Death in Nostalgia City

by Mark S. Bacon

  As she turned the corner at the rear of the B and B, she glanced up at the porch. The door to their room stood slightly open. Her senses went on alert. She remembered she had forgotten to take the old fashioned key that was necessary to lock the door from the outside. Setting the coffee and newspaper on the walk, she slowly stepped up on the wooden porch.

  She pushed the door open a half inch at a time until she could see inside. Two men with their backs to her were standing over the bed where Lyle was lying. One of them held a gun.

  “What else you got around here? Any more files?” the shorter of the two men said. He was muscular and had a large bald spot in the middle of his brown hair. He held a semi-automatic in his right hand.

  “You already got the computer and the folders,” Lyle said. “Look around again.”

  “Why don’t you put a slug in his leg to help him remember,” the taller man said.

  “I can make him talk,” said the shorter man.

  As the men focused their attention on Lyle, Kate stepped slowly into the room. She didn’t know what she would do, but she saw that she had to do something.

  She walked around a corner--formed by an alcove--where she couldn’t be seen from the room, though Lyle probably saw her walk in. She prayed that he wouldn’t look at her hiding place. Kate held her breath and waited.

  “Okay,” the first man said, “for the last time, where’s the woman. Where’s the blonde?”

  “She’s gone. She went to call the police.”

  “Ha. Sure. Go look for her, Ned.”

  “Where?”

  “Outside, stupid.”

  Kate heard footsteps coming toward her. Raising her right arm across her chest, she inched forward. In the next second, the man stepped around the corner.

  He saw her--too late. She took a quick step toward him. At the same time she brought her elbow up and across, hitting him in the face. Snap. His nose broke as the bony part of Kate’s elbow smashed through the cartilage.

  The man fell backward to the floor. Kate heard the other man grunt. Lyle must have hit him. The thud she heard was probably his gun hitting the floor. A moment later, the smaller man ran toward the door, trying to step over his partner on the floor. Kate lunged for him. He was considerably shorter than Kate, but strong. He struggled and managed to free one arm.

  He hit Kate across the face as she kicked his legs sideways. He had to reach for the wall to steady himself so his fist just caught Kate’s left eye.

  “Freeze,” Lyle said raising the semi-auto. “Hands up. Against the wall.”

  As if she were a cop and not a PR person, Kate grabbed the shorter man by the back of his coat and threw him up against the wall. She checked his pockets for weapons.

  As she did, she saw Lyle going through the pockets of the man called Ned, still on the floor. He moaned and tried to stop the blood flowing out from the deformed lump between his eyes.

  “Let’s get them in the chairs,” Lyle said.

  He pulled Ned off the floor, by gripping the front of his jacket, and pushed him into a heavy rattan chair. The man didn’t fight. He was obviously in pain. Lyle pushed a second chair into the center of the room and Kate shoved the smaller man into it. Lyle sat on the bed in his shorts with the gun leveled at the two assailants.

  Kate stood next to him. In her right hand she held a revolver that Lyle had pulled from the other man’s holster.

  “You guys aren’t cops, are you?” Lyle said.

  Kate sucked in her breath. She hadn’t stopped to think of that when she decked the guy. In fact, she hadn’t thought of anything except what she supposed was self-preservation. She looked down at the gun in her hand. Was her hand trembling?

  “Yeah, we’re the FBI,” the shorter man said with a scowl. “Good thing you got this woman protecting you, Deming.”

  “She’s pretty handy. Maybe I’ll let her give you a nose job, too.”

  The shorter man with thinning hair had a double chin and a down-turned mouth. His partner groaned. Kate got a damp wash cloth from the bathroom and gave it to him. When he started wiping the blood from his face, Kate snatched it back from him. “Hold it over your nose like this. Put your head back. It’ll stop the swelling.”

  The man complied without a word. Kate sat on the bed with Lyle.

