Mystery: The Sam Prichard Series - Books 1-4

by David Archer

  “I know that's how you see it, but I'm notoriously hard to kill. So you want me to call you in twenty-four hours?”

  “No need to call me at all, Mr. Prichard, I have caller ID just like you do. I'll call you as soon as I know something. And I won't promise you that there won't be some additional price for our cooperation, so bear that in mind. Don’t worry, it wouldn’t be money; we just might need your services at some point in time. If that addendum were to be presented as part of getting you what you want, would you be agreeable?”

  Sam thought it over. “My legitimate services, sure. Just don’t ask me to break any laws for you.”

  Ingersoll laughed again. “I wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Prichard. Now, go home and wait for my call; it may come sooner than you think.”

  The line went dead, and Sam felt a shiver run down his spine. He was pretty sure he'd just spoken to one of the actual heads of the Hydra that ran the drug operation they'd been trying for years to shut down, and there was no doubt in his mind that the man he'd just talked to could order his death with a single phone call.

  On the other hand, Ingersoll had made it clear that he was more interested in having Sam indebted to him than having him dead. That alone made Sam think he had a chance of getting the girl back safely, and living through it at the same time. Just the knowledge that the Hydra was willing to discuss returning the girl meant that she was probably alive and relatively intact. That meant there was a chance, and that was more than he'd have thought he could say that morning.

  He started up the van and drove towards home. He'd made his contact, and now it was just a matter of waiting for the response. He drove into his driveway just before five thirty, and made his way inside.

  The smell got him first; he hadn't smelled anything that good in so many years that he'd forgotten what it was! It was coming from his kitchen, of course, and he followed his nose to see what it could be. Indie was standing there at the stove, her back to him as she stirred something in a large pot, and she jumped when he said, “I hope that's supper cooking, and there better be enough for me!”

  “Oh! Geez, don't do that, you scared the life outta me! Yes, it's supper and there's plenty; I found a small roast in your freezer, and some canned veggies that looked like they had ten years dust on 'em, and made a stew. I hope that's okay.”

  He grinned as he limped over and sniffed at the pot. “It's fine. I bought that roast a few months ago, when I thought I was gonna have a date over for dinner one night, but she backed out and I never got to use it. The cans aren't that old, but they probably were pretty dusty. Smells delicious! Where's Kenzie?”

  “Oh, Mrs. Mitchell came down and introduced herself, said Mrs. Tanner told her about us, and she invited Kenzie to come and play with her twins for a while. They're all the same age, so it's great, and I got a break for the first time in, like, forever! She said she'll bring her back down around six thirty, so I'm timing dinner for about then. Hope you can hold out that long.”

  “I'll manage, but it won't be easy, as good as that smells. Meanwhile, let's talk while we wait. Got any coffee left? I could use a cup.”

  “No, but it only takes ten minutes.” She started setting up a pot of coffee, and Sam sat down at the kitchen table. He glanced around the kitchen, and said, “You know, I think I've spent more time in there these past two days than in the past year.”

  Indie looked at him. “Okay, you know that's kinda sad, right?”

  Sam looked at her and grinned. “I prefer to think of it as more poignant than sad. Sad makes it sound, I dunno—sad! Poignant sounds more like something big is coming down the pike, and it just hasn’t got there yet!”

  Indie shook her head at him. “No, it's just sad. The kitchen is supposed to be the place where a home lives, y'know, and to not even go into it on a daily basis, that's just...”

  “Yeah, I know,” Sam interrupted. “It's sad!”

  Indie laughed. “So, tell me how things went for you today, while I wait for your coffee.”

  Sam sighed. “You're not gonna believe it, but I think I've got a good chance of getting Cassie back safe. I went and got my CCL and then I figured I might as well be legal, so I got my PI license, too, and then I went to see Levi Stein. Believe it or not he's a decent sort, in his own way, and opened right up and told me what I wanted to know about the warehouse. I went down and checked it out, and managed to get the old guy who works there and knows absolutely nothing to give me the owner's name and number. I called that guy, and he said there was a good chance he could get me the girl back, but it would take time, and may leave me owing him a favor. I told him if I got her back safe, fine; if not, I was gonna ruin his whole life!”

