A man and woman came through the front doors and glanced around the room. They looked too much like elderly tourists to be kidnappers. They both wore floppy-brimmed hats, oversized sunglasses, windbreakers, and khakis. I thought they looked more like those people you see on commercials for catheters or hearing aids. The only things that looked out of place were the bags they carried. They were the oddest looking bags I’d seen in a while.
“Are they the ones?” I whispered to Horowitz.
“Uh… I can’t tell. It looks like it might be them in disguise.”
A young woman dressed in black and wearing sunglasses walked into the lobby. She appeared to be in her early twenties, just about the right age to be the professor’s daughter. She cautiously sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs.
“Your daughter?” I whispered.
“Uh… I think so. I didn’t get a good look at her.”
His answer seemed strange to me, at first. When I considered the situation, the last thing we wanted to do was whisk away a complete stranger by mistake.
“It’s all right, Professor. Keep an eye on her because we can’t risk messing this up.”
“Look. The other two are signing for the package.” He pointed toward the desk.
“Now! That’s them!” I shouted. Just as planned, Brad and Gabe seized the old couple. We had been prepared for the worst-case scenario, a gang of strongmen. As it turned out we overestimated our adversaries.
“That was it? I feel like I woke up for nothing,” Randy moaned.
Gabe, holding the old man’s arm, walked him toward me. “Kidnapping is a serious offense.”
“Kidnapping?” the man shouted. “Who the hell would we kidnap?”
I confronted him. “You just picked up a package containing a stolen artifact, sent by Professor Horowitz. He told us you kidnapped his daughter and her ransom was for him to obtain these black market pieces.”
“Is that what he told you? We worked for him as couriers. He’s the biggest dealer in Syrian and Iraqi artifacts in the world. We pick up cash from his clients, deliver it to Horowitz and we return the filled orders to the clients. Hell, Horowitz doesn’t even have a daughter.”
I frantically looked around the lobby for Horowitz and the young woman. Down the corridor leading to the rear of the building I spotted them, sneaking away. “Horowitz! Stop!” I shouted. In retrospect, it was a stupid thing to do. They bolted into the shadows, running into the bellman on the way.
Gabe and I raced to the corridor, stopping by the sprawled out bellman. “Which way did they go?”
“Right over the top of me, you idiot. How the hell should I know?”
Ezzy joined us. “I knew it. I knew that slick little bastard was lying his ass off. This shit, right here. This is why I quit trusting people. Next time I see him, he gets the Black & Decker dental treatment.”
“And he has the original demon statue. None of this makes sense. What’s going on?” I said, rubbing my forehead as if it would help my brain to spit out a logical answer. “How are we going to find them?”
Ezzy picked up a slip of paper. It was a carbon copy of a handwritten receipt. “You hardly ever see these kind of receipts anymore. Only from little mom and pop shops.”
“I bet they lost it when they collided with the bellman. What information can you get from it?” I asked.
“It’s from Eastern Mediterranean Olive Imports, no address that I can see. Looks like it’s for twenty cases of olive oil and three cases of dates. Here’s the best part, Eugene Horowitz signed for all of them.”
“It’s a clue, I hope. Damn it. I can’t believe we messed this up. I guess we better let the old couple go free before we’re the ones charged with kidnapping.”
Randy had been listening to our conversation and finally offered his thoughts. “Don’t you see what he’s been up to? He buys these artifacts from smugglers posing as legitimate importers. Most likely the same company on the receipt is one of the smugglers. He then sells forgeries of the ones he wants to keep.”
Ezzy shrugged. “I think we know without a doubt, Horowitz has one more secret. He and this Sarah woman are the ones restoring the devil worshipping sorcery cult and stealing our powers.”
“How do we find them now? You know he won’t come back here. He won’t go back to the museum, because he cut all ties to that life when he killed his clone and faked his death. The only clue we have now is this olive importer.”
“Hey Hamster, I have a question you might be able to answer,” Randy shouted.
Hamster strolled over to us. “Ask away.”
“Have you ever heard of this place?” Randy asked, handing him the receipt. “We need to go there.”
