Best Defense

by Randy Rawls

  I mulled her last statement. “I think I understand. What kind of car was it? Was it an unmarked police car?”

  Dot shook her head. “Dearie, I don’t know. Like I said, it was more a feeling than something I really saw. Now you got me worried, though. If it wasn’t somebody on your side, it coulda been …” Her voice trailed away and her brow furrowed.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It could have been part of the kidnapping team keeping tabs on me. They might have picked me up at the soccer field last night. Damn. How could I have been so careless?”

  That thought quieted us and a moment later, Dot turned off the lamp. I lay in the darkness hoping it was Bannon and Sargent, not the bad guys. If I hadn’t feared waking Hammonds, who needed all the sleep he could get, I’d have called the house then. Instead, I vowed to call after the sun came up. That’s the last thing I remember. Exhaustion defeated worry, and I slept.

  twenty-four

  In spite of how late—or early, depending on your point of view—it was when I fell asleep, the sun awoke right on time. And so did Dot. I guess sleeping on or under park benches and bridges taught her to hit the street as soon as Old Sol did. Probably saved some rude awakenings.

  Dot finished dressing, then asked, “How do I look? Will I pass muster as the best damn greeter at Walmart today? My shift starts at nine. I get off at six if you need help tonight. I don’t work tomorrow so we can sneak around all night.”

  “You look great,” I said. And she did. Living on the street had kept her in trim athletic shape, not an ounce of flab anywhere. Pinch an inch did not apply to her. I was envious. And her greeter outfit, as she called it, fit like it was tailored for her. She had the kind of body that off-the-rack clothes fit to a T. The Dot who prowled with me the previous night and the Dot prancing in front of me were as different as peanut butter and mayonnaise. I loved both of them.

  I continued, “As for tonight, since I don’t know what I’ll be doing, I don’t know if I’ll need help or not. Tell you what, though. I’ll leave word here at the bar.”

  “Works for me,” she said, sneaking another look in the full-length mirror. “Now, let’s see if there’s any coffee in this place.”

  We headed into the front area where Bob sat in a booth with Street, Blister, and Ralph. When we entered, Bob called, “Java behind the bar. Help yourselves, then join us. Fill us in on last night.”

  I poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Dot. As I began to fill a cup for me, my stomach growled. That gave me a better idea. I walked to the booth. “Instead of sipping bar swill, why don’t we go to Denny’s?” I punctuated the word swill with a smile to let Bob know I was kidding. “I’ll treat everyone to a full course breakfast with all the trimmings. I talk better on a full stomach.”

  “Sounds right to me,” Dot said.

  Bob looked around the table and received nods from everyone. “Looks like you’re on, Beth. Hope your credit card has room for all these hungry bellies.”

  “Yeah,” Street said, laughing. “A couple or three classic combos will do me.”

  “You eat, I’ll buy,” I said, then sealed the deal with a fist bump.

  The waitress doubling as hostess did a double take when we walked in. Bob had on his street corner attire while Blister, Street, and Ralph were dressed like … well, like the homeless people they were. I’ve already described Dot. I wore a set of the backup clothes I kept in my car—black slacks, a light blue top, and flats. While none of us would pass for rich, we reflected several levels of society. However, to give the waitress credit, she recovered in a heartbeat and seated us as if we were visiting celebrities.

  No one pigged out, although everyone cleaned his or her plate—including me. Guess I was hungrier than I thought. While eating, we chatted like old friends who met around the breakfast table all the time. Blister told stories of the street, some of the things that happened to him on a frequent basis. The one that got the biggest chuckle was one about a woman in a limo who invited him to her place for a special treat. Better than money, she told him.

  When I asked if he went with her, he said, “A gentleman never tells.” However, his lascivious grin finished the story. Between bursts of laughter around the table, I said, “You should write a book. Normal people would get quite an education.”

  “Nah,” he answered. “What would I do with all that money?”

  That produced more laughter as two sets of hands belonging to Dot and Street jumped out, palms up.

