Revenge Walk

by Melissa Bowersock

  “What’s going on?” he asked in a low voice.

  “That Macias guy who’s looking for revenge showed up. Sam, Tommy and Rod all went after him.”

  Shaw’s coffee-colored eyes glittered. “And you know this… how?”

  Lacey couldn’t suppress a grin. “Ghost alarm. Theodora’s guiding Sam.”

  Shaw hesitated a moment, but Lacey wasn’t worried. He’d accept in his own time. Metaphysical stuff was out of his realm, but he knew Sam’s track record.

  His eyes shifted to Daniel. “And your boy, here…?”

  “He’s in tune with Theodora, too.” She touched Daniel’s arm lightly. “What’s happening?”

  “Dad and the two cops have split up. The guy is sneaking toward the front of the house.” Daniel’s eyes rolled up and his eyelids fluttered.

  Just then a shot rang out. There was a shout outside, several gasps inside. The guests were glancing around nervously, eyeing the front door.

  “We have to keep everyone inside!” she told Shaw. “I’m locking the door.”

  She pushed her way past several people and made it to the door. Just as she closed it and threw the dead bolt, another shot pierced the night air.

  One woman screamed, and several others yelped.

  “We’ve got a situation, folks,” Lacey called out. “Please stay calm. The police are handling it.”

  “What’s happening?” someone asked.

  “Who’s shooting? The police?”

  Lacey moved toward the crowd, her arms out to contain them. “Stay back, please. Stay—”

  The front window shattered in an explosion of sound and flying glass. Shards flew everywhere, although the largest portion of glass broke away from the frame and dropped straight down to the floor, crashing into pieces.

  More screams. The people huddled into the far corner.

  “Lacey,” Shaw barked, “can you open this back room?”

  The supply room! Of course. Lacey ran forward, fumbling her keys from her small bag, and quickly unlocked the door. Shaw was already herding people after her.

  “This way, folks. Take it easy, keep calm. Inside. That’s right.”

  “Sorry about this, folks,” Lacey said. She went against the tide, fighting to stay outside the door. “This won’t take long, I promise. Just a few minutes.” She hoped.

  She slipped out the door as the last guests went in. Shaw took up a guardian stance in the open doorway. Just his solid bulk was reassuring.

  More shots sounded. Answering fire came from another direction.

  “Daniel, what’s happening?” she hissed. She dared to peek around the corner into the front room.

  And saw Marina and Herb crouched down behind the table. Herb’s camera, on his shoulder, was rolling.

  “He’s running,” Daniel said, his voice eerily calm. “Running and shooting.”

  More shots. Through the open window, Lacey could see the flash of muzzle fire.

  “He’s at the back fence, trying to jump it. Dad!”

  Random shots, fired and answered. Shouting, scuffling. Daniel’s last exclamation made Lacey’s blood run cold.

  “Stay here,” Shaw said. He eased past Daniel and Tori and opened the back door a crack. The sounds of scuffling were louder. No shots, though. He slipped outside and disappeared.

  “Daniel!” Lacey grabbed the boy’s arm. “What happened to your dad?”

  “Fighting,” he said. “Dad dragged him down off the fence. The guy had his gun in his face. It just clicked. Out of ammo.”

  Thank God, Lacey thought.

  “They’ve got him! Daniel’s voice was triumphant. “He’s down, cuffed.” The glazed look in his eyes faded. “They got him. It’s safe now.”

  Lacey let out an exhausted breath and braced herself with one hand on the wall. Suddenly her legs were shaky and her feet felt numb. She dragged in deep pulls of steadying breath.

  The back door opened. Sam slipped in.

  “Sam!” She half ran to him, half fell. His face was bloody, his shirt torn and dirty. Strands of dark hair had escaped his ponytail and fluttered around his head.

  “Are you okay?” She touched his arms lightly, running her hands down them. No breaks.