  “Let’s see who our guests are,” Lyle said, nodding toward the wallet he’d extracted from the wounded man.

  Kate picked it up and found a Massachusetts driver’s license. “This guy’s name is Ned Havlicek. He’s thirty-two, five-eleven, and has hazel eyes.”

  “Ned,” Lyle said. “You work for Renke? Does he provide medical and dental? I think you’re going to need it.”

  Havlicek looked at Kate and mumbled something.

  “Shut the fuck up,” the shorter man said.

  “Okay. Let’s find out who the boss here is,” Lyle said.

  The second man was sufficiently cowed to let Kate extract his wallet from his coat pocket. Inside she found a blurry photocopy of a mug shot of Lyle. Folded with the photo was a sheet from a notepad. Written in pen were the words:

  Jennifer Norris, over 6 feet

  175+ lbs, blonde hair, attractive

  The printing at the top of the note paper said “Topaz Investigations.” Kate handed it to Lyle.

  “So, Jennifer,” Lyle said, “Renke’s not sure how much you weigh.” He turned to the shorter man. “How’d you know where we were?”

  “We’re the FBI. We know everything.”

  “We need to figure a way to tie these guys up, Jennifer. I want to get dressed.”

  “I saw a roll of duct tape under the sink in the bathroom.”

  “Perfect.”

  Kate reached under the sink and picked up the tape. Her hands didn’t tremble now. In a few minutes, she had bound both assailants to their seats, electric-chair style, with wrists tight to the armrests. Havlicek’s nose had stopped bleeding. The clotting blood was turning black. Kate gagged both men, poking holes in the duct tape over Havlicek’s mouth as an afterthought. He was having trouble breathing out of what was left of his nose.

  Lyle went through their pockets and found money, cell phones, and car keys. One of them had a map of Provincetown. Lyle set the two handguns down on a dresser and picked up the coffee Kate had retrieved from the lawn. “Damn. It’s cold.”

  Soon Kate and Lyle had dressed and packed. They double checked to see that the goons would not be leaving their seats any time soon. Outside, Lyle suggested they dump the guns. Kate pushed the magazine release on the semi-auto, then pulled back the slide to eject the round in the chamber.

  “Smooth,” said Lyle. He unloaded the revolver and they threw the guns in the bushes. Lyle hesitated with the thugs’ cell phones, then he pulled out the batteries and stomped on the phones.

  “That was a nice touch back there,” Kate said, “your turning on the TV so they could watch.”

  “Hey, it was an I Dream of Jeannie festival. I knew they’d appreciate it.”

  “You think we should have kept one of the guns?”

  “We’d never get one on a plane. I hope we don’t need it before then.”

  They walked around the front of the house. Kate glanced up and down the street. “Now what?”

  Lyle held up Renke’s men’s car keys.

  Chapter 59

  The key ring told them that Renke’s boys were driving a Ford product. One click of the remote and the lights on a car nearby started to flash. Lyle started it up. He found Highway 6 and they headed out of town and around the long, curved cape.

  “That was close,” he said. “Thanks for clobbering that guy.”

  “I don’t know where it came from. Guess I was mad. They could have killed us.”

  “That might have been the plan.”

  “Renke wants to get to us before the police do.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Kate considered the bigger question of their jeopardy, but let it go. “I wonder if Bedrosian knows by now.”


  “Could be. Maybe he’s bankrolling Renke’s search for us. With the money we got from his thugs we have enough to pay cash for airline tickets.”

  Kate turned around in her seat and looked at the highway behind them. The lanes were empty. “The paper,” she said. “I almost forgot.” She reached in the back seat and pulled the rolled-up newspaper out of her bag. She found the Kovak story on an inside page.

  “It says the police are looking for two people wanted for questioning. It has your name and Jennifer Norris.”

  “That’s a little good news. They don’t know who you are. I never told Steve your real name.”

  “I don’t suppose we can fly out of Hyannis now, can we?”

