Getting Away Is Deadly

by Sara Rosett

  “Hold on, I’m confused. Alan? Alan who?” I asked.

  “Alan Archer.”

  “Alan Archer was on that patrol? I thought you said the other guy’s name was Stretch.”

  MacInally snorted. “We called him Stretch because he was so short. He had to stretch for everything.”

  “I thought Archer served in Vietnam,” I said, trying to work it out.

  “He was in Korea and Vietnam. Lots of guys were in both theaters.”

  “So what do you remember?” I asked.

  “I remember the ambush, waiting, the mosquitoes. And I remember that right before we left on the patrol a few days before that, Archer found out Shipley was getting promoted. Archer wasn’t. Archer thought he deserved it. He was furious, but he got it under control before we left on patrol. The whole time, though, he was tense and you could see the anger almost shimmering off him.”

  MacInally looked pasty again. He swallowed and pushed the napkin away. It was folded into a neat rectangle. His voice was soft as he said, “When the ambush broke and the firing started, I saw Archer fire at Shipley. Noel charged at Archer. Then Archer shot Noel and aimed at me. Noel died and I went into a coma.”

  It was a few seconds before I managed to say, “But that’s the opposite of what you were told.” MacInally nodded and I said, “He blamed Noel for everything. He couldn’t blame you. You might contradict him.”

  “Not with amnesia, I couldn’t. That’s why he’s always kept in touch. Always wanted to know if I was a threat to him. He probably figured this long and I’d never remember, but he was consistent, always calling on my birthday, checking in whenever he was in town.” He smiled. “My first wife didn’t like him. Thought he was a creep. She was right. She always said it was odd when he came around and didn’t feel right. I should have listened to her.”

  “Does he know you’ve remembered?”

  “No. I think he suspects. Week before last I was at dinner with him and his wife and I mentioned Debbie’s e-mail, how she’d contacted me out of the blue. ‘Brings back a lot of memories,’ I said. He must have thought that meant something more than I intended, because I was almost dead a few days later.”

  “And before you were able to talk to me.”

  “Ironic, isn’t it? At that point, I hadn’t remembered anything to tell you and I nearly died because of one comment.”

  “You think going into the hospital was what brought back the memories?” I asked.

  “They don’t really know why my memory is coming back now. It might have happened without going into the hospital. Or not. If Alan hadn’t sent that thug to beat me up, he might still have his secret.”

  “You remember what the thug looked like?”

  “I saw him last night at the fund-raiser, following Archer around. It was like a light switch flipped on in my brain. What had been fuzzy and indistinct before was clear now.”

  “The guy who shadowed Archer last night? The one who looked like he should be in the WWF? He was the one who beat you up?”

  “Yes. It was him.”

  “Who is he?” I asked.

  “I have no idea. A hired thug, I don’t know. That’s for Detective Mansfield to figure out.”

  “Have you told anyone about this?” I asked.

  “Only you.”

  Despite the overheated room I felt a shiver crawl up my back. “You’d better tell someone else soon.”

  “That’s what I’m on my way to do next,” he said. “I’m meeting with Detective Mansfield in…” He paused to check his watch. “Thirty minutes. I should go soon. Debbie deserved to know the truth first. She was the only one who believed in her dad, who kept on believing.”

  He swallowed, rubbed his hands over his eyes, and said, “I knew Noel. I shouldn’t have believed he was capable of something like that.”

  I reached out, touched his arm. “You can’t blame yourself. You were wounded. Of course you’d believe what they told you.”

  He shook his head. “No. I shouldn’t have. Why is it that we’re so quick to believe bad things about our own people?”

  I didn’t have an answer.

  “Well.” He slapped his hands down on the table. “I’ve got to go.”

  Before he left, I said, “What about Lena? Do you think she knows?”

  He paused. “I don’t think she knew in the beginning, but I think she’s figured it out.”

