Harry Bronson Box Set

by L C Hayden

  “Yes, Sam?”

  “We’re in luck. I thought maybe you were wondering how to locate Bronson. He and Hoover just walked into my office.”

  Two for the price of one. “It’ll cost you extra.”

  “It’s worth it. One accident, two lives lost. That’s not a bad deal.”

  A silence followed.

  “You’re not planning on doing anything foolish, are you?” Glass knew The Raven was as dangerous as she was beautiful. He bit his lip.

  “I’ll send the twins over to get Bronson’s car ready.”

  Glass relaxed. A hole in the brake line. Not a bad idea. The Raven would come through. He looked out the window toward the parking lot. “I see only three parked cars. My secretary’s, mine, and a silver Chevy Cruze. That’s got to be theirs.”

  She knew the car. She had followed it often enough. “Keep them in your office long enough for the twins to do their job.”

  “How long is that going to take?”

  “They’re less than half-an-hour away from you. Add a few minutes to do their thing and get away.”

  “I’ll keep Bronson and Hoover busy.”

  “Just to be sure, I’ll call you to let you know when it’s okay for them to leave. I’ll call your private line and let the phone ring twice. That’ll be the signal.”

  “Get to it, then.” Glass disconnected and worked on a deposition he had to prepare. Twenty-five minutes later, Glass told his secretary to let the two men in. Soon as the door opened, Glass bolted to his feet and greeted them. “Mr. Hoover, so nice to see you again.” He offered him his hand.

  Mike accepted it. “This is my partner, Harry Bronson.”

  “Mr. Bronson.” Glass pointed to the two leather-covered chairs facing his desk. He walked around and sat down. “Bronson.” He tapped his lip with his index finger. “I’ve heard that name before.” He snapped his fingers and his eyes widened. “You’re . . . you’re . . .”

  “Lorraine’s brother.”

  “Yes, I’m very sorry about your sister’s death. I really didn’t know her, but Mr. Wellington is one of my best clients and a close friend.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Bronson said.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

  “We’d like to know about your relationship with Larry Miller.”

  Glass’ eyebrows furrowed. “The artist?”

  Both Bronson and Mike remained quiet.

  “He’s a great artist.”

  “So you are familiar with his work?” Bronson took out his spiral notebook and jotted something down.

  Glass nodded.

  “Anything you can tell us about his paintings?” Mike asked.

  “No, I’m sorry. I never dealt with him or his work.”

  Bronson stared directly into his eyes. “I followed him to your office just recently.”

  Glass didn’t blink. “I remember the day he came. Was it yesterday? The day before? Doesn’t matter. It was recently.” Glass shifted in his chair, made himself more comfortable. He knew the importance of body language. Let them think he had nothing to hide. “Mind if I ask why you were following him?”

  “I’m tracing a paintin’ he did. Mind if I ask why he came to visit you?”

  “I own a number of duplexes not very far from here. Mr. Miller is one of my tenants. A real estate company handles all of the maintenance and upkeep work. They also handle the rental fee. Other than being the owner, I have nothing to do with my properties.” He paused and placed his intertwined fingers on his chest. “Miller came because he couldn’t make this month’s rental payment. He wanted a two weeks’ extension. Said he’s going to come into a lot of money, and he’d pay me with interest. Naturally, I agreed.”

  “Did he tell you where he was getting the money?”

  Glass’ private line rang. He looked at the caller I.D. It read Raven. After the second ring, it stopped.

  “Aren’t you going to get that?” Bronson asked.

  “It’s my wife. I’ll call her when we’re finished. You were saying?”

  “I asked if you knew where Miller planned to get a large amount of money.”

  “Didn’t say and I didn’t ask. Sorry.”

  Bronson stood up. “In that case, we won’t take any more of your time. Thanks for seeing us. I’m sure you have a lot of work to do.”

  Glass swept his arm over his desk pointing to all the papers scattered in various piles. “That’s an understatement.” He stood up. “Thank you for coming.”