  “No. They know where we are. At least Renke’s people do. The cops may find out soon enough.”

  “We can always drive to Arizona.”

  “In a stolen car? Besides it would take days.”

  “How else are we going to get back? Even if we can afford to pay cash for tickets we’ll still have to show ID and go through security.”

  “Yes, it’s a risk, but we’ll have to chance it. Maybe they won’t have spread the word very far from Boston. I think we should try the airport in Rhode Island--Providence.”

  “Isn’t that a long way?”

  “Just a few hours. We could be there before the maids discover the uninvited guests in our room.” Lyle glanced in the rearview mirror.

  Kate took out a pad and the cell phone then opened up a map. “Looks like the airport is south of Providence. I wonder if we can fly direct to Phoenix from there. I’ll call and check with the airlines.”

  “Let’s fly someplace else first,” Lyle said, “then change flights. They’ll be looking for us to fly to Phoenix or Flagstaff.”

  They debated the risks of being tracked down if they made reservations. Kate suggested they make a dozen reservations at several airports. Finally, they decided to drive to Providence and take a chance on getting a flight without a reservation. They’d fly to Chicago, then get a flight to Arizona. It was a risk--they might be identified--but they had little choice.

  Kate double checked the map. Providence was not too far. It would take two or three hours, if they were lucky.

  Before they reached the end of Cape Cod, Lyle saw a Massachusetts State Police car ahead. It held steady at 55 mph in the right lane. Lyle knew he could legally pass it as they headed down Highway 6, approaching the Cape Cod Canal. Their car couldn’t have been reported stolen yet, and the cop in the police cruiser couldn’t possibly recognize him. Nevertheless, Lyle just stole a momentary glance at the trooper as he passed him briskly, but not too briskly.

  Kate saw the police car, too. She looked at the policeman as they approached, but turned her head away just as they were even with the car.

  “Chicken,” Lyle said.

  “I just didn’t want to look at him.”

  “In that case, why didn’t you slouch down in the seat? You look awfully tall sitting there.”

  “Not too tall for you.”

  Lyle watched the State Police car in the mirror. It gradually fell behind and then turned off the highway. “Height has advantages,” he said as he reached over and softly touched the side of Kate’s face. A dark bruise was starting to form where Renke’s thug had hit her.

  Chapter 60

  Two hours later, they were approaching TF Green Airport south of Providence, Rhode Island.

  “I wonder if they have special parking for stolen cars,” Lyle said.

  They ditched the Ford in a crowded, remote parking lot. Kate had called three airlines and found a flight leaving for Chicago in less than an hour. One had coach seats left.

  “Hope there’s still space by the time we get there,” Lyle said as they walked to the terminal.

  “Think they’ll be looking for us inside?”

  “No way of knowing.”

  “With these tennis shoes on I’m not too tall.”

  “But you’re still blonde.”

  “I thought about that, but there wasn’t time.”

  “Yeah, and I thought of having you ride in a wheelchair. Great ideas--for next time. Now we split up and take our chances.”

  They walked into the terminal and headed for the ticket counters. Kate glanced around but tried to look casual. “We can deal with this.”

  “Wait ’til Max sees our expense accounts,” Lyle said.

  “Max,” Kate said. “Max.”

  “What about Max?”

  “Lyle, we’ve got to get out of here. We don’t need this risk.”

  Lyle touched her arm. “We’re okay so far--”

  “No. Let’s go. Out of here.”

  ***

  “How brainless. Why didn’t I think of this before?” Kate said when they were sitting on a bench outside. “Max has his own plane. He can fly us home.”

  Lyle looked skeptical.

  “It’ll work. NC has a company jet. Max offered to fly me to the park for my job interview before he hired me. We just have to get him to send the plane for us.”

  She glanced up as a man in a suit and sunglasses walked by, then she looked back at Lyle.

  He nodded, slowly. “Okay, call Max. See if they can pick us up. And Kate, tell him not to tell anyone. Not even the pilots. Make up names for us.”

