by Harry Hoge
"I asked you a question earlier, and you were too rude to answer," she demanded, looking at Gerry. "What's your favorite flower?"
"I ain't comin' on that, fool. No way I'm playing your sick game. You choose whatever nasty plant you want to kill me with, but I ain't gonna help you have so much fun."
Sheera smiled and lifted a vial from the bag. "I think I'll use Black Hellebore." She looked at Gerry. "You may know it as Christmas Rose, but I think it's generic name is fitting, Helleborus Niger."
"I take it you're the Shaman Lily I been hearin' about 'round town," Gerry suggested. She heard a barking laugh from Gus. Sheera beamed.
"Cool name, huh? I got that tag out in New Mexico a few years back. I was pretty much restricted to peyote then. That's before Uncle Gus and I got together and decided to tap into Big Daddy's treasure chest." She looked pleased with herself.
"Who's Marsha Meyers?"
Sheera shrugged as she nonchalantly measured some brownish liquid into a glass and added water. "It's who was Marsha Meyers... not is. She was some goody-two-shoes I ran into in Kemah. She wanted to try peyote, so I obliged. She couldn't handle it." She stared at Gerry. Gerry saw cold serpentine eyes. The Shaman Lily was prepared to strike.
Chapter 29
Frank hurried into the Ha Ha House, his eyes scanning the room for a view of the dispassionate, ditzy blonde before the door closed behind him. He didn't see the girl who called herself Marsha Meyers, but he stopped dead when he caught sight of Sheridan Barker at the bar talking to Roger Harrington. Once he had overcome his surprise, he headed straight for the couple.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked Barker.
"The same as you, I imagine," Sheridan said. "Looking for Marsha. I just arrived. Besides, someone has to look after the business, what with you locking up Reuben."
Frank turned to Roger. "Where's Gerry?"
Roger jerked his thumb toward the far side of the room. "She's in her dressing room resting. I escorted her there right after the first show. She was a bit jittery after having learned that the lieutenant here was Rankin's daughter."
"Are you sure she's all right?"
"1 checked a few minutes ago. The door was locked and I couldn't hear anyone moving inside."
"Did Marsha carry a drink to Gerry's dressing room after she came off stage?"
"Yeah. Routine."
"Has anyone seen her since?"
Both Roger and Sheridan looked at him, unable to answer the question.
"We identified that Jane Doe the Galveston police pulled out of the bay," Frank said. "Her name was Marsha Meyers."
"Oh my God," Sheridan exclaimed.
Roger didn't say anything. He spun off the bar stool and bolted for Gerry's dressing room. Frank and Sheridan hurried after him. They caught up in time to see him stop trying to open the door then back up a step and place a size-fourteen shoe into the door near the lock. It flew open, splintering the frame. All three rushed inside. The room was empty. Frank grabbed Sheridan's arms and resisted the desire to shake her.
"Do you know who Marsha Meyers really is?"
Sheridan's eyes were wide at the unexpected emotion from Frank. She started to say something, changed her mind then dropped her eyes and mumbled. "Her real name is Sheera Rankin. She's my baby sister."
Without letting go of Sheridan's arms, Frank turned his head to Roger. "The motel. Go. I'll check her new apartment. Keep in touch over the phone. Go!"
Roger headed for the front door on the run. Frank came close behind, dragging his ex-boss behind him.
Gus came up behind Gerry and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling her head back. He forced a tongue depressor in her mouth, wiggling it between her teeth and prying her mouth open. Gerry fought the best she could, but Gus had evidently performed this action before and easily overcame her resistance. Sheera tipped the glass with the watered down amber fluid into Gerry's mouth. Gus whipped out the depressor and clamped his hand over her jaw, preventing her from spitting out the fluid. Sheera squeezed Gerry's nose like a mother forcing a child to swallow medicine. Despite willing herself not to, Gerry felt the liquid flow down her throat. When Sheera released her nose, Gerry choked and spit, wanting to wipe the tears from her eyes.
