by Jack Huber
Bobbie was on the right bed and she immediately tried to sit up from her slight incline, but laid back on her pillow. “Ow, that wasn’t smart,” she struggled to say with a strained chuckle. “What are … you guys … doing here?”
“Of course we’d be visiting you,” Bonnie said as she walked up beside Bobbie’s bed and took her hand, careful not to jar any of the tubes poked into it. Then she turned, touched June’s hand and asked how she felt.
“Been better,” June answered but with even less energy than Bobbie. She leaned toward us and almost whispered, “Did they tell you what happened?”
“Not really,” I replied. “Just that you were T-boned in an intersection and the cab driver was hurt pretty bad.”
“Poor man,” Bobbie said in her raspy voice. “He just got here … from the Middle East … with his four children.”
“Did you see the car that hit you?” I asked.
“Not really,” June said with some effort. “We weren’t paying attention to traffic. Just out of nowhere it hit us on the driver’s side, where Bobbie was sitting, but mostly hit the driver’s door. I don’t remember much after that.”
“I saw a red blur from an SUV,” Bobbie added. “Then, bam. I was out.”
“Detective Ronin said you had hired an agent.”
“Yes,” June replied. “We found a lovely agent who understands our lifestyle, since she’s transgen. She said she wouldn’t charge us until we could afford her.”
“We have to let her know what happened,” Bobbie said. “We won’t be performing for a few weeks now, I’m guessing.”
“Louise Strasburg, right? I’ll let her know as soon as I can.” I looked at Bonnie and shook my head slightly to tell her not to say anything about the agent being missing. She took the hint and said nothing about her. “You guys just worry about getting better.”
We said our goodbyes and left. In the hallway I verbalized my concerns. “If they find out about Strasburg being missing, they’ll be so worried that I think it could affect their recovery. The police could find her anytime, so it would be a moot point anyway.”
Bonnie nodded. “I think you’re right. The physical trauma is bad enough.”
When we were back in the car and returning to the campground, we didn’t talk for a while. Finally, Bonnie said, “I know you don’t want to run the investigation, but are you really going to decline working on it? These are such great people and you know them.”
I didn’t answer right away because I was struggling with the same question. After a few minutes I said, “Bonnie, I’ll tell you what. I’ll see how I can help Ronin without officially being a part of the investigation. When it’s time to move on, I will move on, whether or not their case is solved.”
I looked in my rear view mirror and thought I saw a familiar blue Chevy. I knew it wasn’t the same SUV that hit the cab — that one was red.
“But if the invest …”
“Wait,” I interrupted.
She stopped and must have noticed me looking in my mirror because she turned and looked back.
“Don’t, you’ll spook them.”
She turned back around and asked, “Who are they?”
“Not sure but I’m going to find out.”
I changed to the right lane and got off the freeway, then turned right toward a small town’s business district. About a half-mile back I could see the blue car turning onto the same road. I sped up and turned right, immediately pulling over and parking just past the corner. “Get down,” I instructed and we both leaned over, out of sight.
A car slowly turned the corner and stopped briefly, then continued. I peeked at it as it passed and saw that it was the SUV I thought was following us. I let it get a few dozen yards ahead, then started up the car and pulled out behind them, matching their speed.
After a couple of minutes, the SUV sped up quickly. “He saw us,” I said. “Hold on.”
I punched it and began to catch up. He turned left at a high rate of speed, almost flipping sideways, then right, then left again. With each turn the distance between us grew, and after he turned right one final time, I had lost him. When I turned onto the street to follow, all I saw were apartment buildings on both sides of the street for at least a mile. “Damn.”
“Where did he go?”
“My guess is, he could be in any of these parking lots, maybe even a garage. No sense in looking. It’d be a waste of time.”
“Do you know who he is?” she asked, sounding a little frightened.
