Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery

by Harry James Krebs

  When the paramedics finished checking her over, they gave us a thumbs-up and packed their gear and left.

  Cox brought her a bottle of water from the refrigerator and Lainie began giving her statement. “I was just dragging myself out of bed. It was about five minutes past ten when my door buzzer went off. I looked at the security monitor and thought I saw Tucker.”

  The sergeant asked her, “So this guy Plum looked a lot like Mr. Tucker here?”

  “I thought his voice sounded a little different, but I didn’t think much of it. And I didn’t look that close. I just thought it was Ben.” She gestured toward me. “He even had that same shaggy hair.”

  “My hair’s not shaggy,” I said.

  She ignored me. “Anyway, when I saw who it was, I said ‘hi’ or something on the intercom, and he said he was here to tell me there’d been a major break in the case and asked if he could come up. So I buzzed him in.”

  Netter spoke to the officers. “There’s a briefing coming from our department to yours through Detective Stewart. It describes the extraordinary resemblance between Plum and Tucker, and that for identification purposes, Tucker will be the one wearing the Rolex watch. Show ’em your bling, Tucker.” I pulled up my sleeve and waived my arm while the officers eyed it. One of them whistled through his teeth.

  Stewart arrived at ten forty-five, and Netter brought him up to speed. It was another two hours before he and the Raleigh officers had finished and left.

  “So what do we do now?” Cox asked.

  “Well, one thing’s for sure,” Netter squeezed Lainie’s shoulder, “You’re not staying here.”

  “I’ll be okay,” she said. “Plum won’t be coming back.”

  “No,” I said, “Netter’s right. We’d all rest better if we knew you weren’t alone. You’re coming home with me. We’ll stay in the guesthouse. You can have Amanda Jane’s room.”

  She laughed. “That’ll be the day.”

  “He’s right, MacKenzie,” Cox said. “We’re not leaving you here alone. Go pack your things.”

  “No, I want to stay here.”

  “This is a second floor apartment. There’s no way out other than the front door,” Netter said. “And these windows are too small to get out of in a hurry. Even if you could, it’s a long drop. If he gets in, and your gun jams, you’re screwed.” He pulled a cigar out of his jacket pocket. “If you insist on staying here, Frank, Tucker, and I are all staying with you.”

  She looked at the cigar and rolled her eyes. “All right, all right, I’m coming with you, Tucker.” She got up and headed toward the bedroom, and Netter put the cigar back in his pocket.

  “Don’t forget your jammies,” I said.

  “I haven’t got any,” she called back over her shoulder.

  Netter, Cox and I just looked at each other.

  As Lainie was packing her things, we dug her iPhone out from under the sofa and checked it out. Looked like it survived the ordeal.

  “What about my car?” she asked.

  “Leave it,” Cox said.

  We locked up and climbed into Netter’s car. He started the engine, pulled the cigar from his inner jacket pocket, and stuck it in his mouth.

  Lainie leaned forward. “John, I’ve had a rough day so far, and I haven’t even had a cup of coffee yet. I swear, if you light that thing in here, I’m going to shoot you in the back of the head.”

  “I’m not gonna light it,” he said. “I just like the feel of it in my mouth.”

  I turned to Lainie. “To him it’s kind of like a … uh … never mind.” I turned the other way and looked out the window.

  We hadn’t gotten out of Raleigh yet when Netter pulled into a Starbuck’s drive-thru.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “We’ve all had a rough time over the last twenty-four hours, and we’re a little beat up. I just thought it’d be nice to get some of that fancy coffee shit you like, Tucker. You know, like a venti triple-shot skinny Austrian goat milk upside down hazelnut mocha crappuccino. MacKenzie needs a quad.”

  I leaned over and looked at him in the rearview mirror with narrowed eyes. “Why are you bein’ nice like this? You’re the one always complaining that I’m wasting valuable time by stopping for coffee. This sudden niceness on your part’s driving me nuts, and it’s throwing me off my game.”

