He slouched in the chair. “Look, sweetheart, a lot of stuff is happening that I’ll tell you about later. Right now, I want you and the kids to get out of town for, a few days. At least until I can break this story. Head up north and visit your folks.”
“What story, Frank? What’s going on? And why leave town?”
He leaned forward, out of his slouch. “I can’t talk about it now, but a guy just called with a death threat, and I want you and the kids out of town.”
Still sounding annoyed, she said, “You’ve had a million death threats, Frank. What’s special about this one?”
He got to his feet. “I think I know who’s behind this one.”
“Who?”
“Billy.”
“Frank, you’re really losing it.”
Chapter 68
The downtown street corner on which he had picked up Letty Pell two months ago was only a block or so from here. As he walked up on the scene, he quickly saw what the promotion folks were after. Bathed in a rare but fading golden light that made even down-at-the-heels Detroit look half-way decent, the location would put the gleaming Ren Cen behind him to serve as both meaningful backdrop and effective backlight for his walk-and-talk.
Had that sticky note from Letty started the slide into his current contemptible fix? No, clearly it was just another garish marker on a long, pathetic descent.
He was only half-listening to the promotion-manager babble of pretty Pam Roberts. “The light is great, and it’s pretty quiet down here now, not many cars.”
And he was further distracted by the sway of her breasts against her blouse as she swung to gesture down Jefferson Avenue. Jesus, Frank the Incorrigible. So much happening, and he was still pre-occupied with tits.
“And with the camera hidden in the van, we’re not as likely to have people trying to get in the shot with you.” Pam pointed a toe at a small piece of duct tape on the sidewalk. “This is your starting mark. Now let’s move up here where we need you to finish.”
They walked a half dozen yards as Frank stared at the blue van up on the sidewalk a short half-block away and housing the camera to which he’d be playing. As they stepped off the curb into the right lane of the broad divided avenue, a gray Town Car slowed considerably then resumed speed and passed them by.
Pam pointed down at another piece of tape, this one stuck on asphalt about five feet from the curb. “This is the mark we need you to hit. And we need you to come off the curb and into this first lane to get the background we want.”
He gave her his this-is-a-piece-of-cake grin. “Gotcha.”
As he stepped to the end mark and gazed at the van, a hand he knew belonged to Marty, the cameraman, appeared out a window with a thumb’s up. With choppy steps in her heels, Pam headed quickly for the van. “Okay, they’re happy. I’m going to watch a monitor in the van, so when I wave at you, just start anytime.”
“Right, no problem.”
Over her shoulder: “I love this light, but it won’t last long!”
He walked back to his starting mark, checked his lines one more time from a piece of white paper folded over, then put it away. Pam climbed into the van, and after a moment gave him the wave. He started walking and talking.
“Some people say I own this town. Well, they’re wrong. This proud old city belongs to each and every one of you.”
In the van Marty worked the camera, James checked Frank’s voice on a headset and Pam watched the monitor where Frank’s image was well-framed in the attractive cityscape.
“You’ve lived its history, shared the good times and the bad and cherished a million memories.”
The image on the monitor slowly closed in on Frank as he stepped smoothly off the curb and onto the right lane.
“So this city belongs to you. But do I know this town? You bet I do. I was born and raised here, and after twenty-five years of working its streets, meeting its people and telling its stories, yes, I know this town.”
He stopped directly on his mark.
“I like to think that’s one of the reasons so many of you join us at five and eleven to get your news. Because we know your town.”
Holding his pose for a few seconds, he stared straight at the camera in van’s open window. Finally, Pam appeared at the door, holding a stopwatch.
“Fabulous, Frank. Right on the money. But let’s do it one more time just as a back-up while the light’s still good.”
“Sure enough.”
“When you’re back at your mark, just count to five and do it again.”
“Okay, got it.”
Inside the van Pam took her seat and watched Frank on the screen walking back toward the middle of the block, looking again at the script. Pam told Marty, “This time let’s move in on him a little sooner and a little tighter.”
