Mrs. Kingston opened her mouth and then shut it again as a younger woman arrived with their drinks on a sterling silver tray. She waited until her guests received their refreshments and then wheeled Janie closer to the fireplace. She perched on a side chair and stared into her matronly face.
“First off. This is a private convalescent facility. There are no surgical wings. Secondly, I would like your real name because you’re obviously not Lacy Ellison. She and my aunt are the best of friends and the last I heard she still rode every morning on the ranch. So unless she shrank six inches in eight weeks and changed her hair color from platinum blonde to dirty silver, you are not her.”
“Dirty, indeed.” Janie swiveled to catch Blake’s eye. He sighed and reached into his coat lining pocket. He pulled out his badge. “My name’s Blake Johnson, Chief Detective of the Alamoville Police Department. We’re here under the request of Federal Agent Mike Robbins to inspect your facility for possible illegal organ transplants.”
“What?” The woman grasped her pearl necklace. She yanked a tapestry cord near the mantel. The same young woman who’d served them drinks skittered in. “Security. Now.”
Blake pulled back his jacket to reveal his revolver. “Ma’am. I’d advise you to cooperate.”
Everything in the room became fuzzy to Janie. Her eyelids felt as if someone had sewn five-pound weights to them.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Blake bob unsteadily.
“Drinks. Drugged.” Her statement came out slurred as her tongue thickened.
“Yes, they are.” Mrs. Kingston gave a sharp laugh.
Two men rushed in. One clasped a handkerchief over her nose and mouth. She tasted something metallic and then the world swirled into blackness. She vaguely heard Mrs. Kingston give orders to lock them up downstairs. Then a cold silence enveloped her.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Janie awoke as a stark white ceiling came into view. She lay on her back. Her arms and legs refused to move. She twisted her neck despite the sharp, piercing pain in her temples and caught a glimpse of Blake, sans jacket, lying on the bed next to her. His extremities were tied down with restraints and his mouth gagged. His blue eyes blinked as they focused on hers. He waggled his head. “Mrmmmmm.”
She realized she also had a gag. She murmured back.
He flopped his head back onto his pillow and stared at the acoustical tiles.
The door opened and the valet entered with a tray containing two syringes and a vial of clear liquid. The young nurse followed. As she prepared the shots and flicked them with her fingernail, Mrs. Kingston came into the room.
“We’ve taken your phones and ear device. Also the wire you wore, Detective Blake.”
Janie’s eyes widened.
Blake’s rolled.
“You’ll remain here until we get word as to your fate. Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing. Time will pass quickly.”
Blake squirmed and his face reddened. The valet held him down as the girl jabbed the needle into his arm. Next, they moved to Janie. She screamed, but due to her mouth restraint, it barely emerged into the audible range. She felt a sharpness jam into her skin and the cool liquid enter her vein. A curtain began to close over her vision.
Mrs. Kingston bent to her ear. “Sleep well. Nighty-night, Lacy, or whoever you really are.”
In the second before her body yielded to unconsciousness, Janie prayed she’d awaken again this side of heaven.
~*~
Ethel banged on Betsy Ann’s door.
“What’s wrong?”
“Janie won’t answer her phone or her door.”
“Well, maybe she’s out and about so it’s on mute.” Betsy Ann put her hand over her mouth and yawned.
“Oh, were you napping? It’s almost dinner time.”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “Must have dozed off reading this new suspense romance. Come in.”
“Her car’s parked in the carport. I checked.” Ethel bypassed Betsy Ann and paced in the tiny foyer like a caged animal. “Do you think we should phone security to check on her? What if she fell again or had a heart attack?”
“When did you last speak with her?”
“This morning. She cancelled our Tuesday visit to the assisted living folk saying Blake had called with new info.”
“Oh, well, there you are. She’s with him.”
“But she’d have taken her car, right?”
Betsy Ann sat down. “Oh dear. Yes, I see what you mean. Unless he picked her up.”
“Maybe. Guess she could also be sound asleep.”
Ethel fiddled with the button on her blouse. “Janie rarely naps. Not if she’s feeling well.”
