All You Want

by Rachelle Ayala

  “They might have,” Diana says. “But the weird part of the story is that Justin told his buddies he was joining a cult of werewolves. I thought it was just drunk talking, but when I showed up at Tami’s grand opening wearing the wolf costume, Viola almost fainted. She turned tail and ran from me like she was scared to death of me.”

  “She would be if you killed her.”

  “No, I caught up with her and assured her I wasn’t with the weird wolf gang. She thought they were lurking around, so she went to her car and grabbed a baseball bat.”

  “You’re saying that she was killed with her own baseball bat?” I decide to test the theory that the real murderer would know it wasn’t the bat that killed Viola.

  “No, that’s not how it went down. Viola defended herself with the bat.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I saw it go down, Sheriff, and you promised to let me go if I help you find Tami.”

  I slap my hands over the steering wheel and huff, “Diana, if you admit to a crime, I have to charge you. I’m only taking you out to help with another crime in progress. It might help you get a lighter sentence, but if you had anything to do with Viola’s murder, why did you refuse to talk?”

  “I didn’t want it to be Dillon. The murderer used the blunt end of a pickaxe handle.”

  “Are you saying you messed with the evidence to throw suspicion on yourself to protect your nephew?”

  “Yes and no,” she says. “I put blood on the axe I borrowed and dropped it in the basement to see who would touch it.”

  “This is a very unlikely story, Diana Van Dirk, and if you’re misleading me …” I swerve to miss a fallen tree.

  “I’m telling you the truth. It’s my blood on the axe handle, not Viola’s. You can get it tested.”

  “You cut yourself?” I glance over at her hands and arms.

  “No need. It’s that time of the month.” She chuckles. “So I call Dillon, Al, and Justin down to my room in the basement to share a bong. Before I can say anything, Dillon picks up the axe and shows it to his friends, saying how realistic it is, and asking whether it belonged to Pickaxe Polly. I knew then that Dillon’s not the murderer, because if he were, he wouldn’t have touched it.”

  “Did the other two touch it?”

  She shakes her head. “They wanted to get to the bong.”

  “Very strange way of clearing a suspect. But you’re still not off the hook.”

  “I will be if you get the blood on the bat analyzed. You see, Viola landed a couple of blows, and the attacker was holding his nose like it was bleeding.”

  I stare at Diana to see if she’s sane. The gleam in her eyes shows she’s not all there. “Anything else you saw?”

  “Tami came flying over, upset someone left the door open, and the murderer pushed her onto Viola’s body. I was going to help her, but she started screaming, and then she called you. The murderer disappeared into the tunnel. I then realized I’d be a suspect too if I got blood on me or ran into the murderer, so I jumped into the dumpster and hid there. When the people started coming to take selfies, I was able to get away in the mix-up.”

  “This is all entertaining,” I say to her. “But how does this help me find Tami?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. While wondering who has a motive to kill Viola, I came across some real dirt. Remember I told you Viola was looking for deeds for me? I paid her for an envelope of family records, and when I looked inside, it was a police report.”

  I feel tingles chilling the back of my neck. “A police report of what?”

  “A poisoning that happened years ago. It was before your time, Sheriff, but it implicates George King—Tami’s father.”

  “Where is it?”

  “I’ll trade it for my family’s property deeds,” she says. “You must have impounded Viola’s car and searched her home and her office. She made a mistake and gave me the wrong envelope.”

  “We didn’t find anything that looked like property deeds or other records.” I’m not going to tell her that we found a planner with figures and sums. It does suggest Viola was either selling information or blackmailing. “Again, I ask you. What does this have to do with Tami?”

  “Well then, if Viola was afraid of wolves, and Tami’s father killed the alpha she-wolf of the pack, then it stands to reason that Justin’s uncles want revenge for the death of their sister. Maybe Tami’s father killed Viola to get the police report from her, or the wolfpack wants it so they can blackmail Tami’s father and one of them killed her so they could take the papers. That would explain the Bigfoot mask they found at the murder scene.”