  When Blister ran out of stories and quieted, Bob turned to me. “Okay, tell us about last night. Did you discover anything?”

  “Only if negatives help,” I said. “We pretty well determined Ashley is not in one of the three houses belonging to Lively-Wesler, Stevenson, and Sabastion. Doesn’t mean one of them isn’t guilty. Just means we didn’t come up with any evidence of her presence. At this point, I’m a bit flummoxed. We need a break, and it needs to come soon. If anyone has any ideas, my ears are wide open.”

  I looked around the table and received a series of shrugs until I reached Ralph. His brow was furrowed, and his face appeared pinched. “Ralph, do you have something for me?”

  “If I may,” he said. “I have a theory I’d like to share.”

  I realized he had stayed quiet during Blister’s exploits, apparently deep in thought. “Please. Anything you have is better than what I’m sitting on.”

  “I been thinking about the whole situation—the murder of Ms. Hammonds, the kidnapping, the note they sent, and the five people on your suspect list. Maybe it’s a case of the forest versus the trees thing. You been thinking so much about everything, you might be missing the small thing. Hammonds failed them, so they went to prison. You spent your time concentrating on the three that are still alive and loose in the world somewhere. Maybe that’s not where it’s at.”

  “Oh?” I said. “You think one of the dead guys did it?”

  “No, no.” Ralph chuckled, as did the others around the table. “I’m not into ghost-avengers. Well, not yet anyway. But there are other possibilities. Do you have time for a story?”

  “I’m always up for a good story. Just ask Dot. I listen to her outrageous tales all the time. And some of hers are … whooee.”

  “Every one of them is true,” Dot said.

  “Oh, sure,” I said. “Any day I expect to hear about the time Martians gave you a handout.” I laughed to make sure she knew I was kidding.

  “Humph,” Dot said. “If you got something to say that will help Beth, you just let fly, Ralph.”

  “That will be her call,” Ralph said. “I think it might.”

  _____

  Dabba threw back her space blanket, sat up, and swept her hand along the ground where she’d lain. “There it is.” She picked up

  a pebble and tossed it aside. “Funny how something so little can dig so deep in you.” She rolled her shoulders, then stretched. “May as well go find some coffee. Ain’t no need hangin’ around here. If he didn’t come back last night, he won’t be here during the day.” She crouched in her hidey-hole in the hedge and looked across the soccer field. “Good, it’s clear. Hate to go through all them weeds on the other side again. Full of bugs.”

  She folded her covering, crammed it into her bag, then inched her way out of the hedge. When she could, she stood to full height and repeated her stretching routine, accompanied by various pops and cracks as her joints responded. “I’ll be back,” she said into the hole. “Hmm, maybe I oughta take a look at the hole he used. I reckon I could’ve slept right through his comin’ and goin’.”

  She walked along the hedge about twenty feet and peeked in through a small tunnel, took a deep breath, exhaled, then sniffed a couple of times. “Nope. Don’t smell like he’s been back. He will though. I just feel it in my bones. And when he does, I’ll stomp the truth out of ’em. He’ll tell me where my Linda is.”

  She ambl
ed across the field.

  _____

  Ralph’s face puckered as if he was looking deep into the past. “About thirty years ago, there was a man named Ralph Spagnolli. He led a life filled with luck, but he was too damn dumb to know it. He had a beautiful wife, who was expecting their first child. In fact, you could say Spagnolli had the best of everything going for him—loving wife, a child coming, a good job, and a bright future. But he didn’t have enough sense to stay home and live the good life. He hung out in a local beer hall where he fell in with some bad people. Now, don’t get me wrong, he knew they were bad weather on a clear spring day. When a couple of them asked him to be their driver for a burglary, he knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was not the right thing to do. But, like I said, he wasn’t too smart, figured what the heck, it’d be fun. The burglary collapsed, and the three of them ended up in handcuffs.