“OK. Let’s call security. We’ll meet him over at her place.” Betsy Ann snatched her house keys off the side table. “But if we all barge in and she’s peacefully snoozing, you get the blame.”
“Deal.”
Ethel punched in the code for the security and told them to come to Janie’s place. The guard arrived in his golf cart within minutes. He climbed out. “What’s up, Mrs. MacDaniels. Mrs. Hunt.”
They both spoke at once.
He raised his hands. “Whoa. Let’s just knock again, OK?”
The three dashed over to Janie’s front stoop and knocked. They waited. The guard located the correct skeleton key on the chain and slipped it in the lock. He opened her door as a long beep sounded. “Alarm’s on.”
He punched in a code. “Hello? Security. Mrs. Manson?”
Ethel pushed past him and raced down the hall to Janie’s bedroom. She halted in the door. The other two peered around her. Janie’s favorite skirt and blouse were draped over the end post of the bed. Shoes toppled at an angle as if kicked off in a hurry. Mrs. Fluffy snoozed on a dark blue evening gown strewn across the bedspread.
“Isn’t that her diva Halloween outfit?” Betsy Ann shooed the animal off and held it up.
Ethel tucked her lip into her teeth. “Minus the diamonds. What in the world?” She walked back down the hallway to the kitchen.
The security man scratched his head as he followed. “So, where is Mrs. Manson?”
“I haven’t a clue. But where ever she is, she didn’t feed Mrs. Fluffy. Her bowl is bone dry.”
“Maybe the cat ate all her dinner.”
“Oh no.” Betsy Ann commented. “Mrs. Fluffy always leaves a few kibbles behind for a late-night snack.”
The spoiled animal sat at the feeding station and raised a paw.
“See? She’s hungry.” Ethel opened the pantry and dug a cup of dry food out of the bag. Mrs. Fluffy did a dance between her legs and mewed.
Ethel poured it into the bowl. The kitty crouched and began to eat with a vengeance.
“Oh, oh. Look at her eat. That means Janie last fed her early this morning.”
Betsy Ann clicked her tongue. “This is not good. Janie’s a woman of pattern.”
The security guard cleared his throat. “Do you want me to call the police?”
The women stared at him and answered emphatically, “Yes.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
Jenkins stared wide-eyed at Hemphill. “The wire went dead twenty minutes ago, and the chief hasn’t checked in.”
Hemphill leaned forward across his desk. “Did you try his cell phone?”
“I will now.” He punched in Blake’s cell number and put it on speaker. They got a recorded voice stating the phone was not accepting calls at this time. “What’s Mrs. Manson’s number?”
Hemphill pulled up his contacts. “512-629-3388.”
They received a similar digitally recorded message.
“Should we call in a squad car to do a drive by the mansion, just in case?”
Hemphill rubbed his forehead. “No. That won’t tell us anything.” He grabbed his phone. “Have them go to the door. I want to know where our chief and his mother-in-law are.”
~*~
Mrs. Kingston peered out the window and saw the patrol car pull up. The valet knocked on her do
or. She spun around. “I see it. Go find out what they want.”
“You know what.”
“Jeremy. Do as I say.” Her tone cut the air. He shriveled and turned to leave.
“For goodness’ sakes, act calm. Nothing is wrong, got it?”
“Yes’m.”
She sighed and dialed a number. “Hi, it’s Isabella. There’s a problem. Seems the stool pigeons were homing ones. And someone is looking for them.”
The male voice on the other end asked if the Mercedes had been removed.
“Of course. It’s on the way to the chop shop in Gonzales. Even if the cops put an all-points-bulletin out on it, they won’t find it. The parts will be in Mexico by sunrise.”
Isabella maneuvered the curtain rod to get a better view. “Looks like the patrol car’s driving off. Jeremy deferred them.”
The voice told her to keep to the plan.
“No. They need to be out of here tonight. I don’t need the police snooping. He had the business card of a federal agent in his wallet. That can’t be good.” She walked to her desk, her fingers massaging her right temple. “I don’t care how you do it. Disposal falls into your job description, not mine.”
