Sunshine State

by D P Lyle

  Munson looked around the room again. He waved the gun toward them.

  “On the floor. Both of you.” Neither Nicole nor Sally moved. “Now. Facedown. Arms and legs spread.”

  Sally lurched, suppressing a sob.

  “It’ll be okay,” Nicole said.

  She helped Sally to the floor and then lay prone on the thick carpet, arms spread wide.

  “What now?” Nicole asked. “You going to shoot us?”

  “If I have to.”

  “Okay. So you use us as your bargaining chip. Where are you going to go?”

  “I’ll figure that out later.”

  “Sounds like a plan doomed to fail.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Why?” Nicole said. “If we’re going to die, I might as well say my piece.”

  Munson walked to where she lay. Stood over her. “There’s dying and then there’s dying. It can be quick and easy or slow and painful.”

  “You’ve got to stop watching the Turner Classic Movie Channel.”

  “What?” Munson asked.

  “You sound like James Cagney. Just not delivered as well.”

  “Are you trying to piss me off?”

  “It’s what I do. Ask Jake.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  PANCAKE FLIPPED OFF his truck’s headlights a block away and parked three doors down from Sally Foster’s place, opposite side of the street. He, Ray, and I stepped out, easing the doors closed. The street was quiet. Light fell through the pair of front windows that flanked Sally’s front door. At this angle and distance, I couldn’t see inside but did sense shadows moving around.

  “I don’t like it that her car’s in the drive, but she isn’t answering her phone,” I said.

  “Don’t see another car,” Pancake said.

  Ray said, “If you were going to do something stupid, or desperate, would you just pull up out front?”

  Pancake grunted. Meant Ray had a point. Ray always did.

  We crossed the street and made our way across several yards, including Frank Clark’s. I saw him inside. Just as I had seen earlier, he was kicked back in his lounge chair, TV glow still flickering. We settled behind Nicole’s car. Through the multi-paned front window, I now saw Munson. Standing in the living room. Gun in his right hand. Head down.

  Where were Nicole and Sally? My gut tightened. Ray must have sensed it.

  “They’re in there somewhere,” he said. “I’d bet on the floor.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Body language, head position. Besides, if he’d done something he’d be gone. He’s holding them. Probably wants a deal.”

  “But what if he’s willing to die?” I asked.

  “That’d complicate things.”

  “We might be able to fulfill his wish,” Pancake said.

  “Which?” I asked. “Escaping or dying?”

  “Either.” Pancake shrugged. “Maybe one and then the other.” He raised slightly and peered over the shrub. “Don’t anybody move,” he said. Then he was gone.

  Staying low, he left the cover of the Mercedes and scurried up the driveway. His grace and agility always amazed me. How could someone so big get so small when need be? He slowed his movements and moved to his left, quickly reaching the front corner of the house. He crept forward until he was below what I knew was the dining room window. He peeked inside, then ducked. He gave a thumbs-up sign.

  “They’re in there and they’re okay,” Ray said.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Say hello.”

  “What?”

  Ray smiled. “Either we start a dialog, or we storm the Bastille.”

  My cell buzzed. Nicole? No, Tammy. I swear, she had the absolute worst timing of anyone I’d ever known. Like when we were setting up an ambush of Tony Guidry and his crew. Bang. There’s Tammy calling about some stupid shit. And here we were. Basically, the same situation and she calls. It was uncanny. Annoying, but uncanny. I pressed it over to voice mail.

  Pancake returned to our side. “On the floor. They look okay.” He looked at Ray. “But Munson looks panicked.”

  “Then let’s introduce ourselves.” Ray nodded toward the house, and then to Pancake said, “You take the back. I’ll take the front.”

  “What’s the plan?” I asked.

  “Not ring the doorbell, for sure.”

  I nodded toward Clarks’ house. “What about Clark?”

  Ray looked that way, then gave a slow nod. “He might be able to help.”

  “He’s in there. Asleep in front of his TV,” I said.