The cameraman nodded. “Right on.”
Back on the sidewalk, Frank reached his starting mark, stuffed the script in his coat pocket and turned to face the van. That gray Town Car was moving to a stop on a side street a half-block behind him. As he straightened his tie, the big sedan paused at the intersection. And as he started walking, it turned the corner in his direction.
“Some people say I own this town. Well, they’re wrong. This proud old city belongs to each and every one of you.”
The Town Car was picking up speed now.
“You’ve lived its history, shared the good times and the bad and cherished a million memories.”
As he moved off the curb and into the street, he heard the Town Car’s roar behind him, and glancing back, saw it aiming straight at him.
Hearing the brief squeal of its tires, he dove for the sidewalk, and, as the big car swerved slightly, he barely escaped its path.
Sprawled on the cement, his heart slammed and his breathing turned to gasps. When he turned on an elbow and managed a look, the Town Car had already raced past the van and was rounding a corner.
Jumping out of the van now, Pam was followed by Marty and James, all of them running to Frank.
Marty got there first. “Jesus, Frank, are you okay?
An elbow and a knee both burned, but his heart continued pounding so hard he wasn’t sure about the rest. “I guess,” he said finally.
Pam seemed close to tears. “Oh, my god, Frank!
“Man, that was close,” said James, master of the obvious.
He felt weak and dizzy, but with each taking an arm, Marty and James helped him slowly to his feet. Marty leaned in close and said, “Just take it easy, Frank. Comin’ down from that adrenalin, you’re gonna feel a little shakey.”
Pam looked into his eyes and cried, “Oh, god, Frank, are you okay?”
Swaying slightly, he said, “I’m all right, I think.” He slowly flexed his right arm, then felt the hip on which he had landed. “Just a little sore.”
As two couples stopped nearby and watched, Marty said, “Christ, was that guy was trying to kill you?”
“Yeah, maybe. Or at least scare the hell out of me.”
Marty said, “Scared me, man. I saw him comin’, but it happened too fast to yell.”
Frank glanced at the two couples, one black and one white, and joined now by a bearded black guy who looked like he lived on the street. “Anybody catch the plate?”
They all shook their heads, and Marty said, “It all happened too fast, man.”
James brushed off the shoulder of Frank’s suit, soiled and bruised. “That was some move, man. You still got the old reflexes.”
Frank shook his head without a word.
Chapter 69
More than an hour later, at 9:40 pm, Frank glanced in his rear view mirror at the Bloomfield Hills squad car following the Viper as he weaved through his lakeside neighborhood. When he turned up his drive, the squad car pulled to the side nearby. Parking and walking to his front door, he held up five fingers for Officer Jerry before moving inside.
In the large family room at the back of the house, he strode directly to the huge picture window over looking
the lake and pushed a button to close the drapes. As the motor hummed, he turned to find his wife and son staring at him on the large curved sofa facing a 32-inch Sony that offered “Home Improvement” without sound.
Seriously annoyed, Marci said, “Frank, so why haven’t you told the police?”
He glanced at Bobby, who was scowling now. “I have told the police. I just stopped at the chief’s office and asked for some help. He’s only got a few men available tonight, but one of them followed me home, and he’s watching the house.”
Marci leaned forward on the sofa. “If someone wants to get us here, one little Bloomfield cop won’t stop ‘em.”
“That’s why you and the kids need to go up to your parents tonight. You leave soon, you’ll be there by midnight.”
“Why not the Detroit police? They have so many more people and resources.”
“Because Peoples thinks they may be involved in this corruption thing too. At least one or two of them anyway. We can’t risk it.”
Bobby shook his head. “If we go up to Grandma’s, what are you going to do?”
“I’ll spend the night at the Airport Ramada. I’ve arranged to meet Peoples there in the morning. I’ll make sure I’m not followed, and the station is sending a couple of security guards to stake out the room, so I’ll be fine.”