She listened to his response to take care of the details.
“Fine. In the meantime, we have several transplants to do and the kidneys should have arrived by now. But no worries. I know where we can get four in a hurry. Both of our guests seem healthy, even though she’s up in years. The rest of their bodies are yours to deal with as you see fit.”
The man on the other end chuckled.
She clicked off and tossed the cell phone onto the love seat. Then Isabella plopped into her office chair and spun in it, her head arched back. “I never asked for this. It shouldn’t have gotten this out of control,” she spoke to the ceiling. “It’s Raj’s fault for hightailing it out of the country with those two Nepali girls.” She picked up her coffee cup, threw it at the wall, then her eyes followed the amber liquid cascading down to the baseboard, mirroring her plans.
Jeremy entered the room, his face pale.
“You OK?”
She waved her hand. “Clean up this mess.”
He bent to pick up the porcelain shards. “And the one downstairs?”
She peered over her desk. “The sweepers will be here soon.”
He dumped the pieces in the trash and wiped the wall with his handkerchief. “Good enough, ma’am. I knew you’d handle it.”
“The police are gone?”
“Yep. Told them the Ellisons left hours ago.”
She pressed her fingers together under her chin. “Very good. But just in case. Tell the pilot to reroute our incoming guests to the New Mexico location. We’ll send them four fresh kidneys before dawn tomorrow.”
~*~
One of the investigative officers tapped on the doorjamb. “Just got a call from dispatch. Per the security officer at Sunset Acres, Blake’s mother-in-law is missing, too.”
Hemphill cupped his hand over the phone receiver. “We know. They were together.” He finished the call and slammed the phone onto the cradle. “Patrol states the valet saw them leave a while ago. Put an APB out on the license plate. But I doubt they’re in the Mercedes.”
Jenkins nodded. “You think they’re still there at Hendel?”
“Blake should have phoned in by now. I’m calling Agent Robbins. There’s an uneasy feeling swimming in my gut, and it’s not because of the enchiladas I ate for lunch.”
“Want me and Edwards to stake it out again, Connor?”
“Yes. But keep low. Don’t enter the property until you get the go-ahead. I’m putting in for a search warrant.”
Jenkins grabbed his jacket. “Done.” He tapped Edwards who entered the door with to-go coffee. “Bring those with you. We’ll need them.”
“Where’re we headed?”
“Hendel Mansion. Blake’s missing in action. “
“Right. Let’s go.” The two dashed out toward the motor pool.
Now acting as chief in Blake’s absence, Hemphill punched in the federal agent’s number. “We have a problem.” He filled him in on Blake and Janie’s plan, the dead wire, and their failure to return with the Mercedes after a few hours. When he hung up, he swallowed down three aspirin before he called Melody.
THIRTY-NINE
Betsy Ann whimpered as Ethel answered the door to yet another Bunco biddy. “Annie, come in.”
“I heard we were all to gather at Janie’s in case she and Blake returned, so I brought summer sausage and cheddar jack cheese with crackers.”
Ethel pointed to the dining room, already covered in treats. “Put it in there. Thanks. It may be a long night.”
Mildred, Rosemary, and Babs huddled on the couch, talking in low tones.
A knock sounded on the door. Melody stood there with a hand on the shoulder of each teenage child. Her eyes were bright, but her mascara smudged underneath them. “I couldn’t hang around the house one more minute. I told the station we’d be over here.”
Betsy Ann jumped up and hugged the three of them. “They’ll be OK,” she sniffled. “Everyone is out looking for them, including the feds.”
Melody’s complexion paled. “The feds? Oh, my gosh. How big of a mess are they in?”
Ethel took her hand. “Just precautions. Let’s not worry. Come sit in the winged chair.” She gave Betsy Ann a shut-your-mouth glare, which sent her dashing down the hall boo-hooing into the bathroom.
Jamie, in his soccer jersey, shorts, and cleats, sat on the rug by his mother and removed his shin guards. “Mom? What’s going on? That lady was crying.”