  “Go wake him up. Pancake and I are on the move.”

  And they were off. Pancake scurried back up the drive and disappeared around the rear corner. Ray dropped low and sprinted around Nicole’s car toward the front of the house. He settled in the shrubbery just to the right of the front stoop.

  I reached Clark’s front porch just as my cell phone buzzed again. Tammy. I turned it off this time, knowing she’d keep it up. Relentless being her style.

  It took a half a minute after I rapped on Clark’s dark green front door for it to swing open. His eyes were sleep swollen, but that didn’t hide the surprise on his face. I didn’t give him much time to sort things out.

  “Listen to me. Terry Munson and Tommy Lee conspired to murder your wife and Tommy Lee’s sister. Munson probably killed Tommy Lee.”

  “What are you talking about?” Clark asked.

  “No time to explain. Right now, Munson is next door. He’s taken Nicole and Sally Foster hostage.”

  Clark stepped outside and looked that way. “What?”

  “Just what I said. Ray and Pancake are getting ready to confront him. Maybe go in. You might be able to reason with him.”

  “This makes no sense.”

  “It will. But, right now, we need to act.”

  Clark hesitated a short beat, his eyes seemed to clear, and he nodded. He stepped inside briefly before returning with his service weapon in his hand. “Let’s go.”

  We joined Ray near the front door.

  “You sure about all this?” Clark asked.

  “Take a look. What do you think?”

  Clark rose slightly and crab-walked to his left. Apparently, he now had a clear view into Sally Foster’s living room. He repeated the low walk back to us. “Jesus. Has he lost his mind?”

  “I think he did that a couple of years ago,” I said.

  “Why? I don’t understand.”

  “He was having an affair with Sara.”

  Clark’s jaw literally dropped, his mouth agape. “No. No way.”

  “He did,” I said. “Sally confirmed it.”

  Clark literally deflated. “I had no idea.”

  “We can go over all this later,” Ray said. “Right now we have to clean up this mess.”

  “What’s the plan?” Clark asked.

  Sally had a neat, well-maintained planting area to either side of the front stoop. A few shrubs and wads of flowers of various types. Each area was demarcated by a brick perimeter, the bricks tilted against each other, like leaning soldiers, creating a sawtooth pattern. Ray loosened a brick and picked it up.

  “This.”

  “He’s got a gun, you know?”

  “Which means chaos is our friend.”

  Then things happened quickly. Chaos did indeed rule.

  Ray coiled and hurled the brick through one of the panes of the front window. The sharp shattering of the glass seemed amplified by the still night air. Ray didn’t hesitate. He sprang forward, lowering his shoulder, blasting through the front door. The frame splintered. Clark and I followed. Munson looked up, shock and confusion on his face. He raised his gun in our direction. Ray and Clark elevated their weapons. Everyone froze.

  Pancake had apparently found the back door unlocked since I heard nothing breaking. He was good at breaking things. He came through the dining area and into the living room, standing just behind us. Munson waved the gun back and forth, unsure what to
do, obviously unable to determine which threat was the most immediate. He finally decided on Ray and settled his aim on him.

  Sally scurried behind the sofa and balled up.

  Munson, to his credit, brushed off his initial shock and reacted. He reached down and grabbed Nicole by the hair, lifted her, pulled her against him, and backed against the wall. Behind him, a picture came unanchored and dropped to the floor, its glass cover shattering. His weapon never wavered from Ray.

  Time stopped. The sudden silence almost made my ears pop. As if the air had been sucked from the room. The four of us faced Munson across the coffee table that fronted the sofa. Sally whimpered softly.

  “Don’t move,” Munson said.

  “Shoot him,” Nicole said. “Shoot him in the head.”

  Munson yanked her head back, pressed the muzzle against her neck. “Shut up.”

  “Shoot him, Ray,” Nicole repeated. “Shoot this son-of-a-bitch.”

  She had balls. I had to give her that.

  “Be cool,” Ray said. Then to Munson: “Put the weapon down and we can sort this out.”