  MacInally ran his hand over his hair again. “She asked me about it last night. She wanted to know whether I remembered anything from the firefight. It was the way she asked, like she was checking up on me, making sure I still didn’t remember anything that tipped me off. That’s when I knew she was playing me.”

  He looked so beaten down that I said, “I think she does care about you.” She had seemed genuinely fond of him when she talked about him. Not like she was in love, but I did think she liked him.

  MacInally smiled sadly. “But not as much as she cares about herself.”

  “How did she know?” I wondered. “She wasn’t on the patrol.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure. I was pretty fuzzy those first few weeks after I was hit, but I do remember Lena talking with the other nurses about Archer. She fancied him. Apparently, he’d been in to see me when I wasn’t awake. He must have gotten leave somehow.” He smiled his bleak smile again. “I was disappointed to overhear her going on and on about Archer. They were serious. I thought they were going to get married. I was sweet on her myself.”

  He went silent, lost in the past. Then he came out of his reverie. “When we ran into each other a few years ago, we became friends. At least, I thought we were friends, but now I wonder if she was just keeping an eye on me for Archer. She’d asked about my memories of Korea every so often. Maybe we became more than friends so she could get even closer to me.”

  Or maybe she was hurting and on the rebound from Jorge? I didn’t say that aloud. “She and Archer never married?”

  “Nah. Don’t know what happened there. She told me one time about ten years ago that Archer wasn’t the marrying type. Then a couple of years ago he married Vicki, a political alliance. It’s certainly no love match, I can tell you that.”

  I wasn’t exactly feeling sorry for Lena, but I knew it couldn’t have been easy for her to see Archer married to Vicki. Maybe that incident was a factor in her little fling with Jorge.

  There was no way I’d ever get the answers to those questions, but my mind raced to the implications of MacInally’s story. It had to be what she’d used to blackmail Archer.

  I refocused on MacInally. His gaze was bleak. The closeness he’d shared with Lena last night was over. He wasn’t going to excuse her role in the cover-up. He was going to turn her in, too.

  “I think you need to be very careful until you talk to Mansfield,” I said, suddenly worried for him. “Did you tell Lena you remembered what really happened?”

  “No. I can’t trust her,” he said simply. “But don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” He stood. “Where’s your husband?”

  I glanced around the room as I stood up, too. I spotted Mitch talking to a couple I didn’t recognize. “Over there by the door. He must have run into someone he knows. No matter where we go he bumps into someone he knows.”

  “Military life does that for you—gives you lots of friends.” He kissed my check and said, “Give my love to Debbie. I’d like to meet her someday, if she’s still interested.”

  He left and I dropped back into the chair, my thoughts spinning. MacInally thought Lena had lied to him. Did that mean she was the one who pushed Jorge? To keep her relationship with him, not to mention their blackmail, a secret? She was on the platform, but how did she get Summer’s Metro card?

  A phone rang and I reflexively reached for my purse, which was draped over the back of my chair. I’d switched back to my large Coach backpack, which had room for maps, guidebooks, and a new supply of Hershey’s Kisses. My phone was quiet when I pulled it out. I glanced around a
gain because the ringing continued and it was close. I saw a flash of silver under the napkins in the center of the table. The phone changed over to voice mail as I brushed the napkins away and picked up MacInally’s phone.

  I might be able to catch him before he left the museum. I waved to Mitch, showed him the phone, and shouted that I’d be right back. I hurried out the doors and into a corridor that led to the museum. A stubby woman in a security guard uniform with the longest fake eyelashes I’d ever seen guarded the double glass doors. “No food,” she barked and pointed to a trash can.

  Fake eyelashes or not, she looked like she’d take me down if I tried to sneak a french fry into the museum. I opened my hand. “It’s just a phone.” She reluctantly nodded her head and I pushed through the doors. She was obviously practicing for when Homeland Security called with an opening in airport screening.

  I hurried down the walkway, looking for MacInally. I spotted his tan windbreaker as he stepped on the escalator. Why was he going to the second level?

