Designer Detective (A Fiona Marlowe Mystery)

by Thelen, Marjorie

  He closed the phone and laid it on the table. “Can you believe Opal wants to see the Statue of Liberty?”

  “She doesn’t get east that often. I can’t blame her.”

  Breakfast arrived and more coffee. We wolfed down every last morsel. I smiled as I laid down my fork. I wanted to burp in delight like the ancient Romans did after a meal to express their pleasure but I restrained myself.

  “Let’s go,” said Jake. “Maybe the traffic jam is over by now. Hudson probably has an All Points Bulletin out on us.”

  Outside the fog was clearing to reveal another cloudy, overcast morning. We walked along the side street toward the traffic jam. I heard footsteps and a man with a black goatee and shaved head fell in beside us. He wore a sweat suit and looked like he might have been running.

  “Another lousy morning,” he said.

  I nodded. “Out for a run?” I said, making polite conversation.

  “No, I dress this way all the time. More comfortable. I hate suits. My name is Ratko.”

  There was no mistaking that name.

  “Let’s go,” I said to Jake and tried to pull him away.

  Ratko grabbed my arm. “Hey, what’s the hurry, Fiona? You and your friend, Jake, here have some talking to do.”

  Jake took a good look at Ratko. “Do we know you?”

  “I do business with your buddy, Cody. But he reneged on the bargain, and I’m here to collect.”

  A dark green Cadillac Escalade SUV pulled in front of us and stopped. Ratko opened the door. “Get in. We’re taking a little ride.”

  “What if we say we don’t want to take a ride?” Jake said. “We got other commitments.”

  Ratko pulled out a tiny silver gun and pointed it at us from the fold of his jacket. “This little guy says you do want to. Now get in.”

  “Maybe we should talk this over.”

  “I need action, not talking. You’re going to take us to the rest of the rifles. Then we’ll talk about whether you get to live.”

  He tightened his grip on my arm and shoved me in the back seat.

  “Move over,” he said. “You, Jake, get in beside her.”

  Great, I thought. If he gets in the front seat, then maybe we could fling ourselves from the car when it got underway. But then I saw the two guys in the seat behind. They sported unfriendly faces.

  Ratko slammed the door and got in front. The driver slid away from the curb and into the line of traffic. Ratko turned to look at us. “Tell us where to go because we are going to get those rifles.”

  Jake said, matter-of-fact, “They’re in the back shed at Albert’s house.”

  A meteor from outer space could not have hit with the force of that pronouncement. I nearly lost my grip on reality, not that I ever had much of one. I shoved my face into Jake’s. “What are you talking about?”

  His eyes locked mine with a boa constrictor grip. “I’m saying that I know where the rifles are at Albert’s. That’s what I’m saying.”

  I stayed eyeball to eyeball with him. Was he telling me to play along or was he telling me the truth this time? But that had been my problem all along, ever since I saw Albert Lodge stretched out on the floor of his library. I didn’t know who was telling the truth.

  Ratko said, “That’s what I like, a man who knows how to cooperate. See Joey, I told you we’d get somewhere with the guy. The girl’s a bimbo, but the guy I can like.” He grinned at me and turned around to face the traffic.

  Bimbo? He referred to me as a bimbo?

  Joey turned onto a side road and through a series of impressive side street short cuts made his way to McLean. The Cadillac smelled new and was shiny inside. A GPS screen on the dashboard showed where we were going and spoke directions in its metallic voice from time to time. Like it was a normal day, Joey and Ratko talked about football, which teams they liked and who was going to win tonight’s game.

  I closed my eyes. Jake’s fingers touched mine. I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or smack him. I hoped his gentle touch meant that he knew what he was doing. I wondered where Hudson and Mike were. Could they possibly have known that Ratko himself was afoot? I looked around to see if I could see the gray Suburban that we should never have left. Maybe they had seen us get in the Cadillac Escalade and were following. Not in sight. This whole affair had been what I should have done. How was I to know? I was a miserable failure as a detective. Jake’s fingers closed over mine, and I looked at him. One of the guys in the back leaned forward and stuck a gun between our heads.