“Good luck with that. Yeah, I heard of these guys. It’s a front. Just a company on paper to back up their shipments and get them through customs. They don’t import olives or dates. You can’t actually go to their office, because it doesn’t exist.”
“Fucking perfect,” I mumbled.
Gertie had been quietly listening in, and now something sparked an idea in her brain. “I was thinking about criminals. I asked myself, ‘Do they steal from each other too?’ If they don’t, it means they must have more trust in each other than they would in a law-abiding citizen. But trusting behavior in thieves seems contradictory to me. In that case, they prey upon each other. Are criminals really trusting, Hamster?”
“That depends. If they’re part of a system, a family so to speak, there are agreements to prevent that sort of thing. Otherwise, you are absolutely right. Who better to steal from than other crooks? It’s not like they’re going to call the cops.”
“What are you getting at, Gertie?” Randy asked.
Gertie’s voice was sweet and relaxed as she explained her logic. “I was just thinking about the little old couple we thought were kidnappers. They sure looked a lot like Red and Ivana Schwanz. You remember, the people I saw walking through the hippie retreat after you launched their RV off the cliff? And later on, we went to their house in Cicero. You looked through the window and saw it was empty, except for a bunch of boxes with the words ‘olive oil’ printed on them.”
“Hmm. Keep going,” Randy said.
“Well, you have to admit that receipt you found is pretty shabby looking. There are no dates, no prices, and no weights. It looks phony. So I wondered, why would you write up a phony receipt?”
Brad raised his hand. “So you would have a receipt for something you didn’t buy!”
“Exactly! The only reason someone would fake a receipt would be to cover up the things they stole. Maybe they stole something from a store or warehouse.” She tapped her finger on the receipt for emphasis. “Or, in this case, a crooked olive importer. Maybe the boxes you saw in that house were the same ones mentioned on the receipt. One last clue about the receipt is how badly it is faked. I mean, whoever wrote this thing has no experience. A shopkeeper or clerk would have too much pride to present such shoddy work.”
Brad waved his arm again. “Aha! But an archaeologist like Professor Horowitz might!”
I knew Gertie had to be on to something and even had my own realization. “The couriers! The bowling tournament was their cover and the stupid looking money bags weren’t duffle bags at all. They’re bowling ball bags. I can’t believe I didn’t realize that before. Anyway, those stolen boxes, they weren’t really olive oil, but artifacts smuggled out of the Middle East,” I said. “So you think Horowitz stole the stuff from the smugglers instead of paying for it? And delivered forged artifacts to the couriers, like Randy suggested?”
Gertie nodded. “Maybe. It explains why Horowitz had so much cash piling up. I would think he would’ve had to hand over most of the money to the smugglers, and Horowitz would only keep a percentage. In any case, you have to admit it is more than mere coincidence to find olive oil boxes in the house of Horowitz’s couriers. That house has a connection which could be very important. Although, we have to keep in mind the young woman who contacted Karma,
Inc., lived in that house at some point. At least she claimed to live there. She could be a criminal too. Like I said, I don’t think you can expect criminals to behave themselves to any degree.”
“Wow, Gertie,” Ezzy said, blinking as if she was unsure whether she was hallucinating or not. “Are you on some sort of new ADHD medicine?”
“Nope. I’m way too young to join the retired people association.”
Randy put his hands on her waist and lifted her up as if he’d just won the Super Bowl and she was the Lombardi trophy. “Out of the desolate open space that is your mind comes a lightning bolt of sheer brilliance!” he announced.
She giggled as he set her back down.
“At times, you have an unexpected perspicacity, Gertie,” he said.
Blushing, she peeked under her armpits. “Oh, Jaysus! I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to put some deodorant on.”
Brad pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “He means you’re very clever, Sunshine. And he’s absolutely right.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you. Usually Randy, and sometimes Ezzy, compliment me when I really don’t deserve it. They mumble ‘way to go, genius’ or ‘good job, Einstein.’”
“Come on guys!” I shouted. “We need to get to that house, ASAP!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Pinky
“Where did you park my car, Randy?” I asked.
“Oh, I let the valet park it.”
“Okay, so give the ticket to the valet and get my car.”