“Probably one of the Flak gang members. I turned down their bribe to stay out of the Bobbie and June case, saying I wasn’t interested in it anyway. They might have taken that to mean I wasn’t going to stay out of it.”
“Will we be safe?”
I didn’t know how to answer that.
Chapter 9
Guy woke me up with frantic barking. I looked at the alarm clock and saw that it was 1:45 a.m. I grabbed my Ruger but changed my mind. I set it back in the dresser drawer and lifted the bed. I pulled out the short-barreled shotgun I had picked up on my way to Nashville from Missouri when I decided more firepower wouldn’t hurt on the road. A shotgun might be a better choice than a 9 mil handgun, I thought, for a couple of reasons. First, the sound of a shotgun being cocked can have a psychological effect on a would-be trespasser, and second, buckshot doesn’t travel as far as 9 mil bullets, meaning there would be less of a chance of an innocent camper being hit if the situation worsened.
I held onto Guy’s collar and opened the door, then quietly stepped down and walked silently to the back of the motorhome. We were parked just one aisle from the RV sites that backed up against the woods, facing away from those spaces, most of which were vacant. I cocked the shotgun, knelt down and, still holding onto Guy, listened. There was silence for three or four minutes, until I heard a series of crackling sounds of leaves and brush being stepped on in the forest from right to left. I couldn’t see anything but a muffled cough let me know it was human and not a deer or bear.
Guy must have heard it, too, because he wrestled a bit to get free then shot like a cannon toward the sound when I let him go. I thought I heard someone running before Guy’s barking began again, then it went quiet. After a couple of minutes I heard a car’s engine starting up off to my left and then tires peeling. An older small pickup, maybe a Ford Ranger or Chevy Colorado, shot past me toward the campground exit, Guy running behind.
I called to the dog and he stopped his dead run but I could tell he didn’t really want to. I escorted him back to the campsite, telling him he was a “good boy.” Treats usually calmed him down and this was no exception.
We went back inside and I locked up, then grabbed a bottle of unsweetened tea from the fridge. I sat on the sofa next to Guy’s blanket. He jumped up and laid down, still breathing a bit hard. I took a sip of my tea and wondered who had been in the woods. Had it been someone casing the campground for possible robbery? A pickup would have made sense for that, since there were hundreds of dollars’ worth of grills, satellite dishes and other RV equipment sitting out unsecured throughout the resort. But, then again, camping equipment theft was rare. The payoff of selling used equipment wasn’t worth the risk of getting caught. No, I was pretty convinced it had been a Flak member keeping an eye on me.
I finished my tea, set the bottle aside and closed my eyes. I managed to get some sleep and was stiff but refreshed upon awaking in the morning. I relaxed all morning, keeping a diligent watch, and called Ronin around midday to fill him in on my intruder.
“That’s no surprise, really. Gotta believe it was the Flaks, right?” He paused. “I have news, too,” he said with a somber tone. “Louise Strasburg was found dead this morning. We pulled her body from the Cumberland.”
“Do you know how it happened?”
“It’s too early to tell, but the coroner’s initial guess was strangulation.”
“That’s terrible. Not a coincidence. She meets with the ladies and is killed almost immedia
tely.”
“Of course it’s not a coincidence,” Ronin said flatly. “It’s the Flaks.”
“I’m not so sure. This isn’t their M.O. Killing isn’t their thing.”
“Maybe it is now. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“Bobbie, June, someone’s watching me, now Louise is killed … I guess I have no choice but to join your investigation. The stakes are too high and now it’s personal.”
I could hear Ronin’s smile through the phone. “I’m happy to have you, very happy. I can have you deputized and make it official.”
I thought for a moment and said, “No, I’d rather work from outside the department as a citizen, not a cop.”
“Actually, that’s a good idea. You can do things the police can’t do.”
“Exactly. Something else. I’m going to have my old partner join me, Jimmy Stewart.” I waited for the inevitable question. It arrived.
