Burn Away, page 17
“I see.” Beverly kept her face neutral and imitated Zelda’s syrupy tone. “I’m sure Mayor Lehmann was happy to have your assistance playing delivery girl. And just how is your fine husband? Does he know about you ‘seeing’ Adam?”
Zelda tugged on her opal earring. “Titus is Titus. Busy as always.” When a car drove up and parked right in front of them, Zelda waved and turned to leave.
Beverly called out after her, “It was so nice running into you, Zelda.”
Sure it was. Beverly marched into the drugstore, grabbed her pills, and got out as soon as she could. But the whole time, she was seething. Oh, she knew Zelda was jealous of Beverly’s relationship with Adam. And she knew all about Zelda’s attempts at seducing Adam because he’d been forthright with her about it. At least, she’d thought so. Had he changed his mind about getting back together with his ex-wife?
Afraid she’d turn into a road-raging driver if she wasn’t careful, she climbed into her car, took some deep breaths, and focused on her driving. What she needed was a friendly face, and one of the friendliest she knew was Agnes Flamm.
What she hadn’t expected was for another friendly face to be there, surprised to find Harlan at Agnes’s shop again. In fact, she was fairly sure he’d been there a lot lately. She gave him a big hug and asked, “Is the antiques store okay? No attempted arson?”
“Prospero and that Mr. X fellow have set me up with some amazing security. Maybe you were right about him, after all. I’ll be fine, Beverly. Don’t you fret now.”
She looked around for Agnes and the other staff, and Harlan helpfully told her, “Sharon’s on the café side working with customers. Blaine’s in the stock room. Agnes had to run to the bank but should be back any minute.”
Any minute was right, as the woman in question strolled into the store at the exact moment. She smiled when she saw Beverly, but her smile morphed into a small frown when she got a better look at her. “You look you’ve had some bad news. Spill.”
“I’m not sure I want to talk about it.”
“Sharing burdens makes them lighter.”
Beverly sighed, and Harlan patted her on the shoulder. “She’s right, you know. Maybe we can help.”
“I had an unpleasant encounter with the mayor’s wife.”
“Ah.” Harlan gave a half-smile. “I know Zelda well, of course. I have mixed feelings about her. I kind of liked her when she was married to Adam, though I never thought they were a good match. But after she left him for the mayor, I didn’t think as kindly of her. And why is she giving our poor Beverly a hard time?”
Agnes gave Beverly a knowing look and said to Harlan. “We’ll discuss it later.”
Beverly was grateful Agnes had saved her embarrassment over her feelings—and Zelda’s—about Adam. The whole thing was excruciating. This is why she didn’t trust romantic attachments. They always turned out badly.
Harlan scratched his chin. “Sometimes I wish I could just deck Mayor Lehmann over his treachery. And the way he puts pressure on Adam and Chief Quinn. In my younger days . . . ”
Agnes tapped her foot on the floor. “I don’t understand why everyone can’t see he’s corrupt. Why did he get re-elected?”
Harlan replied, “He tells people what they want to hear, don’t you know. Makes for a great politician but a lousy human being.”
Beverly stayed a few minutes longer, but they were quite busy with several customers streaming through the store. Feeling like she was in the way, she returned to the Apple Valley Resort. But she didn’t go to her room just yet. She was still unsettled and restless.
§ § §
Beverly was in luck because Gloria was working in the resort’s café. Beverly also liked talking to Nyssa, but she felt more of a connection to Gloria, who already knew about Zelda and Adam. They sat down at a table since the café was empty at that time of day.
Gloria listened as Beverly vented, nodding in sympathy. “She probably made all of that up, Beverly. You can’t believe a word she says. And do you really think she’d leave the mayor—who might be governor someday—and all that money and fame and glory to go back to a police detective? It’s not her style.”
“Suppose you’re right.” But there had been something in Zelda’s swagger that wasn’t there before. Did she and Adam really have sex? After everything he’d said about her?
Gloria frowned. “I’ve got a little venting to do, too.”
