Private Heat (34 page)

“Can't hurt,” said Dunsel.

Sergeant Franklin slugged down his coffee, took a last pull on the cigarette he'd left in the ash tray, and stubbed it out. He and Dunsel departed in a marked state police car.

“Your wife drive an old Cadillac?” asked the marshal.

“Yes, she does.”

Harlan smiled and rocked up on his toes. “She just breezed by the deputy at the entrance to your drive,” he chuckled. “And he's chasing the car on foot.”

“I hope, for his sake, that he doesn't catch her,” I said as I walked over to the window. I watched Wendy pull onto the lawn to avoid the parked patrol cars. When she stepped out, the deputy was there. He got to say something brief; then she launched on him, delivering a finger-shaking tirade.

“Poor guy,” I said. “I've been on the business end of that finger myself.”

The deputy folded his arms across his chest and let her wind down. When she stopped for air, he said something that had Wendy digging in her purse. She handed him what I guessed to be her driver's license. He studied it and then spoke into the mike that he had clipped to the epaulet of his uniform shirt.

Wendy started a second ration of abuse. He returned her license, tipped his hat, and returned to his post. She slammed the door of the Caddy and steamed toward the house with Karen trailing at a safe distance.

“Uh-oh,” I said. “Now it's our turn.”

“I'm going back out on the deck,” said Harlan.

“Me, too,” said Ron. They skittered out the slider.

“Cowards!”

“This … is … my … house!” Wendy announced as she erupted through the door and stomped up the stairs. “Where do they get off telling me I can't come in and blocking my driveway with their stupid cars? I had to park on the lawn!” She fixed me with an icy stare. “Where are the boys?”

I handed her the note.

Wendy scanned the note and said, “You're lucky.”

“Not to mention charming, sweet, kind, and considerate.”

“You let these people just walk all over you,” she said.

“They have guns,” I said and shrugged.

Wendy gave me the narrow eyes. “Don't get smart with me,” she said. She found herself fighting a smile, so she turned and headed for the bathroom.

“Just relating the facts, ma'am,” I said and smiled.

“Did they catch them?” asked Karen.

“Not yet. Chuck and Paulie rowed across the lake. Let's go out on the deck. Maybe we'll see something.”

“I think I'm just going to lie down,” she said and went down the stairs to the guest room.

I freshened my coffee and strolled out to the deck. A Sheriff's Department car had backed a boat and trailer into the water from my beach. A uniformed officer pushed the boat off the trailer into the lake. SWAT officers scoured the far shoreline and checked under upturned canoes.

“Look up there,” said Harlan and pointed at the top of the bluff to the east. A line of riders on horseback pressed through the cornfield, intent on driving anyone hidden in the corn toward the apple orchards that lay to the west.

“Sheriff's posse,” I said. “It's a voluntary auxiliary. Usually, they're the ones that look for lost children.”

“They got their hands full today,” said Ron.

The sun—now low—cast long shadows. Across the lake a patrol car traveled slowly along the dirt track with Sergeant Franklin's voice emanating from the loudspeaker, exhorting Chuck and Paulie to come out.

Wendy stepped up next to me and put her arm around my waist. I draped an arm over her shoulder. “The lawyer from the IRS told Karen she would see about getting the liens lifted. Karen might even get her car back, if they haven't sold it already.”

“Good for her,” I said.

“Better than that,” said Wendy. “Pete says that the city has a six-figure life insurance policy on Randy. She'll get benefits as a police officer's widow.”

“I guess things turned around after I left.”

“We got right in to see that Ralph guy,” said Wendy. “When we got to his office, the lady from the IRS was already there, and he wanted to see the pictures.”

“Good. We can stop hiding the aspirin.”

“Pete said that if the IRS recovers the tax money that they were defrauded out of from the estates of Van Pelham and Campbell, you and Ron can
probably apply for a substantial reward.” Wendy gave me a little shake at the waist.

“Make my day!” said Ron.

“We can start an IRA,” I said. “Marg will be thrilled.”

“I think I'm in the wrong business,” said Harlan.

The patrol boat made a lethargic loop along the shoreline, near the reeds and cattails at the east end of the lake.

“What's going on?” said Ben as he and Daniel thundered across the room toward the sliding door to the deck.

“I had to show my driver's license to get in the driveway,” said Daniel.

“Well,” I said, “the police want those two fellows you saw in the row-boat.”

“Cool!” said Ben. “Are they killers?”

“They shot a state trooper down there by the lake.”

“Far freaking out! If they come back, you can whack 'em!”

“I don't know,” I said. “I don't think you'd really like to see that, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

The police milling in the yard scrambled for their cars. The cars swarmed out of the drive and added sirens to their already rolling lights. Ben ran to the front window. “They're going left, up toward the blacktop,” he said.

The deputy in the patrol boat cracked open his throttles and spread a wake heading west across the lake.

“This has been real, and it's been fun,” said Ron, “but it ain't been real fun. I'm going home.”

“I'll walk out with you,” I said. “I need to get my lead launcher.” Harlan walked out with us.

When I got back to the house, I stepped in the door and found Ben waiting on the landing. I handed him the shotgun case. He took it down to the den. Daniel stood looking out the slider toward the lake. “You guys eat?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “We went to Greenville and saw that new space picture about aliens that look like grasshoppers. You owe me twenty bucks.”

“Why don't you run into town and get us a burger?”

“Sure,” he said, and stuck his hand out.

“Your mother has the money.”

“Get me the chicken sandwich,” said Wendy. “Take a twenty out of my purse.”

