“I don’t settle accounts in court, Miriam.” He stepped forward and Domino lunged for him. She was furious now, too, barking and snapping as she jumped at him again. He stumbled as he stepped sideways to avoid her and then bent over awkwardly to regain his footing. Somehow, the pack of cigarettes dropped from his shirt pocket. When he leaned down to retrieve them, the bogus promissory note slipped out onto the sidewalk. I stepped on it, and he grabbed my ankle. I shifted my grip on the kubotan.
“Let go!” I said as I swung the keys and whacked him on the shoulder. He laughed but as his wheezing turned into coughing, he let go of my ankle, and Domino pounced on him before he could stand up. He tottered. With one more swing of my keys, I’d have him on the ground. Before I could move, someone leaned loud and long on a horn.
“Miriam!” a man shouted. We turned to see Joe and Carl run up onto the curb in a golf cart and stop. Edgar Humphrey, their passenger in the back seat, was the person who’d hollered my name.
“Call 911!” I shouted.
“Are you kidding me?” The guy asked as Carl and Joe climbed from the cart. I’ll admit they didn’t spring from the golf cart like Captain Marvel might have done, but Carl was armed, or so it appeared.
I knew it was a paintball gun and I hoped it was loaded because my would-be bill collector now held one of his own. Carl let it rip and hit the guy square in the face with a big blob of red paint that coated his sunglasses. He sputtered, spit paint, and ripped the sunglasses off. That was a mistake because paint from his forehead dribbled into his eyes.
Domino had his pant leg and yanked at him furiously. I heard his pants rip as he struggled to free his leg. His arm that still held the gun swung, aiming wildly. My aim wasn’t wild, and the blow I delivered was on target this time. My keys hit him hard on the hand, he grunted loudly, and lowered his arm. Domino grabbed his sleeve, growling, and shook it hard enough that he dropped the gun.
As Joe scrambled for the gun, I heard sirens, and the thug took off. I grabbed Joe’s arm before he could touch the gun. Edgar announced that he’d called 911 before I’d even asked him to do it.
“I gave them a description of the goon, too. That was before Carl plastered him with paint and Domino ripped his pants. It ought to be clear he doesn’t belong in Seaview Cottages, so if he’s got a car parked somewhere nearby, he’d better get to it in a hurry.” The brute was lumbering in a half-blind kind of way.
“He was driving a rental car this morning. Charly and I gave the license plate number to the guard at the gate. That should have kept him out of here,” I griped. Carl shook his head.
“Not necessarily. He could have easily traded in his rental car for another one since he knew you’d spotted him this morning, then parked at the clubhouse, and hiked over here.”
“He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who walks when he can ride. Maybe he’s got a golf cart stashed on the next block,” Joe suggested.
“Who knows? He appeared out of nowhere—no car engine or whirring golf cart. I’m sure he’ll just put the extra expense on my tab.” Then I gave them the two-minute version of what had gone on. “What do you want to bet the discount he offered me is no longer available?”
Cha-ching, I thought, as the sirens grew louder. The police had to be in the community by now.
“Good shot with the paintball gun,” Joe added.
“Charly’s Angels to the rescue,” Carl said, bowing.
“We’re probably going to be in for finger-wagging when the police arrive, but what else could we have done? Thanks for the assist, you guys.”
“Glad we could help, but you’re no slouch with the kubotan. You’ve learned a thing or two from Charly,” Joe commented. “Who was that dude?”
“I’m not sure. Hang on.” I leaned over and picked up the folded piece of paper that was still nearby even though it had scooted free during the scuffle.
“Jimmy Dunn,” I read aloud and then passed the paper to Carl.
“Phoniest piece of garbage I’ve seen in a long time. There’s even a typo in the fake law office letterhead. I bet there’s no such law firm anywhere in Ohio. I dealt with a ton of lawyers when I managed a collection agency. Lots of them had no head for numbers, but they understood a messy brief could get you laughed out of court. The terms of the agreement are laughable, too. What a swindler!”