  “Better you should watch the scenery,” he said.

  Those were pretty clear instructions. I wondered what was going to happen when we got to Albert’s mansion. I wondered if there was a guard on the place and what would happen then. I wondered where Cody was and if Opal was going to New York or Oregon. And how did Jake know where the guns were hidden?

  At the entrance to Albert’s place there was no guard, and we swung through the gate. The front door was covered with police crime scene tape.

  “Go to the back of the house where the garages are,” said Jake.

  He spoke with a confidence that impressed me. I was sitting on knife points. Behind the house there was a line of outbuildings, well maintained, not touched by the fire. The house itself sported a charred hole in the roof that some fast thinking contractor had put a bright blue tarp over. The manicured bushes and lawn in front were trampled and broken. The back of the house looked undisturbed.

  Ratko put his hand on Joey the driver’s arm. “Hold up. Something’s not right here. Too quiet. This is too enclosed. Someone could ambush us.”

  Joey stopped the car and waited, engine running. Ratko turned to Jake. “You and the boys get out. You show them where the rifles are. The girl stays with us. Anything goes wrong, she’s dead. Understand?”

  Jake nodded once slowly. He looked at me, and our eyes held for an extra moment. I didn’t know if that was goodbye or trust me. I was trying my best to come up with a plan of escape, feeling like a pawn, wanting to be the queen. Jake got out and the two men in the seat behind us got out with him. Ratko moved in beside me.

  “Now, girlie. You behave real nice and nothing will happen to you. But if your man there doesn’t come up with the rifles, we got serious trouble.”

  Jake and the two men walked to the far end of the lot. Half hidden in the shadows of a stand of tall pines was a low building. A shutter hung loose, and the roof sagged. The scrub around it had not been trimmed. Why had I never thought to come out here to sleuth? Why had Jake never told me about this place? If Hudson had hidden the guns, and Jake knew where the guns were, then Jake and Hudson were in cahoots. Why hadn’t I figured this out before?

  Jake opened the door of the shed and ducked in. It hadn’t been locked. One of the men followed him in. The other stood outside, watching with a drawn gun. Jake and the man came out of the shed. The man looked in our direction and nodded his head.

  Ratko said, “Joey, call the office and have them get the truck on the road. Looks like we’ve found the rest of the shipment.”

  I said, “Aren’t you taking an awful chance picking up rifles in broad daylight?”

  Ratko gave me a stupid-broad look. “Not in a furniture delivery truck.”

  Clever. Could I help I was a bimbo?

  Ratko got out. “Watch the girl, Joey. I’m going to look around. There might be something else we need in this dump. Too bad the old man had to go and die on us before we could blackmail him more. He was such an easy squeeze.”

  Ratko walked over and talked to Jake. Joey and I sat in the car. The men disappeared from sight. We waited, my nerves fraying into gossamer strands. Jake wouldn’t be able to help me, not surrounded by three men with guns. It was now or never. Joey might think I was a bimbo, too. I didn’t see a gun, though he must have had something concealed.

  I leaned forward and said, “Joey, do you happen to have a cigarette? I used up all of mine.”

  “Sure, babe. I was just going to light up myself
.”

  He drew a half filled pack of Marlboro’s from his jacket and shook out a few. I selected one. I hadn’t smoked in years, but the idea of a cigarette right now was appealing.

  Joey lit my cigarette with his lighter then lit his own.

  “Nothing like a good smoke, eh?” he said. “You’re a nice looking broad. That your husband?”

  “No.” I was playing it cool but I noticed my fingers were trembling so bad the cigarette was twitching. I put the cigarette down so Joey couldn’t see.

  “You ever free for dinner?” he said.

  I shrugged. “Maybe.” I couldn’t believe he was hitting on me, but this might lead to escape.

  “I know some good restaurants around town. I do pretty good driving for Ratko. I could show you a good time.”