“That won't be enough to cover the movie and my gas.”

“Tough it out,” she said. “You got to see the movie.”

Ben yelled his order up the stairs.

“Marvel to me,” I said. “He doesn't hear that well when I'm looking for him.”

“Suffers from selective hearing,” said Wendy. “Got that from your side of the family.”

Daniel departed. When he returned, we ate our burgers at the picnic table on the deck. He even thought to bring a burger for Karen, but she'd already zonked out, so Ben ate it—said the lettuce would wilt in the refrigerator.

We watched the deputy load his boat onto the trailer in the now-dim light and listened to the bugs immolate themselves on the bug zapper. Someone knocked on the door. I abandoned my burger and found Howard Dunsel standing on my porch. He had his hat in his hands and a glum look on his face.

“We didn't get 'em,” he said.

Howard Dunsel wrung his state police captain's hat between his hands. “There's a section and a half of heavy cover over there. What do you want me to do?” he said.

“Catch 'em!”

“Art, I've done everything that I can think of.”

“Nobody said you didn't. Just save the ‘gee-whiz' act for the PTA.”

“I think they're gone,” said Howard. “We're searching their residences and talking to their friends and neighbors.”

“They're policemen; they know what you're going to do.”

“Doesn't matter,” he said. “We'll probably roll them up tonight.”

“What was the big commotion? We thought you had them.”

“We grabbed a couple of growers and an acre plot of marijuana—biggest grower bust in the state so far this year.”

“Hell, that's gonna put the local economy in a tailspin.”

“We're going to patrol heavy in this area tonight,” said Howard. He put his hat back on. “If we don't pick them up in town tonight, we'll be back out with the dogs tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow morning they'll be eating cornflakes at my kitchen table.”

“In the movies, Hardin. Get real.”

I stuck my hand out the door and Howard took it. “Thank you for the grand effort,” I said. “Sure hope you're right!”

He said, “Take care to lock up good tonight.”

I took my hand back. “You can count on that.”

Howard nodded and left.

I considered giving the area a quick patrol myself, but decided it would be best to let them come to us if they were still in the area. I went back out to the deck.

“What was that about?” asked Wendy.

“That was Howard. He says they chased Chuck and Paulie out of the area, but he's going to increase patrols.”

“You mean they didn't get them? They all flew out of here.”

“They found a couple of guys with a big marijuana patch across the lake.”

“So they quit looking?”

“Howard said they would probably arrest Chuck and Paulie in Grand Rapids tonight.”

“What do you think?” she asked. She wrinkled her forehead.

“The SWAT commander told me that Chuck was shot in the exchange with the state trooper, so they're both hurt now,” I said. “I think they're looking for medical help.” I made myself sound convincing.

Wendy walked into the kitchen and picked up the telephone. She called Walt Walker. “You know that night scope you told me about … how'd you like to try it out? … Yeah … believe it or not, they got away. … That's what I had in mind. … No, we should be fine once it's light out.”

Wendy hung up the telephone and looked at me. She said, “I'm going to bed.” She gave me a little pulse of the eyebrows. “Don't be too long.”

I made a tour of the house to lock the doors and windows. Daniel had a movie running in the den. I told him to lock his door when he went to bed. He nodded in the affirmative.

I eased Karen's door open far enough to reach through and set the lock. Upstairs Ben gunned down aliens on the Nintendo.

“Don't stay up too late,” I told him.

“Right,” he answered without looking up.

“Lock your door when you go to bed.”

“Always do.”

I stepped into my bedroom. Wendy sat on the side of the bed in her robe. I pulled the door shut and locked it. She smiled.

“I didn't want to mention it earlier,” said Wendy, “but Pete said that he might be able to argue that the money in the Bahamas really was a retirement account. The feds got their tax money, and she did make contributions.”

“Trust Pete to figure out how to get paid. Now, I think
I'm
in the wrong business.”

Wendy stood up and dropped her robe. “I've got some business for you,” she said. She wore a short wisp of black, but not for long.

I heard the dog yip and opened my eyes. Sunlight warmed my face. The clock on the nightstand indicated that it was after eight. Clatter and commotion came from the front room. I stepped into my jeans, picked up my pistol, and bolted out of the bedroom. Wendy pulled on her robe and was only steps behind me.

In the great room, Rusty cowered in the corner with his Frisbee at his feet. Paulie hauled Karen off the sofa—my fish fillet knife held to her throat. He'd lost his bandage, and a line of black stitches zipped his face together. A white-edged red gash started at the left corner of his forehead, proceeded diagonally to the bridge of his nose, and stopped. The line of stitches started again at his cheekbone and marched across to end with flourish under his right ear. His trousers were soaked to the waist, and he had lake weed tangled in his shoes and an air cast on his right ankle. I leveled the sights on the middle of Paulie's chest, but he pulled Karen in front of himself.

“Get down,” I yelled to Wendy, and she ducked behind the island counter. Karen's robe was open and her nightie was sliced down the front. She grappled with her robe to pull it shut.

Paulie sidestepped, working his way toward the slider that was already standing open. Through clenched teeth he said, “Put the gun down, fuck-face, or I'll slice the bitch right here.”

I worked my way to my left and tried to get the sights level on his nose,
his eye, or the side of his head. “We both know that I'm not going to do that,” I said.

He circled to his right and kept his head behind Karen until he had his back to the sliding glass door that led to the deck and stood even with the walk space between the sink and the island counter. “Back off,” he said. He laid the tip of the blade on the side of Karen's neck and produced a small trickle of blood.