The Biggest Little Crime In The World (A Ham McCalister Mystery Book 3)

by Brent Kroetch

  “Wake up, man,” he said as he shook the sleeping Duncan’s shoulder. “Story time and Russ is awake.”

  The drummer rubbed groggy eyes and slowly a smile played upon his lips. “Well, hello, all. If it’s story time you must have a doozy to tell. Let’s hear it.”

  “Yes, let’s,” Russ agreed. “Ham? Or Drew, whoever wishes to start. Is he, or rather they, are they dead, arrested or what?”

  “That would be a ‘what’,” Drew responded.

  She forced the story with words rushed to their limit until Russ objected. “Slow down a little. Where’s the fire?”

  “Slow down? You’re telling me how to tell my own story?” She turned to Ham and reminded him, “See what I mean? Remember what I told you? He’s ordering me around because now he’s the big husband and all, and I’m just the little woman.”

  “Drew.”

  “And I’m just supposed to shut up and do the laundry and wash the dishes and—”

  “Drew!”

  “Oh. Right. Anyway, as I was saying…”

  “I wish I knew how you do that,” Russ mouthed to him.

  “It comes with the years,” Ham mouthed in reply and through a grin.

  Charlie must have read their unspoken words, for she put a hand over her mouth and softly chuckled her way through the next few lines of Drew’s tale of adventure. She finally sobered, leaned up and placed a kiss on Ham’s cheek. “You are good,” she whispered. “In so many more ways than one.”

  After she’d explained that the one who called the plays was dead, and that his confederates, all but Liam Waterson’s widow but including the actual gunman, were winging their way to captivity by the yakuza, Russ shook his head in apparent astonishment, and by the look on his face, certainly admiration. “I will be damned if that’s not the craziest series of events. What a way to end a wedding.”

  “That was four-hundred thousand dollars well spent,” Eric assured them.

  “You got that right,” Duncan agreed. At the questioning look on Russ’ face, he added, “That’s another story. We hired your wife and her partner. Not a big deal.”

  “It is a big deal,” Ham answered. “That’s a little much for a day and night of work, don’t you think?”

  “Nope, I don’t think,” Eric replied, firm and sounding so resolute as to brook no denial. “It’s done.”

  Russ shrugged and turned soft eyes back on his wife. ‘How’d you two get so much done so damn fast as you did? I mean, I’m stunned. Thrilled, but stunned. Even for you guys this is beyond amazing.”

  Ham nodded toward the bassist. “Your bandmate carried the battering ram that knocked down the official doors of resistance.”

  Russ flashed a knowing smile at Eric. “Barbara Stephens.”

  “Our esteemed governor, yes.”

  “Is there something I’m missing here?” Ham inquired.

  “It’s not a big secret. They dated for a couple of years, back in the day.”

  Ham laughed, truly amused and surprised that he should be surprised. From these guys, with their lives, nothing should shock him. Not one damn thing.

  So he was thinking as Doctor Drayson, Russ’ radiologist and savior, walked in with Doctor Taylor, his cardiologist, and startled Ham out of his reverie.

  “Well, now, our patient is awake. How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Well, I was feeling fine,” Russ replied. “Now I’m not so sure. What news have you?”

  “Your latest tests are outstanding. You’re stable and well on your way to recovery. We expect you can go home in a few days.”

  Russ sat up, a movement which, based upon his grimace, caused obvious discomfort. “I intend to go home today, Doctor. May I remind you I got married yesterday.”

  “May I remind you, you got shot yesterday, you had a heart attack yesterday. Those override any other considerations.”

  “I really want to go home.”

  The cardiologist shook his head, fast and firm. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, think again.”

  “If you think I’m going to think again what I’m thinking, you need to rethink that,” Russ retorted.

  Taylor grinned an ear to ear smirk, clearly amused by his famous patient. “Serious. No sex until we clear you, which at best will be a month. At best.”

  “He can’t go home today? What if we get twenty-four/seven nursing care, would that be acceptable?” Drew asked.

  “It would not,” the radiologist insisted. “As I understand it, you live on the west side of Lake Tahoe. Is that right?” At her nod, he shook his head. “That’s about an hour from here.” Turning to Russ, he said, “If something happens, you don’t have an hour. Just be patient. We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.”

  After a few words of empty comfort, the doctors excused themselves, with instructions for Russ to immediately notify the nurse if he should feel any symptoms of any kind. The rock god again clasped Drew’s hand in his own and sighed. “Well, I guess that’s that. I’m going to be bored out of my mind lolling around here for the next few days.” He looked around, seemed to remember something. “Say, where’s Dylan?”

  “Ham sent him home,” Charlie replied on his behalf.

  “You sent your son home to his mother? For god’s sake, why? I thought he was going to stay with you for a couple of weeks or more.”

