Burn Away, page 23
Kozak’s face was dark and threatening, which he had a way of channeling only at her. Anyone else in the room looking at them right then might see him as merely being polite, if a bit “focused.”
He sipped some more of his drink and took his time answering. “You should be quite careful about making such false accusations.”
“But are they so false? What are the chances something like that would happen on its own? I mean, there have been rumors about you that are going around in the antiques world in this state. Ugly rumors.”
“Miss Pyke, I must firmly reiterate that my offer is the very best you are going to receive. And you should really keep your mouth shut regarding things you have no business digging into.”
“Why is that?”
“You might not like the consequences.”
“Are you threatening me, Mr. Kozak?”
“I don’t threaten, Miss Pyke. But I do believe you’re a little too smart for your own good.”
“Like Jared Lake, perhaps?”
Kozak downed the rest of his drink in two gulps and rose stiffly as he prepared to leave. He said, “I’ll give you a few days to think about it. But only a few days. After that . . . ”
Beverly had a good idea of what would happen “after that.” And she and Mr. X had to make something happen very soon or else the real Rachael Pyke and her business would be in great jeopardy in a couple of days’ time. Maybe Mr. X could rig up some extra security from his vast collection of devices and tools. But would it be enough?
Before Kozak left, she had to get in one more dig at the man and said to his retreating back, “Reggie Forsythe.”
He stopped in his tracks for a moment and turned around slowly to face her. “What about him?”
“He thought he was a Big Cheese, too, but look at where he is now. In a nursing home in a coma. Well, he was in a coma, that is.”
Kozak blinked at her. “Was?”
“I hear he’s awakened and is doing much better.”
Every muscle in Kozak’s body seemed to tense into a missile of sinew and gristle, and he looked as if he was ready to rocket through the ceiling right then and there. He gritted his teeth and slapped some money done on the table for the drinks. “Three days, Miss Pyke.”
After he was gone, Mr. X slid into his seat and rescued the recording device. Beverly put her head in her hands. “What if we’ve doomed Rachel Pyke’s store?”
“Not to worry. I’ve thought of that.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Not do, did.”
“Still not following.”
“Kozak is going to be at a meeting today in . . . ” Mr. X looked at his watch. “A little over half an hour. And I’ve arranged for the real Miss Pyke to attend the meeting and introduce herself in person.”
“What?” Beverly’s jaw dropped open. “But he’ll know I was a fake.”
“Precisely.”
“Oh, I see. Yes, I suppose that might work.” Beverly was a little more skeptical of the outcome than he was, but she hoped his instincts regarding Kozak were correct. Having worked alongside both Forsythes for years, Mr. X knew his way around evil pretty well.
He tossed the little recording device into a pocket. “We didn’t get him to admit to anything directly. But it’s very suggestive.”
“Isn’t recording someone without their permission—”
“Against the law and inadmissible in court?”
“Something like that.”
“Oh, this isn’t for your detective friends, Beverly. This is insurance for us. And if Detective Dutton should need additional convincing, this may do the trick.”
Beverly signaled the waiter to order another Tom Collins, and Mr. X said to “Make it two.”
“One of us should be the designated driver.”
He replied, “Then let’s have some food. We can stay awhile and scheme. I’ve heard scheming burns calories and reduces blood alcohol content at the same time.”
She smiled and tipped her glass. “You always know how to say the nicest things to a girl.” After grabbing a menu from the end of the table, she added, “Did you see his face when I told him about Forsythe?”
“I did. Most rewarding. Although I feared for a moment, he might hit you.”
“As the bearer of bad tidings?”
Xenakis nodded. “But he’s such a physically mousy little man, I doubt he would have had the strength to do it. And he didn’t have Redbeard or any other of his minions along to do it for him.”
Beverly closed the menu, realizing she wasn’t all that hungry. “Adam called Kozak a true psychopath. No feelings for anyone, overly sensitive about whims and slights. A very cold and calculating man.”
Mr. X agreed, “A fair assessment.”
“What do you think he’ll do? Now that he knows his rival, Reggie Forsythe, might not be out of the picture?”
“Bide his time, perhaps. Even if Forsythe lives, several of the man’s former criminal associates are now in prison. Kozak may feel Forsythe’s glory days are behind him, either way.”
“I guess. But it was still fun to see that smug expression wiped off his face.” She took a few sips of the cocktail. “As you say, we’ve flushed out the pheasant. We’ll just have to wait and see where he lands.”
Chapter 40
Adam had conspired with Joe Brimm to be in the lobby of the police station as the two men innocently chatted about the weather and the UVM hockey team. While they were standing there near the front desk, Cray walked into the station and handed over a note to the receptionist. “This is for Sgt. Mike Moody. It’s rather urgent. Could you see he gets it?”
Cray turned on his heel and left, and Arline Newton, the PD senior receptionist, called Moody on the intercom. Minutes later, Moody showed up at the desk while Adam continued to “chat” with Brimm as he flipped through a file folder.
When Moody picked up the envelope, Arline explained, “The fellow who brought this said it was urgent.”
Moody opened it, and his face darkened. He said to Arline, “I’ve got to leave for a while. If anybody needs me, I’ve got my cell.” Then he practically flew out the door.