“Rent-a-cops?” Bobby sounded incredulous.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
As Marci got to her feet, Frank glanced at Tim Allen on the Sony. He’d met Allen a couple of times at the station on promo tours. Seemed like a nice guy but bottling some kind of strange anger.
“Why are you doing this, Frank?” she asked, “For what? You’re risking your life and maybe ours for some guy who was charged with murder. And for a story that won’t make any damn difference.”
He turned to her. “It makes a difference to me. That’s all I can tell you. If I don’t do this story, it’s like my work means nothing, and my job is a joke.”
“What story, Daddy?”
His daughter was standing in the doorway.
“Oh, it’s a long one, baby.”
Jen moved into the room. “What’s going on? Why is there a cop waiting out in front?”
Marci stared at Frank and said, “Someone tried to kill your father tonight.”
Bobby also stood and used the remote to turn off the Sony. “Some guy drove by and tried to hit Dad while he was doing a stand up downtown.”
“Hit? You mean with a gun?” Jen kept moving, straight for her father. “Daddy, please tell me what’s going on?”
He folded her in his arms, grateful for the contact. “Not a gun, with a car. And I don’t know if he was really trying to hit me. It may have been more of a scare tactic. The important thing, honey, is that you and Mom and Bobby are spending a night or two up north at Grandma’s until this thing is settled.”
Jen leaned back and glared at her mother. “What thing? Why don’t I know anything about this?”
Marci ignored her. “How’s it going to get settled, Frank?”
“Look, if the tape Peoples gives me really incriminates the judge, I’ll do the story tomorrow night, and it’ll be all over. Once this thing hits air, Peoples will feel safe enough to go to the feds, and the heat’ll be off. I’m a target only as long as I’m helping Peoples go public and get to the feds.”
Marci walked out of the room with an angry step.
Chapter 70
In darkness now, Bobby got behind the wheel of a white Navigator, Jen was already in the backseat, and Marci was walking out of the house. Carrying a garment bag and a small suitcase, Frank closed the front door and followed her to the back of the big SUV. In the hatch, he placed the suitcase next to a couple of other small bags.
“Marci, I’m sorry about all this. I know it’s unfair to you and the kids, but really there’s no other way right now.”
“Well, we’ve always taken a backseat to your job. I hope you get your story.”
Next to the open front passenger door, he tried to caress her shoulder, but she turned away. He said, “Please believe me, honey. What I said tonight on the show is the god’s truth. I love you, and I’m going to make it up to you and the kids.”
She turned back to him. “Why did you do that, Frank? Why that whole confession thing on TV?”
Looking into her angry eyes, he wondered how much he should say. “Listen, they were trying to blackmail me. Apparently that little prick Barnes is going to do a big spread this weekend with a lot of dirt. And they were threatening to give him a lot more dirt if I didn’t drop the story. So I did the confession to counter all that.”
She gazed at him for a second. Were those hazel eyes maybe softening a bit? “You know, Frank, your trouble is, you’re so good at delivering a message after all these years of working over your audience, even you don’t know whether or not you’re telling the truth.”
No, her look had not softened, but he thought there might be an opening here. “If anybody knows, darling, it’s you.”
She glanced at Bobby in the car. Their son was obviously hanging on every word. “No, I’m as clueless as everybody else. I also have no idea why I should, but I still love you, Frank.”
He kissed her delicately on the mouth, then gave her a grateful grin.
She said, “Please be careful.”
He nodded. “Of course. Just don’t worry.”
She climbed into the Navigator. “Yes, silly me. What’s to worry?”
He leaned down and winked at Bobby. “Take care of your mom.”
The boy answered with an obvious effort to stay cool. “Yeah, drive carefully, Dad.”
Jen didn’t wait for him to turn her way. “We love you, Daddy.”
“I love all of you, baby. See you soon.”
