BM03 - Crazy Little Thing Called Dead (17 page)

“Charge her? I was going to kill her.” I was tugging now, struggling. My heart hadn’t stopped its furious beating. I could still get her.

Chapter Eleven

“You’d be dead before Tom had time to arrest you. No. Come on. Leave your truck here; I’m taking you to the wake.” Hambecker steered me across the grass, away from the place Ledroit stood unmolested by me, to where his Escalade was parked. I wasn’t in the car two minutes before the unused adrenaline in my body backed up on me and I burst into tears. Hambecker gathered me in his arms and held me close, which just upset me more. I didn’t want him to see me cry.

“Easy now,” He said. “It’s going to be all right.”

“I’m not crying,” I sobbed. “I’m mad.”

“I know, you’re frustrated. I stopped you from taking charge. You can hit me if you want.” He had me tight. I couldn’t have hit him if I’d wanted to.

“She killed Grant. He was so alive, and she killed him. I hate her.” I was calming down, the sobs weren’t as uncontrollable. I let Hambecker hold me a couple of minutes longer so he’d feel like he was doing something. “I’m okay now,” I said. I pulled away and dragged a tissue from my pocket. “We can go to the party.”

“Wake,” he said, snapping on his seatbelt and putting the key in the ignition. “It’s not a party, it’s a wake. There’s a difference.”

“How’s it different?” I pulled down the visor to inspect the damage. Red nose, red eyes, smeared mascara. Great.

“There’s a lot more drinking at a wake than a party.”

“I’d forgotten that. It’s a good thing I’m not driving.” Victor Hugo Puccini popped into my head. “Hey, I’ve got something to tell you—I talked to Hugh, Ronnie’s brother.” I could see the lecture forming in his brain. “He wants a deal. If you can promise him Ronnie will be protected, he’ll turn state’s evidence.” I looked at him expectantly. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yes. That is very good. When I talked to him Wednesday it didn’t seem like he’d turn.” He drummed on the steering wheel. “This will move things along.” He parked the car at the little senior center that was being used as the reception hall.

I unbuckled and he reached across the SUV and pulled me to him. “Thanks.” He dropped a kiss on my head and let me go, which had the unfortunate effect of reminding me of the other night. I was mad when he opened the car door. He stepped back warily, and eyed me.

“What just happened?” he asked. “Did I miss something?”

“Tuesday night. You kissed me just like that before you disappeared for two days.”

“Is there any point in saying I’m sorry?” His face was so much like a little boy, his eyes big and eyebrows raised and a tentative smile that I didn’t blast him the way I’d planned.

“You are such a child. Come on, we’re missing the toasts.”

***

There was a familiar Mercedes SUV parked in front of my house when I arrived home, and the dogs raising holy hell in the house. As I slid out of my truck the driver door of the SUV opened and Michèle Ledroit got out. Crap. Really, really bad timing. I should have stayed and got drunk at the wake with the rest of the town.

“You found my house.” My heart was beating hard. I wiped my hands on my jeans.

“Not difficult. You are well known and your neighbors are quite obliging.” She had her purse over her shoulder and a large manila envelope in her hand.

“Hard not to be well known in a town this size.” I’d left my purse in my truck so I had exactly nothing in my hands. I felt naked. “Why are you here? I would have called if I’d had any information.”

“I assumed you’d call me if you found Victor Puccini.” She opened the envelope and I got a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. The crying girlfriend has gone. This was the Margaret LeDonne I’d seen on the street in New York.

“I didn’t find him.” I was finding it hard to breathe right.

“See this?” She pulled a photo from the envelope. “This is a photo of you. In New York City, across the street from where I was speaking with Victor Puccini.”

It was a picture of Hambecker and me taken through the glass door of the building we’d been hiding in. We were arguing. My blood turned to ice. Did she know who Hambecker was? I felt like the mice Annabelle Cat played catch and release with in the field. Any moment could be my last, or Michèle could get tired of tracking me and I could go free.

“I was having dinner with a friend in the city. I had no idea Victor was there.” I willed the panic back down into the recesses of my mind. I needed to think.

“My instincts tell me you’re hiding something from me, and my instincts are rarely wrong.” She pulled a small handgun from her bag. “Perhaps a little target practice? That lovely cat on the porch rail?” She pulled the trigger and Annabelle the cat squealed and jumped. She was around the house in a flash. I went to the porch, no blood.