“Really? What’s the matter?”
“I’m furious with Ramsay about his lawsuit against Harlan. I mean, I understand it’s as much about getting revenge on his estranged late father as anything.”
“Must have been hard for him with their toxic relationship.”
“Ramsay’s father never seemed to love him and chose to part ways with him after Ramsay married a Vietnamese wife. Prejudice and all. So while I’m understanding to a point, at the same time, I’m angry.” Gloria sighed. “I’m also falling for him more. That makes it harder.”
“Harder seems to be the operative word these days.”
Gloria looked past Beverly out toward the lobby and sat up straighter. Beverly turned around as a male voice said, “Thought you were going on break soon.”
Ramsay Ryall walked toward them and stopped in his tracks when he recognized Beverly. He gave a little bow. “Miss Laborde.”
Never one to back down from a fight, Beverly came right out and said, “What’s all this about a lawsuit aimed at Harlan, Ramsay?”
“Just looking out after my interests. I only want what’s fair, nothing more.”
“But a lawsuit? That’ll just mean money for lawyers. And it could drag out for years. Neither one of you can afford that.”
Ramsay rubbed his hand over his face. “Look, I have to do this. I can’t expect you to understand.”
That face of his was on the haggard side, and he also walked with a slight limp. Beverly had seen first-hand how hard he worked at the resort, often putting in large amounts of overtime. It wasn’t exactly a lucrative job. Extra money sure wouldn’t hurt.
She hopped up and grabbed three cups, poured coffee from the urn in each, and handed them out. “My treat.”
Ramsay sat down at the table after she added, “Not a bribe. You just looked like you needed it.”
He nodded his thanks, added some sugar and cream, and gulped some of the liquid down. Beverly asked, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, anyway. Not about Harlan, about Darnell Warner.”
“That red-bearded guy? The thug who aided in the murder of my brother? What about him?”
“Have you seen him lately?”
“Why? You think he’s stalking me?” Ramsay’s eyes widened.
“No, not that. But there’s been at least one sighting of him.”
Ramsay slumped over the table. “To be honest, I’ve been looking over my shoulder ever since that guy went AWOL. When that dirty attorney bailed him out. The thing I don’t understand is why a slimy lawyer who usually takes on sleazy rich clients would represent Warner.”
“It’s complicated, but Warner—I call him Redbeard—has ties to powerful people.”
“Figures. It’s funny you should ask if I’d seen him. That’s why I asked about the whole stalking thing. Because I thought I noticed Warner following me the other day.”
“Are sure it was him?
“Caught a glimpse of red hair. But then, I figured it was my imagination playing tricks. I make sure I carry my gun with me now.”
Beverly gave a quick glance at her purse, where her own gun was stowed. “Where did you think you saw him?”
“Over in Mapleville.”
The insurance rep, Mark Grightell, mentioned Redbeard had a friend in Brattleboro. Mapleville was even closer. Was Redbeard circling around to the scene of his crime again? Didn’t make any sense and seemed far more likely the guy would be in Canada by now after smuggling himself over the border. Or on a boat to the Caribbean.
But Redbeard had been one of Forsythe’s lackeys and stayed loyal to his crime boss. It was possible he’d switched loyalties to Ivon Kozak. Could Kozak possibly give him the protection he needed to stay at arm’s length from the law in exchange for Redbeard’s “talents?”
Forsythe’s words in the nursing home haunted her, “Dutton will pay, and so will you.” Maybe Forsythe had somehow managed to order Redbeard around during other periods of Forsythe’s return to consciousness. And maybe it was he who was running the show and not Kozak. If true, then Adam was in very great danger.
Chapter 29
Adam stood in front of the old grain elevator factory, studying the deserted building that had graffiti plastered across in neon letters. When he’d looked up the address, he discovered it had been abandoned for a while after a downturn in the grain industry.
