Bloody Shadows

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “It will be quite all right. You saved my life. I will make it all right. Besides, Jean was actually ahead of the class when she returned from your Boston tour. You followed my guidelines to perfection.”

  “Your class syllabus on-line is very clear with the assignments. I don’t have to do much to keep Jean in line on her studies. If I could keep her from driving her Mom crazy, that would be nice.”

  “She is very well behaved and confident in class.”

  “So that’s where all the good behavior goes. Anyway, thanks for your understanding. I’ll let you know the dates we’ll be gone as soon as possible.”

  “I…I saw what you did outside. That was very brave.”

  “Nope. My motto is, when in doubt, always follow the Marines. Your Marine should be coming home soon, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Dimah replied with excitement. “I hope to hear when for sure in the next few weeks. He wants to meet you when he comes home.”

  “I’d be honored. I’ll let you get to work. Thanks again.”

  “Of course.”

  Sergeant Dickerson met him at the school entrance as promised. “I see you’ve kept an amiable relationship with Ms. Kader. Killing that psycho relative of hers in the hallway of the school before he could do an ‘honor killing’ on her butt must have made an impression, huh?”

  “She didn’t deserve to die for being engaged to a Marine overseas, and I didn’t kill anyone. His weapon went off during the struggle, part of which I was unconscious for, if you remember.”

  “I remember, Nick. I also remember you stopping the other two family members who tried to take you out at your home.”

  “Old news now, my friend. What’s on your mind today? Did you get my musings on the muggers messing with our older tourist crowd?”

  “Yep. Did you happen to hear or read the news item about four dead bad guys, whom we know by rushed DNA samples are the ones responsible for the muggings around here?”

  “I’ve been writing my new novel, Neil. I have a book tour to prepare for in Washington State too. I barely have enough time to enjoy my usual beach walk, and help Jean with her homework. I don’t have any spare moments for the news. Hell, half the time, the media makes it up anyway. That works out pretty well for you with those guys being found short of breath. Who popped them?”

  “No one popped them. They were all killed with a knife.”

  “Kinky. Well… nice chatting with you. Thanks for the update. I’ll erase my mugger notes if they’re already out of the picture.”

  “Nick.” Dickerson clasped Nick’s arm. “I have a feeling if I could access your file, which I have tried to do, it would read expert in hand to hand combat with a knife.”

  “Probably,” Nick replied. “I was also my team’s sniper. Are you hinting at something, Neil? I realize since we’ve met, Pacific Grove has experienced more than its share of trouble, but don’t you think all small touristy towns go through cycles like that. I certainly didn’t entice four banditos into coming here to mug old people.”

  “True, but did you end them?”

  “Oh, I get it. Now I’m like the Charles Bronson character in the ‘Death Wish’ movies, huh? Does this mean you don’t want me to continue as Pacific Grove Police Department’s ‘Castle’? I did buy you the neat coffee machine.”

  “Much appreciated. I notice you didn’t answer the question.”

  “Why would I bother typing profiles and musings about the muggers to send you if I had already killed them?”

  “Because you’re smart, and I suspect, one of the most deadly people I’ll ever be around. I wanted you to know not to think I’m some braindead flatfoot without some powers of deduction.”

  Nick shrugged. “Gee, Officer Dickerson, if I’m that dangerous, maybe you shouldn’t associate with me. And here, all this time, I thought we were becoming good buddies. I have to go write some pulp fiction. If there’s nothing else you need to discuss, call me when the DA decides whether to pull on his big boy pants, and prosecute that idiot Rashidi and his crew.”

  Dickerson chuckled. “Although you couldn’t know it, the DA is very much the type to shirk his duty in this case. It would not be a good idea, if our fearless DA punts this down the road, for anything bad to happen to Dr. Rashidi, Nick.”

  The Terminator surfaced for a moment, and Dickerson noticed. “What would be very bad is for Rashidi to do anything besides go away, and forget he ever saw me.”

  “I understand.” Dickerson backed away from the entrance door. “Thanks for looking into the mugger case for me. I’ll try not to bother you again. You wouldn’t mind if I did ask for your opinion though once in a while, would you? With your connections to all the alphabet soup agencies, you’re a handy informational source.”

