by Lou Fletcher
Applebee wheeled over to check on Tippi and me, then headed to the kitchen to make coffee. One of the EMTs stopped by and I assured him we were okay, so he moved on to the next group. I spotted Perry standing alone across the room and waved him over. It’s time to mend some fences.
“Pull up a chair,” I said. “How are you?”
“I don’t know.” His voice was weary and sad.
Applebee rolled up beside him and offered him more coffee. Perry thanked him. He turned his face away from his brother. “I’m sorry, Bob,” he said, his voice barely audible.
“Me too.”
“I want to tell you everything, Bob, and I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me. I had no idea the kind of man Guenther was, and by the time I found out, I was already in so deep I couldn’t figure a way out.” Perry looked miserable. His nose was swollen and blood was caked around his upper lip.
“You mean you were in on Alice’s...?”
“Oh, God no, Bob. I didn’t know anything about Alice’s murder. Or your accident or Gus’s either.”
“But Gus told us you offered to watch him while he moved his car so Guenther could plow the parking lot. What happened?”
“Guenther sent me to get some ice melter from the shed out back. He wanted to put it down after he plowed. When I came back, Gus was gone. Guenther told me he’d said he wanted to get home. He was worried about Edna, with her bad heart and all. It didn’t occur to me to question his story. I can’t believe how he sucked me in—again.”
“He fooled all of us, Perry.”
“He liked to use me as a sounding board. He’d brag about how easy it was to fix the records and cash in. He played on how everybody at the center hated Herb B. and used that to get him to go along with the fake company, the records, all of it. In return, he threw a little money at Herb B., and got him the materials for all the remodeling on his house. He played on us being long-lost brothers to keep his secret and,” he faltered, “I admit, I bought into it.” He watched his fingers clench and relax. “I didn’t ask too many questions.”
“Was that what you were arguing about at the party?” Applebee asked.
Perry nodded. “Yeah. Me and Herb B. We told Guenther we wanted out, but he said there was only one way we’d get loose and he didn’t think we’d like it.”
“He threatened to kill you?”
“Not in so many words, but the meaning was definitely clear.”
The men were still talking when Frenchie showed up. Perry picked her up and set her on Applebee’s lap.
“Where’ve you been, girl?” he said, letting her lick his cheek. “Bet you slept right through all the excitement, didn’t you?”
“I’ll take her out,” Mr. Wittekind offered, joining us. “Let’s go, rascal.” He picked her up and started for the back door, where he was stopped by a young policewoman, red curls bouncing as she shook her head and put her arm across the door to block the exit. Mr. Wittekind offered to let her hold the puppy and soon they were both laughing. He looked back at us and gave a thumb’s up.
Applebee laughed watching the two. “I’m glad to know some things haven’t changed. They’ll probably be engaged before the day’s over.”
I checked on Tippi and Marcy and told them I had one more piece of unfinished business to attend to. With hugs and promises to come right back, I went to the utility room and opened the door to the tool closet. Just as expected, there sat Joe.
“Did ya come to turn me in again?” he said bitterly.
“No, Joe. You can come and join us in the lounge. It’s all over.”
“Righto. I should believe you because?”
“It was Guenther, Joe. We have proof. You’re in the clear. You have to trust me.”
“I did that before and see where it got me. You all believed I was really a killer? I can’t believe you really thought that, Hank.”
“Look, I know most of us had our doubts about you, but...”
“Humph,” he snorted.
“Joe, you did take off. You had opportunity. We thought you also had motive, based on the rumors Tippi heard about you being a playboy. And you left the scene. You can understand why you looked suspicious.”
“I can’t believe you really thought I could be a ladies’ man, Hank,” he said, smiling as he stared down at his sizable girth. “I admit I was sorta flattered you thought so, though.”
“Why, sure, Joe,” I said. “Don’t forget, Alice was a cool lady and she was sure taken with you.”
“If only I...” He choked up, unable to go on.
I patted his shoulder, saying, “Will you come join us? Let us show you we’re sorry we doubted you?”