It was hard to see all the details in the waning light of the day, but he spied two entrances, one in front and another on the side that was boarded up. It was an unlikely place for a meeting, but this is where his anonymous “informant” had said to come for information about Ivon Kozak.
Adam would have brought Jinks along, but she was delayed tying up pieces of her pharmacy robbery case. He patted the gun in his shoulder holster and peered inside the main entrance. It was even darker than the outside, and when he flipped the one light switch nearby, nothing happened. Figured. Why would anyone pay for electricity in an empty building?
And it was indeed empty, save for all the rotting wooden pallets, rusted metal bars, and leftover equipment lining the two-story structure. The layers of dust must be a foot thick, making it hard sometimes to tell where the floor was. He fought the urge to sneeze and slipped inside the main hall which was open to the second floor—basically a second-floor platform all the way around—with smaller offshoot rooms on the first floor.
There didn’t seem to be anyone there, but Adam was sure he had the right place and the right time. He called out, “Anyone here? It’s Detective Dutton.”
The only reply was more silence and the steady rustling of the wind through the cracks in the walls and ceiling. He kept scanning the space in a methodical manner listening for even the slightest sound. That’s why he was able to duck when a shot rang out, a bullet missing him by inches.
Adam skidded into a nearby room, although the cracked walls only gave him partial cover. He didn’t return fire, not yet. No reason to give away his exact location.
He wiped his sweating palms on his slacks and tiptoed around a stack of metal containers to get a peek through a section of missing wallboards. But he accidentally kicked an empty aluminum can sending it flying, and the clattering sound echoed throughout the building.
Another shot flew through the opening in the wall, and Adam ducked again. He was at a disadvantage in more ways than one. His attacker had likely scouted the place out beforehand and was more familiar with the layout.
Adam edged through the room toward the end where he spied a small sliver of light pouring through. Another opening, he hoped. He slowed his breathing and listened again for any slightest hint of a noise, rewarded when he heard a scraping sound from the upper story.
With his gun in hand, he picked his way through the room and slipped out the doorway at the rear which brought him out into the larger room. Another bullet rang past him, and he ducked behind a stack of concrete slabs. Bullet-resistant, even if his location wasn’t exactly a big secret any longer.
He’d be a sitting duck if he stayed there, so he headed for another room to his right. At the sound of a loud creaking, he looked up just in time to avoid being pummeled by a pulley swinging at him from an overhead chain that crashed into the wall, splintering it.
The bastard had launched a chainsaw blade at him. But Adam’s dive out of the way of the pulley had cost him—it knocked his gun out of his hand, and it slid into an opening between the concrete slabs, burying it.
Adam rolled into the room and leaned against the wall. He had a reasonably good idea who his opponent was, and he needed to keep him talking. “That you, Warner?”
A loud bellow of laughter answered him. “You think you’re so smart, Dutton. But you couldn’t keep me nailed down, could you? I’ve eluded you and all of those state keystone-cops for weeks.”
“Why don’t you turn yourself in? The charges you’re already facing pale in comparison to shooting an officer of the law.”
“That’s rich. You’ve already got enough to put me away for life, and you know it.”
While Redbeard was talking, Adam found a hole in the wall of his present room to look out of. His gaze followed the other man’s voice toward the top of the second floor, open to the main floor below.
Adam could just make out the other man’s silhouette. He must have climbed up the ladder Adam spied, meaning he wouldn’t have an easy way down. That might work in Adam’s favor.
Redbeard hooted, “You’re cornered, Dutton. You aren’t going anywhere. But I must admit, you’re a hard man to kill. Did you not like that little present I sent you?”
Adam said, “If you mean the pipe bomb, it was real thoughtful.”
“Maybe things are getting a little too hot to handle. For you and your friends, wouldn’t you say? You think you’re smarter than someone like Ivon Kozak, but you’re not. He’s way ahead of you. And so am I.”
The wind had picked up, and the howls coming through the cracks in the building were louder, almost sounding like a movie-ghost groaning. Adam needed to distract the man, and for that, he needed him talking. “I don’t think you’re so smart at all, Warner. One of the Forsythes is dead, and the other is as good as, right? You and your new pal Kozak will end up just like them.”
