Killer on Call 6 Book Bundle (Books 1-6)

by Gwendolyn Druyor

  He calmed his own breathing, judged the strength of the laundry cabinet handles, and insisted, “She’s here.”

  Before Armando could respond, Avi quickly turned his head and looked out the window. Armando did the same. Avi dropped his hands, scattering the treats in his sleeve in front of the dogs. They scrambled for them, fighting each other.

  Avi sprang up to crouch on the edge of the washing machine. He grabbed a sheet and flung it into the man’s face as he pushed off the washer. He hit the swinging door in his dive, knocking it off the wooden doorstop that had been wedged beneath it so that it swung open as he rolled into the kitchen. Through the wide open doorway, he saw one of the dogs turning to attack. Armando was just pulling the sheet from his head, untangling his arms.

  Avi dove for the doorway. He grabbed the wedge and twisted his upper body out of the way as the door swung back. He flipped the wedge over and shoved it under the door just as Armando pushed. The stranger’s force drove the door so far over the wooden wedge, that the door stopped moving. It would be a while before the guy could pull the door off.

  Avi got his feet under him and started pulling open drawers, looking for a more secure way of keeping the door shut. But then, in his ear and behind the heavy fire door on the far side of the refrigerator, he was startled by a piercing scream.

  And the transmitter went dead.

  Nine

  The stakes were a little out of control. Tim liked it that way. Kissy won him another hand with her scream.

  He twitched just as Gina matched his raise. The mayor folded. Patrice folded. And his trip queens beat Gina’s pocket aces by pure luck. He raked in the chips and stacked them neatly beside his empty glass.

  The transmitter had gone dead right after the scream. Then it clicked on again and Avi shouted, “There are at least four fighting dogs here!” And the transmitter went dead again.

  Tim vowed to never work with anyone else again. He couldn’t take this kind of tension. Hanging from his fingertips off the edge of a six story building was less stressful than wondering if the love of his life, and yes, her boyfriend, had been mauled by dogs.

  The commissioner dealt as each of the four players tossed in a thousand dollars worth of chips. Tim glanced over at Gina who had only two thousand’s worth in front of her. Her cheerful grin was still plastered on her face. She didn’t even look at her cards before throwing in all of her chips. The mayor, Tim’s target, matched her bet. Coldman, whom Tim wouldn’t mind having as a target, set ten thousand dollars out in front of her.

  Tim fingered his chips and asked Commissioner Lee, “Can we do a side pot for Gina?”

  “Oh Red, sweetie, that’s okay.” Gina reassured him with a wave of her hand. “I can match her.”

  Lee offered her an out as Tim pushed his chips into the pot. “You’ve put an awful lot of money into this game. I think we could all agree to let you take your two thousand and walk away.”

  Gina tilted her head, letting her curls bounce off her shoulders. “The game’s more fun when there’s more money in it. And I can’t let Ms. Patrice chase me away. How could I ever face her again?”

  Lee exchanged her cash for chips and she tossed eight thousand into the pot.

  The bet went to Mayor Sutton. Tim hadn’t really noticed how low the mayor’s bankroll had dropped. The mayor only had a couple stacks of chips in front of him. Tim saw the man flick his eyes from the pot to his cards to Patrice Coldman. Then he turned to Nancy Burton, standing just on the far side of the velvet rope behind him. She handed him a brown envelope.

  “Commissioner, I know Patrice has been trying to acquire the one available nightclub zoning permit. I believe Red is interested as well. If Gina agrees, I’d like to throw the zoning permit into the pot. Based on the bribes I’ve been offered in the past, the value of the permit would raise the bet to twenty thousand dollars.”

  The mayor left the envelope laying on the green felt between his chips and the pot. He sat back in his chair and cleaned his fingernails.

  “I accept the bet.” Coldman tried too hard to sound cool.

  The commissioner held his hands up. “Hold up now. I don’t know if this is entirely legal.”

  Nancy offered two files of paperwork over the rope. “Mr. Logan and Ms. Coldman are the only two who have applied for the permits. And Ms. Makaroenwoodhi has a great deal of experience as a silent partner.”

