Death in Nostalgia City

by Mark S. Bacon

  “Shouldn’t we be calling security?” Kate asked. “Or the sheriff?”

  Lyle was scanning the road, trying to think, hardly listening. The song on the radio ended and the familiar deep voice said, “That was ‘White Rabbit’ by Iron Butterfly.”

  “Lyle, are you listening to me? Shouldn’t we call somebody.”

  “Yeah. I suppose. Bates’s guys will be useless.”

  “Then do we call the sheriff?”

  “Wisniewski?” Lyle slowed for a car crossing the road ahead then looked in his rearview mirror.

  On the radio, Earl Williams said, “Now, here comes a big new hit from Eric Clapton, “American Pie.”

  “Lyle, should we--”

  “Hold it.” Lyle held up his right hand. “Listen.”

  The song came on the radio, and Lyle turned up the volume.

  “It’s one of Earl’s oldies,” Kate said. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Earl’s in trouble.”

  Chapter 70

  Lyle and Kate pulled up at the side of the radio station and looked around. Lyle turned off the engine and they sat in the dark. “They’re in there. Renke’s men are in the studio. And both my weapons are at home.”

  Kate reached in her purse and pulled out a silvery object. “I started keeping this in my nightstand at the apartment.”

  “Where’d you get that?” Lyle said, looking at the big SIG Sauer .40 caliber semi-automatic.

  “I’ve had it a while. I know how to shoot. My father taught me.”

  “So that’s why you looked so comfortable with the gun in P-town.”

  Kate handed the gun to Lyle. Although she might have fired it hundreds of times, Lyle thought, she probably never pointed it at anyone.

  Assuming the front door would be locked, Kate and Lyle moved cautiously around to a service entrance at the back of the building. Next to a narrow metal roll-up door, a standard door stood ajar and rock music spilled into the alley. Holding the gun low, Lyle stuck his head through the doorway. Kate looked over his shoulder. The room was dark, but they could see light--and hear music--coming from a far doorway. As the evening DJ, Williams was likely the only person on duty.

  Lyle and Kate moved up to the next door and looked out into a lighted hallway. After a few paces down the hall, they saw a large workroom Lyle had been in before. Peering into the room, they could see the windows that separated the workroom from two broadcast studios. One of the studios was brightly lit. Inside it, three men stood around the disk jockey’s console, with Earl seated in the middle. One of the men was Joe Renke.

  The console, stacked with electronic gear and a microphone boom, blocked their view. Lyle and Kate could see the men only from the waist up and could just see Earl’s eyes and the top of his head.

  “You’d better get back to the car,” Lyle said. “Call the sheriff’s department.”

  “I’m not leaving. Besides, you’ve got my gun. You have to protect me.”

  Lyle gave up easily. He ducked down and motioned for Kate to follow him. Together they crawled into the dark workroom and stopped behind a desk, about fifteen feet from the studio window.

  “If that guy in there didn’t have a gun, Earl would have flattened all of them,” Lyle said. He recognized the other two men. Holding a gun on Earl and standing with his back to one of the studio doors was Ned Havlicek, who Kate had smashed in the nose in Provincetown. The other man was Art Jones.

  “I recognize the guy with tape over his nose,” Kate said.

  Lyle crouched behind the desk. “I’ve been in here before,” he whispered. “With those bright lights on in the studio booth you can’t see anything out here.”

  As Kate and Lyle watched, Earl reached up and grabbed a cartridge off the top of the console. A moment later, the voices in the studio filled the workroom.

  “Earl must have thrown a switch,” Lyle said. “He can see in the dark. He knows we’re here.”

  Instinctively, Kate ducked lower.

  “Look, Joe,” Art Jones was saying in the booth. “I don’t think this guy knows anything. We need to get outta here.”

  “He’s Deming’s friend,” Renke said. “He knows. Poke him again.”

  Jones waved a lock-back knife in the air. “Let’s get the money and go.”

  “The money’s final payment. So we have to blow the tracks and get rid of Deming and the woman first,” Renke said.

  “Hell, they won’t know if they’re dead or not,” Jones said. “We’ll still get the money.”