“Don’t worry about Betsy Ann.” Ethel swatted the air. “She gets over-emotional. Your grandmother’s wise and so is your dad. They’ll be fine.”
The ladies on the couch moved their heads up and down in rapid unison.
Ellie sat cross-legged on the floor and tucked a throw pillow to her chest. She wore her high school band t-shirt.
Babs brought the kids each a paper cup with a soft drink fizzing in them. “Can we get you anything, Melody?”
She squeaked out. “Water, please. Kids, go grab some food if you want. Consider it dinner.”
The doorbell sounded again. In walked Roseanne with barbecued chicken wings and coleslaw. Ethel and Babs grabbed the Bunco fold-out tables and chairs to accommodate the growing crowd.
Betsy Ann returned, dabbing her eyes with toilet tissue. She whispered into Ethel’s ear.
“OK. Good idea.” Ethel elevated her voice as she lifted onto her toes and clapped her hands. “Everyone. Betsy Ann thinks we need to pray.”
Heads bowed in silence. Soft murmurs commenced. Soon a covering of peacefulness fell over the condo. One by one, faces raised and smiled. Melody hugged her kids and kissed their cheeks. Betsy Ann grabbed for Ethel’s hand, tears shining in her eyes. Ethel squeezed back and mouthed, “Thanks. We all needed that.”
~*~
Janie lay still. The major effect of the drugs had lifted, but she remained stiff as a board, eyes shut as Jeremy checked on them. He punched her arm, but she didn’t flinch. She willed herself not to blink. His footsteps moved away.
“They’re still out. Maybe you gave them more of the syringe than you thought.”
“I thought I gave them the same amount,” a female voice replied. “Oh well. Doesn’t matter. As long as they still have a heartbeat before we take their kidneys. Check on them again in fifteen minutes. If they stir, come get me.”
“Right.”
The door closed softly. Janie realized she no longer had restraints nor had a gag over her mouth. Her throat felt scratchy, though. She cleared it and produced a small amount of saliva to whet her tongue.
“Blake?”
His voice remained low. “I heard. Can you move?”
She whispered back in a croaky voice. “I think so.”
He grunted. “Take it nice and easy. Don’t try to stand yet. Just roll toward me.”
They turned in
slow motion until they faced each other. Janie stretched her hand to grab his. His fingers met hers and held on. She could almost make out his features in the filtered moonlight casting from the narrow window near the ceiling. He shifted his gaze toward it. “Too small to fit through.”
She blinked. To nod would only make her dizzier.
He groaned, raised his head, then inched it back down. “Maybe a minute more.”
“Take your time. Mine head’s still spinning, too.”
He chuckled. “Remember the time you upchucked the cherry snow cone at the state fair when Jamie conned you, Melody, and I into riding that monster roller coaster?”
“I feel similar.”
“Yeah. I bet.” He tried to rise again and perched on his elbow. “I know I do.” With two more grunts he made it into a sitting position, head hung low.
She shifted her weight.
He held out his other hand. “Don’t. Stay put. Rest. Let me think.”
“What if we play possum and then tackle Jeremy when he returns?”
Blake flopped back on his back, one knee bent, arm covering his eyes. “Good plan. I’ll lie here and hopefully become more cognitive in a few minutes.”
“You go for his head. I’ll fist his groin.”
He snickered. “I know you will.”
A few minutes later the door creaked. Blake resumed a stiff position on his back. Janie shut her eyes but remained on her side. Trying to roll over would take too long.
“Hey, she must be coming out of it. She’s curled into a fetal position. Go get the syringes.”
The valet’s footfall came closer. Blake’s voice hissed. “Now.”
Janie thrust her hand and connected. The kid doubled over and groaned. Blake laced his fingers and whacked him on the back of the neck. Jeremy crumbled to the floor in a heap.
Janie sat up too fast. She grabbed the sides of the bed to keep from wobbling. “Is he out?”
Blake nudged him with his foot. “Yeah. Come on. Can you stand?”
“I’ll try.”
She latched onto his hand as he pulled her to a stance.
Baby Bunco Page 20