  Indie was staring at him with her mouth hanging open. “Sam, holy crap! You coulda got yourself killed!”

  “Yeah, he said something like that, too, and I reminded him that it isn't something that's all that easy to do. I'm a tougher old bird than you might think; I mean, I lived through the last time they tried to kill me, right?”

  Indie scowled at him. “That's like saying, hey, I got away with murder once, I can get away with it again! That's stupid, Sam. I may not know you all that well, but I do kinda like you, and I don't wanna see you get hurt. Besides, what would that do to my living arrangements? I need you alive and well so I can live here, remember?”

  The coffee was done a few moments later, and she poured him a cup and brought it to him. He fixed it up and took a sip, then said, “So, you can clean, and now I find out you can cook, too. How much would it cost me to just keep you here as my housekeeper and cook?”

  Indie blinked. “Are you being serious?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “That depends on the answer. If I can afford it, then yeah, I'm being serious.”

  Indie stared for a moment, then said, “Well, you’re already providing me with room and board, so if we just take off what I'd have to pay for rent and utilities and groceries, then I could do it for about a hundred and fifty a week. Is that too much?”

  Sam grinned. “For a buck and a half a week, I can get cooking like this every day? You got a deal, girl!” He shoved his hand out for her to shake, and she took it nervously.

  “Sam, can you really afford that? Aren't you on like a pension or something?”

  “My medical retirement is seventy-five percent of my pay at the time of the shooting, with bi-annual cost-of-living increases, so it's not that bad,” he said, “but then there's the hazardous duty coverage; that pays me another twelve hundred a month, just because I got shot in the line of duty. I can pay you outta that and never touch my pension!”

  Indie shook his hand again. “Then you've got yourself a cook and housekeeper! Sam, you really were a Godsend, you know that? I don’t know what would have happened to me and Kenzie if you hadn’t placed that ad when you did.”

  Suddenly, there were tears falling down Indie's cheeks, and Sam reached across the table without thinking to place his hand on hers.

  “Indie,” he said, “what is it that you haven’t told me? Is there something that's gonna come back to bite you in the butt? Or me?”

  She shook her head and even managed a laugh. “No, there's nothing like that. It's just that—Sam, when I got back here from MIT, I moved back in with my mom, and it didn't go well. She had a boyfriend, and he thought since I was my mother's daughter, I must be as easy as she was. When he tried to get friendly with me, I sorta beat him half silly with mom's portable mixer. He was screaming like a banshee, and she came running to see what was wrong with him, and when I told her what happened, she threw me and Kenzie out. I was working at Dairy Queen, then, and had a little money saved up, so I got an apartment for us, but then the manager wanted me to date him and when I said I didn't date my boss, he found a reason to fire me—said I showed up late three times in a row, by changing the schedule after the fact. I haven't been able to get another steady job, and that's how I lost the apartment, and ended up in the shelters. It's a miracle no one called CPS on me.”
She wiped her eyes. “So, yeah, if you hadn't come along when you did, I don't know where Kenzie and I would be now.”

  Sam sat there for a moment. “What happened to Kenzie's father? Is he around?”

  She made a sound that was another half sob, half laugh. “No, that's another whole story. His name was Jared MacKenzie, which tells you who my daughter is named for. He was my high school sweetheart, and we were actually planning to be married once I got out of college. He wanted to join the Marines, so he figured he'd get his basic training and AIT all over with while I went to college, and then we'd get married as soon as possible after that. Of course, we were sleeping together, and I guess birth control isn't as foolproof as they want you to believe it is, because a couple months after he shipped out for boot camp and I went to MIT, I woke up to morning sickness! I hadn’t even skipped a period, so it was a real surprise, y'know? I wrote to him and told him I was pregnant, and he called me the night he got the letter, all excited. He said he wanted to get married as soon as he got out of AIT, which would have been in five more months, but then he was killed in an accident during his training. He hadn't even gotten a chance to make any provision for me or the baby, so I was SOL and all on my own.”