“Tell me.” Another shot rang out, one of the small rectangles of glass in my door shattered and there was a yelp from in the house. Breathing was nearly impossible.

“Stop shooting. I’ll tell you. He’s at his sister’s house in Chelsea. You couldn’t find her because she has a different last name. But that’s where he is. Her name is Carly Simons.” I gave her the address of the courthouse in Chelsea, hoping she wouldn’t think to Google it before she left.

“If you are not telling the truth, every last one of those animals will die. And then so will you.”

Ledroit/LeDonne got into her car and drove away, leaving me shattered on the porch.

I ran inside. Ranger was under the table whimpering. There was blood on his shoulder, staining his grey coat. I crawled under the table and put my hand on his head. “Easy boy. Easy now.” His shoulder was a mess. “Come on baby. Let’s go.”

He crawled out from under the table and cried out as he stood. Fresh blood oozed onto his shoulder. I knew I should pack it, but time was short. He limped out to the truck with me and I helped him in. I was dialing as I backed around and headed out. First, the vet, who agreed to stay open until I got there. Then Tom. Not at the office. I tried home. The line was busy. I tried the number Victor gave me.

“Listen,” I said when he answered. “You don’t have much time. Ledroit—LeDonne, whatever her name is, knows you are in town. I sent her to Chelsea, but it won’t be long before she figures out that’s wrong and comes after you. Get Ronnie out of there.” I hung up. I didn’t have time to commiserate.

I tried the house again and this time got Tom.

“Meet me at the animal hospital. Ledroit is back in town. She shot Ranger. She might have got Annabelle too, but I didn’t have time to go looking.” I drove as safely as I could with Ranger bleeding in the seat beside me.

The whole crew was still in the office when I got to the animal hospital, which surprised me. I was after four on a Friday afternoon.

The vet tech took Ranger from me as I walked in, saying “She scrubbing up in the back, do you want to come with him?”

“Normally I would, you know that. But the state police are meeting me. He’s in good hands.” I rubbed Ranger behind the ears. “Good boy,” I said quietly, “you go on back.”

Tom drove up before I had time to sit down in the waiting area and I went out to meet him. He unlocked the passenger side of his cruiser and I got in. I’d been in emergency mind-set. Doing triage in my mind, Ranger first, then the people, praying I’d find Annabelle Cat safe when I got home. Knowing that I’d be in hot trouble when Ledroit found out I’d sent her on a wild goose chase. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. It wouldn’t do me any good to fall apart now.

“Just relax for a minute, Richard is joining us. You look like you could use a break.” Tom was frowning at me but I couldn’t be bothered to figure out why. I was busy trying to stem the rising panic. Maybe two minutes went by before I heard a vehicle pull in next to us. The rear door opened and Hambecker slid into the back.

“So MacGowan, is blood the new black or what?” His voice was tight.

“What are you talking about?” I pulled down the visor and flipped open the mirror. I was a bloody mess. “Ranger got shot. It must be his blood. Just deal with it.”

“That explains why we’re meeting at the animal hospital. Is he going to be okay?” Hambecker was very matter of fact, which was calming.

“I think so. There’s a lot of blood, but I don’t think the wound is very deep.” I sighed. “We don’t have time to worry about Ranger right now. Michèle Ledroit, ugh, Margaret LeDonne, whatever her name is—”

“Let’s just agree to call her Ledroit, it will be simpler for you,” Tom said.

“I sent her on a wild goose chase to Chelsea, but she’s going to be coming after me and Victor, both. She has a picture of us in New York, Hammie. In the foyer of that building. She doesn’t seem to know who you are, but she knew that I knew who Victor was. I called Victor and told him to get lost.”

To Hambecker’s credit he swore softly under his breath but didn’t yell at me for screwing up his case. “The question is,” he said, “what do we do now? We’ve got a case against LeDo—Ledroit but we need Puccini to prosecute. We can’t offer him protection if we can’t find him. We need to keep you out of Ledroit’s way.”

