One Lost Soul More: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 1)

by M. Glenn Graves

  I had a magazine in my lap pretending to be looking at the pictures in the ads.

  “Business or pleasure?” he said as he walked next to my chair.

  I tossed the outdated magazine back onto the table in front of me. Old ads.

  “Business, unfortunately.”

  “I tried to tell her to come back …,” Estelle begin, but stopped suddenly when Rosey raised his left hand to her. I followed him back to his office. My first visit there.

  It was too modern for me. Everything was stainless steel and glass. Everything was transparent. I like the subtleties of wood and curtains and carpet. He had none of that in this room.

  “What’s happening?” he said as he shut the door behind me.

  “A source tells me that Joey is sending a crew to ‘take care of you,’” I said and used some hand signs for the quotation marks around the phrase Joey had said exactly.

  “What source?”

  “My source.”

  “You trust him?”

  “Like a blood relative.”

  “How many?”

  “One for sure, coming out of New York City. The others, nameless and numberless, are gathering in Sterling, Virginia.”

  “When?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  “It appears that Joey is upset with me.”

  “Appears.”

  He stood by his desk shuffling papers needlessly. I assume that he was thinking. I sat down in one of the modern, see-through chairs in front of his modern, see-through desk. Translucent.

  “Who was the beauty you just walked to the elevator?”

  “Client’s daughter.”

  “Fringe benefits.”

  “Nothing like that. Her father told her to see me. She has a problem. She needed some advice.”

  “Counseling instead of consulting?”

  “Some days it’s the same difference.”

  “I’m hungry. All this talk about company coming has made me want to eat. Take me to some good eatery.”

  “You have business in Washington?” he said.

  “No.”

  “Driving back tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “I was hoping you’d invite me to stay over. You owe me one night’s free lodging anyway.”

  “You’re invited. I have two bedrooms.”

  “Ah, the city.”

  “Really hungry?” he said.

  “Really.”

  Estelle had already called it a day by the time we boarded the elevator. Her desk was empty of work and otherwise immaculate.

  I had parked in the company’s parking lot adjacent to the building.

  “You drive my rental,” I said. “I don’t want to drive anymore in D.C., especially during this woeful five o'clock traffic. Besides, it might be a good idea if you left your car here and we took the rental back to Sterling. I don’t think Joey is smart enough to consider I might be around to help you.”

  Rosey grunted, but said nothing. I think he was pleased when he realized the Seville was my rental. As we left the city, he drove us behind the Lincoln Memorial and took the Arlington Memorial Bridge to connect us eventually to the Washington Memorial Highway. He turned right onto Duke Street in Oldtown Alexandria. He pulled into Generous George’s Positive Pizza and Pasta Place where Duke ran into Telegraph Road.

  Rosey ordered an extra-large pizza with absolutely everything they had in the restaurant on it. Two pieces filled me completely. We took the rest with us.

  Three hours after arriving in D.C. I was finally at a place where I could take my shoes off and put my feet up. Rosey took some unusual roads to get us to Sterling, but we arrived in about twice the time it normally should have taken. He said he was just being careful in case our out-of-town guests had arrived early and were following. Can’t be too careful when folks are out to kill you.

  His condo was in a nice neighborhood just off of Sully Road. It was probably twice the size of my apartment in Norfolk. Each bedroom had a private bath. The kitchen section was large enough for two people to work simultaneously. The living room was spacious and decorated in a Mediterranean theme. It was obviously two or three notches above what I had been accustomed to for the past decade or longer.

  “Consulting pays nice dividends.”

  “It’s a roof.”

  “We’ll rest here tonight and then go to my cabin in the woods not far up the road.”

  “Think we were followed?”

  “Slim. Unless they picked us up leaving my office and had some really sharp trackers, we lost them somewhere between Oldtown Alexandria and Sterling. Traffic may be a bitch most of the time, but it’s murder to trail someone here.”

  I watched him put the leftover mammoth pizza slices in the fridge. He then turned on some longhair music and made himself comfortable in a recliner that matched his couch.

  “Thanks for letting me bed down here,” I said.

  “Thanks for coming to warn me. But, this is not your fight.”

  “I have a stake. You got yourself into trouble because of me. You came to warn me and you stayed around to fight it out. Least I could do is return the favor.”

  “You got weapons?” he said.

  “Brought my own guns this time.”

  “Judging by the size of your suitcase, you brought nothing for distance shooting. We’ll take along the rifles and shotguns we picked up in Clancyville.”

  “This place remote we’re going to?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Joey’s guys are not really too smart, you know.”

  “I know. I’ll leave ‘em a note with a map and directions. They’ll find us.”

  26

  We turned left onto Sully Road and headed south out of Sterling. At Waxpool Road we turned right and headed east. We continued our eastward route through the back roads of Northern Virginia. Waxpool Road became Farmwell Road. We skirted the lower part of Ashburn. Then Farmwell became Sycolin Road as we were now moving north at a nice clip. Rosey’s Grand Cherokee cruised along smoothly.