  “Wow,” Sam said. “You've had it tough, girl. What about his folks, don't they want to be part of his daughter's life?”

  “Not exactly. They blame me for his decision to join the Marines, because I was going to college and he couldn't afford to; they think he only joined to show me he was a real man, y'know? And since that's how he died, they blame me for that, too.”

  Sam shook his head. “Maybe one day they'll come around,” he said lamely.

  There was a knock on the front door, and Anita Mitchell came in with Kenzie. “Hi, Sam,” she said, then turned to Indie. “Indie, she was a little angel! She can come down anytime, just holler! Tracy and Lacey loved having her over, and she did me a favor cause they're worn out and down for a nap, now!”

  Indie smiled. “I'm glad she behaved herself,” she said. “And the same goes for you. Anytime you need a break, I'm willing to watch all three sometimes—if it's okay with you, Sam?”

  Anita smiled. “Ignore Sam, he's a big pussycat! He won't mind; he's actually watched them for me a couple times, himself!”

  Sam grinned. “Nope, I don't mind a bit. Tell Jim I said hi.”

  Anita smiled and waved as she left. “I will,” she called over her shoulder as she went out the front door again.

  Kenzie climbed up into the chair beside Sam and smiled up at him. “Did you know they got a doggie, a great big one, and it's got babies?”

  “They do?” Sam asked. “And did you get to play with the puppies?”

  “Yeah, and I got to go in their yard and see the babies, and they let me hold one of 'em, and it licked me right up my nose!”

  Sam laughed, and Indie joined in. “Right up your nose? Oh, no!”

  “Oh yeah, and it tickled!”

  Sam and Kenzie continued to talk about puppies and tickles while Indie got plates and began putting dinner on the table. The stew smelled delicious still, but when she ladled it over buttered Texas toast, Sam thought he'd died and gone to Heaven! The beef, carrots, onions and potatoes all blended together to make an awesome meal, and he was delighted to see that there would be plenty of leftovers.

  When dinner was over, they all went into the living room and turned on the TV. This time, Indie chose a movie that she'd wanted to see, and managed to get Kenzie to sit still and watch it with her. Sam sat in his recliner and watched with them, until Kenzie fell asleep around eight. The movie was almost over by then, and he and Indie started watching another one.

  It was almost nine PM when his phone rang, and Sam pulled it out to see Ingersoll's number on the display. “Yes,” he said, answering instantly.

  “Mr. Prichard, I've made some calls and located the package you were asking about, and I've been assured that it's in perfect condition. However, there is a hitch in getting it to you, and this is where the contingency I mentioned earlier comes into play.”

  Sam sighed. “What do you need?” he asked.

  Ingersoll spoke softly. “Listen carefully, for I have to be cautious how I say these things. The package was brought to us by a certain deliveryman, and that deliveryman then took another package from us, to deliver elsewhere. Are you with me so far?”

  Sam knew what he was saying; that when Rice dropped off his daughter, he took a package of drugs or money or something that he was supposed to take to another city. “Yes, I am.”

  “Good. That deliveryman was supposed to make a delivery at another location, but our package has not arrived. We need to recover it, Mr. Prichard, and as quickly as we can. Since we have lost track of that deliveryman, we would like to engage you to locate and retrieve our package. In return, we will see to it that the package you are looking for is returned to you.”

  Sam sat up straight. “So, if I can find the 'deliveryman' that took your package and get it back for you, then you'll let me have the original package? How do I know you'll come through?”

  “Mr. Prichard, despite what you may think, we are men of our word. To prove that to you, we're going to do the one thing you would never expect of us. We're going to pay in advance. The package you want will be delivered to you, in good condition, within the hour, and we are relinquishing all claim to it. All we ask is that you prove as resourceful in locating our missing package as you did in tracking this one.”