“Wouldn’t count on that.”
“What makes you so sure?”
That started Redbeard off on a tirade about the police and how he’d had enough of rules and regulations while he was in the military. Taking the opportunity, Adam spied a tall board with a flat bottom and stood it on its end. He then took off his coat and draped it over the board, pushing it as quietly as he could toward the room’s entrance and parking it there.
Time for a little of those hunting and tracking skills Adam’s father had taught him when he was just a boy. Think SSS, his father had said—scan your surroundings, study your escape routes, and spot every movement.
At the end of the room Adam was currently in, he spied the outlines of a rope dangling from the ceiling. Another way up to the second floor, perhaps?
Knowing he didn’t have a lot of time, Adam gingerly moved to the rope and tugged on it. Seemed safe. It was now or never since Redbeard’s rant would wind down any second. Adam was also grateful for his boxing training with Frank Ethridge because it had built up his muscles enough to make the climb up the rope easier than he’d feared.
Somehow, he managed to swing himself over the edge onto the second-floor platform where he rolled behind some boxes that smelled of mold and old grease. Now, if he could just keep Redbeard talking long enough to make a run at him.
But the other man finally stopped his rant and said, “Isn’t that right, Dutton?”
When Adam didn’t answer, he heard Redbeard shifting his weight around on the second-floor platform, and another shot rang out. From the sound of the bullet’s trajectory, Adam was certain the man had aimed for his “double” with the coat.
This hypothesis was proved correct with a loud clattering in the room where his dummy stood. The poor wooden schlub had taken a dive for Adam, and Adam was grateful. But that meant he had no time left for finessing his attack, so he stood up and charged around the boxes toward Redbeard’s position.
The man’s surprise made him freeze for an instant, but that was all Adam needed to pick up a small wooden pallet and heave it at Redbeard’s gun hand. Redbeard started cursing as his gun fell out of his hand and skidded off the edge to the floor one story below. He squatted down to the floor, grabbed something, and then flung handfuls of dust in Adam’s direction.
Adam immediately started coughing, and his eyes burned and watered, making it hard to see. He heard the crash of glass breaking, followed by the telltale odor of fire and smoke. First one crash and then another.
Redbeard laughed. “You’ll never get out, Dutton. The entrances are all blocked now. Or will be soon.”
Adam wiped his eyes with his sleeve and tried his best to clear his vision enough to see what was going on. Redbeard’s Molotov cocktail was already spreading a roaring fire at the main entrance to the warehouse. And a second was now blocking Adam’s path with tongues of fire lapping at the floorboards.
Redbeard wouldn’t have done this without a way to escape. Must be behind the trail of fire ahead. Adam took off his belt, slung it over an exposed pipe above him, and kicked off the wall. He pulled up his feet and propelled himself over the flames until he could jump down in a clear spot ahead.
That’s when he spied a glass-free window, and when he looked out, there was a ladder leading all the way to the ground. Damn the man. Adam wasn’t about to let him get away a second time.
Adam scrambled down the ladder in record time, ignoring the splinters slicing through his palms, and raced around the front of the building. There, he saw Redbeard standing very still. With his hands in the air.
Adam walked over to the woman holding a gun on Redbeard. “Glad you could make it, Jinks.”
“Can’t let you have all the fun, Dutton.” She nodded at the handcuffs lying on the hood of her car.
Adam grabbed them, twisted Redbeard’s arms behind him, and slapped on the cuffs. “Feels good out here. Things were getting a little too toasty inside.”
Jinks snorted. “Should have brought my marshmallows.”
Redbeard glared at each one of them in turn, and Adam said, “You’re really going to owe me this time, Warner. I lost my good winter coat and my best gun.”
Redbeard mumbled something that would have made a sailor blush. Jinks said, “Aww, now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings. And I’m going to have to wash your mouth out with soap for all those curse words.”