  I stop the truck and stare at her. “I don’t think Tami’s father would kill Viola, so it has to be Justin’s newfound uncles. Tell me where they live.”

  “Viola had directions. She told me they wanted her to deliver the goods, but she was too scared to go by herself. Didn’t you search her car?”

  “We did, and her GPS history. Wait, let me call Shane.”

  I call Shane and ask if he has the results from the blood found on the baseball bat. I also ask him to give me a report of Viola’s GPS history.

  “Where the hell is Diana?” he asks. “When I came back from the diner, she was gone.”

  “I deputized her to help me find Tami since you wouldn’t help. Now, get that information to me asap. Viola might have visited the place Justin and his uncles are holding Tami.”

  “So, we know for sure it’s Justin?”

  “He’s the only deputy unaccounted for. When will we get bank records for Viola? Add George King to the warrant as well as Justin Jameson. They might have been paying Viola for information.”

  “You’re listening to that lunatic?” Shane huffs. “She’s playing you, Sheriff.”

  I hang up on him and turn to Diana. “Were you in a book club with Viola?”

  “Yes. Why would you want to know?” Her voice is laced with suspicion.

  “Have you ever met at Miss Laverne Pine’s cabin?”

  “It’s right up that way.” She points toward the left.

  “I have a hunch, and you’re going to come with me to clear this up.”

  Minutes later, we’re parked in front of Miss Laverne’s place. The scent of wood smoke wafts from her chimney, and the lights are still on inside. I step onto the porch and knock firmly on the door, announcing myself so she won’t be frightened.

  “Why, Sheriff, come in for a treat,” she exclaims and peers behind me. “And Diana, what a surprise. How come you’re not in costume?”

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard.” I clear my throat and hold out my hand to steady her. “But Viola has passed away.”

  “What? When?” She staggers against me. “Was she in an accident?”

  I guide her to her sofa in front of the fire and help her sit. “She was killed last night. I know it’s a shock for you, but I need to ask you a few questions.”

  “No wonder she didn’t answer my phone calls,” Miss Laverne says, wiping her eyes. “I found papers in that box, and some of the stories are unbelievable. I thought she was writing a book or doing research.”

  “Did you find property deeds written in Chinese?” Diana asks.

  Miss Laverne points to a trunk against the wall. “The box is in there, Sheriff. You can take all of it. I should have called you. Maybe Miss Viola would still be alive if I did.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I console her. “I know this doesn’t make you feel better, but Miss Viola was killed shortly after I left your place. You couldn’t have stopped it even if you showed me the papers.”

  “Then I should have told you that the ghost I saw was Mooma Wolfe, and the girl following her with a basket looked like Tami when she was only a child. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.”

  “Are you saying Mooma is still alive? And that she’s in this vicinity?” I open the chest and take out the metal box.

  There are letters, Valentine cards, official-looking papers, and writing in Chin
ese, as well as typewritten transcripts, a mug shot of a man who looks like Evan Graves, and photographs of a young girl who looks a lot like Tami. But all I care about right now is the map and directions.

  “I can’t read Chinese, but this must be it,” Diana says.

  “We’ll sort this out later.” I take the Chinese writing from her. “All of this goes into an evidence bag. Viola must have been murdered for what’s in this cache.”

  “Murdered? Oh, my stars!” Miss Laverne gasps. “And so soon after Bill passed away. At least they’re together now.”

  She bursts into tears, and even though I want to hug her and comfort her, all I can do is put a quilt on her shoulders and tell her I’ll be back.

  I borrow Miss Laverne’s shotgun, give it to Diana, and enter the address of the wolfpack mansion into my GPS, hoping I’m not too late.

  Thirty-Eight

  ~ Tami ~

  My hands jitter, and I spill the tea onto the floor. “I’m sorry, but I don’t like tea.”

  It’s actually true. I only drink coffee. Tea parties and spiders give me the creeps.

  “But you must have some of my delicious tea,” Mooma says. “See? Cara’s drinking it, and you used to like tea parties so much.”