  Nick was silent for a moment, studying Sergeant Dickerson. “I don’t mind, Neil, but if I become the focus of police business, it will make me unhappy.”

  “I…I get that. Thanks.” Dickerson held out his hand and Nick shook it. “I’ll call if I need anything from you on the Rashidi mess.”

  “Until then… until then,” Nick replied, walking off, still curious as to whether Dickerson was playing him or not.

  While Deke sniffed at everything within reach of his extended leash’s limit, Gus awaited Nick with grim visage. “That looked like a very solemn conversation, even through the entrance door window. Is your buddy Neil upset with you?”

  “He’s more than suspicious, as befits any thinking police officer. I knew the mugger action would push the envelope. Assholes maiming old people after they work their butts off all their lives so they can enjoy taking time to do things like visit the ocean really hit one of my hot buttons.” Nick started walking home after taking Deke’s leash, with Gus striding next to him. “Neil and I needed a cooling off period anyway. If the PD stays busy with the poor old muggers’ tragic end, maybe we’ll get some space between our new freezer guests from last night and me. That will get a little tricky, because I don’t see any way Paul can thwart at least a preliminary investigation once Formsby’s minions send out smoke signals their exalted leader is missing.”

  “I don’t see Paul giving you problems on a sanction involving a guy trying to have him killed. He may be a bit more than amused if he needed to step into our vigilante business with the muggers. The beach really will be nice this morning. Are you still on the wagon?”

  “After last night? I don’t think so. We’re still right on time too. After we load my writing utensils and our refreshments, I’ll check on sleeping beauty. I’m glad Rach decided to start her maternity leave. I think the last month she’s been running on empty. She was perky last night with our uninvited dinner guests. Anyway, I’d like to sip a couple down at Carol’s beach before I contact my US Marshal nitwits. If I have a buzz going, maybe I won’t say something rude when I talk with them.”

  “I know better than to comment on that attitude adjustment, but I will be interested in what the hell you think they did. Was it a sin of omission, or are they undermining you at the DOJ?

  “We had an agreement about a player to be named later, and they didn’t follow through on the deal. I won’t accuse them of it, but I believe it’s a dead bang certainty they never got the traitor at Los Alamos, Pence Didricson. Remember how I told you I’d let the FBI and the US Marshals deal with him? Well, that was a mistake. I keep telling you about loose ends, yet here I am dealing with my own.”

  “Didricson should be in a maximum security prison with no hope of parole, and no contact with the outside world.” Gus paused, thinking along the lines Nick mentioned. “This is bad. I heard the mention of loose ends instead of end. You think someone else you let live has been painting a target on your back too?”

  “I suspect that the other US Marshal target I helped Timmy and Grace capture to rat out the DOJ informer, named Uthman Sadun, is behind this Formsby mess. I haven’t got the details worked out in my head, but those three networked somehow, and I’m going to find out how. It’s alw
ays best to go straight to the source of suspected misery.”

  “You wouldn’t kill Grace and Tim, would you?”

  Nick met Gus’s gaze as they walked. “No, but I’m glad you consider it worth asking. I don’t want you thinking I’m turning into a Care Bear.”

  “Your reputation is safe with me, Muerto. You do attend Lamaze classes with Rachel though once a week. That threw my murder meter calibration off on the Muerto alarm.”

  “Those classes are a joke. I’ve delivered two babies, one in Afghanistan, and one in Morocco. When the pain hits, I don’t care if it’s Wonder Woman giving birth to Batman’s baby, no amount of huffing and puffing while ordering her to breathe works. It’s a feel good thing like giving hugs – for a few seconds, the hugger feels important, and the huggee feels loved. The pain hits, and all bets are off.”

  “You delivered two babies? Good God in heaven. Why in the world haven’t you ever told me that? The deadliest killer on earth bringing new life into the world. If that didn’t give the cosmos a heart attack of imbalance, I don’t know what would.”

