Whistler's Angel

by John R. Maxim

  “And they would have kept going,” she said.

  “Going where?”

  “Through the Circle. They wouldn’t have turned.”

  Whistler knew that going through would have made the most sense. On reaching Sea Pines Circle, there were three ways to go. Turning right would have led them past Jump & Phils to the gated community of Sea Pines. They would not have risked being seen from Jump & Phil’s, not after being spotted there the last time. Nor would they try to get past the Sea Pines gate in a car that was so easily remembered.

  “Keep going through the Circle,” said Claudia.

  “I heard you.”

  He did so because that had been his intention. The green Pontiac almost certainly would not have turned left onto the island’s main parkway. They would have to have assumed that an alarm had gone out, and the parkway was the first route that would have been covered because it led off the island. And they might have a scanner. Crow probably used one. That was how he’d avoided being caught all this time.

  It seemed likely, therefore, that they’d driven through the Circle and headed due east toward the ocean. They’d pass one other gated community, called Shipyard. They would not have gone there either, same reason. There were several hotels, but he could rule them out as well. They would hardly have booked a hotel room. That left private homes as Sergeant Moore had suggested. Moore thought that Crow would find an unoccupied home. The way to bet, therefore, was North Forrest Beach. If so, they were trapped. They had no place to go. And if so, Sergeant Moore would soon realize that as well. Those police not assigned to specific intersections might then mount a house to house search of that area.

  Claudia sat staring forward, sometimes upward. She might have been looking for birds; he didn’t know, but he thought it best not to ask. With birds on his mind, he was suddenly started when he thought he heard the chirp of a bird inside their car. In that instant he realized that it was his cell phone. It was probably Moore calling, asking where they had gone.

  Claudia turned her head toward the source of the sound. She said, “You’d better answer that, Adam.”

  “I know who it is.”

  She squinted. “No, you don’t. You’d better answer it,” she said.

  With a sigh, he pulled the phone from his pocket. He thumbed it open and put it to his ear. He heard the words, “Adam? Is that you?”

  It was a woman’s voice. It was Olivia Ragland. He did not recall giving her this number. He glanced at Claudia, wondering how she could have known. He said, “Yeah, it’s me. Has something happened?”

  “Someone here needs to speak to you. Hold on.”

  Whistler grumbled to himself. He thought it must be her husband. But the

  voice that came on was another female voice. Low, soft spoken, almost gentle, but all business. He knew that voice. He knew it before she spoke her name.

  She said, “Hello, Adam. Where are you at this moment? And is Claudia with you? This is Molly.”

  This was a surprise, but something less than a shock. He might have guessed that she would have grabbed a fast flight after failing to make contact with Olivia. And he’d have thought that she might have been a touch more cordial. It had been sixteen years, after all.

  He replied, “She’s with me. We’re in my rental car. Molly, give me a number; I’ll call you back later. This isn’t a good time to talk.”

  “Adam, Aubrey’s on the island. Did you know that?”

  His stunned silence answered for him. He managed, “You’re sure?”

  “So is Aubrey’s man, Briggs. And another man named Robert. Robert’s in his late twenties, a big man, blond hair. We don’t have a last name for Robert.”

  Whistler had to pull over. He saw a curb cut ahead. It was the entrance to the Bi-Lo Supermarket. He said, “You’re describing Stanton Poole’s bodyguard. Are you sure you don’t mean Vernon Lockwood?”

  “It’s not Lockwood. That one was already here. Listen, Adam…”

  “Just a minute. You knew that? How long have you known that?”

  “Not long. Listen, Adam…”

  “And who is we, Molly? Who else came down here with you?”

  “A few of us flew down at your father’s request. We’re here strictly to keep you from harm and that’s all. As we speak, your father is en route with the twins. Harry knows that it was you in that restaurant last night. Claudia’s mother suspected it as well and decided to fly in on her own. Harry asked us to intercept her and we have. She’s in talking to Ragland at the moment. Take my number.”

  Whistler shook his head in disgust. “Molly, why am I the last one to hear this?”