  Gina’s eyes were sparkling. She quickly assured everyone, “oh, I accept the bet.”

  Though everyone at the table was silent commissioner Lee had to yell to be heard over the excited crowd. “Mayor Sutton is offering to improve his bet with city property. He cannot bet with funds that aren’t his.”

  “Mayor Sutton has written a check to the city for the corresponding amount.” Nancy didn’t raise her voice and the crowd quieted to hear her. “That is acceptable to me as city manager. What says the head councilwoman?”

  “She says aye.” Coldman could barely contain her glee, yet she still didn’t smile.

  “Isn’t the mayor just bribing the city for the permit then?” Tim asked in Red’s Aussie accent. And then he provided Lee with an excuse to allow the permit in. “I’d accept the bet if he wrote the check to the Parkside projects fund.”

  The uproar shut down any further discussion. The commissioner leaned in and privately asked each of the players if that solution would be acceptable. Each of the others readily agreed.

  “Then I’m calling a dinner break for one hour.” He reached over and picked up the brown envelope with the disputed permit. “When we come back, I will make my decision.”

  “Oh good.” Gina chirped. “Because I just need to run to an ATM.” She looked around at the others. “I’ve never used one before. Can someone show me how?”

  Ten

  “Red!”

  Tim stopped at the mayor’s call. He turned and his eyes were caught by the man’s thick bouncy graying hair.

  “Walk with me. Are you hungry? Fabulous hot dogs on the pond shore walk.”

  Tim had been ready to leap on his motorcycle and race out to the mayor’s house. He’d also been kind of counting on the mayor going back to his office for a private drink. But when an opportunity chased you out of town hall, you had to take it.

  “Lead on, mate.” Tim followed the mayor across the street to the decorated square.

  A light snow sparkled in all the lights as it fell, dusting the grass and the revelers. Kids slipped as they barreled across the path in front of them. One tripped and rolled in the grass, leaping to his feet to chase his friends past the gazebo. The smell of fresh popcorn and roasted nuts filled the air from vendors with pushcarts along the paths.

  The mayor greeted everyone they met by name reminding the adults to vote in the runoff governor election in January. He made the point that they should be selfish in their vote. They should consider which governor would be best for the city. After a couple of encounters, Red started asking if Councilwoman Coldman would automatically become mayor if Sutton were elected governor.

  Only one old woman actually came out and asked, “Are you trying to help him or hurt him?”

  Tim answered, “I like this town with him as mayor. If the other guy weren’t a decent man, I might think differently.”

  The woman was thrown. She stuttered, “Oh, dear. Well, I hadn’t thought of Mayor Sutton leaving.”

  “If he gets elected, he’ll have to. Sorry, Rory.”

  The mayor hadn’t argued.

  When they crossed the cobblestones to the wooden walkway around the pond, the mayor started making it clear with his greetings that he was in a private conversation. He stopped at a steaming cart and bought them each a hot dog. Then he invited Red to lead him through the break in the railing and walked him far from the families floating candle boats out into the water.

  “Twenty years ago this was a swamp. Everything changed when the original town hall burnt down with all the corrupt politicians inside.”

  “You woul
d have been a kid then?” Tim asked after swallowing.

  “Not quite,” Sutton laughed. “I worked on the docks. Just before the fire a tough redheaded broad came to town. I learned a lot from her.” He looked over at Tim. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

  Tim leaned against the railing. “Rory Sutton, were you a playboy?”

  “No.” The mayor chuckled. “She didn’t teach me those things. Kimberly Schipa taught me those things.”

  The mayor paused, gazing at the horizon and Tim remembered the woman who had taught him those things. It was several minutes before the men shook themselves out of their reveries.

  The mayor continued, “Red, this woman taught me to do what needed doing. You seem like the kind of guy who can understand that.” He took a bite of his dog and chewed for a while before he went on, “The town was a mess back then and it needed a lot of cleaning up.”

  “You burnt down town hall.” Tim put a smile in his voice but he turned away and gazed through the brightly lit square at the current town hall.