  “You’re not the one Deming can testify against,” Renke growled. “Are you?”

  “So what about the explosives?”

  “Morgan and I set up the C-4 already,” Renke said. “That’s done. Now we get Deming.” Renke motioned toward Earl.

  Jones bent over the DJ’s console.

  “I told you, I don’t know where he is,” Earl said. “He’s hiding out from the police.”

  “We have to do something,” Kate whispered to Lyle. “There’re two doors to the studio. Why don’t I--”

  “Go around over there,” Lyle said, finishing her thought, “and distract them from one door while I come crashing in the other.”

  “Okay, just be careful.”

  Staying as low as he could, and moving behind furniture, Lyle inched up to the studio door. He stood in a shadow and waited. Kate had to crawl back to the hallway to reach the other door. When she knocked, all three of Earl’s tormentors looked up at once. She didn’t walk into the room, just stood to the side and pulled the door open slightly.

  “Earl?” she said. “Can you come out here for a minute?”

  “I’ll get her,” Renke said.

  He took a step toward the door.

  Lyle threw open his door hard, hitting someone. Havlicek tumbled forward into a bookcase filled with stacks of CDs. He hit the floor with CD cases spilling over him.

  Lyle lunged for him. He grabbed the gun out of the man’s hand with his left, at the same time pointing Kate’s SIG at Art Jones.

  “Everybody freeze,” Lyle shouted. “Drop the knife.”

  As Jones’s knife hit the floor, Lyle saw Renke go through the other door. He turned to Jones. “Don’t move. Back up.”

  Lyle shouted the orders and Jones obeyed, raising his hands to shoulder level. Jones had a gun tucked in his waistband.

  Lyle kicked Havlicek who was still on the ground and told him to get up against the wall with Jones. Immediately Lyle saw that Earl was tied up, strapped to his chair with electrical cord. Wire also wrapped his right wrist to the arm of the chair. The moment the two assailants were against the wall, Williams stood up, lifting the swivel chair with him. He back handed Jones in the face with his free hand then grabbed Jones’s pistol and pointed it at him.

  “Kate.” Lyle yelled.

  No answer.

  As he moved past Earl, Lyle hit a wheel of the swivel chair. It was just high enough to scrape against his bullet wound. He winced but kept moving.

  Lyle scrambled out the door--and tripped over Kate lying on the floor.

  “He got away,” Kate said. “As soon you came crashing in, he ran.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. He knocked me down with the door trying to get past. He didn’t even look at me. Just took off. I heard the back door slam.”

  They stepped back into the studio as Kate brushed herself off.

  “You all right, Earl?” Lyle said.

  “I’m okay. But these guys won’t be.” He jabbed Jones hard in the stomach with the pistol.

  “Hold on Earl. We’ll take care of them.”

  “Well,” Kate said, “our friend from P-town. How’s the nose, Ned?”

  “These the guys who crashed the monorail into my studio?” Earl asked.

  “Think so.” Lyle herded the two men into a corner while Kate helped Earl untangle himself from the chair.

  “What happened here, Earl?”

  “These dudes surprised me. Don’t know how they got in. By
the time I heard anything, bam, one of them hits me on the head and the other starts tying me up.”

  “What’d they want?”

  “You. They knew you were a friend of mine. They wanted to find you.”

  “Sorry. I lost them an hour ago. They went after Kate. Must’ve come right here when we got away.”

  “I told them if they took me off the air, security would come charging in here. So they left one of my hands free and let me announce records, while this guy jabbed me with his knife.” Earl showed Lyle a patch of dried blood on his arm.

  Lyle turned to Jones. He resisted a strong temptation to bash Jones in the face. “Neither of these guys look tough to me,” he said. “But we have to find Renke and see if he has any other punks running around.”

  “I know where he went,” Earl said. “That guy who left--is his name Joe?--he called this guy Morgan on his cell phone. He’s going to meet him at the Graveyard Grill. They’re going to pick up a big cash payment for killing you.”

  Lyle took a couple of steps back from the thugs. “Watch these guys, huh, Earl? But don’t kill them. We’ve got to get Renke.”