  “Because you’ve been out of reach. Now you’re not. Take my number.”

  An inward groan. “I don’t believe this,” he said. But he memorized the number of her cell phone.

  She said, “We’ve all had trouble knowing what to believe. We doubted that you were in that restaurant by chance.”

  “We were.”

  “I know that. Olivia told me.”

  “Has Olivia said anything about Claudia’s…performance?”

  “Privately. Only to me. Did that happen?”

  “Yes, it did.”

  “You taught her?”

  “Me? I couldn’t have done that myself. Please do not, in any case, tell her mother about that. The story is that neither of us used that knife. Let’s keep it that way if we can.”

  “Except Claudia knows. How is she handling it, Adam?”

  This question was Whistler’s first inkling thus far of the old Molly Farrell that he’d known. The nice one, the kind one, the compassionate one with whom he had skied and played tennis.

  He answered, “I’m not sure. We’ll see how it settles. Molly…on my way out of Palmetto Bay, I thought I recognized a couple of men. Would one of those men have been Billy McHugh?”

  “Billy and John Waldo. You slipped past them, I take it.”

  “You’re in contact with them? Tell them not to board the boat.”

  “They’ve…surmised that Lockwood had been there for a reason. You think he’s rigged something?”

  “I would bet on a bomb.”

  “Billy says that three men kidnapped a young woman. Two of those men would be Lockwood and Crow. Do you have a name for the third?”

  “No, I don’t, but he witnessed what happened last night. So did the girl who they kidnapped,” said Whistler.

  “Which is why they took her?”

  “That would not have been the reason. I am probably the reason. Look, Molly, I have get moving.”

  “Adam…where are you?”

  “Out looking for them.”

  “You’re out looking for that green Pontiac by yourselves? Adam, you’re up against six of them now. Are you trying to get the both of you killed?”

  “Well…Claudia’s more afraid that it’s Leslie who’ll be killed. She would not find that easy to live with.”

  “Adam, where are you? Please tell me precisely.”

  “Molly, hold on.” He pressed the mute button. He asked Claudia, “How much could you hear?”

  “Most of it. Who is Molly?”

  “That’s a long story. Later.”

  “My mother’s here? Really?”

  “And in very good hands. Don’t worry about her. Molly will want us to sit here and wait for two other men to come and join us. They’re not far away. They’re old friends of my father.”

  “Men who’ve done this sort of thing? Like the twins”

  “Men who’ve been doing it since before you were born. We’d be foolish not to wait for them, Claudia.”

  “How long?”

  “A few minutes.”

  “But not longer than that. I can’t stand knowing that they’ve got Leslie.”

  That was easy, thought Whistler. And it was a relief. If he knew Molly, she’d tell those two to lock Claudia in the trunk until Aubrey was dealt with one way or the other. He’d be all for it. He’d apologize later. But if Molly was th
ere at his father’s behest, she’d be as likely to tell them to stuff him in with her. And those two could do it if they got within reach. He would damned well make sure that they didn’t.

  He released the mute button. “Are you looking at a map?”

  Molly answered, “I am. Go ahead.”

  “Find Sea Pines Circle. We’re a mile and a half above it. We’re in a beige Ford Taurus. We’ll be waiting, right hand side.”

  “I got it. I’m putting you on hold.”

  He heard a click and the line went still. He assumed that she was calling John Waldo or Billy. He held the phone to his ear for what must have been a full minute, much too long for Molly just to tell them where he is. They were probably discussing such options as the trunk.

  He heard another soft click. Molly came on again. She said, “That was Carla. She’s somewhere near you. You remember Carla Benedict, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Did you know that it was Carla who cut Briggs and Aubrey?”

  “No one said so, but it wasn’t hard to guess.”

  “Listen to me, Adam. She knows where they are. She denies it, but I don’t believe her.”

  “How could she?”

  “Trust me; she could. The ‘how’ part can wait. She is on her way to meet you. I want you to hold her. Keep her there until Billy or John Waldo can join you. One of them will stay near the boat. Introduce her to Claudia. Let them talk.”

  “Um…what for?”