  In an hour, it was all set. The Nostalgia City plane happened to be in Philadelphia, having ferried some vendors back after an Arizona visit. The pilots could pick up Lyle and Kate by 3 p.m. Eastern time and leave for Flagstaff.

  A few hours later, they were settled in comfortable lounge seats aboard the NC jet. When they met the pilots, Kate had not liked the idea of deceiving them with false names. The thought of being grabbed by Renke’s men--or the police--however, was sickening. Once they were airborne, Kate and Lyle realized they were hungry. Unfortunately, a search of the cabin turned up only a bag of popcorn and two sodas. They made do.

  “We’ll have to turn ourselves in pretty soon,” Lyle said. “We can’t hide for very long.”

  “I need to check on the media event. Even if we have Bedrosian arrested and get Max off the hook with FedPat, we still have to pack in the tourists this summer. To keep the park from going belly up. That’s how we started all this, isn’t it?”

  “Seems like a long time ago.”

  “I need to get busy as soon as we touch the ground. What do you want to do?”

  “At this point I want to stay out of jail, catch Joe Renke, and see Samantha again.” He paused and looked out the window. “We have enough to convict Bedrosian and Renke--and keep us out of the slammer--if we can spell it all out to someone. We need someone to listen to the recordings, see the memos, and let us explain the whole story. Trying to explain it to Steve Travanti on the phone obviously didn’t work.”

  “Who do we talk to, the police, FBI?”

  “I don’t know. Trouble is, with a high profile murder like this, the police want to collar somebody fast. Explanations come later.”

  “Can we wait one day to let me make sure everything at the park is on track?”

  “Okay. We’ll have to decide where we can get the best break when we surrender. I’ll have Earl hide me somewhere. They’re still looking for Jennifer Norris so you may be safe in your apartment. But not for long. Pretty soon they’ll find out who you are.”

  “We should talk to Kevin Waterman,” she said.

  “I forgot about him. Maybe once he knows we have Bedrosian dead to rights, he might consider switching sides--to stay out of jail. I’ll persuade him.”

  “Why don’t you let me talk to him? I think he’s afraid of you.”

  “He should be. Okay, let me know what he says.”

  As the stress of the day merged with drowsiness, Kate leaned back in her seat and tried to calculate what time it would be when they landed. Lyle was polishing off a soda. He set the can down and stifled a yawn.

  “Are you glad to be going back?” Kate asked. “Back to our make-believe world.”


  “It’s make-believe, but you’re putting more reality into it.”

  “I hope. Our new theme area is full of reality.”

  “I know. I saw your plans.”

  “Plans?”

  “They were sitting on the table in your apartment last week.”

  “And?”

  “I like it.”

  “You do?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently.”

  “The past? NC years?”

  “The past in general. You can’t do anything about it. It happened. No sense pretending it didn’t. That’s just crazy. The past is a fact. Period.”

  “This doesn’t sound like the person who said Nostalgia City should be a fantasy world.”

  “That’s not exactly what I said. I just said people should be able to come to the park to have fun and remember the good times. Nothing wrong with that. But you have to reconcile the past. Even Vietnam and everything that went with it.”

  “You couldn’t have been in Vietnam.”

  Lyle frowned. “Not me, my older brother. Just before the U.S. pulled out. He was in the Air Cav. Got shot up bad. Looked like he might die, but he pulled through.”

  “It was horrible, wasn’t it?”

  “Ten times the GI casualties of Iraq and Afghanistan. It sucked all the energy out of the country. I never understood it, but I know I have to accept it.”

  “So, realism won’t be a problem?”

  “Realism will help.”

  “I hope it’s ready. We’ve got a little over 48 hours until the grand opening and the press arrives, en mass. Do you want to give the details to Max tonight?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Max wants to talk with us tonight.”

  “Is Max going to meet us?”