“Jimmy Dunn’s already told me he doesn’t intend to take me to court to get the money he claims I owe him. My signature is as phony as the rest of the document. I don’t doubt that Pete borrowed the money. He would have spotted those typos right away, so maybe Pete imagined he could wriggle out of repaying the loan given what a joke that promissory note is. At this point, it’s not clear who was swindling whom.”
“A couple of self-swindlers, if I can use another of the few phrases from Dickens that I recall. He sure got it right when he pointed out how many people who are out to swindle someone else, end up cheating themselves.”
“You’ve got that right, Carl.” Edgar’s ruddy complexion flushed deeply, and he sounded angry as he spoke to me.
“If your husband imagined a few typos would let him wriggle out of a deal with Jimmy Dunn, he was a fool. Wriggle out of an alley on his belly, maybe, after the brute worked him over. Are you sure Pete died from natural causes?” Edgar asked. I opened my mouth to say “of course,” and then shut it again. Something like an electric shock zipped through me.
“Pete dropped dead in front of his coworkers. They said it was a heart attack and the EMTs agreed. I was too out of it to question them. Maybe I should have asked for an autopsy, but it never occurred to me that someone murdered Pete. Stuff like that only happens to spies or crooks in books or movies, not to middle-aged couples living on a tree-lined street in an Ohio suburb.”
“I’m sorry Pete didn’t give more thought to the mess he was getting you into. Let’s hope the police pick up Jimmy Dunn before he can make another attempt to collect the debt.” I nodded wearily. My head hurt.
“Me, too, although I can’t believe there won’t be repercussions once the police get involved or I take that weasel to court and get a restraining order. Do any of you know a good lawyer? I might need one.” I opened the gate and let Domino loose in the front yard. She must have felt I was no longer in danger because she immediately went to a favorite comfy chair on the porch.
“You bet I do—a whole carload of them, after all the trouble my son has had,” Edgar assured me. “Howard’s the poster boy for self-swindlers.” Edgar shook his head, snorted, and then laughed. That turned into a coughing fit that was even worse than the one Jimmy Dunn had earlier.
Edgar, now in his nineties, had given up smoking years ago, but the damage was already done. He reached into the cart and got a small oxygen generator pack that he was probably supposed to be wearing. Once he attached the cannula and oxygen flowed, he breathed easily.
“I’m not sure why that poster boy comment made me laugh. Howard may be a self-swindler but he’s no boy. That’s not funny, is it? Sometimes you’ve got to laugh, so you don’t cry.” I knew exactly what he meant. He suddenly looked so downhearted I couldn’t resist hugging him.
“You’re the poster boy for dads who don’t give up,” I said. That made him happy or maybe it was the hug. When I turned around, Joe stood there with his arms out.
“Uh, no,” I said. He shrugged and dropped his arms.
“It was worth a try,” Joe added and grinned. “Listen! The sirens have stopped. Maybe they’ve got Jimmy Dunn cornered.”
“The restraining order is a good idea. I’ll give you the information for the firm I’m using in San Luis Obispo. Judith must use the same law firm because that’s where I ran into her.” I did a double-take.
“Not at the Community Center?” I asked. He looked puzzled, perhaps wondering why that mattered. I wasn’t sure either, but I was now in full-blown paranoid mode after Jimmy Dunn had made it painfully clear that I probably should have asked more questions about what was up with Pete.
“We met there later for lunch, and that’s when she told me an old friend claimed someone had murdered her ex-husband. Judith has a vacation condo at The Blue Haven Resort and planned to drive down here to find someone who could help figure out what happened on Dickens’ Dune. Charly had introduced me to Judith a while ago, so I told her to call and get the Grand Old Lady Detectives to help!”
“That was good advice. Go for the G.O.L.D.!” Joe exclaimed.
“In fact, I was on my way over here to tell you that Judith called to thank me for recommending she hire G.O.L.D. She raved about your coffee cake! When I saw Carl and Joe roaming the streets, I asked them if they wanted a lift. Judith really was happy to meet you all—even these clowns, if you can believe it.”
“What Edgar’s not telling you is that we saved his bacon before we saved yours. We warned him that his new health care aide was driving around in a car looking for him and then we switched seats. He’s not allowed to drive—not even a golf cart!” Carl said.