  “She’s only coming to meet you because Claudia’s with you. Otherwise, she’s like you; she works mostly alone. She might try to take that bunch by herself.”

  “With a knife?”

  A patient sigh. “No, Adam. Not with a knife. She is quite well equipped to take out six men, but I’ll say again, that is not why we came here. We’re here to protect you; get you both off this island. Your father needs you to…be healthy.”

  He had heard the hesitation. A near slip. That wasn’t like her. He asked her, “Molly, is my father okay?”

  “Your dad’s fine.”

  “Can I believe you?”

  “He’ll live long than you will, going after six men.”

  “Let me ask you something else. Has he ever been shot?”

  She said, “Adam, he’s fine. We were talking about Carla. She knows, by the way, what Claudia did. I know you’d prefer that I hadn’t told her, but it sold her on stopping whatever she was doing and agreeing to rendezvous with you. She thinks Claudia…never mind…I’m not sure what she thinks. Just make sure that she waits there with you.”

  “What’s she driving?”

  “A fuel truck. It says Texaco on it.”

  “An actual tank truck?”

  “From the airport. Don’t ask.”

  Whistler peered up the road. He saw nothing coming. “We’ll wait. I’ll get back to you, Molly.”

  “Leave Aubrey and those others for some other day. There’s no way to take six men quietly.”

  “Walk away and leave Leslie?”

  “Leave that to the police. If it’s true that Carla knows where they are, find out and call the police.”

  He bit his lip. “Would you?”

  “Yes, I would,” she answered firmly. “I’m asking you to back away from this, Adam. And you’d better brief Claudia on Carla.”

  Poole’s assistant, Robert, had returned to the house by way of some woodlands and the neighbors’ back yards. Felix Aubrey had waited for him in the kitchen, unlocking the rear door to let him in. Briggs had remained in the living room out front to give warning when Kaplan’s car appeared.

  Aubrey had given Briggs and Robert their instructions. He had spoken to each of them separately. Such a method, he realized, was not ideally efficient, but it did serve to make corroboration more difficult if this episode should go badly and if charges were filed and if one or both should try to cop a plea. Micro-managing again, but as they say, the devil is in the details.

  Aubrey had agreed that it seemed only fair to let Mr. Briggs shoot Mr. Lockwood. No talking, however, until Lockwood was down. If Briggs then felt the need to discuss his motivation, he could do so while Lockwood was writhing. Robert was, simultaneously, to shoot Mr. Crow. He would do so because, as Aubrey had explained to him, Crow’s actions were destructive of all the good works to which Mr. Poole had devoted his life. He told Robert that Poole had asked God for guidance and that God had told Poole to send Crow to hell. And this, too, was to be done without prior discussion. The quicker, the better because then, if he wished, he’d have time to give Lockwood’s face a good slap before Lockwood was too dead to notice.

  “Mr. Aubrey?” It was Briggs. “They’re just pulling in.”

  Aubrey asked, “They’re together? All three?”

  “All three. Their car’s in the driveway,” Briggs answered as he backed away from the window.

  Aubrey touched Robert’s arm. “Are you up to your task?”

  “Yes, sir.” Robert straightened. “I would die for Mr. Poole.”

  “Not your turn. It’s theirs. Get out there. Be ready. I’ll be waiting here in the kitchen.”

  “You’ll be watching?”

  “No need. I have faith in you, Robert.”

  Will I be watching, thought Aubrey? Of course not, you dimwit. I had no idea what you two intended. Must have been some private grudge. I was horrified, shocked, when I realized that you’d shot them. Unless, of course, all this goes without a hitch. In that case, I’m with you one hundred percent.

  The first sign that there might be a hitch came from Briggs. He hissed, “There’s Lockwood. He’s getting out now. He’s walking up to open the garage door. There it goes.”

  Aubrey heard the muted grind of the door on its tracks and the thunk that it made when it stopped.

  Briggs had dropped to a squat, the better to see, “Guy driving, striped jacket, that’s Kaplan, right? So that has to be Crow in the back.”