  “Because he had no previous record, Spagnolli only got five years. His friends went down harder. They’d been in and out of the slammer many times. That wasn’t the tough part, though. When the judge announced the sentence, Spagnolli’s wife collapsed. While he was en route to prison, she was in the hospital losing the baby.”

  “That’s terrible,” Dot said. “That man—”

  “That’s not all,” Ralph said. “Let me finish. Spagnolli’s time in prison was hell on earth. Since he was young and good-looking, you can figure what happened to him. The good part of that was protection came with the boyfriends. So, four years later, when he went out on parole, he still had his health. But he had aged many times the four years he’d been away.”

  “What about his wife?” I asked. “What did she do after she lost the baby?”

  “I’m getting to that.” He paused, appearing to reflect again on the past, his face sad and forlorn. “I’ll stick to the nickel version. Short and sweet, she took to the bottle. Nursed it like a baby on a full tit. She made the trip to the prison once a month, but after the first six months, Spagnolli never saw her sober again. Many times she arrived so sloppy drunk the guards wouldn’t let her in. Finally, just before his release, she went into the hospital—alcohol poisoning. She died there. When he got out, there was only her grave to visit.

  “He spent a lot of time crying over that grave, cursing his fate. It took him another year before he figured out it was all his fault. He and only he made the decision to go in on the robbery. That decision cost him his baby and his wife. No matter how hard he looked for someone else to blame, the finger pointed straight back at him. Spagnolli took to the street and ran from the past.”

  “Sad,” Bob said, touching Ralph on the arm. “He shouldn’t feel so bad though. Unfortunately, there are many stories like that.” He paused and stared into Ralph’s face. “I never asked before, but I’m guessing your last name is Spagnolli—Ralph Spagnolli. It’s not important to any of us. Only you as you are today are important. I’m curious. Is that why you don’t have a street name? Because you don’t want to escape the past?”

  “That’s some of it,” Ralph said. “I don’t want any excuse to forget I killed my baby and the woman I loved. That she took my downfall so hard she destroyed herself. That she couldn’t live with what I did. When they bury me, the only things I want on my tombstone are my name and Stupid beyond hope.”

  Silence descended on the table like a shroud over a corpse. Each person went quiet, as if he or she were alone. My mind took off spinning, wondering why Ralph had shared his sad story, his painful past. What did his history have to do with me and finding Ashley? Then it hit me. He was telling me how dumb I’d been.

  “Ralph,” I said in a hushed voice. “You think the kidnapper might be one of the spouses left behind, don’t you? Any one of them could be seeking revenge for the loss of ten years.” Something clicked in my head. “Or the death of a husband. Mankosky or Simonson. They both died in prison. The ultimate loss. Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “I know how much pain a criminal leaves in his wake. The victims take several forms. If one of those victims shifts the guilt to the lawyer, believing he didn’t do his best, well …”

  “Anything can happen,” I finished for him. “Thanks, Ralph. I hurt for what you’ve been through, but I appreciate your telling your story. I might never have bought the idea without hearing about you, your wife, and your baby. Also, know that helping find Ashley will go a long way toward squaring the board for you. I’m sure your wife would be thrilled.”

  I waved for the waitress. “If you good folks will excuse me, I’ll pay the bill, then get to work. Ralph has given me a whole new approach to pursue. Stay as long as you like.” I threw cash on the table for a substantial tip, figuring the waitress had earned it and would keep the coffee coming.

  Dot stood beside me. “Yeah, I gotta go, too. Gotta put my greeter face on before I go to work.”

  The waitress dropped the ticket into my hand, and I headed for the checkout register, credit card in my other hand.

  I walked back to Bobby’s Bar, my cell phone glued to my ear. The first call went to Hammonds’ house. Just my luck, Sargent had the duty. “Did you have anyone following me last night?”

  “Huh? Every time I think you’re making progress, you go buggo on me again. What? You think I’d risk my career on this case? You know the rules Hammonds and the chief forced on me. It’s your show. I’m just a phone-sitter.”

  “Strange as it may sound, I was hoping for a different answer. There may have been a car on my tail.”