  He looked back in the mirror and ripped into me. “It’s always about you, isn’t it, Tucker? Me, me, me. Did you ever think that the reason you’re off of your game is because you haven’t fuckin’ got one? And now we’ve wasted another minute of valuable time talkin’ bullshit. You really are one selfish bastard!”

  “Thank you. That’s better.”

  He looked at me again. “You’re welcome. And one more thing … the person wearing the fancy pants Rolex watch is buyin’.”

  “I see. And I suppose the next time it will be the person who drives the fancy pants Jaguar.”

  He laughed. “See, Tucker? You’re back on your game already.”

  We got back to the Cary PD at one fifteen. Lainie handed me her overnight bag but took her computer with her into the building. She had work to do and said she’d call

  me when she was done later that afternoon.

  When she’d walked away, Cox asked to see her bag. I handed it to him, and he started rummaging through it.

  “What the hell are you looking for?” Netter asked.

  “This,” he replied, holding up the key card to Lainie’s apartment. “If Plum breaks into her place tonight, he’s going to find me and my nine sittin’ there waiting for him. Tucker, keep your mouth shut and don’t tell MacKenzie about this.”

  Netter grinned and said, “I like it. And I’m going to be right there with you. I’ll borrow Laura’s car again and pick you up later so nobody will see the unmarked sitting in the parking lot. Frank, I don’t think I’ve ever told you … I’ve had a very interesting life. I’ll tell you all about it tonight.”

  Cox zipped up the bag. “Aw, fuck!”

  Netter added, “And we can go through MacKenzie’s underwear drawer.”

  “Well at least there’s that to look forward to,” Cox said as he walked away.

  I looked at the sky and shook my head.

  “You can’t smoke any of those stinking cigars in there, though,” I said. “She’ll skin us all alive. And you better head home and get a few winks. You look like hell.”

  Netter shook his head. “Not yet. I’m heading over to the hospital to check on Stanton. Maybe I can catch a few Z’s there.”

  “You know this wasn’t your fault, John,” I said.

  “I keep telling myself that, but I’m the one who sent her there. I knew she was green and I sent her there to deal with a lunatic.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “that’s true, but you’re also the one who ordered her to wear the vest. In my view, you’re the one who saved her life.”

  Netter looked at me regretfully and slowly nodded his head. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.” He grinned slightly. “Thanks, you selfish bastard.” I smiled as he got back in his car and drove off.

  It was shortly before two o’clock when I got back to the estate. I headed straight for the guesthouse. The Brackus workers were there, and I felt a sense of security having so many people around.

  I took a few minutes to call my brother George and describe the events of the last twenty-four hours. He agreed to call Mom and Dad and relay an edited version of the story. Maybe it would be enough to prevent Dad from calling me—probably not. Those conversations were always so damn painful.

  The previous two days with almost no sleep were catching up with me. My eyes were heavy, so I grabbed a throw pillow, punched it a couple of times and stretched out on the sofa with Superman at my side.

  Three hours had passed when I opened my eyes, and the sun was beginning to set. The Brackus workers had left for the day. I sat on the edge of the sofa, trying to shake that groggy feeling you have after a nap.

  Oscar a
nd I wandered out into the yard, and he decided to christen a few of the new fence posts. “Good job, buddy.” He was proud and wagged faster.

  When we went back inside, I checked my phone to make sure I hadn’t missed any calls from Lainie. I hadn’t, but there was a message from Howard Price. He said recent publicity caused by the Plum investigation was having an effect on my book sales. My books were “flying off the shelves” and the publisher had ordered another printing of 250,000 units. He finished by telling me to “keep up the good work.” Actually, I hadn’t done a damn thing to help my sales. He should have been thanking Plum.

  After feeding my pooch, and a cup of coffee later, I was good as new. I sat at my computer and took another look at the photos of the Clancy crime scene. Once again, I felt like I was missing something obvious, but I saw nothing that drew my attention. Frustrated, I scratched my head and closed the folder.