“Yeah, he’s lucky I got behind the wheel right before she caught up with him. She didn’t look happy, but cruised on by when we waved at her.”
“Sheila knows what she’s doing, but she can be scary. Maybe I need to go with you, Miriam, and get a restraining order, too.” Edgar guffawed and was on the verge of another attack as he drew in deep breaths of oxygen. Behind me, I heard a car coming or, more correctly, cars as I learned when Deputy Devers and Detective Hank Miller both pulled up at the curb. Behind them was a security patrol car. Doors slammed as they got out of their cars in a hurry.
“What the heck went on here?” Deputy Devers bellowed as he walked around his SUV and approached us.
“It’s about time you showed up,” Joe replied. “Some guy tried to strong-arm Miriam into giving him money. When she refused, he got mean.” Joe pointed at the handgun on the ground.
“I’m the one who called 911 for help,” Edgar explained. “Gave ‘em a description, too, but he had to be easy to spot running down the street with big red splotches all over him after Carl shot him point blank with a paintball gun.”
“Have you already hauled him off to the Duneville Down jail?” Carl asked as he peered into the deputy’s backseat.
“The only place he’s going is to the County Morgue,” Devers replied. I gasped.
“What?” I asked. “Are you saying Jimmy Dunn is dead?” I directed that question to Hank who’d arrived looking plenty worried but hadn’t uttered a word.
“He probably had a heart attack,” Carl suggested. “By the way he was hacking up a lung when we drove up, Jimmy Dunn was not a well man.”
“You can say that again. Running away like he did after chasing Miriam all the way up Dickens’ Dune this morning must have been too much for him,” Joe added.
“Serves him right!” Edgar exclaimed. “At least you won’t need that restraining order now, will you?” Deputy Devers put both hands on his hips and shook his head.
“Will you stop second-guessing law enforcement? Jimmy Dunn didn’t die from a heart attack. The driver of The Dunes Course beverage cart found him slumped over the wheel of a golf cart. The red splotches all over him aren’t all paint since there’s a bullet in his forehead.”
The “this can’t be real” feeling I’d experienced when Jimmy Dunn first accosted me on the street and demanded I fork over a small fortune hit me again. I must have wobbled because Hank reached out and grabbed my arm to steady me.
“Are you hurt?” Hank asked. “He didn’t hit you, did he?” Words wouldn’t come, but I shook my head no.
“Lucky for her we came along when we did, or she would have had to hurt him badly with her kubotan. That could have gotten ugly.” Joe paused and then noticed that Domino was standing at the gate. “Domino was fired up, too, weren’t you, girl?” She woofed and wiggled, no longer happy being confined in the front yard.
“From what Joe and Carl are saying, this is personal and not a problem related to the new case you’ve taken on, right?” Hank asked. I fought off tears and still couldn’t speak. Instead, I nodded a sad, miserable yes in reply to Hank’s question.
“Pffft! New case, right,” Devers murmured.
“Darnell, make yourself useful and bag that weapon,” Hank snapped. The deputy shuffled over to his SUV and pulled out what had to be a small evidence collection kit.
“That’s not the one that killed him,” Edgar said. “Miriam was right here with us the whole time and so was that gun. Joe and Carl can verify what I’m saying.” That assertion got a thumbs-up from each man.
“That’s Jimmy Dunn’s cigarette butt, too,” I added pointing to where the lowlife had dropped it when he fled. “There might be a small piece of cloth from his shirt or pants around here somewhere. Domino did her best to rip off his clothes. And then there’s this.” I held up the bogus promissory note. It was dirty, crumpled, and had part of a footprint on it.
“That’s my footprint, and, as you can see, I’ve handled it. Obviously, my fingerprints will be all over it, too.”
“Mine, too,” Carl added. “We didn’t know the culprit was going to get himself killed, and you’d need it as evidence in a murder inquiry.” While Deputy Devers fumbled around putting on a pair of gloves and slipping items into evidence bags, Hank read the note. When he got to the bottom line, he glanced at me.
“Not my signature,” I said before he could ask. “I caught a glimpse of Jimmy Dunn with Pete once, but my husband lied and told me he was a client, not a loan shark.” Hank looked at me, and I saw sympathy rather than suspicion in his eyes, which was a huge relief.