  “One more thing.” Bronson stepped around the chair. “You’ll have to collect your rent from Miller’s estate.”

  Glass frowned. “Meaning?”

  “Miller was murdered.”

  A little grunt escaped from Glass as though he had suddenly lost all his wind. “I’m . . . I’m sorry to hear that. He seemed like such a nice man. Was it robbery?”

  “It’s an ongoing investigation. You understand why we’re not at liberty to discuss the details.”

  Glass slowly nodded.

  Bronson and Mike walked out, closing the door behind them.

  Glass walked over to the window and watched them get in the car and drive off. A sharkish grin spread across his lips.

  Chapter 51

  “Where to?” Mike pulled out of the parking lot.

  Bronson thumbed through his pocket-size spiral notebook. He stopped several times to re-read the notes he’d scribbled. “The state troopers have been ordered to drop the case. Mario Serafin killed my sister and that’s that. He lived outside the law so no one’s interested in solvin’ his murder. Who has that kind of power to enforce a ruling like that?”

  “The better question would be: who has that kind of money?”

  “Devono, but I rule him out.”

  Mike’s eyes squinted and his eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

  “Because someone with power ordered the troopers as well as the Pittsburgh police to stay away from Devono, and that happened a long time before this began.”

  “That was then. This is now.”

  “Okay. Call it a gut feelin’.” When Bronson was still active with the Dallas Police Department, he relied heavily on his gut feelings.

  Mike came to respect them and not question them. “Fine by me. We can rule Devono out. Who’s left? And before you answer that, tell me first where we’re going.”

  “Let’s head back to Ellen’s.”

  Mike made a U-turn. “Back to the original question. Who else beside Devono has that kind of money and power?”

  “There’s Wellington.”

  “Maybe at one time, but now, he’s an old man on his deathbed. Isn’t that what you told me?”

  Bronson nodded. “He’s not a good candidate. He loved Lorraine too much. Besides, he’s got all the money in the world. Why would he deal with stolen art pieces?”

  “Could be out of boredom. You know, the man who has everything.” Mike glanced at the rear-view mirror.

  “Nah.” Bronson shook his head. “Doesn’t sound like him. He’s been too busy keepin’ up with the steel industry. But his daughter—now there’s a candidate. She’s desperate to get her hands on that La Carcé paintin’. She can’t sell the forgeries without havin’ the original.”

  Mike slowed down and glanced at the side mirror. “She would have the power and the money to buy the troopers and the Pittsburgh Police higher-ups.”

  “I’ll go talk to her next.”

  “I? What happened to we?” Mike sped up and divided his attention between the road ahead of him and the rear view mirror.

  “There’s someone else I’d like for you to investigate. This someone also possibly has the clout and the money.” Bronson lowered the visor and adjusted the mirror so he could see the road behind him.

  “And who is that?” Mike executed an unexpected right turn.

  “Glass.” Bronson’s gaze didn’t leave the mirror.

  “Our lawyer friend.” Mike took a left. “I tend to agree with you. He puts on a good show,
but I think he knows a lot more about those art pieces than he admits. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s orchestrating the whole thing.”

  “That’s why I want you to check him out. See if there’s a way to link him to the art thefts.” Bronson tightened his seat belt. “I see the Camry.”

  “Same green Toyota Camry LE that was parked across the street from Miller’s house.”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m going to lose him.”

  “Go for it.”

  Mike sped up and made a quick left, then two rights. A left. Another left. A right. He drove down the same street for three blocks. “I don’t see him.”

  Bronson used both the side mirror and the vanity mirror to watch the street behind them. It looked clear. He swiveled and looked out the back window. “We lost him.”

  “Why is he following? Who is he?”

  “Excellent questions. Somehow we’ve got to find the answers including what’s his motive? He’s followed me—us—often enough to get a clear shot, but he’s never taken it. In my book that makes him more dangerous than the guy who aims and shoots.”