  CHAPTER 34

  My concentration was broken when Maggie called. The family was safe at Larkspur and had already loaded up on groceries and supplies. Julie was driving Paul and Scott nuts with questions. Paul and Scott?

  I told her about Agent MacKenzie staying at the estate. She was glad I wouldn’t be there alone, but she wished it wasn’t a woman staying with me.

  “You know you don’t have to worry,” I said. “Remember, she’s a lesbian.”

  “Will you quit with that, Ben?”

  “Well, I don’t like it that you left with two Chippendales either.”

  She laughed, and we hung up. I already missed Maggie so much—her brilliant smile, the music of her laughter, the softness of her touch. I missed Julie’s cheerful chatter and Nora’s mischief and impish eccentricities. And I was surprised to admit I even missed Roberta bossing me around and the daily poor Miss Maggie speech. This living arrangement had to end soon. I needed to help Netter nail this monster and get my family back.

  I called Patty to tell her about the freak Plum/Tucker resemblance. She said, “Thanks for calling,” and hung up.

  It was six fifteen. C’mon Lainie, call me. I was starved. I opened the refrigerator to see what I could munch on and found a large covered platter of antipasto Roberta had left for me. There was a goat cheese log rolled in herbs, marinated artichoke hearts, roasted red bell peppers, sliced salami, mozzarella bocconcini, and thinly sliced prosciutto. Bless her heart!

  I selected two pieces of salami and two bocconcini balls. One for me, one for Superman. Then we went outside. While Oscar tended to his toilette, I scanned the grounds looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing obvious. I walked around the main house and checked all the doors and windows. Satisfied, we returned to the guesthouse and I refocused on my research.

  Lainie finished her work and called about six thirty. I threw on my shoulder rig, put on a charcoal grey sport coat, and left. After making a brief stop at Harry’s gun shop, I pulled the Jag up in front of the Cary Police Department and called Lainie. A few minutes later, she came out and hopped in the car.

  She gave me a quick once-over. “Why did you dress up?” she asked.

  I slid back the left side of my coat to expose Pure Reason. “I’ll be breaking the law carrying this into a facility where alcohol is sold and consumed. You gonna arrest me?”

  “Maybe after dinner, but right now I’m starving,” she said. “You gonna feed me?”

  “Absolutely. Anything you want. Seafood? Steak? How about Chinese?”

  She thought for a second. “Pizza! I want pizza. One of those thick, gooey, cheesy ones.”

  I fired up the five hundred and ten horses and put it in drive. “You got it! I know just the place. It’s just down the road here a few miles.”

  Minutes later, we pulled off of Kildaire Farm Road into Highlands Pavilion. The Bocci Trattoria and Pizzeria was located in back, adjacent to the Highlands Country Club. I drove around back by the golf course and parked, staring straight ahead.

  “What’s wrong?” Lainie asked.

  “I usually park back here to avoid getting my car dinged.” I glanced nervously in the rearview mirror. “But it’ll be dark when we come back out. Let’s park on the other side where there are more lights and more people.” I drove around and slid into a remote spot in the busier lot.

  The Highlands Pavilion was a quaint, little outdoor shopping area with unique shops and restaurants, including my favorite coffee shop. The pavilion was laid out like a plus sign, with a small central piazza surrounding a beautiful fountain in the middle. Parking was around the perimeter of the property with pedestrian walkways bordered by lovely garden beds connecting all the shops. We passed garden vignettes with welcoming benches and peered into shop windows as we made our way to Bocci.

  The building’s red brick exterior and tall arched windows matched the other shops in the pavilion. Inside, they had managed to capture the old world charm of traditional trattorias found in Italy and paired it with a modern, state-of-the-art kitchen. It was Friday night, and Bocci was hopping. When we walked in, the manager smiled and came over and shook my hand.

  “Hi, Ben. Good to see you,” Rollin said. “We’re a little busy tonight. It’s going to be about a half hour.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “It’d be great if we could get a table in the other room overlooking the golf course. I’d like to get away from the music, so I can talk with this young lady.” I introduced Lainie, and Rollin welcomed her and shook her hand warmly.