  I wedged myself onto the crowded escalator. I realized the man with the terrible toupee was one step above me, blocking my view. I had to lean around him to keep MacInally in sight.

  What was it about our society that we went for so much fake stuff—fake eyelashes, fake hair, fake white teeth? And why did so many people wear things like wigs and eyelashes that were obviously fake? Wouldn’t it make more sense to go for the natural look?

  The escalator slid to the top. I stepped off and turned right. A few more steps and I placed my arm on MacInally’s shoulder. “You left your—” I dropped my hand and stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

  It wasn’t MacInally. The man had the same jacket, the same dark hair tinged with gray, and the same tall, hefty build, but it wasn’t him.

  Something about those words…I closed my eyes and concentrated. Then I had it.

  We’d been so focused on the people we could see on the platform that we’d completely ignored the person we couldn’t see. Who was the person with long red hair and a denim jacket? I turned slowly, went to the edge of the walkway, and looked down into the crowd on the first floor. Suddenly, everything came together for me. I knew who’d pushed Jorge. It was the only thing that made sense.

  I reached back to pull my phone out of my purse, but realized I’d left my purse and phone in the food court area. I gripped the oversized handrail, leaned over, and peered into the crowd below. I had to get back and call Detective Brown, but I had to look for MacInally, too. He could be in danger and since I had his phone there was no way to warn him. He’d probably stayed on the first floor and was already gone. I scanned the ebb and flow of the crowd and saw another tan jacket topped with dark hair.

  “MacInally!”

  He turned and I shouted his name again. His gaze climbed to the walkway over his head and I rose on tiptoe, waving his phone to get his attention. At the moment he saw me, a solid blow between my shoulder blades tipped me over and sent the phone arcing away as I scrambled for a hold on the slick handrail.

  An Everything In Its Place Tip for an Organized Trip

  Cruise vacations

  Even if you’re on an all-inclusive cruise, bring some cash.

  Find out if gratuities are included in the cost of your cruise.

  A cabin on the middle deck will help minimize the ship’s motion.

  You can save money on excursions if you book them independently, but the trade-off is that the ship won’t wait for you if you’re delayed.

  Also, check on the length and type of transfers required to get to your excursion, so you don’t spend your shore time stuck in traffic on a bus.

  If you’re planning a family cruise, check for age restrictions on children. Some cruises don’t allow infants.

  Find out how formal or casual the dining will be. If you’d rather not dress up, there’s often a buffet option.

  Make reservations for shipboard activities as soon as you arrive on board because slots fill quickly.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and my stomach seemed to jump into my throat as the room tilted. My torso went over the handrail at an angle. Another shove jolted against my back and shoulder and sent me completely over the railing. Glass and metal kaleidoscoped. My left arm jerked and stretched taut as I gripped the handrail.

  Pain seared through my arm and into my shoulder. It all happened so quickly that it was only when I focused on the Spirit of St. Louis a few feet from me that it registered that I was dangling in midair by one arm. I glanced down. Big mistake. My legs swayed slightly and I felt light-headed as I looked past my feet to the fore-shortened people on the ground floor. They looked so far away.

  I swallowed hard and realized people were pointing at me, their necks cranked back at an awkward angle. I felt sick and hot. My arm and shoulder throbbed and my fingers burned. A memory of Abby and me craning our necks backward to see the ceiling of the Rotunda flickered into my mind and I thought, That’s how we must have looked.

  I snapped my head up and became aware of the shouts below me and a scuffle on the other side of the glass banister. My palm slipped a little on the smooth metal and I tried to force my fingers to keep their grip, but they were numb and I didn’t know if I was holding on to anything or not. My palm slid over the metal and I twisted, trying to rotate my legs around so that I could swing my foot up and get a toehold on the sliver of the walkway on my side of the banister.

  A hand gripped my wrist. “I’ve got her.”

  I looked up. Long red curls nearly obscured Alan Archer’s shriveled face. I tried to scream, but I made a strangled gasping sound instead. I couldn’t seem to get enough air in my lungs to get a deep breath.

