BM03 - Crazy Little Thing Called Dead (7 page)

“But there wasn’t any blood!” I’d been there. Not a drop of blood anywhere. And Tom was officially on my shit list.

“I know. Weird huh? And the door to the thrift shop next door was jimmied open. But they can’t tell if anything was taken.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and looked at me expectantly. She wanted to go.

“Someone killed a man at Planet Hair at eleven o’clock at night, cleaned up the mess, re-dressed the guy in clean clothes,
after
taping diapers to him and left. Taking all the bloody rags and clothes with them. That’s just as bizarre at killing him elsewhere and dumping him there.” I was confused. I remembered the saying about the simplest solution usually being right, but what if there wasn’t a simple solution?

“I know. Right? It doesn’t make any sense. I’ll see you later, I need to get home.” She was moving toward the door.

“Sure,” I said. “Leave me here in my confusion.”

“Hang out for a while, I’m sure Meg will show up and then you can be confused together.”

She laughed and headed out. I followed after; it was time to feed the animals and I wanted to know what Hambecker had learned.

***

“Think of the devil,” I said as I walked up the steps to my kitchen porch. Hambecker was leaning against the door, wearing jeans and a nearly skin-tight black T-shirt. Leaning on the door was an improvement considering in the past he’d just walked right on in. Really it had only been twice, once I’d been asleep and the other time I hadn’t been here at all, but still I was kind of surprised he wasn’t already in the kitchen drinking a beer.

“Do you know you’ve got a skunk hanging around?” he asked. “I would have disposed of it for you, but I thought it might be against your principles, so I left it alone.”

“That’s Stripes! He’s Diesel’s best friend. You kill Stripes and you’re a dead man.” It hadn’t occurred to me that someone would kill him thinking they were doing me a favor. I took a few deep breaths in an attempt to slow my heart rate.

“Who’s Diesel? A demented raccoon?” Hambecker raised one eyebrow.

“No, smart ass, he’s my boxer.” I walked past him and pushed the door open. I stood still for a minute while the dogs surged around us, sniffing at Hambecker before running into the yard. I dropped my bag on a chair and opened the fridge. “Thirsty?”

“Sure.” He slid out a chair and sat at the kitchen table facing the door.

I handed him a bottle of Old Excuses – a local beer from the Freight House - and sat at the end of the table so I could be facing the door too. Not that I was expecting anybody, I just didn’t want to be the fool who sat with her back to the door.

“Who are we waiting for?” I asked, nodding toward the door.

“Nobody that I know of.”

“Why are we sitting here watching the door?”

“Force of habit,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

“Don’t you ever just relax? What’s going to happen up here on the hill? I supposed a rabid porcupine might get the door open and attack us.”

“It’s not porcupines I’m worried about. You want to tell me why you still don’t bother to lock your doors? It’s like I never abducted you.”

“Would a locked door have stopped you?”

“Nope.”

“Would it stop anyone who was determined to get in?”

“Nope.”

“I rest my case.”

“I can’t argue with that.” He set his bottle on the table. He seemed relaxed, but that muscle in his jaw flexed. Now that I knew where it was I could tell when he wasn’t as relaxed as he pretended to be. I liked to think that it gave me an edge.

“Wouldn’t matter if you did. Now tell me what you found at Ronnie Hart’s place.”

His face was partially turned away from me.
Hiding something
, I thought.

“Not much. No signs of unusual activity. I found some diapers under the tractor in her shed. They were soaking up oil dripping from her tractor. But with only that to go on I wouldn’t say there’s much reason to investigate further.”

“What about the burn spot in the back of the shed? That looked pretty fresh.”

“Come on, Bree. Three-quarters of the people in this state have a burn pile on their property. I’ll bet I’d find one behind your barn if I looked.”

This was true. I did have a burn pile. I didn’t burn my garbage the way some people did, but I did burn scrub and old hay sometimes. Fallen branches and stuff like that. Then I put the ash in my compost pile.

Hammie leaned into me. “Listen, I’m going to tell you something that I probably shouldn’t, but I want you to know the kind of people we are dealing with here. The guy you found is Albin Shvakova, a professional killer from Eastern Europe.”