  “Yeah, fine,” he said. He looked down at his shirt. “I may not look it, but I am.” He noted all the people crowded around the open supply room door, peering out cautiously. “It’s okay, now, folks. It’s all over. You can come out. Mind the glass, though. Was anyone hurt?”

  Two people were lacerated by flying shards of glass, Shirley So’s husband on the back of his hand and Vicky Reed on her arm. Luckily neither injury was deep or wide. Lacey got towels to stem the bleeding, setting up a mini triage station at one end of the table. Band-aids took care of the injuries.

  While she was doing that, she heard Sam telling the guests what the ruckus was about. Herb filmed the whole thing, and before Sam was finished, strobing blue and red lights painted the front room.

  The rest of the evening was ordered chaos. Ed and Sam took Sam’s truck to the home improvement store to buy plywood so they could board up the front window. Lacey set Daniel and Tori to clean-up while she bagged up pottery for the guests who were anxious to leave. Herb and Marina were everywhere, interviewing guests and filming the police wrap-up.

  You owe me big time now, Lacey thought of the reveling reporter.

  But she was too exhausted to make that point. By the time the studio was secure and guests, police, and news crew had all left, she felt like an absolute zombie.

  “Come on,” Sam said. “Let’s go home.”

  “But the mess,” she said, looking at the table still cluttered with dirty dishes and empty wine bottles.

  “Forget it,” he said. He pulled her to the door forcibly. “We’ll clean up tomorrow.”

  She was too tired to argue. She let him lead her to the car and sank gratefully into the passenger seat.

  In minutes, she was asleep.

  ~~~

  SEVENTEEN

  Lacey sat at the breakfast table with her head in her hands, eyes closed, not yet ready for the new day. She moaned softly.

  Sam set a cup of coffee down in front of her and took his seat across from her.

  She stared down at the dark liquid, not at all sure she really wanted that infusion of energy. She peered up at Sam.

  “Can’t I just stay in bed all day?” she asked in a pleading tone.

  “Sure you can,” he said.

  “I can?”

  “Sure. Go ahead. I’ll clean up the studio.”

  Lacey huffed out a breath. “And leave that whole mess to you? I can’t do that.”

  Sam smirked into his coffee cup. “I know.”

  She sat back and sighed. Took a sip of coffee. It did taste better than whatever was still coating her tongue from last night. She took another sip and set her cup down, then met Sam’s cheerful gaze.

  “That,” she said, “is one night we’ll never forget.”

  He laughed soundlessly. “True enough. I think we can honestly say our open house was the event of the summer.”

  Lacey grinned at him. “I’ll say. I have a feeling we’ll be the talk of the town after ABC runs all the footage Herb and Marina got. Holy cow.”

  Sam nodded. “Probably. Guess I better get busy and make more pottery. Which reminds me, how much did we sell?”

  Lacey blinked at him. “All of it.”

  “All of it?”

  She shrugged. “Every single piece. If we’d had twice that much, we would have still sold it all.”

  He chuckled and shook his head.

  “Okay, now,” she said more seriously, “what happened outside? I only heard what Daniel got from Theodora.”

  He dismissed that with a wave. “Not much.” He sipped his coffee, but Lacey wasn’t going to be put off. She glared at him.

  “Remember when Rod told you that Reynaldo wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box?”

  Lacey nodded.

  “He was
right. I don’t know what he thought he was going to do—kill me, shoot up the place, whatever—but he probably had no idea half the police force was there, and he must have thought Theodora was confined to the house. In any event, he was outnumbered, outgunned and outwitted. It didn’t take long to put him down.”

  “But Daniel said he shoved his gun in your face?”

  “Oh, yeah, that. He’d jumped up on the back fence and was gonna go over. I jumped on him and dragged him down. He did put his gun right to my forehead, but all it did was click. He was completely empty. I just batted the gun away and put him down on his face with my knee in his back.”

  “Just batted the gun away,” she repeated softly. The what-ifs that were prowling her mind sent a cold shiver through her body.

  “Hey, I didn’t even get a scratch,” he insisted.

  “No?” She pointed with her coffee cup. “That’s a nice shade of purple on your cheek.”

  He shrugged. “He got me with an elbow as we were wrestling. No biggie.”

  “No biggie,” she echoed. “Well, let’s just hope that’s the last of the Vegas drug cartel we ever see. We do not need any more Fireclouds getting shot.”

  “Amen to that.” He drained his coffee cup. “How about I make some scrambled eggs and then we can head for the studio?”