  Joey must have been all of five feet high with a pencil thin mustache that looked like it would draw blood if you kissed him. He sported a black and white check jacket that I had last seen the likes of in a 1950s movie. In any other circumstance I would have laughed at his cheekiness, but this wasn’t the time. I played along. “It doesn’t look like I’m going to have too many more good times, if things don’t go like Ratko wants.”

  Joey shrugged. “He’s pretty pissed about the rifles. Them vodka swillers are unpredictable. I don’t much like working for them but they pay good. If Ratko ever finds that guy Cody, he’ll be mincemeat. Say, do you like mincemeat pie? My mother always made it at Christmas. One of my favorites.”

  In my mind I saw Joey grinding up Cody arm by arm and a fat Italian woman rolling pie dough. I developed a coughing fit.

  “What’s the matter? You don’t like Marlboros?”

  I beat my chest. “I must have inhaled down the wrong pipe. You mind if we get out? It’s a little stuffy in here.”

  Joey looked around. “I guess it’d be okay. Here, let me get the door for you.”

  The guy had manners. Maybe I should switch allegiances. Where could Jake have gone with those men? I hoped they hadn’t killed him. If they killed Jake, a thought I was reluctant to entertain, there wasn’t much hope for me.

  Joey opened my door and held out his hand to help me down. I didn’t see any sign of a gun. Trusting soul. I calculated that I probably outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. Instead of daintily stepping down, I launched myself and caught him off guard. Over we went in a scuffle.

  “What the hell, what the hell,” he kept shouting. We rolled around on the ground, me trying to whack him with my purse, he trying to shield his face. Surprise had been to my advantage. He seemed more interested in trying to defend himself than in trying to subdue me. I kept trying to whack his bony head. Finally, my purse connected hard with his head, and I jumped up and ran. I wasn’t sure where to go but the trees beyond the shed looked like a good bet. Unfortunately, I had on high heel boots. I kept tripping on stones and pinecones and whatever else resides on a pine forest floor.

  I didn’t hear footsteps, and I didn’t look back. My only thought was cover. I came to a clearing and saw a quaint gazebo on the bank of a small pond on the Lodge extended estate. I ran for it. The gazebo was open around the top but the bottom half was enclosed, and I collapsed behind the wooden wall.

  I had a sharp pain in my side from running and could barely get my breath. The cigarette hadn’t helped. I clawed my way up to look back the way I had come. I could see the garage through the trees but nothing else. Where was Jake? Where had he gone? I didn’t see any houses. I had no idea where to go. I was afraid I’d run into someone I didn’t want to see.

  Damn that Jake. Damn that Hudson. Damn Cody. At least Opal got away. I hoped. I slid back down and sat against the wall. How did Jake know where those rifles were? How was it that Hudson had concealed them without Cody knowing? Were they going to kill Jake after they had gotten the rifles? Had they already knifed or shot him? Maybe they hadn’t finished off the job, and he was hurt.

  The suspense was killing me so I decided I’d sneak back to see what was happening. Maybe the furniture truck had arrived. I sat up and brushed off my clothes. They were dirty, and my feet hurt. But it could be worse. I could be dead. At least, I hadn’t been tortured.

  I made a wide cautious circle toward the back of the garage and outbuildings. If I planted myself behind the old shed, maybe I’d see them hauling out the rifles. Jake seemed awfully comfortable with Ratko’s men. Maybe he was in on the heist. Maybe he was getting a cut. Maybe he bought and sold on the black market for extra income. I’d read that anything was for sale in the global arms bazaar, that you could even buy an F-16 if you wanted.

  I crouched in a laurel thicket behind the shed. The furniture truck had arrived. Joey was leaning against the hood of the Escalade, and Ratko was yelling at him. Two men who must have come with the truck and the two men who had gotten from the car with Jake were carrying long, narrow boxes from the shed.

  I shook my head. It was so easy. The hiding place was so easy. Jake must have figured it out in the investigating he had done without me. Of course, he had never bothered to share that information.

  I heard a crunch and froze. I was afraid to look and tried to wiggle further into the laurel thicket. I stretched my neck to see what had made the noise. Off to my left were four men in black windbreakers with ATF in huge white letters across the back, crouching under the pines. I guess they wanted to make sure they didn’t shoot each other. They eased closer to the rifle shed. One was snapping photos with a fast action camera. They’d have Ratko dead to rights. They could walk right into the clearing, say ‘Stick ‘em up’ and they’d have them red handed.