  “I hear you, buddy.” Mike worked his way back to the main road. He constantly glanced at the mirrors but he saw no trace of the green Camry.

  Bronson kept an eye on the road behind them. “If either Amanda or Glass is the ring leader, I don’t think either of them would get their hands dirty. Someone else pulled the trigger.”

  “And it wasn’t Sarafin.” Mike checked the mirrors but saw no trace of the Camry.

  “That someone else stuck the rifle under Sarafin’s bed and killed my sister.”

  “You’re thinking the guy in the Camry is the shooter.”

  “Shiiit.”

  Mike glanced at his mirror. “We’ve got company.”

  Chapter 52

  Lieutenant Joe Randig doodled while the chief-of-police talked. Somehow this helped him concentrate. At first the other officers thought Randig was being rude, but soon learned this was his way of focusing.

  Unlike other times, Pittsburgh’s crime rate had dropped and the streets, for once, were relatively quiet. Their biggest case centered on the murder of a local artist. Surely a tragedy but since he had criminal connections, this low priority case didn’t ruffle anyone’s feathers. Still, the chief-of-police said they would devote time to solving it, as time permitted.

  Someone’s mobile rang, causing the chief to frown. During these short daily meetings, he demanded everyone’s full attention.

  Randig felt the blood rush to his face. He always remembered to turn the damn thing off even though no one hardly ever called. Today, he forgot and here it was, embarrassing the hell out of him. He looked at the caller I. D. and recognized the number as the one Cannady gave him that belonged to Bronson. Great way to make his acquaintance.

  Randy stood up. “I’m sorry, sir, this won’t happen again.” He walked out, the cell insistently beeping out a tune. Out in the hallway, Randig pushed the send button. “Bronson?”

  “Yes, that’s me. I’m being—”

  “This isn’t a good time. Mind if I call you back later and get things sorted out?”

  “Sure.”

  Randig disconnected, put the cell on vibrate, and returned to the meeting.

  *****

  “We’re on our own.” Bronson looked out the side view mirror. The green Camry remained several car lengths behind. Too far to identify the driver but close enough to let Bronson and Mike know he drove alone.

  “Got any brilliant ideas?” Mike kept the speedometer at a steady thirty. “I’m not about to lead him to Ellen’s.”

  “Don’t blame you.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Divide and conquer.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Pull into a crowded parking lot. Get out. Call Ellen. She’ll come pick you up. Leave her at a mall or somewhere. Call me and together, we’ll corral the animal.”

  “In the meantime, what are you going to do?”

  “Drive around, look for the perfect place for this to go down. I’ll also make sure I don’t lose him.”

  Mike ran his opened hand over his cheek. “How wise is that? You don’t even have a gun to protect you.”

  Bronson kept his eyes glued to the mirror, watching the Camry.

  “Damn it, Bronson. What have you done?”

  “That parking lot coming up to our right looks pretty crowded. It should be safe enough.”

  “I see it.” Mike slowed down so he could maneuver the turn. He let the engine idle as he pulled in and parked directly in front of a large clothing store. “Stay safe, my friend.”

  Bronson scooted over to the driver’s seat. “I plan to.”

  The Camry stayed at the opposite end of the parking lot, still visible. The driver made no attempt to get out or otherwise move.

  “I’ll wait for your call,” Bronson said.

  Mike dodged into the store and disappeared behind the closed doors.

  Bronson switched the gear from park to drive. He drove out of the parking lot and maintained the speed the other drivers used.

  The Camry followed behind.

  Chapter 53

  Jack wouldn’t put it past Bronson.

  He and his twin had been asleep when the Raven called. Soon as the Raven told him she wanted a listening device put inside Bronson’s car, Jack sprang out of bed and immediately drove to the lawyer’s. No time for breakfast, not even a bagel and a soft drink.

  Now, as though deliberate, Bronson led him down three blocks of restaurants, one after the other. Tonight! Succulent Prime Rib one sign read. Like throwing gas on a flame, the smell of cooking steaks traveled like waves and ignited Jack’s hunger pangs.