“Are you kidding me? A Russian hitman ended up dead at Planet Hair?”

“Bulgarian. He was in the country illegally, likely for a hit. I’m speculating here, but in all likelihood someone smuggled him across the border, either through the Akwesasne Mohawk reservation in New York—a lot traffic comes through there—or across the border here in Vermont.”

“I heard there was a problem with human trafficking.” I hadn’t, however, considered what kinds of people were being smuggled across the border. It made Vermont seem a little less safe; and I didn’t like that.

“Do you have any idea what kind of people would risk smuggling an assassin across the American border?” He tapped his bottle gently on the edge of the table.

“Dangerous people?” I felt like saying ‘well duh’ but I figured as long as he was feeding me information I was going to play along like a nice girl.

“Beyond dangerous. We think he has connections to the mob in New York and Paris. Stay out of this. Stay away from Ronnie Hart. I don’t do my best work when I’m trying to keep you alive, so I’m asking you nicely. Let me do my job. If you do that I promise I’ll give you as much information as I can. That’s the deal. You stay safe and I’ll give you what you need to write your article.”

I wanted to say yes to him. I really did. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t give up like that. I needed to do my own work. Find out the answers he might not be willing to feed me.

I said, “No.”

“What?” He looked at me through narrowed eyes.

“I can’t promise that. I appreciate you are willing to feed me information, but what if I’ve got questions you can’t answer? What if you can’t tell me what I need to know? Your boss or whoever might object. I can’t tell you I won’t go looking for answers if that happens. Someone killed a hitman and left him in my friend’s salon. My community is impacted by this. My home town.” I was starting to sound like some kind of activist. Jeez, could I get any cornier?

“Crap,” he said. “I knew you were going to say that.” He turned and looked me full in the face. “I’m going to have to handcuff you to something again, aren’t I?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I pushed my chair back and went to the door and opened it. The dogs surged back in. “You don’t mind if I let the dogs in do you?” Not that I cared if he minded. If Hambecker got it into his head to handcuff me to something I was going to need my dogs. If nothing else they could trip him up while I ran for the truck.

“I’m not planning on doing it now, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He reached out and rubbed Ranger on the top of his head and behind his ears. “I was thinking of what might happen in the future, and what I might have to do about it. That’s all.”

“Ranger, come here.” The wolfhound came and sat at my feet leaning against my leg so that I had to take a step back and lean against the counter to keep from falling over. “I
will
endeavor not to get in the way of your job as official federal agent. But if you try and handcuff me to something just because I’m doing my job as investigative reporter, I will bring the wrath of the MacGowans down upon your head. I have two rather burly brothers and a whole slew of friends who get agitated when guys mess with me.”

My brothers are not exactly the kind of guys you’d normally call
burly
. They’re biggish and pretty strong and will defend me if they have to. But they’d rather not, really. They appreciate the fact that most of the time I’m pretty good at taking care of myself. They did teach me how to shoot, and to go for the eyes and the gonads under duress, and I think they felt that was the extent of their brotherly duties. They knew I occasionally threatened guys with them and they were fine with that as long as I didn’t actually call on them to defend my honor.

“You think I’d let your brothers stop me?” He was amused and I could tell he was trying not to smile. “Honey, bring it on. I’d be happy to handcuff you to your brothers. That would save me from having to stick around.”

“Oh, please,” I said, rolling my eyes. He was playing Hambecker the Neanderthal.

Beagle Annie collapsed at his feet, rolling over to show him her belly. He rubbed the toe of his boot gently across her ribs before spearing me with his eyes.

“If I understand my source correctly, you failed to mention that you’d been doing some snooping around of your own, MacGowan. Find anything?” His tone was light and there wasn’t a sign of anger in his face, but I felt like I was facing The High Court of South Royalton.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t find a dang thing. Total waste of time. But I did save you the trouble.” I breathed slowly, willing my heart to slow. Why did he make me so damn nervous?

“Really? Nothing?”

I opened my eyes wide and nodded my head like one of those bobble head dogs. But that only caused Hambecker to narrow his eyes at me.