“Jimmy Stewart was your partner? ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’? ‘Harvey’? Isn’t he dead?”
“Not that Jimmy Stewart, but he does a spot-on imitation unless you keep him from doing it.” I chuckled at that. “If he’s available I’ll fly him here today and we’ll meet up at your office.”
“Great. Let me know when you guys are coming. We’ll bring in food.”
“Okay, will do.”
“I’d want you guys to flush out if the Flaks are involved. We’ll take care of the investigation on the Strasburg side, the coroner, CSI, friends, relatives, clients, bank accounts, all the essentials. Brown and Carson are supporting those efforts already. They’re the top junior detectives in the squad, but I’m putting my money on the Flaks.”
“Give them my number and keep us in the loop. I’ll do the same.” I said goodbye and hung up. I looked to see what the current time was in Denver — Nashville was on Central time, Denver was on Mountain, so, just one hour behind me. That made it around 12:30 pm there. I tried to bring Jimmy up on my phone’s Contact favorites but he wasn’t there. I spent the next ten minutes trying to find his number and finally was able to get him dialed.
“Patty boy! Long time no see!”
“Hey, Jimmy. How’s everyone?”
“Don’t know about everyone,” he replied, sounding in a good mood. “Lola and Annie have pretty much gone their own way, happily ever after, just like we were hoping.”
“Erin and the kids?”
“She’s great, and the kids are growing like weeds. Erin is getting tired of me being home all the time. She told me to have you visit soon. You know you’re going to have to come back to Colorado at some point.”
“I know. It’ll happen.” I changed to a serious tone. “Listen, this isn’t a social call. I need your help here.”
“Perfect! I can be on a plane this afternoon! Where are you, anyway?”
“Nashville, Tennessee. Get on a plane and we’ll talk when you get here.”
He laughed. “I love the bars in Nashville. Do you remember when I went on that seminar there? I think it was about securing evidence, or something stupid like that. I don’t remember ‘cause I didn’t attend many of the classes.”
“I remember. I got into some hot water about that, if I recall, being your superior and all.”
“Oh, yeah, come to think of it. What a week!”
“Didn’t you put a guy in the hospital one night?”
Jimmy laughed even harder. “He ambushed me; what could I do? Besides, he was only in for observation.”
“Maybe we can avoid that this time.”
“Killjoy!” His laughing died down and he said he would text me his flight info.
He hung up and I let out a long sigh as I put my phone away. I wondered what kind of trouble we might be getting into.
When his flight landed around 7 p.m. I was already there waiting. He joined me in baggage claim and we waited for his luggage. An oversized duffel bag came around on the carousel and he grabbed it.
“What the hell is that?”
He laughed as he picked up a normal-sized suitcase. “I thought we might need a few things so I threw some surveillance and camera equipment in a bag.”
“Actually, that was a good idea. I don’t have much of that with me.”
“You mean I ‘actually’ had a good idea? Wow!”
I was embarrassed when I realized how that sounded. “Sorry. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, but what kind of friend would I be if I let that go, huh?”
We both laughed and I realized that our years — decades really — of being partners made working together again an easy task. I had missed Jimmy.
After paying my parking tab, I drove my Malibu out of the airport and headed toward Nashville. We made small talk about my RV life for a while then I filled Jimmy in on the case. He suggested staying downtown, perhaps at the same hotel as Bobbie and June. After all, he reasoned, they would eventually be going back there when they were a bit better. I agreed. I had Jimmy look for anyone tailing us, and once we were sure we were clear I drove to the Hutton. We unloaded the bags and I parked while Jimmy checked in.
“Room 448, fourth floor,” he told me when I got back to the registration desk. He had loaded both bags on a rolling cart with a tall chrome clothes bar, and I followed him to the elevators. “Nice place, for an older hotel.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” I agreed. “It’s nice to see some business owners know what they’re doing.”