  A bit further down, the aroma of hamburgers grilling over an open fire almost forced Jack to stop. The bakery down the road released the scent of freshly baked bread.

  Jack slowed down. On his own, he had decided that besides bugging the inside of Bronson’s car, he could also place a tracking device. This way, he could pick him up anywhere, anytime. That meant he could answer the lure of the bakery. Grab some freshly made bread or one of those tantalizing, still steaming, sweet rolls. Top it off with a soft drink. Jump back in the car. Pick up Bronson’s trail. Continue to follow him. That would work.

  Except that Bronson had told Hoover he’d make sure he wouldn’t lose him. Bronson planned to ride around until Hoover arrived. Then they would trap him.

  Not quite the way Bronson had phrased it. They would corral the animal. That’s what Bronson had actually said.

  Corral the animal.

  Yeah, like that was going to happen.

  Corral the animal. As if he were an animal. Bronson would get his due. The Raven had heard every word Bronson and Hoover said while both were still in the car. Jack had called the Raven and put her on speaker phone.

  It hadn’t been his idea to put a bug in the car. The Raven had come up with that. Not only was she drop-dead gorgeous, she was brilliant. And dangerous, but that was part of what attracted him. That danger drove Jack. He’d do anything for her, including risk his own life. Not that he would have to worry about that.

  The Raven would never hurt him.

  *****

  The Raven found herself living two distinct lives. As Barbara, she was the normal person who existed in an average, boring world. She was beautiful and constantly attracted attention, but that concluded the extent of her excitement. Whenever she worked, the Raven took over. Like now.

  She and John, the younger of the twins, sat in her car at the mall’s parking lot, the same one where Bronson had dropped Hoover off.

  Through Jack’s cell, she heard a mobile ring.

  “Here we go,” Jack said, listening to the goings on inside Bronson’s car. “That’s Bronson’s cell.”

  The Raven looked around the parking lot, hoping to spot Hoover. “I can hear it ring.”

  “Yo, buddy,” Bronson said. “Where are you?”

  A pause followe
d while Mike spoke.

  “The mall where I dropped you off, right?”

  Another pause.

  The Raven saw a man help an attractive woman get out of a car. The Raven recognized him: Hoover. The woman with him had to be Ellen. The man and woman headed toward the mall. The Raven indicated for John to get out and follow them.

  The Raven’s concentration broke when Bronson spoke again.

  Bronson said, “Yes, I did. Not far from here is a row of restaurants. Behind them is a narrow alley. I’ll pull into the alley. The Camry will follow. You come in behind the Camry. I stop. He can’t back up because you’ll be blocking the animal. We rush him, one from each side.”

  The Raven stuck her thumb up in the air. Brilliant plan. So simple in its efficiency. Bronson would be a worthy opponent. She was definitely going to enjoy this.

  She rushed inside the mall to join John.

  Ellen would be right in front of him.

  Chapter 54

  Bronson eyed the rearview mirror. The Camry hung three car lengths behind. While waiting for Mike to call him, he did everything possible to kill time without arousing the driver’s suspicions.

  He filled up the gas tank even though the gas gage read three-quarters full. He used the drive-through window and chose one with a long line. He ordered coffee and put the bill on Wellington’s credit card. He figured a credit card would take longer than cash. He pulled off to the side while he fixed his coffee and checked the mirror for the Camry. He drove through a residential area and slowed down several times, pretending to look for a particular address.

  About the most useful thing he did other than getting his coffee was to stop at a variety store and purchase a knife with a five inch serrated blade. He put it in his pocket and made a mental note to transfer it to his boot. When he stepped out of the store, he saw the Camry parked four spaces behind his car.

  Soon as he was inside the car, he took the knife out of his pocket and put it in his boot. Just as he started the engine, his mobile went off. Mike. Finally, they’d be able to trap their prey. “Yo, buddy, where are you?”