  Another arm extended out to me and I swung my right hand up to grip it, but missed and had to try again. I saw the crowd behind Archer; they were waiting, holding back to see if he could pull me in. My right hand connected with the other arm reaching out to me. I grabbed the arm and looked up. It was the bad-toupee man. I swore that I’d never again think disparaging comments about anyone, no matter how awful their toupee looked. As he pulled, the strain on my other arm slackened. “I can’t hold her,” Archer said and let go. He fell away from the banister and the crowd closed around him. Mitch’s face appeared above me, his arm extended. “Ellie, give my your hand.”

  His voice was so normal, calm, and matter-of-fact, like he rescued women hanging from balconies every day. I heaved my arm up. It burned down to my shoulder, but I caught his hand and he and the other man hauled me up and over the railing. I collapsed in a heap with my back against the glass.

  “Are you okay?” Mitch asked.

  “Yes. At least, I think so.” I looked at the other man. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  He looked flustered as he pulled down his sleeve and patted his hairpiece. “Glad I could help. Do you need me to call someone? Are you hurt? An ambulance?”

  “No. I think I’m fine. What happened to Archer?” I pulled myself up and looked down the walkway. I saw a petite figure moving quickly through the crowd, red curls swaying.

  “Stop him…I mean her.” No one moved and the wig bobbed farther away. He was almost to the top of the escalator. I remembered the panic in the Metro station and shouted, “Stop her. She’s got a bomb.”

  It was like a bolt of lightning had struck in the middle of the crowd. Most people scattered, screaming, but several men tackled Archer. He struggled to crawl away and his wig rolled off. The men who’d tackled him were being kind of restrained, but when they saw they were dealing with a man, one landed squarely on Archers’ shoulders, pinning him to the floor. A security guard sprinted down the hall. He took charge and began pulling men off Archer. MacInally stepped off the escalator and approached the officer.

  I sank back down to the floor and Mitch put his arm around me. “What happened?”

  “It was Archer. MacInally told me it was Archer who shot his commanding officer in Korea, not Noel. MacInally had blocke
d it out, the trauma of the day, but he’d been remembering over the last week. When he told me it was Archer who fired the shot and blamed it on Noel, I knew that incident was what Lena and Jorge had used to blackmail Archer.”

  Mitch pushed my bangs off my forehead and I realized I was shivering. He pulled me closer and I nestled into the crook of his shoulder. “When he first told me, I thought it meant Lena killed Jorge so no one would know about their relationship and the blackmail, but then MacInally forgot his phone. When I ran out here to find him, there was a man who looked just like him from the back—the same clothes, the same hair, the same build—but when I caught up with him, it wasn’t MacInally—just someone who looked like him. That’s when it hit me about fake eyelashes and toupees and wigs and I knew it had to be Archer.”

  “Okay,” Mitch said with conviction, but I knew I wasn’t explaining it very well.

  I looked around, but the man with the toupee was gone. “The man with the toupee? Remember him?” Mitch nodded and I said, “It just clicked. I remembered the red wig I’d seen at the Archers’ house. It was with a mermaid costume and I assumed it was his daughter’s, but he could have used it to disguise himself. He’s the same height and build as Summer. I saw them standing beside each other last night, and with the right clothes, a wig, and her beret, he could pass himself off as Summer. No one looks very closely at anyone on the Metro.”

  I felt Mitch nod and rub his chin over my hair, so I continued. “But it was the Metro card that cinched it. As the owner of Summer’s apartment he had to have a key to it. He could get in, steal her Metro card, even take her jacket and beret.”

  “What happened up here? Did you recognize him?”

  “No.” The fabric of Mitch’s shirt rubbed against my cheek as I shook my head. “I didn’t even know he was here. He must have seen MacInally talking to me and thought he’d told me what really happened on that patrol. I saw MacInally down on the first floor. I yelled to get his attention and held up his cell phone. The next thing I knew, someone shoved me over the railing.” I shivered again. “Mitch, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”