Adam waved to Joe Brimm and Arline with a big smile. “I’ve got to head out too. Early lunch. Anybody need anything?”
She blew him a kiss and said no. Adam gave Brimm a knowing look and headed out the exit, still trying to look nonchalant.
Adam didn’t have to tail Moody because he knew exactly where the guy was headed. Moody’s target—and therefore Adam’s—was in a section of the county Adam didn’t get to that often. But when he got closer to the shuttered storage units, he recalled seeing them a few years before. Back when they were newer and filled with the various so-called treasures of the customers. Most of the units weren’t even locked anymore, their open doors yawning into the afternoon air.
It was rare Adam could take his time getting to a stakeout, and he relished not having to speed. But his pulse was still elevated, all the same. This bit of theater could go in several different ways, depending on how it all shook out.
He spied Moody’s maroon pickup truck parked outside the gated facility with the entrance open. Moody must have a key—or an unlawful way of picking the front lock. Adam bided his time while Moody scurried around the corner toward the rear storage units.
As Adam followed the man and peeked around the wall, he saw Moody fumbling with the lock on one particular unit. It was the only unit Adam saw that was locked. Why just the one? In an abandoned storage facility, no less?
Moody finally managed the lock and flung open the door. He looked inside it with a frown. After he’d disappeared inside, Adams spied Jinks heading out from around the other side of the building where she’d been hiding.
Jinks used the sign language she’d taught Adam to tell him it was time to make their move on Moody. They stood outside the unit and peered inside. Adam saw several things in one quick glance—for one, there were more funky items like that little Steampunk octopus-ashtray of Beverly’s. But even more interesting, Moody was pawing through a box and pulled out some materials that looked for all the world like pipe bomb and arson ingredients—wires, tubing, fuses, timers, and a canister filled with black powder.
Adam called out, “Want to tell us what you were going to do with those, Mike?”
Moody whipped around, his eyes wide as he stood frozen in place. He didn’t say anything at first. Then he threw the box down and pushed past Adam, almost knocking him over in the process. As he scrambled in the direction of his truck, Adam and Jinks took off in hot pursuit. But they skidded to a halt when they saw a car blocking the exit to the gate.
Chief Quinn stood in front of the car, watching the proceedings. He said to Moody, “Going somewhere, Sergeant?”
As Adam and Jinks rushed up to handcuff Moody, he started yelling at them. “This is harassment, pure and simple. Planting evidence to try to trap me. My cousin, the mayor, will hear about this.”
Quinn replied, “Yes, yes he will. You can be certain on that count.”
Adam and Jinks hustled Moody into Adam’s car as Joe Brimm, Sergeant Bill Naigle, Sergeant Gray, and a videographer carrying video gear climbed out of the chief’s sedan.
Adam pointed toward Moody’s unit in the back of the lot. “It’s open and ready for you. You can’t miss it. Just look for the one with all the black powder and accelerants.”
Quinn watched them scurry in the direction Adam had pointed and said to him, “I’d like to supervise the whole procedure. Make sure everything is done to the letter, so Mayor Lehmann can’t say it was a set-up. Dutton, you and Jinks take Moody to the station. The crew and I will arrive later.”
Moody didn’t say anything at first on the long ride back, but Adam saw the man via the rear-view mirror glaring at them. Adam said, “Did you know you dropped a little Steampunk octopus-ashtray item? When you were scurrying away from the arson you helped start at Jared Lake’s antiques shop?”
Moody’s jaw dropped. “What? I didn’t . . . ” and then he snapped his jaw shut with an audible click. He kept up his refusal to speak when they arrived at the station, saying only that he wanted his attorney. When Jinks asked which one, Moody replied, “Douglas Marcell.”
Adam tsked. “It’s probably not the best idea to be on good terms with the same lawyer who represents such criminals as Forsythe and Darnell Warner. And Ivon Kozak.”
Moody’s head snapped up at the mention of Kozak’s name. He turned red but didn’t say anything about Kozak. He just kept whining that he was being framed because they were trying to keep him from becoming a detective, adding, “You’ll live to regret this.”
Jinks just smiled at him. “Somebody will, that’s for sure. Don’t think it’s going to be us, though.”
They left him steaming in one of the jail cells and returned to Adam’s office. Jinks plonked down into a chair. “Can’t help but worry Mayor Lehmann and Marcell will somehow be able to beat this. And say it really was trumped-up charges.”
“That’s why Chief Quinn had Gayle Henley with Joe Brimm and the crew. She’s the best videographer in the area. Has worked with most of the police departments at some point.”
Recognition dawned on Jinks’s face. “I thought I’d seen her before. Quinn decided to add her at the last minute?”
“Yeah. Good thing she was available. She’ll document everything and make sure it’s all on tape.”
“And once they only find Moody’s fingerprints are on the materials . . . ”
Adam grinned. “Coupled with the photocopied threatening letters tied to the sleazebag Leon Nolen’s delivery company, and we should have plenty enough to convince the internal affairs investigators, the FBI, the ATF, and any jury.”