  ~~~

  As chaotic as the studio looked at first glance, it didn’t take long to get it cleaned up. Lacey filled a trash can with paper plates, napkins, and cardboard coffee cups, then filled the smaller recycle bin with empty wine bottles. She scraped shoe-flattened cheese from the floor as Sam gathered up the last of the glass shards from outside the window. Once she’d swept, washed the serving platters and wine glasses and cleaned up the kitchen, the place didn’t look too bad.

  “I’ll call a glazer this afternoon,” Sam said. “See if we can get that window replaced Monday.”

  “I wonder how expensive bullet-proof glass is,” she mused.

  “Not necessary,” Sam said. “Not with Theodora on guard.”

  Lacey looked around the studio. “Is she here?”

  “Sure.”

  “I hope she knows how grateful we are for her warning. For her telling you what Reynaldo was doing.”

  Sam nodded. “She does. I made sure of that.”

  Lacey moved to his side and leaned into him, letting him fold her in his arms. She sighed. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

  “Oh, I think you’ve mentioned it once or twice.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I love you, too, Lace. We’re a hell of a team.”

  She looked up at him, smiling. He dipped his head to hers and kissed her softly.

  “Let’s go home,” she said.

  ~~~

  EIGHTEEN

  Sunday morning, Lacey got up early and let Sam and the kids sleep in. They’d all enjoyed an evening of bowling and video games, just mindless fun to drive away the last remnants of Friday night’s drama. Again, she thanked the powers that be that it all ended well.

  Today, though, it was back to business, at least for a little while. Sipping her coffee, she looked up the address of St. Odelia’s church in San Fernando, and noted the times for mass. She had no idea when Jean might have attended, so simply decided to go between the 8:00 and 9:30 services in order to talk to the priest. Ten years after the woman’s death, finding friends was going to be a pure shot in the dark, but it was all she had.

  Kenzie was the first one up and joined Lacey at the breakfast table with a glass of apple juice.

  “Whatcha doing?” the girl asked.

  “Oh, your dad and I are working on a case and I need to visit a church in San Fernando this morning. I won’t be gone long. You guys can just hang out at the pool if you want.”

  “Is it a ghost?”

  “Yeah, it is. A very sad ghost.”

  Kenzie swung her feet and kicked the legs of her chair rhythmically. “Maybe Theodora can help you.”

  Lacey considered that, more for Kenzie’s sake than anything else. “It would be nice if she could, but I don’t think so. This ghost is pretty far away, across the valley. But that’s a nice suggestion.”

  Sam was next up, bleary-eyed until he got his coffee. He sat elbow to elbow with Kenzie and stared at Lacey over his cup.

  “I’m going to Jean’s church this morning,” she told him. “See if I can discover anything new about her.”

  Sam nodded, not offering a comment. He knew it was a long shot, too.

  “Lacey said we could hang out at the pool,” Kenzie said. “Can you teach me how to dive?”

  “Sure,” Sam said. “But I thought you took swimming lessons this summer.”

  “I did,” Kenzie said with pre-teen impatience. “But that was just swimming, not diving.”

  “Oh, okay.” Sam smiled and rolled his eyes at Lacey.

  Please, Lacey thought, can’t we wait another year or two before Kenzie reaches that stage? Having Daniel at that cynical, know-it-all phase was bad enough.

  “So what sounds good for breakfast?” she asked.

  “Pancakes!” Kenzie called.

  “Pancakes it is,” Sam said. “Come on; you can help.”

  Lacey smiled at father and daughter together at the fridge as she went to get ready. That was the Kenzie she liked to see.