“Got anything to eat in there?” he said, closing the door behind him.
…
When I came back with Joe, Marcy climbed onto my lap and patted my cheek “We had an adventure.” Her small mouth puckered in a frown. “Aunt Tippi’s gonna get in trouble. She started a fire. Do you think she’ll go to jail? I don’t want her to go to jail, Uncle Hank.” She began to bawl.
Tippi tried to comfort her, but the child wailed even louder, holding tightly onto my neck.
“You started a fire?”
FORTY-ONE
“Tippi here did some remodeling,” Applebee began. “Next thing you know, Gus, she’ll wind up on the center’s payroll.” He smiled broadly at Gus, who had taken Marcy onto his lap.
Perry and I gaped at each other and shrugged. Tippi blushed.
“You want to tell him or should I?” Applebee asked Tippi.
“I’m sure you’re dying to, so please, do the honors,” she answered.
“Tippi here has been hiding some of her talents under the proverbial bushel.”
Tippi responded with a big smile.
“Right,” Applebee continued. “Hank, you mentioned an explosion?”
“Knocked me on my ass. Perry yelled something bout a bomb. I thought the whole building had been blown up with everybody in it.”
“No, but our friend Tabitha Marie,” he grabbed Tippi’s hand before she could smack his cheek, “is a very resourceful woman.”
“Let me tell it, Bob, without the editorial comments. It’ll go faster.”
Tippi explained with a few interruptions from Applebee and Mr. Wittekind how she had started walking across the field towards the police and fire stations. She realized right away that with Marcy’s added weight and the drifted snow she’d never make it. She headed back to the center, but when she heard the gunshots, she decided she had to act.
“Then I thought about Fiona,” she said.
“Fiona?”
“Fiona is the woman on the television show, Burn Notice. She knows everything about explosives and guns and she...”
“Could we save the reviews for later?” I said.
“Didn’t realize you wanted the Cliff’s Notes version,” she huffed. “Fiona is the reason I eat yogurt now, you know.”
“What’s yogurt got to do with this story, and since when do you eat yogurt?” I asked.
Tippi shook her head in exasperation and went on, speaking slowly like she was explaining something to a very dull child. “Anyway, there was one show when Fiona and Sam—they work for Michael but don’t like each other—”
“Tippi!”
“Well, if you don’t want the backstory...”
“Hell no, I don’t.”
“Fiona and Sam were trapped in this warehouse. They built a fire around a tank of propane and blew a big hole in the side so they could get out.” She shrugged. “That’s what I did.”
My jaw dropped.
Perry said, “Wow.”
Applebee grinned from ear to ear. “Isn’t she something?”
With some prodding and a few sidetracks, the facts came out. Tippi returned to the center and went to the construction site to get shelter for Marcy and herself. When she saw the large metal trash can, she began filling it with wood and other scraps, with the intention of building a fire to keep them warm w
hile she decided what to do. “I thought Guenther was still inside with a gun. So I didn’t want to go back in.”
“Smart,” I said.
“I know. Anyway, do you know why I like TV crime shows?”
“Because you learn practical tips like bomb building?”
“Well, Mr. Smarty-pants, it is what saved your life.”
I nodded, remembering the scene. “Tell me about the explosion.”
Tippi explained how the metal can and the fire reminded her of a scene from Burn Notice. She decided to follow Fiona’s lead and build a bomb. She secured Marcy in a corner of the work shed because, as she admitted, she didn’t know how big the explosion would be. Next, she dragged the can as far from the building as she could. She collected more scraps of wood and paper and anything she could find to start a fire. Once she had a blaze going, she added the finishing touch—one of the large propane tanks we kept in the shed for fueling the generators.
“I knew the explosion would bring help.”
“Holy crap.”
“I wasn’t totally sure the makeshift bomb would work. You realize Hollywood makes stuff up, Hank.” She heaved a big sigh and looked downcast. She explained how she hunkered down in the shed with Marcy and waited.