Sheera stepped back and nodded to Gus. The brute released Gerry's hair and walked away. Gerry's head lunged forward and jammed against her chest. She would have fallen from the chair if the restraints hadn't prevented it. It felt like her mouth was on fire. Her tongue swelled. Her cheeks sucked in. She tried to clear the tears from her eyes by blinking. She heard herself gagging.
Oh, crap! This is it.
Frank literally threw Sheridan in the squad car and jumped in himself. Sheridan drew up with her back to the door, her eyes wide, showing a mix between fear for what Frank might do, and remorse for her complicity in how this whole mess was winding up.
Frank rammed the car into reverse and backed out of the parking spot. He crammed it into drive before it came to a complete stop and sped away from the Ha Ha House. He turned on the siren as he raced west on Gray, and took the right turn on to Studemont.
"There's no time for any more cat and mouse, Barker. How long have you known that your sister is a nut case?"
"I don't know exactly."
"Bullshit."
"I first suspected there was something missing in her when she was in junior high school. She was such an angry, unhappy sort that all I wanted to do was get as far away from her as possible. I didn't see her again, until the night I went to visit Dad and she was there."
"When was that?"
"About three years ago. She told me she had come to terms with Dad abandoning us, and had turned over a new leaf. Reuben backed her up. I bought into it, until Dad called me this morning."
"Have you been keeping her informed about this case?"
"No. I haven't told her anything. We seldom talk to each other."
"Well, she seems to know everything we do."
"I tell Reuben, and he no doubt tells Gus. If Sheera has been getting information, Gus is her source."
Frank maneuvered a left onto Washington and cut off the siren. "Fill me in," he fired at Sheridan.
"It was Reuben who called when you were in my office. He told me he was going to send Sheera away and call you to confess to everything." She paused, apparently thinking about the conversation. "He's such a rescuer." Another long pause. "He realized the truth when you confronted him with the oil-spot in his garage. He knew it was Sheera's car. The whole puzzle came together for him then."
Before Frank could respond, a cream colored Chevrolet shot out in front of him as he flew toward Heights Boulevard. He whipped the wheel and slammed on the brakes, barely missing the car's rear bumper. He slid into a wild spin at the intersection. It took all his talent and strength to recover control and continue west on Washington. He grabbed the radio transmitter.
"Dispatch, this is Frank Rivers in C-18. I'm Code Red on Washington in route to assist an officer in distress. Request backup, a CSI unit, and an EMT at Fowler between Maxie and Eigel."
The call went out for all available vehicles in the area. Double clicks on the radio told Frank that three other squad cars were responding. He keyed the mike again. "Third responder, identify."
"Hey, Frank, C-24." Frank recognized the ID.
"Hey, Gil. Helen with you."
"She's here."
"Two cars will do me here. Head for the Ha Ha House on Gray. Show your presence, but wait for Roger Harrington to arrive before arresting Gretchen and Sammy Sullivan on suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder."
"Ten four, 18. We're on our way."
Frank laid the microphone on his lap and took out his cell-phone.
"Hey, Roger, Frank here. What did you find?"
"Gerry's not here. The place has been tossed and I've interviewed the motel personnel. No one's seen her."
"I'm almost at her townhouse. I'm pretty sure she's there. I've got the situation under control. Go back to the Ha
Ha. Car 24 will be there to aid in apprehending Sammy the Stick and The Grinch."
"I'd rather come and help Gerry, Frank."
"I know you would, but it's important to get those other two in custody. When they're locked up, we'll be at Methodist."
Frank punched the phone off before Roger could argue further, and turned his head toward Sheridan.
"Hand me my briefcase from the back seat," he shouted. Sheridan didn't hesitate. She pulled the briefcase over the seat back and balanced it on the console between them. Frank snapped open the clasps without taking his eyes from the street, and took out the special cell phone. Three flashing red lights told him that the microphones, the ones he had hidden at Gerry's townhouse, in the hall downstairs, in the telephone, and the one in the upstairs hall, were not operating. He grabbed the radio mike and ordered the back-up units to approach in silence.