  Ham reddened, both embarrassed and now repentant. “I thought it best, Russ. Drew and I had work to do and I couldn’t do that and worry about him at the same time. I thought it best he return to his mom’s and come back at a later date.”

  “Well, what’s wrong with now?”

  Again Ham reddened. “I can’t call the day after I sent him home and tell her to send the kid back. She’d think I’m crazier than she already does. She’d refuse. Then she’d hang up on me, that is if she even let me get that far before doing so.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll give her a call.”

  “You’d do that?”

  Russ opened his mouth to reply but the insistent ring of Drew’s cell cut him short. She examined the caller ID, shrugged an “I don’t know” and accepted the call. “Drew Thornton.” With a quick giggle and reddened cheeks, she amended, “I mean Drew Porter.”

  Squawks of clipped words sounded through the tiny receiver and even as they did Drew shook her head. “I can’t. No. My husband is in the hospital and I am not going to leave him.” Again she listened, again shook her head. “I know, it sounds fascinating and under any other circumstance—” She cut herself off as Russ shook his head, insistent and firm. “Hang on a second, I’m going to put you on hold. Okay, Russ, what is it?”

  “Well, that’s exactly what I was going to ask you. What’s this about? What’s fascinating that under other circumstances, etcetera.”

  She eyed him, her head cocked, looking as though trying to decide. Finally, she nodded, “Ham, we’re offered a case. You remember Harry Wry, the U.S. Congressman from Chattanooga, Tennessee?”

  “Vaguely. I remember I met him somewhere.”

  “Well, he remembers you. And me. His office is trying to get us on the job.”

  “Again,” Russ interjected, “what’s the job? What’s fascinating?”

  “What’s fascinating, my dear, and Ham, is that this is going to be a national case. Just like the one here in The Biggest Little City In The World. Harold Edwin Wry is about to be charged with first degree murder. He claims innocence and wants us to investigate. And to find him the very best attorney available. And he wants it all done today.”

  Ham whistled surprise. “My word and a half. It does sound fascinating, I’ll give you that. I’d be really curious to know what they have, what’s behind all that. When’s he going to be arrested?”

  “He’s to self-surrender by noon tomorrow.” She shook her head in frustration. “But to hell with it. I won’t do it. Do you want to take it?”

  Ham didn’t hesitate. “Not if you’re not going to. And I understand why not,” he rus
hed to add. “I’m not in the market for employment without my partner, that’s all. Besides, you’re the brains of the outfit. I just do the grunt work.”

  “You have to take the case, Drew,” Russ told her. “This is not something you want to pass up and read about later.”

  “Russ, honey, you’re wrong. What I don’t want to do is leave you in this place while I’m off doing my own thing. I may be bull- and hot-headed but I’m not nearly that selfish.”

  “It’s not selfish. I want you to do it. Do it for me.”

  “For you? What do you mean?”

  “I mean, my sweet and adorable wife, I do not want to have to spend the rest of my days thinking I was responsible for you missing the case of your life.” She started to object but he held up a hand to forestall comment. “Let me finish. I’m a singer, a songwriter, an entertainer. It’s what I do. Would you have me stop on account of you?” She slowly shook her head and he grinned his point. “Precisely. You’re an investigator, it’s what you do. I will not have you deny your talents, to yourself and to your client, because of me. I couldn’t live with myself if you missed this one. So go. Do it. Do it for me.”

  Stone cold silence met his statement, a long pause before Drew sighed resignation. “Will you be alright? You’ll call immediately if anything happens?”

  “We’ll watch over him,” Charlie assured her. “And don’t worry, if there’s anything that needs to be said, I will call you myself. You can’t trust men with these things.”

  Ham slowly nodded, a growing excitement mixed with regret. “I guess that call to Dylan’s mom will have to wait.”

  Drew’s slight frown indicated a slow and reluctant recognition of reality and necessity. After reconnecting with the caller, she revealed that they were on their way.

  “Take the jet,” Russ offered.

  “Oh you dear, dear man,” Drew cooed. “I’m the wife, I own the jet. Of course we’re going to take it. Hello?”

  Russ threw a grin at his bandmates. “You see how it is? Already?”

  The two private detectives stood, Ham shuffling his feet as Drew gazed at her husband. Finally, with one last kiss, they turned and excited the room, off to explore The Curious Case Of Ham On Wry.

  They almost made it across the lobby, Ham intent on the door, when he spotted it, death in a skirt. The little old lady, the assassin with a purse, the horror from his dreams, the one who beat him senseless in front of the casino, just yesterday, so long ago, blocked his path to safety. A wicked, evil smile played in her eyes and in front of his face as she swung her purse by its straps, a weapon of total destruction.

  “Come on, punk. Make my day.”

  THE END