“The fire almost went out, but a gust of wind brought it back to life. I ran over and threw some more wood from the scrap lumber that was lying around and finally had a fire big enough to heat up the propane. And the rest you know.”
“I saw a flicker of light when we were trying to push the van out of a ditch,” I said, “and a figure moving around near it. It was the one thing that gave me a glimmer of hope, although I had no idea what it meant.” I squeezed her hand. “Wow, you’re amazing.”
Applebee laughed until his face was wet with tears. “She’s a keeper, Hank. If you don’t grab her, I’m going to. I may make a play for her anyway.”
Tippi’s face turned scarlet. “Well, I heard the shots and for all I knew,” she took a deep breath, “people were hurt—or worse.”
I realized this story had many heroes. “Goes to show we’re not just a group of sedentary bingo players waiting for the grim reaper,” I observed. I had to admit that I was embarrassed I hadn’t done something more spectacular and said so.
“Are you kidding, Hank?” Tippi said. “You got Marcy and me out just in time. We’d scarcely gotten around the back of the building when we heard the gunshots. You thought fast,” she said, looking at me with a new tenderness, “and risked your own life to save us. I thought he’d killed you.”
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Wittekind pointed down the hall.
Guenther, hands cuffed behind him, walked into the room. Sheriff Grange and Herb B., who was flanked by two deputies, followed him.
FORTY-TWO
Everyone fell silent when Grange escorted Guenther to a seat in the middle of the room. He posted a deputy to guard him before walking Herb B. over to where we sat.
“While we wait for this guy’s ride to jail, I thought we could all have a chat,” Grange said, motioning for Herb B. to take a seat next to Gus. “He’s been Mirandized but I kinda thought maybe he’d like to get some things off his chest.” Grange leaned over so he was nose to nose with the director. “Maybe he’ll realize it might go easier on him if he ’fesses up to his part in this whole mess. After all, accessory to murder is pretty serious.”
The sheriff took a step back while Herb B. considered his options. For a minute, I thought he’d rather take his chances with the murder rap before he’d explain anything to us.
Gus told Herb B. what he and Alice suspected: Herb B. hired EldaWeiss, with Guenther as the contractor for the center’s remodeling project. He told him we knew Guenther had set up a payroll, using fake names mixed in with a few real employees, paying them, and splitting the rest of the designated funds between himself and Herb B.
“Yeah,” Herb B. said, “that’s part of it.” He went on to explain how Guenther made money in other ways, too. He overcharged the center for supplies and materials, created bogus invoices, and the list went on. Herb B. claimed Guenther started blackmailing him when he tried to shake himself loose from the whole scheme. When Guenther told him how he’d disabled the brakes on Applebee’s wheelchair as a joke, he realized he was dealing with a psychopath and became even more determined to break it off with him.
“You just stood there and watched when Bob rolled down the hill into the pond.” My voice shook with a rage I hadn’t experienced since the war.
“I just watched, like everybody else, you asshole. I didn’t...”
“Tell the people what else you did, Robin,” Grange prodded.
Herb B. had the good sense to be embarrassed. He hung his head and said, “I used some of the materials for some work around my house.”
“Some work,” the sheriff snorted. “Try a room addition, a new roof, a deck and a brand new concrete driveway.”
Herb B. put his face in his hands. “You can see why I was terrified of Guenther,” he said. “He’s the one who suggested we use what he said were ‘excess materials’ on some odd jobs around my place. I was in too deep to back out. Guenther threatened to tell everything after he left in the new RV he’d buy with his so-called earnings.”
“So that’s where the RV fits in,” I said.
Grange chimed in. “Guess he was gonna become a snowbird.”
“Did you know what he planned to do to Alice?” Gus turned to Herb B., his knuckles white from clutching his cane.
Grange moved between the two men.
Herb B. became the snotty, SOB we’d always known. “Of course not. That was all Guenther’s doing. He bragged about it to me afterward, though. He said the ‘stupid bitch’ was on to us, and he made sure she wouldn’t talk. I tried to get out of our little arrangement,” he repeated. “You saw us arguing, remember, Wittekind?”
