Out Jumps Jack Death: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 8)

by M. Glenn Graves

  “Yikes. That could be an issue. On the other hand, I prefer thinking in all situations, if possible.”

  “Makes you a stronger opponent.”

  “I hope so.”

  “But, alas, you are no match for me.”

  “I still have a gun,” I said as I reached for my 9mm in my back holster.

  It was gone. Either in the fall or somewhere between the woods and the house, the gun had fallen out. Disappointment hit me hard. Sincerely.

  “It seems you do not have a gun,” Sai said.

  “Some days are like that. Charlie Brown once quipped, some games you win, some games you lose, some games get rained out.”

  “Who is this Charlie Brown?”

  “Kid philosopher. I am surprised your excellent research has not yet uncovered such wisdom.”

  “The wisdom seems obvious to me,” she said. “I win most games. But what does this rained out refer to?”

  “Baseball metaphor. Means a stalemate. Like, you know, postponed for a future date when the sun shall likely shine.”

  “I see. And you think this is a stalemate?”

  “Well, to be truthful, I sort of hope it is to be a stalemate. Why do you want to rid the world of me?”

  “Mandate handed down from my employer.”

  “And what on earth does Phueng Pen-Chan have against me?”

  “He likes to network with all sorts of people. Apparently he is doing someone a favor.”

  “But you got what you went after,” I said.

  “Indeed. Still, the money we paid ended up in the wrong hands.”

  “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “Mr. Pen-Chan wants this cleaned up.”

  “Tell him you tried and failed.”

  “He would not believe that. I have never failed. That would taint my record.”

  “Tainting is not so good. However, that being said, if your employer believes you never fail, then why send others to take me out from the land of the living?”

  “Impressive. Your research is better than I had given you credit.”

  “Sometimes I impress myself.”

  My worthy opponent was frozen as she watched me intently without comment. Seconds, which seemed more like minutes, passed between us in silence. I was running out of time and my brain was having trouble devising any type of realistic plan against Sai.

  “It seems that we have arrived at a verbal impasse,” I said finally. “It’s your move.”

  Her sai was drawn and ready to penetrate my body if she was close enough. Or if she threw it at me. I might be able to move quickly aside, allowing her throw to miss. Let’s do a maybe on that one. I don’t react so deftly these days. However, I had no doubt that with her skillful movements she could easily get close enough to stab me more than a few times. The trick would be to keep her at bay long enough for me to enact plan B.

  She took a half-step to her left, my right. I held my position for no better reason than I was fearfully comfortable with where I was standing. I could still see her and hopefully react with her first move. All the while, I was thinking of a plan B just in case her first move penetrated my flesh and caused me to bleed.

  Sai made her move and lunged toward me. I somersaulted in the direction of Marvin’s ancient ottoman to the left of Sai. Since she was holding the weapon in her right hand, my magnificent detective skills told me that she must be right handed. Failing that insight, it was her first hand of choice. She could likely be ambidextrous. Until further notice, I would stay with the right hand dominance idea which meant that thrusting across her body would be more difficult than thrusting to her right. Considering her size, her arms were not extremely long.

  Deductions are good sometimes.

  I rolled and came up with the small ottoman in my hands. She had plunged the sai in my direction but the distance was too great for any deep piercing contact. I caught the tip of the middle blade, the longest of the three, close to my rib cage. It was a nick. Good thing my trim figure had been maintained. Ten more pounds and I would have been bleeding profusely.

  As my somersault close to her left side concluded, I threw the ottoman directly at her. Despite the nick she had given me, she was forced to dodge the ottoman flying at her. That gave me enough time to reach for plan B.

  My simple scheme worked. I threw, she dodged to her right away from me, and I drew my .32 revolver from my ankle holster and aimed it at her heart. One smooth motion as if I had planned the whole thing.

  Sai relaxed her attack position with the weapon now at her side.

  “I underestimated you.”

  “Always thinking,” I said.

  “To your advantage.”

  “Usually is. Now, you have a choice. Move towards me with that thing you have and I will shoot you. Even with lousy marksmanship, I will put at least two rounds in you before you are on top of me. Normally I would say three rounds. You are much faster than most people. However, I assure you that both rounds will hit you dead in the heart unless that particular organ is missing from you or yours is located elsewhere.”

  “Your humor in the face of adversity is quite charming.”

  I smiled.

  “My humor, notwithstanding, will not stop me from shooting you.”

  “You seem so certain of this,” she said.

  “Nerves of steel along with an iron disposition.”

  She laughed. Then she quickly put her weapon inside her garments. It was a repeat of her earlier performance in Maryland. It was puzzling to me how one so dainty could hide such a weapon inside her clothing without stabbing herself with her rapid movements as she hid the monstrous thing.

  “So our skirmish is ended?” I said.

  “Not quite. If I return to Bangkok like this, I will be forced to fight for my life. I will win, of course, but I will be unemployed and lose my pension.”

  “You have a pension?”

  “Guaranteed job for life with lots of incentives.”

  “Performance clauses, no doubt.”

  She bowed to me.

  “You want me to write a note that said you really tried hard to kill me?” I said.