  “It was faulty electrical wiring, Mr. Logan, not arson. But I have been trying to clean the place up since then.”

  Tim essayed, “Fire cleans pretty thoroughly.”

  “It does,” the mayor agreed.

  “And if a few people get caught in the flames. . . “

  “Their souls will be washed clean before they get to heaven.”

  The two of them leaned on the railing as they finished their hot dogs, looking over at the townsfolk walking along the cobblestone street and enjoying the art and decorations in the square. A pair of tap and rap performers were presenting their act on the gazebo. Tim reevaluated his sense of people. He’d judged the mayor to be a good guy. And he’d got it all wrong.

  A tall dark figure rushing along one of the paths in the square turned for a moment and Tim’s eyes were caught by the flash of red that sparked off his chest when his ugly Christmas sweater caught the light. Avi was back from the mayor’s house but Kissy wasn’t with him. He paused to talk to a group of kids and Tim caught sight of another figure ducking behind a tree so that Avi wouldn’t see her.

  She was a little thing, dressed all in black with a page boy hat perched on her short blond pixie cut. The tree may have blocked her from Avi’s view, but the white lights strung in its branches made his nemesis, Vanessa stand out clearly from where Tim stood.

  He pulled out his cell phone. “Do you mind, Mate? I’ve gotta take this.”

  The mayor smiled lightly and shook his head. Tim took a few steps away, holding the phone up to his ear. He tapped the transmit button on his earlobe.

  “Kissy, are you safe?” He tapped again.

  His heart relaxed when he heard her voice in his ear. “I’m at the game. Where are you?”

  Tim tapped his transmitter on as soon as she had clicked off. “The assignment is a go.” He spoke quietly, calmly. “Avi, I need you to step away from those kids for a second. Move to your left and stand under that tree right there. Now you need to repeat the target.” He hit his earring.

  Avi voice rumbled in impossibly low tones, ““We’re going to kill Mayor Sutton tonight. But this doesn’t feel right. This isn’t justice.” He clicked off.

  “Good. I’ll meet you both at the game.” He nodded and rolled his eyes as Sutton approached. “Can’t talk now. Mayor’s here.”

  He swiped the screen of his cell and stuck it back into his cargo shorts pocket. “Money never goes on holiday.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” The mayor led the way back towards the square and town hall as Tim subtly reached up to tug at his earlobe. “I like you, Mr. Logan. I think your money can do good things for my town. But I can’t show favoritism right now.” He lowered his voice as they reached the populated parts of the walkway. “I have to tread carefully with Patrice. She has a dangerous friend.”

  “You mean lover?” Tim asked.

  The mayor laughed but refused to answer. “You’ve got to play your cards right, Red. Quite literally.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Tim glanced up at the banner strung across the town hall entrance from the elm tree to the oak. It read Party for Parkside. Have fun and help your neighbors.

  “The Parkside fire was a real shame,” he said. “Is it true a drug dealer and a dog fighter were caught inside?”

  The mayor gave Tim a cryptic look but greeted some citizens and kissed a baby before he answered. “The fire was a horrible thing,” he said. “But now we’ll be able to rebuild something nicer, more in keeping with the city I want to live in.”

  They crossed the street and climbed the steps of town hall. The mayor stopped and turned to look out over the square.

  “It’s funny how one person can completely change your life,” he mused. “I will never forget that woman from twenty years ago.”

  Eleven

  Food!

  Lying on the cold ground of the garage floor, a dog’s fangs inches from her head, Kissy remembered the potato balls she’d stuffed in her pocket for Jessica before she went searching for proof against the mayor. She reached down. The growling resumed in all its viciousness and she froze. Her hand was so close to her jacket pocket. She inched it over and caught an edge of the napkin. Garlic breath, peppermint hair, bloody knees, and beef filled fried potato balls. Quite the smorgasbord for a dog’s nose.

  The napkin unwrapped as Kissy pulled it awkwardly out of her coat pocket. The growling suddenly silenced. She felt the dog sniff her head and then work its way down her right side until it got to the feast.