  But then all hell broke loose.

  Chapter 18

  A fireball exploded in front of the furniture truck. Pops and flashes flew between the ATF guys and the men in the clearing. I flattened out on the ground. The ATF guys ran in the other direction. The gunshots continued. I was in a live action Hollywood movie.

  As fast as the firefight started, it stopped. I stayed down. Gunfire started up closer to the house then quit. I struggled up, inched closer to the shed and peeked in the window. Someone was lying over a stack of rifle boxes. I couldn’t tell through the dirty window who it was. Another man was down beside the truck. The front of the furniture truck was black. In a half crouch I sneaked into the shed. I had to see if it was Jake even though I didn’t know if the dirty rat was on my side or theirs. A man in a furniture mover uniform lay on his stomach face turned away from me, his head bloody.

  My stomach turned upside down, and I thought for a moment I’d lose breakfast. After a moment or two, I garnered my courage, what was left of it, and said, “Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

  He didn’t respond. What did they do on those television police shows when they found a body? Check for pulse. Tentatively, I placed my fingers on his neck. He was warm, and I thought I could feel a pulse.

  I heard shouting and eased out of the shed. Only because I had seen it in the movies, I made a zig-zag run to the first garage. One of the bay doors was opened. I didn’t remember it being open when we came in.

  I saw no vehicles that would have signaled how the ATF guys got there. But then they would have hidden the vehicles. I looked in the bay door that was open. There was the banged up dark gray Suburban Hudson had been using. Hudson’s spy car. It sat alongside the Rolls, his butler car. He was a man of many talents.

  “Hello?” I said in a hoarse whisper. “Any body here? Hello?”

  I checked out the Suburban. My carryon luggage was in the back where Jake had thrown it when we left the hotel. Hudson had followed us here. But then he knew where the rifles were hidden. Had Jake helped him organize the sting? How much had they both known about the set up? I wondered if they had the bad guys in a room with their hands held high.

  I could leave. I could take the Suburban and leave. I checked for the keys. Not in the ignition. Not in the glove compartment, nor the center console. They were under the floor mat. I had the airline ticket to Sydney in my purse. I had transp
ortation. I could be off in an instant. As I was about to climb into the driver’s seat, I heard my name.

  “Fiona, where are you going? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  I paused in my getaway and looked around. Jake came around the back of the car and stopped. We stood looking at each other.

  “Jake Manyhorses, you have some explaining to do.”

  He nodded and his hands came out to embrace me, but my lethal stare stopped him mid-air.

  “Fiona,” he began but his voice trailed off.

  “How did you know those rifles were in the shed?”

  “I helped Hudson put them there. The rifles you discovered in the basement were half the cache. We had already removed most of it to the shed.”

  “You knew about the rifles. You led me astray on a number of occasions. You used me.”

  “It may look like that but really I was trying to keep you out of harm’s way. But you kept getting in the way. I didn’t want anything to happen to you. This whole thing kept playing like some bad movie.”

  “Bad movie all right with live ammunition,” I said. “Ratko said he’d been blackmailing Albert. Did you know that?”

  “Not exactly. I knew Albert was being blackmailed but I didn’t know who.”

  “But I did.” Hudson walked through the open bay door and came to stand beside us. His hair wasn’t even disheveled. “I knew someone was getting to Albert but I couldn’t find out who it was. When Cody came into the picture and started helping him, he was freer with information than Albert. I was able to get names. When they started showing up at the house after Albert’s demise, we were able to close in. I had to hold back some of the rifles so we could set up the sting.”

  “What was the blackmail?” I said. I stood with my arms folded tight across my chest, not feeling kindly disposed toward either of them.

  “Alice,” said Hudson. “She insisted on a cut when she found out Albert was dealing arms. Instead of turning him in, she wanted a cut. If she got a cut, she wouldn’t turn him in, would she?”