  “One of them I delivered during a firefight, where I had to play sniper in between contractions. The Mom was the wife of an Afghan soldier we were training. The midwives of the village wouldn’t come near her, because they figured rightly if the Taliban found out, they’d be toast. I got a twofer on that delivery.”

  “What the hell does that mean? What’d you get?”

  “The Mom named the baby after me, and gave me the name of the head Taliban asshole in the region. I took off that night while little Nicholas Wardak slept peacefully in the arms of his Mom. I blew the head off Emil Balkhi when he popped out of his shack to take a whizz. When I followed taking poor old Emil out with picking his crew off one by one at night, they stopped fooling around with the villagers, and sued for peace with us. They logically figured if they didn’t become allies, I would just hang around shooting them in the head until we didn’t need any more allies.”

  “In case I’ve never mentioned this, Muerto, you are a very bad man.”

  “But Payaso, I brought little Nick into this world.”

  “Somehow, that loses its soothing effect when you kill how many?”

  “Uh… fifteen.”

  “Madre de Dios!”

  “Calm down, Payaso. Let’s focus here. We were talking about Lamaze classes with Rachel. I’m telling you they don’t work, but I know what to do that will: guaranteed.”

  “I’m afraid to ask what that might be, but go ahead, enlighten me.”

  “Pressure points. I know them all. When the contractions start making Rach scream, I’ll apply pressure to the nerve at the base of her neck while huffing and puffing shouting ‘breathe’ in her face. She’ll pass out, until Quinn decides to make his appearance. Easy-Peasy.”

  “Madre de Dios!”

  * * *

  Rachel met them at the door. “Guess what, Muerto, your school confrontation made the news. I was checking for a bulletin on your escapade last night as you asked for, and surprise, El Muerto defends the flag at our own little grammar school.”

  “In my defense, I backed the Marines. There is no downside to doing that. Plus, I met a lot of vets who had been keeping to themselves. If the clip goes national, I’ll sell another million books. C’mon, Gus. Let’s get our beach visit equipment ready. We can’t keep John waiting.”

  “I’m going with you.” Rachel followed Nick and Gus into their kitchen. “I need a good walk this morning.”

  “Okay, but I’m not running for the car today. Gus, can you drive our car down to the beach parking lot. Then we’ll have transportation for emergency bathroom runs. The Princess can drive down the street to the golf course, and use the bathroom there.”

  “Good solution, Muerto,” Rachel said. “I’ll get dressed. Thanks, Gus.”

  “My pleasure,” Gus said as Rachel turned to walk toward the stairs. “I exercised on the Dagger walk to school. Plus, as you know, there was entertainment this morning. I’m not required to do two more hours in the gym like Muerto does. Driving down to the beach with the chairs, and refreshments works for me.”

  “You talk like I drive somewhere. You can work out with me in my gym right here. I won’t even charge you a fee.”

  “No thanks, Muerto. I’m good. I want to see Rachel’s reaction when you tell her about your pressure point baby delivery scheme though, so I’ll hang around until she gets dressed. Take your time, Rach.”

  Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “What pressure point baby delivery scheme?”

  Nick quickly goosed her in the direction of the stairs. “Never mind. It was a joke. Now hurry and get dressed, or the McCarty Express will leave without you.”

  “Okay, but I’m getting my answer some time this morning about what the hell a pressure point baby delivery is.”

  Nick waited until Rachel reached the top of their stairs. He then poked a forefinger in Gus’s chest as his partner enjoyed the blindside hit on Nick. “Have you ever had a kidney transplant, Payaso?”

  “You know I haven’t.”

  “Want one?”

  * * *

  The weekday morning hosted only a few sporadic stops from tourists on Carol’s beach. Off leash, Deke streaked up and down the beach as the usual scavenger birds arrived, screeching at the happily annoying dog. Deke stopped his beach patrol only if spotting the small creatures popping out from between the rocks. Settled into a comfortable beach chair, enjoying the light gray cast day with no wind, Nick sipped his Irish coffee while contemplating his beach companions’ mood. He felt another rising tide of trouble on the horizon. Weighing his fascination with the violent comedy he had made of Gus’s El Muerto label, Nick didn’t think he could let go of it, exposure or not. Muerto haunted every mission he considered. He guiltily remembered nearly deciding to attribute the mugger action to El Muerto, endangering everyone in his small group of family and friends.