“Funny, Steve Leftsky seemed to think you might have come across something unusual. I must have misheard him.” He looked me square in the eye and my stomach squirmed. “Did I mishear him, Bree? Or are you keeping something from me?” He tapped his finger on the arm table. “Spill.”

I contemplated lying, running for the door or hurdling out the window but he was going to catch me sooner or later so I caved.

“There isn’t anything to tell. I found a pair of pants that I thought matched the suit jacket the dead guy was wearing. Steve told me I was nuts when I told him whose closet I found them in. He threw me out of his office. Didn’t exactly make me want to tell anyone else.” Especially not Hambecker.

“Where?” He had me fixed with his eyes.

“A closet.”

“Was it a closet you were invited to look into?” He was feigning patience.

“No. But it was a closet I’d visited in the past.” And I would break him before he broke me.

“I take it that would be Jim Fisk’s closet?” The front legs of the chair clunked to the ground as Hambecker sat forward. Beagle Annie jumped up and gave him a dirty look. “Easy there, girl,” he said quietly and reached down to rub her head.

“Yeah. So?” I said.

“You were in his home uninvited?” He was unblinking.

“You already know that.” I was staring back. Two could play at this game.

“Listen carefully. I want you to stay the hell out of Jim Fisk’s house. This is not a game, Bree.”

“I know it’s not a game, damn it. The future of the paper could be riding on this story. I’m not sitting around waiting for some guy to throw me a bone.” I narrowed my eyes.

“Stay away from Jim.” I imagined I saw his jaw flex again but it could have been a trick of the clouds blocking the sun from the windows for a moment.

“I can’t. I have plans to see him.” I moved just a little farther from the table.

“You made a plan to see Jim?” He looked down at the floor and I was finally able to blink.

“Sure. I’m going to the races with him Sunday.”

“You have a date with James Fisk?” I didn’t imagine the jaw clench this time. He was going to need dental work if he kept this up. “Great. Perfect.”

“You know me, I like to plan ahead.” I turned my back to him and pretended to straighten the papers on the counter. After three excruciating minutes, during which he didn’t take the hint, I turned back around.

“You’re still here? I thought you’d be out the door and off to the next black op, or whatever you call what you do.” I gestured to the door.

“I’m not leaving until I’m sure you will be careful and play by the rules. I won’t be able to help you if you get yourself arrested, and I can’t spend all my time watching you to make sure you don’t get yourself into a situation you can’t get out of.” He was rubbing Beagle Annie with his foot again, not looking at me.

“Excuse me? Play by the rules? This is from the guy who injected me with drugs and dragged me across country.” The double standard was absurd.

Hambecker had the bad judgment to grin at that. “Yeah, I enjoyed that. I don’t get to use my training as much as I’d like.”

“Your training!” I snorted. “You trained to abduct women from their beds?”

“No, I trained to abduct fascist dictators from their beds. Of course, dictators are easier to handle, but I was up to the challenge.” He stood up and took a step toward me.

I sucked in a couple of really big breaths and counted to ten in my head. I was a little bit proud that he found me a pain in the ass to control.

“And another thing,” I said. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself – as you well know.” I wasn’t entirely successful at keeping the glee out of my voice. He may have been able to abduct me with the help of a knockout drug, but he hadn’t been able to keep me contained.

“Don’t get cocky,” he said.

“I’m not the one that got too cocky,” I said. “I’m the one that escaped your clutches. And don’t worry. I don’t plan on being caught sleeping again. I’ve been taking precautions since you’ve been back in town.” My precautions were to lock the bedroom door, keep the dogs in my room with me at night and hang bells on the door handle. The dogs, unfortunately, were bribable and the lock was pickable, so I was counting on the bells waking me up before anyone got in the door. The fact that I couldn’t sleep in the summer unless my window was open was a problem, but I could hang bells in front of it too. I pulled a Post It from the drawer under the counter and wrote “buy more bells.”

“Is that a challenge?” he asked. “Because it sounds like a challenge. I can’t afford to back down from challenges. My reputation is hanging by a string here.”