  “A bit more than that,” she smiled.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Shoot me,” Sai said.

  50

  The sun was shining as profusely as I had ever been aware and the birds were singing their yet unpublished melody. I quite enjoyed it. I was relaxing on the front porch steps. Diamond was prone in the porch swing. A calm breeze was moving the swing ever so gently. Her headache was almost gone.

  I was enjoying a cup of coffee, of course. Life goes on, or at least life goes. Coffee was good. Sun was shining. Songbirds, doing their thing. Some days life is just good.

  I had called Starnes and asked her to bring Marvin home. That was yesterday. Done and done. She had returned to her place with Dog. Marvin was back where he wanted to be, or so I supposed. Sam had come along with Marvin. It was good to have him back. Sam that is. Maybe Marvin, too.

  Marvin came out and sat down next to me. He looked uncomfortable. He didn’t strike me as a front-porch-steps kind of guy.

  Diamond sat up and appeared groggy. She’d been up and down all night. We had stayed up a few hours simply because I was afraid she might have a concussion. I didn’t want her sleeping once I helped her return to consciousness. She moaned a little. I think that was for some sympathy, but I couldn’t be for certain about that. Finally, close to two o’clock, I let her drift off into Never Land.

  “Feeling better?” I said to her.

  “Getting there,” she mumbled.

  “I need to go Washington,” I said.

  “D.C. or …?” she asked as if befuddled.

  “D.C.” Her question indicated she had not quite come full circle as yet.

  “Keen on more trouble, huh?” Diamond grunted.

  “Tidying up loose ends.”

  “You mean tying up loose ends?”

  “Cleaning up some looseness as well,”
I said.

  “Haven’t you had enough of this cat and mouse game?”

  “Putting things in their rightful place seems to be a characteristic of mine,” I said.

  “More like a character flaw,” she said.

  “Marvin, I need you to watch over Diamond for a few days.”

  “Time for reciprocity, so to speak,” he said.

  “Nobody needs to watch over me,” she said as she lay back down in the porch swing.

  “Right. Good to go, are we?” I said.

  “Give me a day or two,” she said.

  “Don’t have a day or two. Thaddeus is likely to be on the move sooner rather than later.”

  “I will be happy to nurse her back to health,” Marvin chimed in.

  “Just be careful with her,” I said. “Do remember that she is a professional killer and doesn’t suffer fools gladly.”

  “While I am no trained killer, neither am I a fool. I shall provide for her the best of what I do well.”

  “I have no doubt, Marvin. You’re a good man. You have saved a life or two in this. I owe you a debt. So does Rosey.”

  “Thank you, but neither of you owes me anything. However, if you insist, I shall think about that. May I get back to you on that point?”

  “No time constraints, Marvin. Diamond, play nice while you are recuperating.”

  “I won’t shoot him, if that’s what you mean.”

  “For starters. Be back as soon as I can.”

  “You want me to follow?” she said.

  “In what? I’m taking your truck.”

  “Memory lapse. Sorry ‘bout that. Yeah, take the truck. Just bring it back in one piece, please. Are you sure you want to go dance with old Thad one more time?”

  Diamond’s headache was a symptom of a more serious injury. That was my opinion and I am quite sure she would not have shared that opinion had I expressed it aloud. My hopes were that she would be back to normal in a few days.

  “I survived the ninja femme fatale. I think I can manage Thaddeus Wilkerson.”

  “He doesn’t play by the rules, you know,” Marvin added as if providing me with a warning.

  “I’ll be cautious.”

  It was early evening when Sam and I arrived in Sterling. Diamond’s Silverado was a comfortable riding machine. Easy to drive as well. Perhaps I should investigate replacing my totaled Jeep with a truck like Diamond’s.

  I stopped at a pizza place and ordered a large veggie deluxe to go. While I waited on my supper, I called Rogers for any additional info she might have gleaned concerning any of my immediate adversaries. I was especially interested if anything had popped on Thaddeus.

  The large pizza was for sharing with Rosey. He was driving from Norfolk to meet me at his Sterling condo.

  Before we parted company, Sai Leekpai told me that she had no idea who had put in the request to Phueng Pen-Chan to have me terminated. We both suspected it to be Thaddeus Wilkerson. What made little logic to me was how Thad figured to retrieve his money once I was out of the way. Perhaps he thought he would simply steal my personal laptop, find where I had placed the money, and steal it back. Either that or Thad figured I was toting around a large sack of cash, as if I had the strength of ten men. Neither notion made sense to me, but then, I wasn’t Thaddeus Wilkerson.

  Little did he know. Whatever Wilkerson was thinking, my devious plan with Sai might provide some advantage with Thad and his gaggle of criminals. Sometimes it’s a good thing to have people think you are dead. Makes for a great surprise party.

  Rogers had nothing new to assist me in my move against Thaddeus.

  Rosey was waiting on me when the pizza, Sam, and I arrived at his residence.

  “No Diamond to accompany you?” he said.

  “Still could be a girl’s best friend. But sadly, no. This one is convalescing.”

  “She must have taken a hard blow.”