  After getting tired of reading road signs and trying to remember all of the turns, I finally gave up and dozed off. When I awakened we were surrounded by houses and more city life. Rosey said we were in Leesburg. The sign read S. King Street. The sun was still rising more or less behind us, so I deduced we were heading southwest. King Street soon became James Monroe Highway. I dozed off again.

  The next time I awakened we were back in the country again.

  “So where are we now?” I said, trying to get some bearing.

  “We just passed through Hughesville and we are heading towards Telegraph Spring.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “You’ll have to. We won’t make it to Telegraph Spring.”

  “Too much for the Jeep?”

  “Cabin comes before that.”

  “On this road?”

  “No. Trinity Church Road.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I joke not. At the end of Trinity Church Road there’s a long drive. Maybe a quarter of a mile. Cabin is in the woods. I hope you like trees.”

  We had left my rental parked in front of one of Rosey’s neighbors who was vacationing in Spain for a month. His Grand Cherokee was a nice alternative to my Seville rental. Lap of luxury.

  “You normally use this cabin?”

  “Not for showdowns.”

  “Otherwise?”

  “R&R.”

  “Often?”

  “Not nearly enough in my line of work.”

  We turned onto Trinity Church Road and followed it to the end. An old, dilapidated mailbox was several feet off to the left as we began our trek down Rosey’s driveway.

  “That yours?”

  “All mine.”

  “Looks to be in need of some repair.”

  “It works.”

  The cabin was waiting on us as he said, at the end of the long drive, surrounded by lots of trees. The drive turned shar
ply to the left just before we arrived at the cabin and ran parallel to it for a few hundred yards. This helped to hide the place even more than its wilderness location. The narrow opening of the drive allowed for the cabin to be nearly surrounded by thick woods, mostly pines. There were a few spruce added for flavor. The ground around the trees closest to the cabin was as thick as a carpet with Virginia Creeper. It was all quite lovely. Lousy place to kill people.

  “What makes you think these guys will come out here?” I asked as we were taking our equipment inside.

  “They’re stupid.”

  “Stupid makes you do this type of work?”

  “No. Stupid makes me you think you’re better at it than I am. And Joey pays them a lot of money to be stupid.”

  We laid our rifles and shotguns on a large oaken picnic-style table in the cabin’s great room. The great room was separated from the kitchen by a counter with three stools in front of it. There was a bathroom off to the right as you entered the front door, just under the stairway that led up to the two bedrooms in the loft. The walls were paneled with the old-style knotty pine. I imagined that it had grown darker through the years.

  “This place has the look of long years,” I said.

  “Built in the 50’s as a hunting cabin. I bought it in the late 80’s and refurbished it. Updated the kitchen stuff, cleaned the walls, updated the plumbing and the electrical.”

  “Rustic.”

  “First class frontier.”

  “Despite your optimism, I hope they don’t come.”

  “Better to get it over with. I could go into hiding and Joey would never find me. Wouldn’t want to live or work that way. Enjoy life too much. They’ll show up. Late today. I figure they’ll find the place before sundown, and then work some brilliant plan to attack us after dark.”

  “You, not me. They don’t know I’m here.”

  “They’ll know soon enough. You’re one of the surprises I have for them.”

  “Only one?”

  The Michael Jordan grin returned. It had been a few days since he had anything to grin about.

  “Okay, they come. We kill them. Joey will just send more after you. Grudges die hard.”

  “With people like Joey Malone, grudges don’t die at all. Revenge is his whole life. Dog eat dog. He’s no good at real negotiation.”

  “So they keep coming and you keep stopping them.”

  “That be the game.”

  “Until one of them gets lucky.”

  “He’d have to be lucky.”

  “No one better than you?”

  “Not that would work for Joey Malone. There are some as good. Better? I don’t think so.”

  “All modesty aside,” I said.

  “No room for being modest. You either good or dead.”

  “Any of those as good as you, your friends?”

  “I know them.”

  “Why didn’t you call them to come help us?”

  “You worried?”

  “Yes. I’m not as confident as you about this business. I stay alive chiefly by using my brain, not by shooting people. I can shoot a gun, almost any gun. I would rather outthink my opposition and surprise them.”

  “Me, too.”

  He motioned for me to follow him and we walked through the kitchen to a small room at the back of the cabin. He unlocked the door and I followed inside. He handed me several sharpened wooden slats, some small rope, and a large hunting knife without a case. He gathered up some other items along with another handful of sharpened wooden slats.

  “We building something?” I said.

  “Traps for varmints.”

  We worked steadily for three hours planting spring-action traps with the slats and the rope all around the cabin. Actually I watched him create these horrible inventions for anything that might happen to be walking among the trees nearby. They wouldn’t kill anyone, but they would definitely hurt the lower legs and calf muscles. Inflict pain.