Gerry tried to vomit, hoping maybe it wasn't too late to rid her stomach of the dreaded poison.
"Don't worry," Sheera smirked. "You'll be throwing up soon enough, but it won't help." She leaned over with her face near Gerry's. "Let me explain what's going to happen. There are several nasty chemicals bubbling through your system. Some cause blisters to form in your mouth and throat. Before long, you'll be crapping all over yourself, and puking until you think your guts are coming out. Then, after several hours, your heart will stop, and you'll be dead. That's the bad news. The good news is you're just a pawn. Sad, when you think about it, but it couldn't be helped. It's that Spic partner of yours I really want dead. He's worse than the gook from Viet Nam. Daddy dotes on him. He keeps notes and newspaper clippings, like some adolescent worshipping a sports hero, about the great Frank Rivers."
Gerry managed to shoot Sheera a glare of disgust. "I thought you were afraid Frank would come looking for you. Now you tell me several hours?" The effort of talking exhausted her, but she was determined to act a cut above her assailant as long as she could.
Sheera smiled. "That's the good news. Gus and I are leaving soon. We'll be out of the state when your friggin' Spic champion comes bursting in here to save you." She looked at her wristwatch. "You should be about half gone by then. Unable to talk or function coherently. He'll see your sweaty, filthy, black body and rush to the rescue." She stood and walked to Gerry's chair. She peeled up an eyelid and studied her victim's pupils, pursing her mouth. She reached down and brought an electric wire from under the chair, lacing it behind Gerry's back to the other side, and reached under the chair seat. Gerry heard a distant click.
"A simple booby trap, really," Sheera explained. "Uncle Sammy isn't into high-tech but he's efficient. Any serious movement of the chair and BOOM, you and Detective Rivers are bacon. You get to avoid the inhuman symptoms and die quickly. Good news, right?"
Gerry must have expressed surprise when she heard Sammy's name because Sheera smiled. "Yeah, everyone hates good old Dad. He's such an arrogant, self-serving bastard." Sheera turned away and then stopped, feigning an afterthought. "By the way," she added nodding at the chair. "Don't worry about getting too reckless in your movements while you're waiting for Frank. I wouldn't let anything happen to deprive you two from going out together."
Gus snorted.
The two women stared at each other silently, Gerry showing hatred, Sheera smirking like the twisted sociopath she was.
Frank turned north onto Fowler and eased past Gerry's townhouse, noticing the beat up sedan sitting at the curb. He crossed Eigel and continued on to Inker, made a U-turn and parked in the exact spot where he'd left the car when he broke in and installed the listening devices earlier. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the leather wallet with the lieutenant's shield. He handed it to Sheridan. "It's against regulations to allow civilians at a crime scene," he remarked.
Sheridan looked at the shield then at Frank. "It's also against regulations to imitate a cop. I resigned, remember?"
"The way I see it, you don't need to imitate, and we're going to end up breaking regulations one way or the other anyway."
Sheridan took the badge from the wallet and pinned it on her jacket, then handed the wallet back to Frank. He fished in his briefcase and found his old shield. "Get out this side," he ordered Sheridan. "I've got the interior lights blocked on this door."
Sheridan scooted across the seat and wedged herself under the steering wheel, grunting as she squeezed by, and grabbed Frank's hand as he helped her out. Frank went to the rear of the squad car and opened the trunk. He took out two weapons and handed one to Sheridan.
"You ever use one of these?" he asked.
Sheridan turned the bright yellow weapon over in her hand. "I took a training session on the Tazer when the department bought the first ones. I've fired them at aluminum targets and seen the effects, but I've never used one on a human being."
"Same with me. Can't be too tough. It isn't brain surgery." He took Sheridan by the shoulder. "Are you sure you're up to this?"
"Frank, I'm a cop. Sheera may be my sister, but she's also a cold blooded killer. I'll wait until later to have regrets." Frank smiled and tightened his grip on her shoulder. Sheridan tucked the stun gun under her left arm and pulled a Colt 380 Auto from her purse, checked the loads, and tossed her bag back into the squad car. Frank followed a like routine, thinking, / hope I've read her right "Let's go get Gerry."