Mr. Wittekind nodded. “And Perry.”
“Right. We know he was using Perry,” I added.
Herb B. nodded and continued. “Guenther said we had a deal and Perry and I were going to keep it, or else we’d be doing the chicken dance with Alice in the great hereafter. Besides, I knew what he was capable of after what he did to Applebee and Gus.”
“Gus? What did he do to Gus?” Applebee asked.
“All I know is he said Gus won’t be a threat to us anymore. I didn’t know anything about Gus’s disappearance until you told me he’d left, remember, Hank?”
I nodded, remembering the scene.
Grange filled in the rest, saying after he left the center with Herb B., Guenther went back to his trailer and traded the van for his own truck. Next, he drove around to a couple of ATMs forcing Herb B. to withdraw as much cash from his accounts as he could, before dumping him on the entrance ramp to the Brent Spence Bridge. “He flagged down a plow truck driver, who radioed us, and we picked him up.”
He added that Herb B. was so pissed off, not to mention suffering frostbite in his bare feet, he was more than happy to tell the deputy the whole story. “He gave us a description of the truck, and the Kentucky State Police apprehended Guenther less than thirty minutes later near Florence.” What followed was a conversation with the Kentucky officials, who were happy to avoid the extra paperwork and handed him over.
“Well, Robin,” I said. “I guess now the shit has really hit the fan. I hope your next job will be cleaning latrines at Lebanon Correctional.”
Before Herb B. could think of a comeback, two deputies arrived and led him away, limping. They stopped to collect Guenther on their way out.
“I’d love to be a fly on the window of that patrol car,” I said, watching Guenther stick out his foot out to trip Herb B., whose fall was broken by his escort.
“Good riddance to both of them,” Mr. Wittekind added. He put a protective arm around Gus’s shoulders. “You okay, buddy?” he asked.
“No, I’m not,” Gus answered. “I wish it had been me instead of Alice.”
“It was almost both of
you,” Tippi reminded him. “It was only a miracle you didn’t freeze to death out there. And what about Applebee? He could have drowned if it hadn’t been for Hank.”
Thinking of the “what ifs” sobered us all up. As I looked around the circle of friends, I realized they are my family now. We had shared an experience and a bond as tight as the one I had with my fellow Marines. We were survivors, and I knew we’d honor our fallen comrade, Alice, for the rest of our lives.
FORTY-THREE
The diner was beginning to fill up with the usual Friday lunch crowd when Tippi and I arrived. We grabbed the single long table in the middle of the restaurant and waited for the rest of our group.
Applebee and Gus arrived together, followed by Mr. Wittekind and Sheriff Grange.
“Marcy wanted to come, so I promised we’d do something special real soon when she was off school,” Applebee said. “Frenchie was disappointed she couldn’t be here, too.” He grinned.
Regina brought us coffee and told us how proud she was of us. “Dessert is on me,” she added, squeezing my shoulder.
“Marry me,” I answered, ducking the dishtowel she threw at my head.
I ordered the lunch special and after Regina poured coffee and gave hugs all around, we peppered Grange with questions.
“How about if I just tell you what I’ve got, then you can give me the test,” he joked.
“Oui,” said Tippi.
“Well, you already know most of it. Herb B. and Guenther’s embezzlement scheme, Guenther’s attempts on Gus and Applebee,” he glanced at each man, “and of course, how he killed Alice. One thing Guenther didn’t reveal to Herb B. about Alice, though,” he paused, “was he had asked her on a date. She actually went out with him. He took her to The Precinct in Cincinnati.”
Wittekind let out a long whistle. “What steaks.”
“Right,” Grange went on. “Guenther really laid it on thick but expected he’d collect afterwards when he took her back to his place. Of course, Alice wanted no part of anything like what Guenther had in mind and demanded he take her home. She told him she never wanted him to come near her again.”
