? Listen to your mother."
Ellen didn’t answer, so Sam went on, pushing the pages under her nose. "Your mom’s got the whole deal spelled out right here," he said. "I guess before your mom went Looney Tunes, she hired a detective. So the whole rip off is spelled out in spades, kid. In spades."
He went to the fax machine, which sat on a desk next to the main communications unit. "I should fax these to your brother before I call him back," he said. "He’ll want to make sure I’ve got proof of his evil ways."