“Ticket?” Randy tilted his head, wide-eyed and stunned. “Ticket?” He repeated the question like I’d just spoken to him in Swahili.
“Yes, ticket. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Um, he never gave me a claim ticket.”
“You didn’t. You cannot be that stupid to just give my car to a stranger.”
“Uh, you’ve got me all wrong, Sis. I do believe I’ve proved to be just that stupid.” Like a shamed dog, he crept over to the valet station in a futile quest to find my car.
I knew it was a waste of time, a commodity we were quickly running out of. “Hamster, can you and Johnny give us a ride to Cicero? It’s an emergency.”
“You’re in luck. I got the limo we’ll be using to haul the wedding party from the church to the reception hall. Johnny, go back to the shop. Take the delivery truck parked out back and bring it to the church. The boss wants that order of flowers dropped off. Just bring it over there and the ladies will take care of the rest.”
“I’m on it,” Johnny replied, heading out the door.
I led our group, clones included, into the stretch limo parked out front. Randy sat up front, giving Hamster directions.
Hamster had a reputation as a lead foot and I expected a rough trip. But as the monstrous limo careened wildly through the traffic and performed hair-raising turns, I knew he’d taken his get-away driving to a whole new level.
We screeched to a stop, engulfed in a pungent blue cloud that smelled like burnt rubber and oil. Randy fell out of the passenger door and immediately began heaving.
“Randy! Stop making that god-awful noise,” Ezzy shouted. “You sound like a dog gagging on a bone.”
Randy wasn’t the only one green around the gills. His seasick clone fell to his knees, dry-heaving right alongside him. I didn’t feel all that hot myself. I asked Gertie to take care of them and Hamster to stand by in case we needed to make a quick exit.
The red brick bungalow looked empty. Gabe peeked through the windows, confirming the place was vacant. Dozens of empty cardboard boxes marked ‘olive oil’ were piled outside the back door.
My attention was drawn to a suspicious dim light I spotted through an open basement window. “I think someone is in the basement,” I whispered.
Barney kicked the screen in. “I’m the only one small enough to get through. I’ll sneak up to the back door and let you guys in,” he said, disappearing below the sill. A few seconds later, Barney came out the back door. “I found them. There are at least two people in one of the rooms in the basement. I didn’t stick around to see who they were or what they were doing.”
Brad and Gabe stood by the door, deciding on how to proceed. Thus began the manly debate concerning tactics, weapons, and legalities. I’m pretty sure I heard at least one reference to a movie with Dwayne Johnson.
Ezzy and I looked each other in the eyes, letting out inner sighs. We knew exactly what each other were thinking.
I nudged Gabe aside. He and Brad had moved on to deciding what hand signals to use for their mini-SWAT team assault of the Schwanz bungalow. They didn’t even notice me and Ezzy wiggling our way between them and going right through the door. Barney slipped through with us and pointed to the basement.
We were already to the bottom step when Gabe called out, “Hey, wait for us!”
With no more time for waiting, Ezzy and I moved swiftly and decisively. Whoever was behind the door to the little room was going to get captured. I spotted a white sheet hanging over a collection of old wooden chairs.
“I found our net. Ezzy, take one corner and I’ll take the other. Barney, kick the door open on the count of three. Ezzy and I will wrap them up,” I whispered.
Ezzy took her corner and gave me a nod. I counted to three. As soon as Barney kicked the door open, Ezzy and I swept in. We tackled one person, but the second person eluded us—Professor Horowitz.
“You numskulls again?” he shouted.
“Yeah, us again,” Barney replied. Brad and Gabe finally entered the room and restrained the professor.
“Let’s take this sheet off and see who the other villain is,” Ezzy said, ripping away the cloth.
A woman, about the professor’s age, sat on the floor. Her dark long-haired wig had fallen over her face. “Now to unmask the villain,” I said, flinging the wig aside.
It took a few seconds for my brain to recognize the vaguely familiar face. Then it hit me. “Mike Litoris! I mean his widow!”
“Pinky. You can call me Pinky,” the woman said.