  While the dog scarfed down the three fat treats, Kissy rolled to her side and carefully sat up. The dog was fully engaged with its meal. She slowly pushed back onto her feet and made her way around the gorging dog to the cage door.

  There was no trip bar at ankle height. The cage door simply didn’t go all the way to the ground. For some reason this took a weight off Kissy’s mind. She’d been lying at death’s door, or under his drool at least, and her subconscious had distracted itself wondering about the construction of the dog crate. She shook her head, baffled at the way her mind worked.

  She should have been more focused on the way the dog’s mind worked.

  She’d just stepped one foot over the ankle high barrier when the dog leapt on her back and she went down, landing again on her left knee and then slamming her head onto the cement.

  Kissy let out a scream that should have shattered the blacked out glass of the garage doors. She instantly grabbed at her head, hitting the button on her ear. Then she kicked forward off the tall base of the cage door, desperate to avoid the pounce of the hundred and fifty pound beast. But as she was scrambling up the kitchen steps, she heard two things.

  In her ear and through the fire door in front of her, she heard Avi shouting “There are at least four fighting dogs here!”

  Behind her, she heard a high pitched whimper.

  Kissy looked over her shoulder. The shaggy monster was lying low on his belly just inside the cage with his muzzle touching the mesh. His ears perked up when she caught his eyes and then flattened against his head again. When she didn’t look away, he opened his jaw a fraction and let out a short, pitiful cry.

  “Kissy!” Avi shouted.

  She heard him scrabbling at the kitchen door. “I’m okay,” she called back, not turning away from Killer. “I think we’re both okay out here.”

  The enormous dog raised his head to cry again. Kissy noticed that for all his size, she could see the poor dog’s ribs sticking out along its sides. The shaggy fur was limp and matted. She turned to sit on the lower step and searched her pockets. One last potato ball had fallen out of the napkin and was hiding in the depths.

  Killer tilted his Chihuahua-sized head and then laid it on the lower edge of the cage entrance, whimpering hopefully. His eyebrows raised and squinted as his eyes darted from her face to her hands.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Killer opened giant jaws in a speaking yawn. His tongue stretched a
nd curled out to its full length before he snapped his mouth shut again. Kissy leaned forward and the mouth opened again, that tongue falling out to the side. He panted, restraining himself as she duck-walked back to the cage.

  She held the potato ball out carefully on one palm, bending her fingers back as they’d been taught in Girl Scouts when they went horseback riding. The dog stared at it, drooling. But he didn’t move.

  Kissy held it closer. “It’s okay. You can—“

  As soon as she said okay, Killer snatched the beefy treat out of her hand and swallowed it whole. Kissy pulled her hand back and whimpered a little herself. She saw the dog’s eyes dart to the door behind her and his upper lip curled up in a snarl.

  “Who’s a good boy?” Avi’s voice rumbled through the echoey garage.

  It startled Killer right out of his aggression. The dog pulled his head back and tilted it, those marvelous eyebrows dancing with expressions. Kissy laughed. And Killer hopped backwards. He buried his face into the ground and then peered up at them both. He stuck his butt in the air and his thin tail wagged furiously back and forth.

  “Yes. That’s a good boy,” Avi said. And then in the same happy tone, he went on, “Kissy is gonna stand up now and we’re gonna go find you some more food.”

  Killer barked and jumped sideways, still in the awkward bowing position. His tail whipped through the air. Avi crossed down the stairs and over to the cage. He shut the door and latched it. Then he turned to help Kissy to her feet.

  And the howling started. The huge, thin, shaggy dog sat his butt down and howled.

  Kissy laced her fingers through the wide metal grid of the cage and murmured at him, “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re a good boy.”

  The screech of static in her ear distracted her. She turned on Avi. “You can’t use the transmitter when we’re in the same room, remember?”

  “Then we’ve got to go. We’ve got to tell Tim.” Avi turned to the fire door but Kissy caught his arm.

  “But Killer isn’t a killer. This is not a fighting dog,” she insisted.