“I’m going to radio the Sherriff office in Chelsea. I’ll tell them to keep an eye out for Ledroit and detain her for the slightest infraction. Hopefully she’ll be pissed off enough to do something stupid and we’ll be able to keep her off the streets for a couple of days.” Tom got on the radio and got cooperation from the sheriff. “Hopefully we can catch a break there. Next thing is, how do we keep you safe? I guess we could lock you in a holding cell at the barracks.”

“Oh, joy. Just what I’ve always wanted.” Although, if I were to be truthful, lockup sounded way better than dead.

“No need,” Hambecker said. “I’ll keep her with me. If we don’t get lucky in Chelsea I’ll take her to a hotel. If we
do
get lucky and Ledroit is stuck in lockup for a couple of days, I’ll stay at her place.”

“If I have to go to a hotel I’m taking the dogs with me. I’m not leaving them to be picked off one at a time by Ledroit.” In the course of the conversation, I’d transformed from terrified to raging anger. That bitch shot my dog.

My veterinarian came out of the building and beckoned to me. I got out of the car and went to her. I noticed that both Tom and Hambecker got out too. It seemed I’d gained two bodyguards.

“He’s fine,” the doctor said. “The bullet grazed him and he bled some, but we’ve stitched him up. He’ll be sore for a couple of days. You can take him home.”

I burst into tears.

***

Hambecker and I left my truck at the animal hospital and were on our way to Ronnie’s when we got some good news. The Chelsea sheriff discovered Michèle Ledroit swearing in front of the courthouse. When he went to detain her she round-housed him with her purse. The purse had her gun in it, which wouldn’t have been a problem—it’s not illegal to carry concealed weapons in Vermont—but the impact made the Deputy see stars and he charged her with assault on a police officer. We’d gotten a reprieve.

The mood in the SUV lightened considerably, and I felt the knot in my chest ease as we drove the rest of the way up Route 110. Ranger would be okay, Annabelle Cat would come home and Ledroit would be confined to the Chelsea jailhouse for at least a couple of day. You could almost call me cheerful.

Neither Ronnie nor her brother were at the house, not that I was surprised. If it were me, I’d be long gone. Hambecker took a jog around the property but there was no sign of them. We climbed back into the Escalade and he pulled back onto the road, headed toward home and relaxed in the glow of oncoming lights.

We slowed as we came to an old stone railroad crossing bridge. The opening under it was low and narrow, allowing only one car at a time to pass under. We started to pull through, but something was wrong. Headlights illuminated the interior of the Escalade as a car on the other side headed straight for us.

“Fuck!” In a split second Hambecker accelerated out from under the bridge and turned sharply left. I sucked in my breath and held it so I wouldn’t scream like a little girl. The headlights raked me and then I was clear, but the other car caught the rear panel and the noise was horrific. The force of the impact spun us into the other vehicle and my head hit the window.

My brain exploded into little points of blinding light and pain. My vision was all bouncing dots of flash and shadow. I blinked and wiped blood from my face, checking on Hambecker, but his door was open and his seat was empty. How’d he get out of the car so fast?

I felt in my pocket for my cell phone and punched 911. Dispatch told me help was on the way and to stay on the line, but I needed air. I fumbled with the seatbelt buckle and the door handled. I really didn’t want to be sick in Hambecker’s SUV. I got the door open but misjudged the distance to the ground and fell. The cooler air helped and I decided not to throw up after all.

I pulled myself up the open door until I was standing. The world was unstable around me, so I held on, trying to think of what to do. 911 was coming. But where was Hambecker? I used the hood to steady myself and stumbled around the front of the vehicle to the driver side. Hambecker wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

I imagined I could already hear sirens, that couldn’t be right, could it? But they definitely were getting louder. The Barracks wasn’t so far away; the State Troopers would get here first. I started to circle the SUV, leaning on any part that would hold me. As I came around the back I saw sunglasses that might be Hambecker’s, but as I started toward them someone grabbed my arm. I jerked away, but that made me stumble and there was more pain as my head hit the back of the car, and I fell to the ground. I hit the ground hard and the blacktop hurt like hell. Waves of darkness washed over me, and I wanted to fight them, to find Hambecker, but my head hurt too much to focus.

***

I woke up in a basic basement room: cement halfway up the walls; unfinished ceiling; bare bulb hanging. Hambecker was face down on the mattress next to me. I tried to sit up and heard the door close across the room. The lock slid. It took me a minute to focus, but when I did, Victor was sliding the key into his pocket.