  “Sounds like your book is really taking off,” he said. “Saw it on the news … among other things.” He didn’t elaborate but it was obvious he was talking about Plum.

  He scanned the bar area. “I think I see two seats at the far end of the bar. Can we get you something to drink while you wait?”

  We both ordered a glass of Cabernet. I could have waited, but I get nervous around MacKenzie, and I needed something to do with my hands.

  Twenty five minutes later, we were seated. Carlos came over almost immediately to take our drink order. He shook my hand and clapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, my friend. How ya doin’?”

  “Hi, Carlos. This is Lainie MacKenzie. She’s with the FBI.”

  “No kidding. They finally caught up with ya.”

  We laughed, and I ordered a bottle of the Hogue Genesis Cabernet.

  When he left, Lainie said, “You seem to know these people pretty well.”

  “This is my favorite haunt.”

  Carlos returned with the bottle and two fresh glasses. He looked around at the packed dining rooms as he uncorked the bottle. “It’s gonna be another busy Friday night.”

  “You guys might be crowded tonight,” I said, “but I think it’s really my Julie and Amanda Jane who keep this place solvent.”

  “You got that right.” He grinned and said to Lainie, “His daughters can shovel it away pretty good.”

  After I sampled the wine, Carlos filled both glasses, and we were ready to order.

  “We’ll have a medium Chicago Deep Dish.” I looked at Lainie. “I grew up in the Chicago area, and this pizza is as authentic as you can get without Lake Michigan. Whatever you want on it, but no black olives, please.”

  She looked up at Carlos. “Pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, green peppers, and onions … and can I have some black olives on the side?”

  We clinked glasses when he left.

  “Cheers.”

  The conversation turned to Plum. “So why do you think he’s targeting me?” Lainie asked. “I don’t fit the profile.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, too. He has a fixation on me, and maybe he thinks we’re involved.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  “What’s so funny about that?” I asked. “He could think that.”

  “Trust me, Tucker, it’s not going to happen.”

  “I’m not making a pass at you,” I said, defensively.

  “Tucker, you’ve been looking me up and down since the day we first met.”

  We were interrupted by a call from Netter. I
excused myself and stepped outside the front door where it was quiet. After a brief conversation, I returned and sat down.

  “What’s wrong?” Lainie asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing, I guess. Lisa Stanton has regained consciousness. According to Netter, she’s coherent and eating like a horse.”

  Lainie watched me but said nothing, waiting for the rest.

  “But,” I added, “Mayor Richards has ordered the security detail at the estate terminated, effective immediately. He said now that my family has evacuated, and there’s an FBI agent on the premises, he doesn’t see the need for the Town of Cary to continue to pick up the tab.”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Not really. Richards is a prick. I’m surprised he didn’t insist on releasing my photo to the press.”

  I swirled my glass and took a sip. “But enough about that asshole. So tell me, what’s the story on Lainie MacKenzie?”

  She gave a brief recap of her life. She was born in Cleveland, Ohio, and had two older brothers. At age seven, her father lost his job and moved the family to Cincinnati, where he found a position with Procter & Gamble.

  Lainie graduated from the University of Ohio with a major in Sociology/Criminology, and then went on to earn an advanced degree in Criminal Psychology. She had worked four years for the Hamilton County Criminal Investigation Unit when her application was accepted by the FBI. She spent twenty weeks at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia before earning her rank as Special Agent. She had now worked as an FBI field agent for five years.

  Her father was proud of his daughter, but there was tension between Lainie and her mother, who felt Lainie’s FBI career would hamper her chances of snagging a rich guy and having lots of grandbabies. In that regard, Lainie’s mother was probably right.

  We had finished our first glass of wine when Carlos returned with our pizza. Lainie’s eyes lit up and the ravenous look on her face told me that Bocci had once again produced their usual cheesy masterpiece.