“Amen,” he added as the elevator doors opened. We stepped on and waited. It took several seconds for the doors to close but they finally did just as Jimmy stepped to the controls to try to speed things up. “They were just waiting for me to get antsy, I guess.”
We rolled the cart to his room, a suite, and we were duly impressed. It was old but elegant, with light gray wallpaper above stark white wainscoting, even in the bedroom. The main room’s furniture was in soft pastel tones and the lamps had heavy white porcelain bases and crimson red shades, the only bright color in the room. The bedspreads or duvets on the two queen beds were as thick as I had ever seen. They were both in muted colors and had an impressionist-style flowery print in lavenders, beiges and greens, and each were topped with about a half-dozen pillows in shams.
The walls throughout the suite held famous prints in elaborate frames. One was “Starry Night” from Van Gogh and another was Monet’s “Sunrise.” I only knew this because Ellie had gone through an impressionist phase. She had even attended classes for it at the junior college.
Thinking about Ellie, my wife who had died a few years back, I realized that she hadn’t been in my dreams lately, not for weeks.
As if reading my mind, Jimmy pointed to the Monet and said, “Ellen would have loved this room, huh?”
I nodded and distracted myself with the bag of surveillance equipment.
Chapter 10
“So, what’s the plan?”
“Good morning to you, too,” I replied, stepping into Jimmy’s suite. “Sleep well?”
“Not really. The bed is too soft, if you can believe that.”
“That’s better than too hard.”
“That’s what I always thought, until this morning.” He rubbed his lower back. “Anyway, they have room service and the breakfast this morning was excellent. You want something?”
“Nah, I’m good. I don’t do breakfast very often these days.”
“So, that’s how you keep your girlish figure.”
I laughed, expanding and grabbing my gut, patting it a couple of times. “Yeah, I see what you mean.” I drew my stomach back in and added, “On the other hand, you are gaining some weight. What gives?”
“You know how it goes” Jimmy replied. “I stopped working out, started eating snacks, more beer, all the stuff I didn’t do when I was on the force.”
“Dude, you gotta do something about that. Party time is for kids.”
“And retirees.”
“Maybe. Anyway, I was thinking that we need to grab one of the gang member
s and get some answers.”
“Okay, but what about ruling out friends, family, coworkers, people with grudges …?”
“Yeah,” I replied with resignation. “I said that, too. Detectives are handling the body and everything on that side of the investigation, but they seem to think that the Flak Union, a local gang, is responsible and they want us to flesh that out. The detective on this case, Ronin, is old school, which is refreshing in some ways. But, I dislike the tunnel vision.” I noticed the pile of gear covering the second queen bed in the other room. “You bring enough stuff?” I asked sarcastically.
“I thought we could use some toys. Haven’t played with them in a while.” He sat down on the sofa and sipped his coffee. “So, you want to do a sting? Target one of the members?”
“Yeah. The Flaks may be into strong-arming new recording artists and forcing them into their own studio contracts. It’s like what the Jersey mob used to do back in the day. I thought we’d float someone around looking for a contract and see who we land.”
“You know someone who would work with us? We’re both too old to play a would-be recording star.”
“Don’t I know it.” I thought about it for a minute and said, “I wonder if Drohan can sing.”
“Who?”
I chuckled thinking about him. “It’s a character I met in a bar a few days ago. He’s not a young guy but if he can sing, we can make a case for an over-the-hill singer-songwriter trying one last time to make it.”
“A young artist would be better.”
“Maybe, but …” I held my index finger up. “First, I don’t know anyone here.” My second finger joined the first. “Second, I know Drohan and I think he has the temperament to be great in a hustle.” I held up three fingers. “Third, him not being a kid might be a benefit if things go sideways.”
Jimmy nodded reluctantly. “You know how to get a hold of this guy?”
“I think so. He’s a regular at Mike’s Tavern. We’ll try there first.”
“You sure you don’t want breakfast?”
“Nah, I’ll pass”