  Gus kept glancing over at his friend with a perturbed look. “I know what you’re thinking Muerto. You’re becoming as predictable as an old comic book plot.”

  “Contrary to what I’m sure were evil thoughts on your part, Payaso, I am merely sipping my beverage, watching Deke romp around, and enjoying the grains of sand on the beach.”

  “Gag me… what you’re thinking about is going on the tour, and taking on the ‘Seattle Ripper’ as El Muerto. It’s not enough to take on an Isis terrorist group, you can’t wait to don the mask for a ‘Ripper’ post mortem video.”

  Realizing among the other thoughts from a moment ago, that he indeed had been plotting action against the ‘Ripper’ as El Muerto, Nick frowned at Gus. “How dare you think such dastardly assumptions without evidence, Payaso?”

  “I knew it,” Gus stated with confidence, relaxing in his chair. “You pull the outrage card whenever I hit the nail on the head in predictions. Did you get the blood out of your mask from our excursion the other night?”

  “None of your business,” Nick replied, seeing Gus’s nearly clairvoyant observation amused his other companions. I’m really getting sloppy, Nick thought. He stood, putting aside his empty cup. “I need to call the Marshals while I’m still in a good mood, only slightly ruined by Payaso’s ‘Mentalist’ act.”

  “Take it easy on them, Nick,” Rachel urged, leaning forward, nearly spilling her tea as she grabbed Nick’s hand. “They were with us from the start.”

  “Only one thing wrong with your logic, my dear. If what I suspect is true, they came very close to ending us, and are now allowing the danger to exist without a warning. I simply wish to know why. Drink your tea. Tim and Grace will survive.”

  “Promise?” Rachel’s features betrayed her bleak knowledge of exactly what her husband was capable of.

  “I promise.” Nick patted her shoulder, and walked away with his specially crafted phone for secure calls in hand. Tim answered the phone on the first ring.

  “Nick? You must be telepathic. We planned to contact you today. The AG doesn’t
care how you stop the ‘Ripper’. Let us know when you can get into the area with us.”

  “We need to talk over another unfortunate glitch in our relationship, Timmy.”

  “Ah… I’ll put you on speaker. Grace is here with me.”

  “Hey psycho,” Grace acknowledged the connection.

  “We had a deal concerning Pence Didricson. He’s still at Los Alamos, isn’t he?”

  Nick’s mouth tightened during the silence on the line. “Yep. That’s what I thought. There’s been a very dangerous result from my not knowing Pence was still in play.”

  Nick tersely explained Formsby’s attempt on his family. He also outlined his suspicions concerning a thread between Didricson, Uthman Sadun, and Formsby. “What I suspect is Formsby footed the bill for a law team to represent Sadun. Then he connected with Didricson backed by a lot of money. In their small circle I’m sure my name circulated in reference to the name gathering foray I did on behalf of the DOJ with Sadun, and finding proof of Didricson’s espionage acts. Now, I have an ongoing problem, kids. What do you think I should do about it, other than shoot both of you in the head?”

  Tim was the first to speak. “We…we need to make some calls, Nick. Let us track some details concerning your suspicions.”

  “I’ll allow that, Timmy. First though, explain why I didn’t receive a warning, especially about Didricson. Make your answers concise, truthful, and to the point. You know I’ll find out if I get fed bullshit. If you take that path, then let the games begin.”

  “We couldn’t do shit to Didricson,” Grace admitted. “Thanks to your info, we had him cold on espionage. What we didn’t know when the FBI took him into custody is that he had gathered incriminating evidence concerning the DOJ, and the FBI’s handling of over a dozen terrorist cases. All the convictions would have been thrown out if Didricson’s blackmail file was revealed. The bastard even worked it so he gets an office, and although no classified information ever crosses his desk, he draws a six figure salary.”

  “And I was not told about this why?”