  Munson shook his head and smiled. “I don’t see much sorting going on here. But I can tell you what will happen. Me and her are going to walk out that door and climb in her car. Once I’m away, I’ll let her go.”

  Pancake took a step forward. “Ain’t going to happen.”

  Munson turned the muzzle his way. “Don’t move.”

  Pancake crossed his arms over his chest and smiled.

  “Terry,” Clark said. “Don’t do this. Don’t make things worse.”

  “Frank, things can’t get any worse, I’m afraid.” He swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry. I never meant any of this to happen. Never wanted to hurt you. Betray you. Neither did Sara. It just happened.”

  “Is it true? Did you and Tommy Lee kill her and Noleen?”

  Munson’s eyes squeezed shut, then popped open. He blinked, as if fighting back tears. “Worst decision ever. Sara was going to tell you. She hated the secrecy. Hated it. I couldn’t let her do that. It would have crushed you. Destroyed our friendship. Torn up everything. I tried to explain that, held her off for a few months, but in the end, she needed to unburden herself.”

  “So you killed her? Did you really think that was a better solution?”

  Munson shook his head. “Not me. Tommy Lee did.”

  “And you killed Noleen?” I said.

  “That was our deal. Tommy Lee wanted money. I wanted … I’m not sure what I wanted.” He shook his head. “I wanted everything to be like it was. Wanted my mistake to disappear.”

  “Shoot him,” Nicole said.

  “Nicole, be cool,” Ray said. “Nobody’s going to shoot anyone.”

  “You know you can’t run,” Clark said.

  “I can try.”

  “And, I can’t let you.” Clark extended his weapon, broadened his stance. “You know I’m pretty good with this.”

  Munson angled his own weapon toward Clark.

  I realized I wasn’t breathing. It seemed that no one was. My chest hurt. My mouth felt like the Sahara and my heart fluttered like a couple of squirrels trapped in a burlap bag. I searched for some weapon. As if Clark’s gun—hell, Ray’s gun—wasn’t enough. My gaze fell to the snow globe on the coffee table before me.

  A snow globe? Really? Everybody had guns pointing here and there and I’m looking at a freaking snow globe?

  Then I looked at Nicole. Her jaw flexed. Her eyes narrowed. Her shoulders tensed. What the hell?

  No, no, no, my brain screamed, but before my mouth could join the chorus, it happened. With Munson’s gun no longer pressed against her neck, Nicole sprang. She jerked her head back, smashing it into Munson’s nose. His head literally bounced against the wall. She dropped low, spun, and punched him in the throat. Hard. Munson staggered. One hand went to his face. The other waved his gun wildly before him.

  I didn’t think; I jumped into motion. I scooped up the snow globe and let it fly. I could almost hear the ump yell, “Strike three.” It struck Munson’s forehead with a sharp thud/crack. The gun fell, his eyes glazed. He wobbled to his left, his legs gave way, and he folded to the floor.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  RAY SNATCHED UP Munson’s weapon, while Clark knelt beside him. Munson’s nose yawed to one side, blood streamed down his face, chin, and onto his shirt. I saw the beginning of a goose egg on his forehead. Good. His gaze seemed to be searching for some anchor.

  I hugged Nicole. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” She slipped from my grasp and looked down at Munson. “Can I kick him?”

  I grabbed her arm and pulled her away. “I think he’s more or less done.”

  “I’m not.”

  I hugged her to me again. This time more tightly. “Take a breath.”

  “Let go of me.”

  “No. You did good. Real good. Leave it at that.”

  She resisted, but I held on.

  Finally, she said, “Okay, okay. I give.”

  I kissed her forehead. “You sure?”

  Now, she laughed. “Yes.”

  I let her go. Sally struggled to her feet, and Nicole moved to help her.

  Sally looked at Munson’s bloody face. “Oh, my God.”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Nicole said. “Unfortunately.”

  Sally began to cry. Nicole held her, looked at me. I gave her a smile.