  “Lost some brain cells for sure.”

  “No blood loss?”

  “At least not on Marvin’s throw rug. One mean headache and some dizziness, but no blood outside of the body. Concussion.”

  “She’s lucky to be alive,” he said.

  “She is. Sai Leekpai is an interesting adversary. Has a code. Sticks to it. She’s what I would call a survivor.”

  “You discovered something, huh? Let’s eat. That pizza smells delicious.”

  He opened the box and groaned.

  “There’s not a smidgen of meat on this beauty,” he clamored.

  “Do you love her?” I said.

  “I was talking about the pizza,” he said.

  “We were talking about Sai before you changed horses,” I said.

  “Strong feelings, but I’m not sure I’d call it love.”

  “Would you know love if you had it?”

  Rosey handed me a plate and then took two slices and put them on his own dish. He walked over to his small table by the window and sat down.

  “I think so. For example, I love you.”

  “But that’s a friendship love, right?”

  My question was tenuous. The conversation had moved to an area that made me uncomfortable. It was not a subject I cared to walk carelessly into. Nor was it one that I would relish if I had studied it for years. I had much trepidation about proceeding along these lines.

  “BFF,” he said.

  “Yeah, me too,” I said as I sat down at the table across from him.

  I relaxed. Not sure why I had such strong discomfort with the subject of love. Maybe it was because I had never ventured too far into that realm. I loved Sam, but that was the extent of my feelings for males outside of family. That being said, Rosey was more like family to me than any other male I had in my life since the loss of my father. My brother Scott and I had been separated from college until the present day. He lived in the Midwest and I had only seen him a few times over the last few decades. There was my wonderful Uncle Walters and I dearly loved him. But nothing along the lines of romance. So, all said and done, Uncle Walters and Rosey had been around the longest. Both were dear to me without the romantic card played.

  “So, the other kind of love, the male/female thing …Would you know that if it came calling?”

  I wasn’t sure why I asked that question. Maybe I wanted stronger verification of something. I consumed my pizza while I waited on Rosey to answer. He was busy at the moment devouring his two slices. Difficult to get between a man and his food.

  “I’m an Oxford graduate. I know things.”

  “Education will not inform you of strong romantic feelings that end up on your doorstep.”

  “A guy can hope.”

  “Do you think she loves you?”

  “No, at least not that she would ever admit. She might say that feelings of love would be a sign of weakness. Like me, I think she understands whatever she feels to be a strong emotion. Not sure she would ever allow herself to love someone. Too risky.”

  “Or maybe whatever she feels for you is nothing more than a powerful attraction and pure pleasure from the past experience,” I suggested.

  He moved back to the counter, retrieved two more slices, and returned to the table.

  “You want another piece?” he said as he pointed to his plate before sitting.

  I nodded. I handed him my plate and he put another slice on it and gave it back. Then he sat down.

  “That’s strong control,” I said.

  “My two pieces or your one?” he grinned at me.

  “I was referring to your thinking about Sai and her control of her emotions as well as you ignoring my insight about your prior sexual encounter.”

  “You should know,” Rosey said.

  Sam raised his head from the pillow on Rosey’s sofa and looked in my direction. His sensitive caramel colored eyes revealed that he had heard something or felt something, at least his movement suggested such to me. Something in our conversation had stirred my dog to lift his head and look in my direction.

  I smiled at Sam. He wagg
ed his tail.

  True love.

  51

  “You might call Rod Summers, if you think you can trust him,” Rogers said to me the next morning as Rosey and I were doing the breakfast thing mid-morning. I called her to let her know I was safe with Rosey and Sam in Sterling, Virginia.

  Rogers was on my speaker phone so Rosey could hear our bantering and exchange of info.

  Breakfast was strong coffee and an English muffin. After our pizza party the night before, I was watching my caloric consumption.

  Rosey had no jelly in the house, so I was forced to use peanut butter for the spread. Crunchy, of course. I had finished one and was trying to avoid eye contact with Sam who had been lurking at my side ever since I had opened the jar of his favorite snack.

  I finally succumbed to his extremely close proximity as well as his consistent nudging and gave him the other half of my muffin. Such sacrifice. Such love. Such tenacity. Fewer calories for me.

  “It’s a good thing he is FBI. My record of late with the Secret Service has been abominable.”

  “None of them are pure and holy,” Rosey said.

  “Neither are we, but at least we can’t be bought.”

  “Speak for yourself,” he said.

  “I can’t be bought,” Rogers said.

  “Humor from the machine… how innovative,” Rosey said.

  “I’m here till Thursday,” Rogers continued.

  “You should stop while you’re ahead,” Rosey said.

  “The man has no taste. Good looking and virile, but no taste,” she said.

  “Do you have any insights or cold data on who Wilkerson might be in league with?” I said to her.

  “Whom,” she corrected me.

  “No time for grammar control. Give me what you have on any contacts he has made or those who might have contacted him of late.”

  “No names, just some email monikers,” she said.

  “Traceable?”

  “Most are too wily for that, plus whoever is sending him messages is clever enough to route his or her correspondence through servers in several countries.”