  “Do I call security?”

  “No, call the sheriff. Never mind. I’ll call myself.”

  “Lyle. Thanks for getting my message.”

  “Lucky I was listening. I knew even you could identify Jefferson Airplane. And Eric Clapton doing ‘American Pie’? I’m surprised these idiots didn’t catch that one.”

  Chapter 71

  “Can you get me in touch with Rey Martinez? It’s an emergency.” Lyle drove with one hand, holding Kate’s cell phone in the other, as they raced the cab toward NC’s amusement park. “Rey, I once told you if I found bad guys in the park I’d call you before I did anything. Remember? Well this is your notice. Joe Renke--you know that name--and another guy are about pick up a cash payment for blowing up the train and killing me.”

  “You’re not dead.”

  “Very perceptive. But the person paying him off doesn’t know that.”

  “Who’s doing the payoff?”

  “C’mon on over and find out. Ms. Sorensen and I are going to rendezvous for a late night snack at the Graveyard Grill. Know where it is?”

  “Right next to the Living Dead ride.”

  “That’s it. But please don’t come crashing in there Code 3. You’re liable to frighten Renke and his men more than the ride.”

  Lyle took a turn a little faster than he should have and the cab swerved momentarily.

  “So, can we meet you there, Rey? And please, send some men to the radio station on Third Street--right away. Tell them my DJ buddy, Earl Williams, is holding a gun on a couple of Renke’s people who tried to kill him.”

  “Okay, but--”

  “One last thing. You might alert your bomb detail, if you have one. Once we grab these guys at the restaurant they’re going to have to tell us where they planted explosives to blow up the train.”

  ***

  Taking a service road, Lyle pulled up twenty yards behind the Night of the Living Dead attraction.

  “Here’s your expensive piece back.” He handed Kate the SIG Sauer. “Havlicek had my 9mm in his pocket. The thief.” He tucked the gun into his belt behind his back and pulled his shirt over it. “Let’s try hard not to use these things, okay?”

  He looked at his watch. It was almost 11 o’clock. The rides would be open until 1 a.m.

  “I guess Bedrosian didn’t call off Renke after all,” Lyle said.

  “Or maybe he’s taking orders from someone else now.”

  Lyle followed Kate through the crowd of tourists still wandering about in front of the restaurant and adjacent ride. The aroma of barbecue sauce met them as they squeezed their way to the entrance. Lyle looked over at tourists waiting to get into the ride. The line of people snaked up and down in roped-off rows around remnants of a shattered farmhouse and barn. Draped over splintered walls, a few mock corpses moved and moaned in muted agony.

  Inside the restaurant, many of the tables were full. The dining area occupied a large patio overlooking a cemetery where the Living Dead ride began. Every few seconds, tourists, seated in small-scale ’60s and ’70s convertibles, rolled through the cemetery along a winding roadway. Diners could watch passengers on the ride cruise through the graveyard and into a tunnel leading to the scarier portions of the journey.

  Above, the high painted ceiling looked like the night sky. Projections of clouds drifted across it. Lyle had loved the place--until now. It was indoors but had the feel of outdoors. The smell of food cooking mixed with an artificial graveyard dampness created by misting nozzles and theatrical fog.

  “Do we get a table and wait?” Kate asked.

  “Off in a corner.”

  Kate flashed her NC ID badge and a hostess seated them at the patio edge, the table partially screened by a faux willow. Sitting with their backs to a wall, they scanned the restaurant. Lighting was subdued, like the last few moments of dusk before night took over.

  “I don’t see them,” Kate said.

  “Neither do I.”

  “Who’s the inside person?” Kate asked. “Who’s going to deliver the cash?”

  “Any guesses?”

  “Yeah. In fact--” Kate stopped mid-sentence as they both saw Renke and another, larger man with a shaved head walk into the patio from the bar. A hostess led them past Kate and Lyle to a table on the other side of the dining area. They were seated at the edge of the cemetery near the passing parade of visitors on the ride.