  Aubrey said, “No doubt,” as he closed the kitchen door. Briggs stopped him by exclaiming, “What the hell…”

  Briggs leaned forward. “There’s a fight. Crow’s jumping on Kaplan. He’s smacking the shit out of Kaplan. Hey, wait.”

  Briggs moved closer to the window. He said, “Damn. There’s some women. She’s jumping on Crow. Now Kaplan’s got Crow; he pulled him over the seat; and the woman is helping. She’s pushing Crow forward. No, wait. No, she isn’t. She’s trying to get past him. She’s got the door open. She’s trying to run.”

  Aubrey stood frozen. “What woman? Whistler’s woman? Please tell me they didn’t…”

  “I’m not sure,” Briggs told him. “I can’t get a clear look. There goes Lockwood. He got her. He grabbed her.”

  “The Geller girl? Is it? You’ve met her. You’d know.”

  Briggs said, “Still can’t see. He threw her back in the car. He reached in and punched her. No, he didn’t. He punched Crow. Now he slammed the door shut; he’s telling Kaplan to drive. He’s telling him to get into the garage. Kaplan’s arguing. Lockwood’s saying, ‘Shut up and get in there.’ There he goes. He’s driving into the garage.”

  There followed a violent crunching sound. Its vibration was felt through the house.

  “What was that?” asked Aubrey.

  “I don’t know,” replied Briggs. Then he added, “Oh, shit. You know what that was? Kaplan drove the car over that trailer that’s in there. The trailer with the Jet Ski. That’s why Kaplan was arguing. Kaplan knew the car wouldn’t fit.”

  “Well, why didn’t…” Aubrey grimaced. He stopped himself. He was about to ask why they didn’t move the trailer…pull it out by hand…get it out of the way. But the question was pointless. The damage had been done. Aubrey crossed the kitchen and looked out its side window. From there he could see why the whole house had shaken. The trailered Jet Ski had smashed through the rear wall. It had taken a work bench and some garden tools with it. Old paint cans were rolling across the back yard.

  Aubrey said, “Get back here
. Into the kitchen.”

  Briggs told him, “The car’s not in all the way. They can’t close the garage door. They left the whole rear end sticking out.”

  Aubrey groaned within himself. He said, “Both of you. Get back here.” He wanted all three of them well out of sight until he understood what was happening.

  Robert asked, “Who is that woman? Why do they have a woman?”

  “I don’t know, Robert. Please go into the kitchen. Mr. Briggs, have they attracted an audience?”

  Briggs asked, “Who, the neighbors? I don’t know; I don’t think so. I don’t see anybody looking out.”

  “No traffic? No passing cars?”

  “I don’t see any…wait…there’s an oil truck out there.”

  “Stopping?”

  “No, passing. It kept going. We’re good.”

  Robert said, “Those men have kidnapped an innocent woman. They intend to assault her. We can’t allow that.”

  “They’re not likely to have time. Get in the kitchen.”

  “Unless she’s a harlot. But she isn’t. She can’t be. If she were a harlot, would she try to escape them? She must be a virtuous woman.”

  “Robert…in the kitchen. I’m sure that all will be revealed. Mr. Briggs, on second thought, stay where you are, but duck out of sight before they enter.”

  Robert muttered, “This is wrong.”

  “We will attend to it, Robert.”

  “This must be prevented. It cannot be allowed.”

  “Robert, try to keep in mind that they’ll be dead in two minutes. You are making a pest of yourself.”

  Damned Lockwood, thought Aubrey. It must be the Geller woman. Lockwood had said that he wanted a crack at her first, so that Whistler would know what he’d done to her. And Lockwood had more than rape on his mind. He meant to cut her up before killing her. Oh, the damned fool. So he’s gone out and snatched her. That must mean, one would think, that he’s already killed Whistler. Either way, he has started a war.

  THIRTY FIVE

  Whistler had chosen to say little about Carla. There was no quick way to explain her. He said only that Carla was experienced, but…well, different and needed to be handled with care. Claudia, in any case, hadn’t paid much attention. All she cared about now was finding Leslie.