Frank and Sheridan had barely concealed themselves behind bushes on either side of the entrance to Gerry's townhouse when the front door opened. Frank had expected Gus to be the first one out so he could check the street before Marsha showed herself. He was wrong. The woman stalked out the door, swinging a black leather bag like she was arriving at a party. No glances right or left, confident that she was several steps ahead of the dumb cops. Frank tightened his grip on the laser and waited. Gus came slouching behind, following Sheera by only two steps. Frank waited a moment, making sure he didn't foul Sheridan's view, and then fired the weapon without warning. Gus was too strong for him to take the slightest risk.
Two barbed metal darts flew into the small of Gus's back, spiraled wires dangling as 50,000 volts of electricity shot into the brute's body. Before Gus's first yell, he heard Sheridan's gun go off, and watched both bodies arch their backs and collapse to the sidewalk, writhing in pain. Gus managed to turn toward Frank and force himself to a crouch. Frank let another 50,000 volts go. It knocked Gus backward, but he still managed to turn and grab at the nasty wires. Frank hit him one more time. Gus fell forward, shrieking and flapping his arms, then lay still. Cautiously, Frank eased up and stood over the body. He clamped a handcuff on the man's left wrist, yanked the arm behind Gus's back and pulled the right arm back so he could secure the other cuff. Only then did he glance toward Sheridan and her sister. Sheera was cuffed and moaning. Sheridan had her automatic out, and was reciting the Miranda rights.
Frank caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned in a crouch with his .38 in firing position. Two hulking figures loamed from the darkness. Frank relaxed. The uniforms had been concealed behind the car across the street and had observed the whole event. A second patrol car slipped quietly to a stop and two more uniforms got out. All four officers had their batons out and ready for action.
Frank stood and put his revolver away.
"Put one in each car, then clear the residents out of the townhouses on either side of this one," Frank ordered. The officers immediately went to work. Frank caught the arm of one of the men helping to secure Sheera. "When you get back to your car, call in for a tow truck." He jerked a thumb at the car Gus and Marsha had driven to the scene. "Don't let them haul it until the CSI team has gone over it."
"I'm going in with you," Sheridan volunteered when Frank walked over to where she was standing.
Frank shook his head no. "I need you here. Someone needs to explain the situation to the EMs and keep control of the residents we're evacuating. Also, if I screw up, I want someone to survive who knows what's been going down."
Sheridan started to argue, b
ut clamped her mouth shut, swallowing her 'Sumbitch' personality in the face of a superior officer who was talking nothing other than logic. She nodded.
"Go get a set of walkie-talkies from one of the squad cars," Frank instructed.
He watched her walk away. She's a good cop, he thought. He turned and gazed up at the upper floor of the townhouse, willing himself to not rush in and start relieving Gerry from her agony. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Voices from those being escorted from their homes, and the action of the officers marking off the area with cars and yellow tape drew his attention away from the building. After what seemed like eternity, a uniform approached.
"All secure, Loo."
Frank nodded and glanced toward Sheridan. She was hurrying back with the walkie-talkies. They tested the communication and Frank headed for the front door.
He moved at a controlled pace, scanning for trip wires or any other attempt at a fail-safe to prevent him from reaching Gerry. He stopped outside the bedroom door and listened. He could hear muffled moaning. He eased the door open. No trip wires. The smell of human sweat, feces and vomit nearly overwhelmed him. When he saw Gerry slumped in the chair, spittle hanging down from her chin, her naked body glistening in a dim light coming from a reading lamp by the bed, his heart jumped into his throat. He wanted to rush to her, comfort her, tell her she was safe and going to be all right, but he had a job to do first.
He flipped the switch on the wall, hoping for more light. As he expected, nothing happened. He took a deep breath and eased toward the chair. Gerry sensed his presence. Her head rotated in slow motion in his direction. Her eyes were lined with red and drooping bags made her look like something from a bad horror movie. When she recognized him, she showed fright and began shaking her head.
