Class Conspiracy: A Hank Lancaster Mystery
Page 16
“Easier said than done, Lancaster,” Pelham said. “It’s not just a company we’re taking over. We’re taking the county. That’s the richest company in Bay Tree County. We’ll have wealth and power. No one will stand against us. No one will dare.”
“So Jake will share the wealth?”
“We have worked out an arrangement.”
I eased my hand under my jacket. Wyland had his gun on his hip, hidden by his coat. His fingers, also hidden by the coat, touched the metal.
“I must admit it was a good plan. Ned paid for his own executioner. He wasn’t an innocent. You told him about the plot and he went along with it. Of course, you left out one item. You forgot to mention you intended to kill him too,” I said.
Pelham’s smile was more of a gloat. “His old man was in the process of disinheriting him. So I told Ned take it all. He gladly accepted. He was foolish enough to believe me. Clyde died a bit sooner than expected. He didn’t get a chance to change his will. The legal one gives Tom a few dollars but he’s greedy. He wanted much more. As you two figured out the “orange mango” fund was the payment to our friends here. Old man Clyde spotted it. Didn’t know what it was but he knew it was suspicious. Thankfully, that stroke came about a day later. Alas, for you two we have decided we won’t pay any blackmail. You never can tell where it will end. Besides, we don’t trust you.” He hand moved toward his gun. “So there’s nothing left to say…”
“Just one thing,” I said. “Adios.”
I have a few talents. Innate. Some people have good natural golf swings. I can handle guns.
The man with the scar was quick but not quick enough. I fired. A bullet crashed into his chest when his gun was barely out of his holster. He stumbled and slipped toward dirt. The second bullet jolted his body as he fell, mixing blood with mud when he hit the ground. The chubby, bushy beard stranger lost his footing on the wet ground. It affected his aim. His bullet whizzed past my ear. He grabbed his stomach but two lines of blood from my bullets flowed between his fingers.
I dived left when Pelham aimed his gun at me. I hit and rolled over. Mud and water stuck to my face as I aimed and returned fire. The gun fired just as another clap of thunder assaulted the earth, rattling boards in the old house. Random bits of debris swirled in the wet air. Wyland had fallen but the bearded man was hit again as he tried to rise. His gun dropped into a pool of water and his massive body covered the gun as he fell. Pelham grunted in agony and tried to raise his hand. But his arm and chest had been weakened. He couldn’t bring his gun hand up to the needed level. His arm kept lifting then dropped back toward the ground.
Jake Rafferty had lifted his gun from his holster but it hung in the hair. Fear had paralyzed limbs. He stood as if in a trace, rain slinging into his open mouth. Facing death is never easy. Some men can’t do it. Facing the cold reality of death freezes some men. Rafferty had been smiling. Now death smiled back. He let the gun slip from his hand.
Pelham finally gave up. His fingers could not hold his weapon. He slid down to his knees. Jennifer Rafferty yelled and ran to him.
Wyland, leaking a small amount of blood from his side, stood up. The two men – the hired killers – stayed on the ground, dead.
I didn’t know if Camelot was secure but at least the richest, most powerful company in Bay County would not be run by criminals.
When all the police questioning was done Wyland and I packed up our bags and dropped them in the trunks of our cars. We were both in the motel parking lot ready to leave. Lt. Douglas drove by, got out of his car and lumbered over. He looked at us for a moment then showed a sour grin.
“Obliged to you two,” he said, returned to his car and drove off.
“I’m glad he didn’t get effusive with us. I hate displays of emotion,” I said.
“Me too. Let’s exit, Hank. It’s time to get back to, in my case, the wife and in your case the girlfriend.”
“Yes. I don’t mind when Astrid gets effusive. In fact, I’m looking forward to it.”
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
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Ace Beckett