“Well, it’s a lot of money. I’m guessing Jimmy Dunn was more the legman than the financier. He had to be in deep trouble for someone to kill him—bigger trouble than coming up with the money he loaned Pete.” Hank suggested. “A guy like him must have had a few run-ins with the law. Maybe his criminal record will hint at who he’s fronting.”
“Whoever he’s working for was really unhappy with his work performance,” Joe commented. “A bullet is a heck of a termination notice!”
“Let’s hope they don’t deal with debtors that way, too.” A pit had formed in my stomach to go with the pulsing in my head.
“They won’t get back their money that way. Rough you up, yes. Kill you, I doubt it. If you were the target of a hit, you’d already be dead.” I stared at the deputy trying to gauge if he was serious, or merely toying with me.
“Thanks, Darnell. I’ll try to keep that in mind when they’re only roughing me up.”
“Look, it’s too soon to draw any conclusions about who killed Jimmy Dunn or why. Darnell has a point that loan sharks can’t get back their money if they kill the person who borrowed it. They don’t usually go around breaking people’s legs either—at least not until they’ve tried scaring money out of them first. This was Jimmy Dunn’s first attempt to get you to pay up, right?” I frowned.
“Of course, it is. If Jimmy Dunn had asked me for money while I was still in Ohio, I would have contacted my cousin, Kevin, who’s on the police force. There would have been no need for him to travel all the way to California to track me down. I saw the guy once, with Pete, a couple of years ago!”
“Did he see you?” Hank asked.
“I don’t know. I was in my car, in the driver’s seat. He could have caught a glimpse of me. I never noticed him after that, but maybe he was following Pete around to keep an eye on him. I doubt that, though, since he said he didn’t try to get his money back from Pete until after he was dead.”
“Once he got here, it would have been easy enough to find her. She and her old lady friends are out on the dunes almost every morning walking their dogs.”
I cocked my head, wondering how the deputy was so sure he had that right. Then I remembered Chef Tony griping that the cheapskate frequently hit him up for free coffee and a piece of the pie of the day at the restaurant in the clubhouse.
“Are you stalking us, Deputy?” I asked, raising one eyebrow. As De
vers sputtered, Hank squelched a smile.
“It’s a joke, Darnell. Lighten up.”
“In his own special way, Darnell is making a good point. You ought to lie low for a couple of days while we sort this out. If Darnell has figured out your routine, someone else could do it too. Why not go visit one of your friends for a few days?”
“Are you telling me to get out of Dodge, Detective? If so, I’m way ahead of you. I already have plans to leave town for a few days.”
“You’d better make sure you keep us informed of your whereabouts,” Darnell responded.
“We’re going too, so you won’t have us to kick around for a while either,” Carl and Joe added. Darnell frowned.
“Aw, he’s going to miss you, isn’t he?” Edgar asked in a wheezy tone. He looked tired despite his attempt to stir up a little trouble. Before anyone could say more, a call came in. Devers ran to his SUV to hear what the dispatcher was saying. Hank took a call on his cellphone. He gave my hand a squeeze.
“Take Edgar home,” Hank said.
“Miriam, you and Domino go inside. Lock the doors. I’ll call you later.” Then he and Darnell took off.
7 A Secret to Each Other
“A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.” ~ A Tale of Two Cities
∞
As soon as Domino and I were inside with the doors locked and the security alarm set, I fixed a cup of Chamomile tea and called Charly. I filled her in on the latest debacle. Once I’d given her the details that included the murder of Jimmy Dunn, I ranted about Pete.
“Are you really all that surprised?” She asked.
“Yes, I am. I was married to Pete for more than twenty-five years, and, apparently, I never knew him.”
“Dickens makes a terrifyingly astute observation about that in A Tale of Two Cities. He says that as humans, we’re predisposed to be a profound secret and a mystery to each other. Why would Pete have been an exception?” Charly paused before going on. “Maybe Pete hid things from you that he thought would hurt you, or that would diminish him in your eyes.”
Grave Expectations on Dickens' Dune Page 6