  The two men scanned the restaurant. Every sixty seconds a low scream arose from inside the ride. Lyle and Kate had heard it enough to ignore it. Renke and his guest flinched the first time.

  “That guy reminds me of Hoss Cartright,” Lyle said, indicating Renke’s bulky associate, “just not as bright.”

  Kate was about to speak, but she stopped when someone else they knew stood in the patio entrance.

  Lyle had never seen Drenda Adair showing anything but crisp professionalism. Now the shoulder of her dress sagged. Strips of torn fabric hung loose. Strands of hair pointed in different directions. She stared, wide-eyed, across the restaurant. When she saw Kate and Lyle, she rushed over.

  “Kate, Kate what are you doing here? You’ve got to get out. Both of you.”

  “Sit down, Drenda.” Kate yanked her into a chair.

  “They’re going to kill you and I don’t even know who they are.”

  Kate glanced over at Renke. He was looking the other way.

  “I’m so sorry Kate,” Drenda sobbed. “It’s all my fault. Everything. My father, he--he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not well. I tried to stop him from coming here. When I found out, I called the sheriff.”

  “What are you saying?” Kate said.

  Lyle looked at Drenda. “Your father’s Sean Maxwell. He’s FedPat’s inside man. He’s been helping the guys who want to destroy the park.”

  “I didn’t know. He and Uncle Max never got along, but I didn’t know Father would do something like this.”

  “Where’s your father now?” Kate asked.

  “He’s right there.” Lyle pointed to the far patio entrance. Sean Maxwell stood on unsteady legs, staring out at the tables. Sheriff’s deputies stood on either side of him.

  “Father!” Drenda screamed.

  Renke and Hoss Cartwright jumped to their feet. Seeing the closest exit blocked by deputies, they headed in the other direction. Toward Lyle and Kate.

  Lyle told Drenda to get down. As he stood up, he pulled out his 9 mm and pointed it at Renke. Joe hesitated for a moment, stuck his hand inside his jacket, and spun around behind a table full of guests.

  Two more deputies--one of them Rey Martinez--entered the patio from the other side. Renke unholstered a large-caliber semi-automatic but didn’t fire. Instead, he ran for the edge of the cemetery, leaping a low iron fence. His companion followed, pulling out his own gun as he ran. As dozens of astonished diners watched, the two men landed on the si
mulated highway, dodged around tourists in model convertibles, and disappeared into the tunnel.

  Lyle ran after them. “Stop the ride,” he shouted back to Kate. “Get people out.”

  In a moment, he jumped over the fence and ran into the tunnel. Martinez followed close behind. Lyle strained to see in the darkness, but soon the tunnel was illuminated with a muzzle flash.

  Kate knew she couldn’t stop the ride. That would strand who-knew-how-many tourists inside. But she could stop more people from entering. She ran to the restaurant door and flashed her ID at a deputy. “Come with me. I need your help.”

  Tourists crowded around trying to watch the commotion. Kate pushed her way through. She hoped they thought it was just part of the NC show. No one seemed overly alarmed.

  Once outside, Kate ran up the Living Dead exit ramp, dodging people as she went. The deputy followed closely behind, hand on holstered semi-automatic.

  “Excuse me. Sorry. Out of the way,” Kate said as she dashed up the darkened ramp.

  When she reached the end, she had to jump sideways to avoid three people stepping out of a car. She put one foot in the car then leaped to the loading platform, elbowing a ride attendant out of the way. In a few long strides, she reached the control panel. The ride supervisor was talking to another employee.

  Kate again flashed her ID badge. “Close the ride. Don’t let anyone go in. Police are inside, chasing two men with guns.”

  The supervisor glanced at the sheriff’s deputy, then at the ride controller who started throwing switches.

  “Don’t stop it,” Kate said. “We’ve got to get everyone out. Just close the gates. Tell people it’s broken.”

  ***

  By the time Lyle’s eyes had adjusted to the low light, Renke and the other man had disappeared. One of them discharged his gun as he ran. The steady stream of little cars kept rolling by, each carrying two or three tourists. The visitors stared at Lyle and Martinez as if they belonged there.

  “Been on the ride before?” Lyle asked.