  “And I’m guessing you got nothing but a hunch—no plate, no make or model, and certainly no description of the driver.”

  I swallowed my embarrassment at having to admit he was right, then admitted he was right. “I had other things on my mind at the time. But that’s not the important part right now. I have a whole new trail we need to follow.”

  I gave him a rundown on Ralph’s idea—without identifying Ralph. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to give Ralph credit, I just didn’t want to hear Sargent’s laughter if I said a homeless guy suggested it.

  He promised to locate the whereabouts of the spouses, and we rang off.

  My next call went to Mom to let her know I was on my way home, and maybe we could do lunch. Of course, breakfast still sat heavy on my stomach, but I needed to spend some time with her. Our moments together, other than last night, had been rare. And last night didn’t count for much. I was preoccupied, and she jabbered.

  As often happens though, my plan had to change. My cell phone rang. When I answered, I had Sargent in my ear.

  “You better get over here. We have an email.”

  twenty-five

  He glanced around and seeing no one, entered the house and walked into the front room. “Okay, the email’s on its way. I did like you told me. Used a library in Boca this time. Phony name, the whole bit. I’d feel better though if you did it. I ain’t as comfortable around computers as you.”

  “You know I have to stay with the kid. She’s scared of you. She’s never been around anyone as big and ugly as you.”

  “Yeah. Well, I just hope I didn’t do nothing wrong. Nothing that’ll bring the cops to your door.”

  “If you followed my instructions, you didn’t. Sit down, and let’s talk about tonight. My guess is they’ll send that PI, Beth Bowman, to pick up the message again. If so, I think it’s time we let her know she’s in over her head, and let Hammonds know we’re onto his crap. I want you to grab her, spook her some, then turn her loose. I want her to know we’re serious. That way, she’ll not only take the instructions back to Hammonds, but she’ll reinforce them with her fear. A few bruises might help her on her way.”

  He flopped onto the sofa, a big smile on his face. “Piece of cake. Should be fun. But if she’s jumpy like the last pickup, I’ll never get near her. I mean, she grabbed that envelope and ran like a deer on the second day of hunting season.”

  “Not to worry. I thought
of that. I’m fixing it so she walks right into your hands. You just be ready. That doesn’t mean I want her getting a good look at you, though. We’ll go with disguise B.”

  _____

  I called Mom to let her know my plan had changed, that something important had come up on the kidnapping. I told her I wouldn’t be able to go home until later—maybe. She didn’t exactly threaten to write me out of her will, but her tone said it was a possibility. Story of my life, disappointing my mother.

  After running the police gauntlet in Hammonds’ front yard, I was inside with Hammonds, Maddy, and Sargent.

  “What’s in the email?” I asked. “Did they give us the drops and exchange info?”

  “No such luck,” Sargent said. “They’re still playing cute. I’ll read it to you. It says, Same time, same place. Follow the instructions in the zip lock. Three a.m. sharp. Come alone. If you involve the police, your daughter will pay.”

  I looked at Hammonds. “Sounds like another DVD coming. Are you ready for what it might contain?”

  “I’m more than ready to get Ashley home, if that’s what you mean. I hope they’re ready to release her.”

  Maddy’s stony expression said she agreed with him.

  Sargent asked, “Are you up for another trip to the soccer field? This time, we might be able to nail them.”

  “Oh, no,” Hammonds said. “I’ve already told you we play it however the kidnappers say. No deviations. I will not risk Ashley’s life.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” Hammonds said, raising his voice. “What does it take to get through to you people? I don’t give a damn about the money. I don’t give a damn about the kidnappers. All I want is my daughter. Don’t make me call Chief Elston.” The glare he gave Sargent raised the temperature in the room by several degrees.

  Maddy laid her hand on her brother’s arm. “Easy, John. Maybe you should listen to the experts a bit more and the amateurs a bit less.”

  I bit my tongue to keep it from flapping and making a bad situation worse. This was between John and Maddy. I shouldn’t even have been there.