Jinks tilted back in the chair, almost making it tip over. “But now we’ve got two canaries that are mute and don’t want to sing. How do we nab Kozak, then?”
“Once he knows two of his main cohorts are behind bars, he might start to get desperate. And desperate crooks get careless.”
“What’s next, then, McDutton?”
“All I know for sure is Redbeard and Moody better like mystery-meat surprise. Because that’s what they’re going to be enjoying for their Christmas dinner wearing their cute little matching orange outfits.”
Chapter 41
At any other time, Beverly would have relished the chance to just sit and chat with Mr. X away from his usual haunts and hers. To learn more about him. His origins, for one. And how such an educated, polished, cultured man ended up working with an antiques crime syndicate that he later disowned.
Fortunately, the food was good at Capp’s Tap House, and the drinks weren’t half-bad, either. She was just starting to relax from the effects of the Tom Collins when Mr. X got a call on his cellphone. Beverly couldn’t quite tell the entire conversation from his end, but it was enough to know what the call was about.
When he hung up, she said, “Rachel Pyke? The real one?”
“It was. I asked her to report back after her meeting where Kozak was in attendance. To her credit, she followed my instructions to the letter. She went up to him and introduced herself.”
“What did he say to that?”
“He said basically, ‘you’re the owner of Treasured Remembrances?’”
“How did she respond?”
“She told him yes, and why was he asking? He replied that he met someone recently who pretended to be her.”
“Uh-oh.”
“But that’s exactly what I’d hoped. She told him it was probably just a prank, and he shouldn’t worry about it. And then, she told him she had changed her mind and was open to negotiations about the store but had to check with her attorney and insurance reps first.”
Beverly leaned back in the booth with a smile. “And thus, her store is likely not to become arson-bait any time soon.”
“Exactly.”
She took one last sip of her drink. “And here I was worried. I should know you better than that.”
When Mr. X’s cellphone rang again, he apologized and almost tossed the phone on the seat next to him. But when he saw the caller, he added, “I think I’d better take this one.”
He listened intently for a few minutes, with only a few murmurs of agreement in reply. When he finished, he said to Beverly, “I have a little bird who keeps me posted on all things related to the police in this area. It seems Detective Dutton and his cohorts have arrested Sergeant Mike Moody.”
Beverly almost jumped out of her seat. “For real? They must have got something airtight on him. Otherwise, they would have waited until they could be certain they didn’t upset Mayor Lehmann.”
“I’m told they found him in possession of materials related to bomb-making and arson. Even Chief Quinn was in on the collar.”
“The chief was there, too? Oh, that would have been fun to see.” Beverly took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “I feel like an elephant—make that a mastodon—was just lifted off me.”
“It does seem to be a positive development. Leaving only one remaining actor in this drama.”
“Kozak.”
“Yes. I must say, Beverly, you are really quite the actress. I’ve enjoyed watching you use your talents in person.”
“I don’t know, I think I might have a rival in that department. Although I have a long way to go to match both your experience and expertise.”
He gave a little head bow and then studied her “disguise,” such as it was. “Are you up for another opportunity to win an Academy Award?”
She perked up. “I’m listening.”
“I think I’d like to pay a little visit to the bookie, Leroy Schick.”
“The one who loaned money to Moody?”
“And also to Jared Lake, it seems. I think I have a role for him, too, in this drama of ours.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“What’s one of your favorite personas? I don’t want him to know your real name.”
She thought a moment. “Kornelson will do.”
“Excellent. Shall we start the performance?”
§ § §
When they pulled up in front of Schick’s office, Beverly pointed at the sign. “Wealth consultant?”
“A little joke on his part. I don’t really see the humor in it, myself.”
Beverly bit back a smile. She hadn’t seen Mr. X utter a good belly laugh since she’d known him. In fact, she wasn’t even sure he knew how.
They walked into the office, and when Schick took one look at Mr. X, he stood up straight and gulped several times in a row. “Xenakis. You don’t usually come slumming in these parts.”
“It became necessary.”
Schick’s eyes widened, and he stammered, “I don’t have any business with you. I’m an honest businessman. I don’t want no trouble.”
“Is there some sort of trouble I should know about?”
“No, none, nothing. Really. All’s good, yep good.”
“That is most reassuring. Because I have a little job for you.”
Schick stared at him. “A job? From you? For me?”
Mr. X motioned with his hand toward Beverly. “My companion, Miss Kornelsen, has a beef with Ivon Kozak. I believe you’ve heard of him?”
“Kozak, sure? I don’t got no business with him, neither.”
“Naturally. Since you’re an honest businessman. This is what we need you to do. You will give Ivon Kozak a call—”
“No, no, no. Not calling him. No way.”
Mr. X stared at Schick for several moments without blinking. Finally, Schick said, “What would I be calling him about?”
“It’s very simple. You’ll just be relaying a message. You are to tell him Sergeant Mike Moody is singing in jail and that Kozak should watch his back.”
“Is that it?”
“That is all.”
Schick stood there in a quiver of indecision. He wrung his hands together and stared at Beverly and then Mr. X. Beverly was interested to see that Schick appeared more afraid of Xenakis than Kozak.