  “That was before the accident.” I set the cup on the table and wipe the sweat from my nose. “I’m sorry, Mooma, but I’m not feeling well.”

  Justin glances at his watch and says, “Can we get on with the wedding? I want to be married to my bride before midnight.”

  “She must drink her tea. She has to know how I felt when she poisoned me,” Mooma says.

  “If you poison me, how can I marry Justin?” My eyes dart between mother and son. They’re both crazy.

  “I wouldn’t kill you,” Mooma says. “But you have to be punished. You’re such a bad girl.”

  “I’m sorry.” I hang my head down and turn my nose away from Justin’s direction. “I’m feeling sick already.”

  “It’s medicinal,” Cara enunciates each syllable the way young children do when they’re learning a big word. “Have some of mine.”

  “I’m sorry, but tea makes me throw up.” I push myself away from both mother and daughter and wave my hand in front of the red light on Jason’s video device. “Please, make them understand. I don’t want to puke and make a big mess.”

  The mixture of sickening perfume, Earl Grey tea, and Justin is enough to heave my guts. I must look like I’m about to hurl, because Justin turns off the video recording. “Cut the tea. I don’t want my beautiful bride sick on her wedding night.”

  Loud knocks pound on the parlor door, and a rough voice says, “Can we get on with the ransom video?”

  Justin opens the door to his two uncles. “I got enough, but you’ll have to drive down the hill to text it to them. Meanwhile, I’m getting married.”

  The black-bearded uncle glances at the white-mustachioed one, passing a silent message. He takes the cell phone Justin was using to record the video—it’s probably mine. I hope it is, so when they get a signal, Todd can triangulate my position.

  “Well, that’s out of the way.” Justin turns to me with a grin and holds out his arm. Holding my breath, I reach for him and walk out of the parlor, glad to get away from the macabre tea party.

  “Not so fast. No one’s having fun until we get the money.” Bruce throws a rope around my neck, yanking me back, and Justin is knocked off his feet.

  Cara screams, dropping her teacup onto the parquet floor.

  My hands grab at the rope lasso, but it tightens and is cutting into my throat.

  “What are you doing?” Justin screams. “Leave her alone. Don’t hurt her.”

  “You’re a fool,” Bruce says. “You were supposed to get the police report from Viola, but instead, what did you do? Come to us with this kidnapping scheme.”

  “I couldn’t get it, because someone killed Viola,” Justin says. “You all agreed to plan B.”

  “Plan B means Tami has to be in real danger.” Doug knees Justin in the back and handcuffs him. “You’re not marrying Tami until we get the money. Then you can do whatever you want with her.”

  “We should try and find where Viola put Bill’s papers,” Mooma says. “She has a friend who lives not far from here. Maybe Cara and I should pay her a visit.”

  “I thought you two searched her place already,” Bruce says.

  “We did, but she came home and almost caught us,” Mooma says. “She’s friends with Viola, and maybe Viola told her something.”

  “Then we’ll drive you and Cara over to visit her,” Doug says.

  “Let’s go.” Bruce drags me, sputtering and choking, down a steep flight of stairs. “You and lover boy can spend your honeymoon down here.”

  He throws me onto a musty mattress and rearranges the rope around my wrists, tying me to an iron bedframe.

  Doug deposits Justin next to me. He hits his head against the basement wall and flops on my lap, groaning and sputtering from both ends of his digestive tract.

  ~ Todd ~

  The house with the “W” on the gate is exactly where the GPS points me to. I spot it and back up my truck behind a shed so I can make a quick getaway.

  I’m shocked to see a well-kept mansion in place of the ruins of an old stamp mill where workers crushed rocks back before hydraulic mining was outlawed.

  The property belongs to Laverne Pine, but I doubt she’s even aware of the squatters living on her extended backyard.

  “Let’s keep to the shadows.” I signal to Diana. “I need to know how many men we’re dealing with.”

  “Justin has at least two uncles, and they’re mean from what I’ve heard,” she says.