  Sam's eyes went wide. “I can assure you, sir, I will do my best. And—thank you.”

  Ingersoll laughed. “I doubt you want to thank me, Mr. Prichard. There will undoubtedly be parts of this arrangement that you will not like; just remember that you agreed to lose certain information, and we will remember not to have anything bad happen to you or the young lady staying with you.”

  The line went dead.

  Sam stared at the phone for a long moment.

  “Sam?” Indie asked. “You okay?”

  “That was the man I talked to earlier today. He has just agreed to return Cassie to me, tonight, within the hour, but the price for this is that I have to find Allen Rice for them and get back whatever it was that he took.”

  She was staring at him. “Wait a minute, they're giving her back? Just like that? Sam, that doesn’t make sense.”

  “I know,” he said, nodding. “They're only doing it to put me in the position of owing them, so I'll feel more obligated to find Rice.”

  “And what happens to him once you find him?”

  Sam was wondering the same thing, but his concern for Rice was overshadowed by his concern over the implied threat that ended the call. Ingersoll knew about Indie, at least that she was staying with him. If he'd known that she was the means by which Sam was acquiring his information, Sam suspected they would have already demanded her involvement, so he probably thought she was nothing but a girlfriend; a romantic involvement would make it likely that Sam would be protective of her, so that would be another level of leverage they had on him. Okay, good, let them think that.

  “Indie, whoever the people are that guy is working for, they know you're staying here, and hinted that if I don’t do what they want, something bad could happen to you. I think they believe you’re my girlfriend, and I'd really prefer they not find out what you can do, information-wise, you follow me?”

  He could see the wheels spinning in her head, but it was less than two seconds before she smiled sweetly, and said, “I'm with you, babe. All part of the job, right, still no strings, though?”

  It was Sam's turn to run her words through the Enigma Machine, and then he grinned. “Still no strings. But let's let anyone watching think we're getting pretty serious, okay?”

  Indie giggled. “Okay, but I'm gonna lay it on thick whenever anyone's lookin', so you better have some good self-control. Now, what about Cassie? When is she supposed to be coming home?”

  “All he said was 'within the hour.' Could be any time, I guess, and I
don't know if she'll be dropped off at home, or here, or where. We'll just have to wait and see.” He got up and hobbled without the cane to the front door, looked out through the window, and then said, “Holy Geez...” as he snatched the door open.

  Indie glanced at Kenzie, still sound asleep on the couch, and then ran over to stand beside Sam. Two men were walking up to his front porch, and both were dressed in black, SWAT-like uniforms, but neither appeared to be armed. One of them was carrying what Sam first thought was the body of Cassie Rice, and he was just about to reach for the Glock that was still on his hip when the other one put a finger to his lips and whispered, “Shh. We were told not to wake her if possible. You're Mr. Prichard?”

  Sam nodded. “Yeah; she's really okay?”

  The guy actually grinned. “She's fine, other than a serious sugar crash. We were told to take her out for ice cream on her way home, and let her have all she wanted, then wait ‘til she passed out to bring her to you.” He reached slowly into a pocket on the leg of his combat trousers and extracted an envelope, then held it out to Sam. “I was also told to give this to you.” Sam took it and glanced at it, but only put it into his own pocket.

  The men were on the porch by this time, and Sam moved aside to let them bring the sleeping girl in. The guy holding her laid her down on the couch, on the opposite end from Kenzie, then smiled at Sam.

  “We're just hired security,” he said, “and our employers told us to tell you that all we did was babysit and make sure the little princess there was safe and got whatever she needed.”

  “We're paid off, now,” said the other one, “and we won't be working for them again, so if you need anything...” He handed Sam a card that read Darkhouse Security Services. “I'm Terry Darkhouse. Call anytime. Seems you shook those guys up, and that isn't easy to do.”