“Pinky Litoris. Well, well. I bet the feds will be interested in this,” I said, picking up an account ledger book. I read the cover page. “Eastern Mediterranean Olive Imports, Mike Litoris, registered importer. How about that. So you and Horowitz killed your husband, stole the priceless artifacts, sold forgeries, faked a death, tried to change your identity to Sarah Scurvay, and worst of all you tried to revive an ancient demonic sorcery cult. Did I miss anything?”
“Damn you! If it wasn’t for you meddling witches and your stupid frog we’d have gotten away with it too,” Horowitz whined.
Ezzy turned on another light and revealed the scale of their crime. Eight large suitcases were lying open on the floor. Two were filled to the top with bundles of one-hundred-dollar bills, the rest were filled with precious ancient artifacts. One by one she picked up the treasures and smashed them on the cement floor.
“I could care less what happens to these two morons. I just want my magic back. Give me a hand.”
Barney and I shrugged. “Okay,” I said, and we joined in the destruction.
Alice heard the pottery shattering racket and followed the noise to the basement. “Just not this one,” she said, carefully wrapping the Pazuzu in paper. “Destroying it will release the demon. It needs to be hidden away.”
We made quick work of destroying the items, hoping for the rapid restoration of our powers.
“Now we wait for magic. Hopefully not too long. As soon as we get to the hotel, I’m digging out my wand and zapping someone just for the pure joy of it,” Ezzy said, dusting off her hands.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Hexorcist
Horowitz and his partner were safely tied up in the house. Everyone except me and Ezzy were back in the limo
“That’s a lot of cash,” I said, placing the suitcases of money in the trunk of the limo. “Too bad we can’t keep it. Gabe said something about it being evidence.”
“He’s a game warden. It�
�s not like we found suitcases full of trout,” Ezzy said, slamming the trunk shut. “After all, we destroyed the artifacts. That was evidence too,” she added.
“True. Now what do we do with Pinky Litoris and Horowitz? Word is going to get around about how they whacked Mike Litoris.” No matter how hated he was, Mike Litoris was a made man. The heads of organized crime families claim the right to take out one of their own, without exception. I knew the repercussions would be unpleasant.
Suddenly, a rusty old van squealed around the corner. A skinny, red-haired young man jumped out from behind the wheel, shouting at full volume, “Stop! In the name of…” He tripped over his dangling shoelace and fell face-down on the pavement.
“Love?” I asked.
Clumsily returning to his feet, he yelled, “No, godammit! In the name of the Wizard of Waaz!”
“Not that inbred jackass Ian again,” Ezzy grumbled.
Ian unfolded a wadded up piece of tinfoil and formed it into a cap shaped like a Hershey’s Kiss. After fitting it on his head, he resumed his rant. “That’ll keep your spells off me. I told Mama you two had to be witches. Then guess what?”
“She told you to get back in the basement?” I asked, sarcastically.
“Yeah, but first Mama told me a real good story about something called Karma, Inc. She said she wants to have a talk with you.”
“Where is… Mama?” I asked.
The van’s side door creaked open. Ian helped a woman, presumably Mama, from the van. She pushed Ian away and approached us, smiling.
“You ladies remember me?” she asked.
“Your voice is familiar. I can’t quite place it,” I said with a shrug.
“The name is Ann Elrider.”
“No kidding?” I asked, truly surprised. “I’m Kelly. She’s Ezzy.”
Ezzy added, “You’re the client that started this whole shit-show.”
“I didn’t start a thing. We at WOW were trying in vain to disrupt Horowitz and his wicked partner Pinky Litoris from completing their power plant of evil. I came across a business card for Karma, Inc. and I just knew it had to be witches. Sure enough, I was right. I made up a story about Red and Ivana Schwanz being my irresponsible landlord in order to get you to intervene. I figured if you destroyed Horowitz’s courier network and the RV loaded with a shipment of artifacts, it would be enough to end it. Unfortunately, I didn’t know Horowitz’s demonic project would compromise your magic. Also, I never expected such incompetent witches. After that disaster, I sent my nephew here to hunt Horowitz down and to secure the demon statue.”
Shame of Clones: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Karma Inc. Files Book 3) Page 17