  “Cover me.” I take my position on one side of the porch steps, while Diana lurks behind the van with the shotgun ready.

  The front door opens, and two burly men emerge. One of them has car keys, and the other is looking at a cell phone.

  “Police.” I step forward with my gun drawn. “Step up against the wall with your hands up.”

  Diana swings from the side of the van and shouts, “Do what he says.”

  “Hell no.” The black-bearded man grabs an oil lantern and throws it at me.

  The flaming oil spills and hits my chest, but I’m able to get off a shot. The man falls to the porch, as I dive into the snow to roll the fire off my clothes.

  “You fucking asshole,” the other man yells. He pulls a gun and opens fire.

  The wood splinters near me, and I scramble to raise my gun. Before I can pull the trigger, the blast of a double-barrel shotgun deafens me. Blood, bone fragments, and pieces of my attacker splat on me and redden the snow behind me.

  My ears are ringing. Diana yells something and reloads.

  Holding my pistol, I swipe the gore from my face with the back of my hand. “There might be others inside.”

  She doesn’t answer, so I signal her to stay behind me. The two guys left the door ajar. I kick it open and point my flashlight and gun around the foyer.

  “Clear,” I yell, and she enters behind me. The library with the fireplace is clear, but the parlor doors are closed.

  I kick it open, and someone screams. “It’s a monster. A monster. Mommy, do something.”

  My flashlight beam lands on a girl dressed in white huddled with a woman wearing a black widow costume, complete with fake hands.

  Her real hands point a pistol at me.

  “Drop it,” I order. “Now. And put all your hands up.”

  “He’s covered in blood,” the girl blubbers. “Mommy, I’m scared.”

  “You better do what he says,” Diana shouts behind me.

  The woman drops the gun and raises her white-gloved hands, almost to the level of her other fake hands.

  “Cuff her,” I order Diana. “Where’s Tami and the other one?”

  “What did you do? You killed my brothers,” the spider woman yells. “You can’t come in here shooting us.”

  “I’m scared, Mommy.” The little
girls screams, shrill and high-pitched.

  “I’m a police officer.” I lower my voice for the child. “Please tell me where Tami is.”

  “No, no! He killed Doug and Bruce,” spider woman yells. “He’s trying to kill us too.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” Diana cuffs the woman and shoves her to the ground. “If we wanted to kill you, we would have shot you already.”

  “Watch them,” I order her. “I’ll search the rest of the house.”

  I reload and head toward the back of the house. The kitchen is clear. The dining room is clear.

  The house is a mixture of scents, peppermint and pine, fresh baked bread, along with something fetid—like dead animal. I wonder if they have a rat problem—or more likely, a Justin problem.

  There are no electric lights in the entire house, only oil lamps and candles. I’m sure Justin is hiding somewhere, probably inside a closet, ready to shoot me, so I carefully creep upstairs and kick open every door.

  They’re not inside the house. Could it be that I was mistaken? That Justin didn’t take Tami here, and I’d shot two men for nothing?

  I ask Diana to take the girl and the woman to the car and to use the police radio since there's no cell service.

  They whimper as they stumble past the dead bodies, and then it hits me. One of the men was staring at a cell phone. If there’s no service, what was he looking at?

  I recognize Tami’s seashell pink cell phone cover as soon as I pick it up. The screen is cracked, but it shows a picture of her tied up in a dark place with Justin’s unconscious face on her lap.

  Seconds later, I kick open the basement door and am assaulted by a dank elevator odor—better known as farts.

  I’m on the right track, and it hits me. There’s a reason why Justin’s buddies call him Congressman Smellwell.

  I point my flashlight beam down the stairs and descend. “Tami, can you hear me?”

  “Todd? Oh my God, you’re okay! I heard shooting. Justin’s knocked out. Hurry.”

  Her voice is sweet nectar to my ringing ears, and I cover the last few steps as if on clouds or fumes since Smellwell is near. I reach her side, and something snaps, seeing her after thinking she could be injured or dead.