  “Boy scouts?”

  “Navy training.”

  “Beyond Boot Camp,” I said.

  He smiled a little.

  “Slow them down on the attack?”

  “That and impose pain. Hard not to cry out when one of these penetrates your leg. Trap springs. They yelp. Advantage us.”

  “So we know where they are.”

  “I have spot lights all around the outside of the cabin, hidden just under the roof line. You only see them when they come on. Sound activated. Highly sensitive to sounds in their area. We set the traps in the range of each outside light. Trap springs. You yelp. Light shines. You dead.”

  “Your idea?”

  “Not originally. I steal from the best.”

  We finished our work and returned to the cabin for some grub.

  27

  It didn’t take long for me to eat my peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich. Rosey ate three sandwiches, so it took him a little longer. He drank milk and I had orange juice.

  “I hope you’re planning on fixing us something more substantive for supper,” I said as we settled into some comfortable chairs in the great room. He was sitting by one of the large windows. I was stationed at the other window.

  “Not planning on eating again until it is over.”

  “That could take a while.”

  “Then we be hungry.”

  I wasn’t thrilled with this turn of events, but I had to follow his lead. I could always sneak another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Probably needed to do that in the next few minutes. Make one or two to take with me while I shoot at the bad guys.

  The place was quieter than a church house on Saturday night. I fell asleep again because Rosey wasn’t in a talkative mood. I was beginning to sense that he seldom entered that mood.

  When I woke up it was after four o’clock. Rosey was not in his chair by the window. It was painfully quiet. I listened to myself breathe for a few a minute or two. I was hoping to hear a sound from another part of the house. Silence.

  “You ready?” he said to me from the top of the stairs.

  “They here already?” I said as I began my assent to join him.

  “No, but we need to talk.”

  I followed him down the narrow hallway. There were two doors directly across the hall from each other.

  “This is my room,” he said pointing to his right. “That be yours.”

  “So far so good.”

  “Mine first,” he said and motioned for me to follow.

  His room had two windows, one on the front wall of the cabin looking towards the driveway, and the other on the side. There were two weapons, below each window – one rifle and one handgun. The room contained just the kind of furniture you would expect in a cabin – small, single bed, nightstand and lamp, dresser on the left behind the door, and curtains on both windows. The one unusual thing, in addition to the guns under the windows, was a small green light plugged into an odd-looking outlet underneath the side window.

  “They’ll have to come out of the trees before the handgun does any good. You don’t need to worry about that. Unless you miss with the rifle. Then you worry.”

  I followed him out of his room across the hall into mine. I had the same window setup he had – one window facing the front drive and the other window facing the side of the house. Below each window were the rifle and the handgun, just like his. I had the same furnishings in my room, but no green light and fancy outlet below my side window.

  “Ever killed a deer, Clancy?”

  “No. Hunted with my father a few times. Saw him kill one. Didn’t really enjoy that. I like deer. Alive.”

  “Me, too. I don’t hunt animals.”

  The implication was too obvious and too painful to comment.

  “Aim for the heart. It’s a difficult shot, but with the 30-06 you have there, the target will not get up.”

  “If I miss, let him come in from the trees towards the cabin. Then use the .357.”

  “No, use the rifle again. Then if you miss, you really
are a bad shot and you have no right to be here. Last measure is to pick up that handgun. If you have to, aim for the middle of the body. At least you will slow him down.”

  He turned and walked away from me without another word. He stopped at the door of my room. His back was to me.

  “Make yourself comfortable. They should arrive in a little while. I’ll be across the hall if you need me.”

  “I’m going to make a sandwich or two for me. I’m not like you. I can’t go long, indefinite periods without food. Besides, you haven’t fed me well all day. You want anything?”

  He shook his head and went into his bedroom. He left the door open.

  I returned to my room with two sandwiches, an apple and the whole carton of orange juice. I could make it till morning if necessary.

  28

  The room was dark when I opened my eyes. I had shut my eyes for a moment after the second sandwich and then just dozed off. The katydids were making a racket, but all else was deathly quiet. I decided to check on Rosey.

  “You awake?” I said softly so as not to startle a man holding a Remington 7400 fully loaded and waiting for his prey.

  “Better be.”

  His room was dark too. The katydids were just as loud on his side of the world.

  “Still think they’re coming?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The green light under his window started flashing. It was brilliant throughout his darkened room.

  “What does that mean?” I said.

  “Somebody’s coming.”

  “Security device?”

  “Yes, ma’am. They just passed the mailbox. Should be here in a minute or two if they be careful. Less if they be anxious.”

  I went back to my post and sat on the floor in front of the side window with my 30-06 in hand. Fully loaded. It was 9:01.

  “Don’t let the outside light coming on startle you,” his voice from the other room came across the hall. He said it calmly. “The light will come on quickly and you will have ten seconds for a perfect shot. Don’t rush, but don’t wait long either.”