  Munson had now reentered reality and sat up, his back against the wall.

  “Want me to call the medics?” Clark asked.

  Munson shook his head.

  “We’ll take you over to the hospital and get this checked out.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Not negotiable,” Clark said. “Your nose is busted and you were out for a while.”

  Munson offered no further resistance.

  “I’ll go with you,” Ray said. “Pancake can follow us.”

  “We’ll stay here with Sally,” I said.

  Ray gave me a quick nod.

  Pancake found a towel in the bathroom down the hall and brought it to Munson. He looked at Sally. “This okay?”

  She nodded. “Sure.”

  Munson took the towel and pressed it to his face. He grimaced. “Hurts like a bitch.”

  Nicole smiled at me. I gave her a thumbs-up.

  I suggested that Sally might want to go with us. That we’d get her a room over at the hotel. She refused, saying she wanted to be alone. What about her fractured front door? It wouldn’t lock.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  “You sure?”

  She nodded to Clark. “Frank’s right next door.”

  “Once I get Terry settled, either in the hospital or the jail, I’ll stop by and check on you,” Clark said.

  “Thanks,” Sally said.

  Clark helped Munson to his feet. He and Ray guided him to Clark’s car and settled him in the back seat. No cuffs so he could hold the towel against his face. But with Ray sitting next to him there was no chance he could escape.

  They left, Pancake’s truck lumbering along behind them.

  We secured Sally’s front door as best we could. Not bad. The lock still worked. Sort of. It at least held the door closed.

  We then climbed in Nicole’s car.

  “Want to swing by the hospital and see how things go?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Let’s do.”

  I pulled out my phone and turned it on. Six missed calls, four texts, all from Tammy, of course. My phone rang. “Guess who?”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Where have you been?” Tammy asked.

  “Busy.”

  “With what?”

  “Let’s see. Three guys with guns. Nicole held hostage. The usual.”

  “Can’t you make up a better story than that? If you don’t want to talk to me, just say so.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “Ass.”

  “I am.”

  “But, I n
eed you.” She sounded like she might cry. I knew better. Tammy whined, she complained, she screeched, but crying wasn’t part of her vocabulary.

  “For what?”

  “Walter. He saw his urologist. He doesn’t have cancer. Just an enlarged prostate.”

  “Good for him.”

  “But what about me?”

  “It’s not your prostate,” I said.

  “But we can’t even go to dinner. He has to run off to the boy’s room every five minutes. It’s so annoying.”

  So Tammy.

  “Probably more so for Walter,” I said.

  “He’s not the one that has to sit there. Alone. People stare.”

  “Maybe it’s time to trade Walter for a younger model.”

  “Like I did with you?”

  “Walter’s older than me. A lot older.”

  “It’s the principle. He’s nicer.”

  “Well. Except for his prostate.”

  “See? That’s why I dumped you. You have no compassion.”

  “For Walter’s condition? Sure I do. Enlarged prostate and all. He is, after all, stuck with you. I really feel for the guy.”

  She hung up. Mission accomplished.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  THE NEXT MORNING, I called Gloria Whitt, the reporter for the Pine Key Breeze. She had been helpful and I thought she’d appreciate a look inside the case before we left town. Nicole and I sat in her office and told her the entire tale. Even though she recorded it, she took four pages of notes. She was delighted to have the scoop but saddened by the entire story. Said she knew Tommy Lee and Terry Munson well. Had even been out with Munson a few times. Seemed to me everyone had at some time or the other. The guy did get around. “Back in the day” as she put it. Said she never saw anything but a fun-loving, if womanizing, guy. And Tommy Lee? Hard worker. Good guy. No way she would ever have predicted him being involved in something like this. She concluded with, “I guess you can never really know other people.”

  As she walked us to the door, she asked if she could email me the story to go over before she published it. Of course.

  We then returned to the hotel and finished packing before hooking up with Ray and Pancake for a visit with Chief Morgan. As we followed them to the station, we talked about last night. Again. We had stayed up until nearly two going over everything.