  ~~~

  St. Odelia’s was in an older section of San Fernando, an area of narrow bungalows or ranch-style homes with red tile roofs reminiscent of the 1950s. She guessed quite a few still had turquoise toilets.

  The Catholic Church was beige stucco with an imposing spire and several stained glass windows along the length of the nave. She noticed a few people walking to their cars and checked her watch. It was 9:10; she had just a few minutes to talk to the priest.

  She stepped inside the entry and was surprised at the warm glow afforded by the stained glass. The morning sun slanted in, clearly illuminating the pews and the central aisle. The priest, dressed in black pants and black shirt, wore a purple stole of his office and shuffled papers at the podium. He had thinning hair and wore round glasses.

  Lacey strode to him.

  “Hello. My name is Lacey Fitzpatrick and I’m a private investigator.” She held out her hand.

  “Father Percy,” he said, shaking her hand. His eyebrows inched above the lenses of his glasses.

  “Nice to meet you,” Lacey said. “I know you’re in between masses, so I’ll make this short. I’ve been hired to investigate the death of a former parishioner of yours, Jean Hawkes. She died in 2008. Did you know her? Do you remember her?”

  The eyebrows climbed a little higher. “Jean Hawkes. Yes, I remember her. Tragic woman.”

  “Yes, from what I understand, that was certainly so. I’m trying to gather information about her last days. Do you know anyone who was friends with her? Anyone who might be able to shed some light on her condition toward the end?”

  Father Percy stared out at the empty pews as if he might see faces there. “That’s going back some,” he mused. “I know she had a few friends who would all sit together. But…” He swung his gaze back to Lacey. “That was before she got sick. Before she could no longer come to mass.”

  “Do you know how far back that was? I know she died of liver cancer.”

  “Yes, horrible disease. Absolutely horrible. I would say it was at least two or three years that she was too ill to attend.” He frowned. “I’m not sure how many of her friends are still with us.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” Lacey admitted. “Do you remember their names?”

  He stared down at the ground, thinking hard. “I know Frieda Withington passed on. And Angela Johnston. Right off, I can’t think of any—”

  Lacey’s phone chimed. She checked the screen.

  Price Reed.

  “Let me get this real quick,” she said to Father Percy. She took the call. “Price? Can you hang on just a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll be right with you.”

>   She pulled a card from her pack and handed it to Father Percy. “If you do think of anyone that could possibly help me, would you call me? I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Yes, of course.” Father Percy took the card and read it. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you, Father. That’s my cell, so you can call anytime.” She shook his hand gratefully, then started back up the aisle. “Hello, Price?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. Is this a bad time?”

  “No, it’s fine. I was just at the church in San Fernando, hoping to find someone who could tell us more about Jean’s last days.”

  “Well, that’s convenient.”

  “It is? How so?”

  “You’re not going to believe this,” he said, “but we just found Jean’s diary. I think you’re gonna want to see it.”

  ~~~

  NINETEEN

  Lacey made the drive up Kagel Canyon in record time. Price met her at the door, the small vinyl-bound book in his hand.

  “Where did you find this?” she asked. She took the book gingerly and leafed through the handwritten pages.

  “Remember that squeaky stair I said I needed to fix?” he waved a hand behind him at the staircase. The middle stair was missing its step. Lacey moved closer and could just see into the hiding place behind the riser.

  “Oh, my God,” she breathed. “This was in there the whole time?”

  “Yes. Along with a few other things. There was a music box and a strand of pearls, a silver baby spoon. There was a packet of letters, three pairs of scissors and a few coins wadded up in Kleenex.”

  Lacey blinked. “Three pairs of scissors?”

  Price shrugged. “Who knows what she was thinking toward the end?”

  Lacey nodded. “Have you read any of it?”

  “Just bits and pieces. Want to sit down and take a look?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Price poured them each a cup of coffee and led her out to the patio. She sank down in a cushioned chair at the glass-topped table and laid the diary before her.