As the SUV rolled down the drive, he moved to the Viper, dropped the garment bag on the passenger seat and got in. Turning the ignition, he watched his family turn right and drive past Officer Jerry.
A moment later he rolled up next to the patrol car and lowered his window. “Hey, thanks for this, Jerry. Can you make sure they get to I-75 without being followed?”
“Sure thing, Frank. No problem.”
Chapter 71
On the road that twisted away from the lake, he came to the 4-way stop where Officer Jerry had been waiting that night three months ago, hidden partially behind that huge elm on the left. When Frank had cruised through the stop, then stepped on it, weaving home after way too much wine with Sherie, Jerry had stopped him two blocks later. Face to inebriated face, the young officer could have put him in a world of trouble that night. Instead, the guy had urged him to negotiate the last few blocks home with care, get himself to bed and sleep it off.
He already owed Officer Jerry big time. And now his help tonight. Maybe a nice box of steaks when all this was over.
The base of the elm was not occupied tonight, but with only a quick glance to his right before taking off again, he missed catching a glimpse of the black Taurus waiting in the darkness up a side road to the left. Its lights off, the Taurus moved promptly to follow Frank.
For a while it kept a considerable distance from the red tail-lights of the Viper rolling through residential streets and heading for Woodward Avenue. But when Frank turned south onto the divided boulevard and merged with the flow of traffic, the Taurus had it easier. And easier still on I-696 east and I-75 south.
Ten minutes later as he moved through heavier city traffic, Frank continued checking his rear-view mirror. Any chance he’d caught a tail? Not likely, but this was no time for guessing.
When he pulled up to the entrance of the Black Knight and spotted his favorite car jockey running toward him, he climbed out and tossed the car keys high in the air. The kid arrived just in time to grab them.
“Hey, Andy, this is your lucky night.”
“Whoah! How you doin’ Mr. D.?”
“I got a deal for you, Andy. You keep those, and we trade rides until, say, 10 am tomorrow. Deal?�
��
“Until tomorrow? Deal!”
Rolling slowly into the restaurant’s drive, the black Taurus paused for a moment, then continued moving toward the back parking lot as Frank walked with the valet kid into the vestibule. Rolling into a spot near the back end of the lot, the Taurus shut down. A minute later the Viper appeared and nosed into a spot reserved for the valet service. The valet kid got out and ran back to his duties.
One more minute and Frank emerged from the Knight’s service entrance and walked quickly into the lot. From the Viper he pulled out the garment bag, then searched the vehicles parked against the back fence. Finding a dirty, 10-year-old Ranger pickup, he opened the door, tossed in the bag and slid behind the wheel. He had to turn the ignition twice before the Ranger’s engine kicked in, then he moved toward the lot’s back exit.
The Taurus was once again on the move.
Chapter 72
The take-off roar of a 747 actually rattled the window of Room 17 at the Airport Ramada, a long, two-story building with an exterior entrance to each room. At the door to 17, two armed, uniformed security guards sat on straight-backed chairs.
One of them tilted back on two legs, leaning against the motel wall. “What’s he doin’ with an old pickup? I thought he drove one of them Vipers. Like supposedly they only made 200 of them suckers last year, and he got one.”
His partner sat forward, hunched over, forearms on knees, smoking a cigarette. “Who the fuck knows? They say he’s fuckin’ nuts.” He took a long slow drag, then lifted his head and blew. “Anyway, this is gonna be one long-assed night.”
“Hey, last time you looked was they payin’ you?”
“Yeah, almost enough to buy his gas.”
Chapter 73
Inside, 17 was a long, narrow room brightened somewhat with four large prints over the two beds, tracing in abbreviated fashion the history of commercial aviation. Frank was paying them no attention as he sat in his undershorts on one of the beds. He was also ignoring Letterman chatting away with Madonna about where she learned to play baseball for “A League of Their Own.”
The Car Bomb (The detroit im dying Trilogy, Book 1) Page 14
