“Think.”
Taku scrunched up his face again. Then he said as if in a dream, “I’m in the storeroom. I can hear someone talkin’ funny. Maybe those Russian soccer players; I seen ’em at the Viking. ‘Give it to me’, he says. ‘Mimi’s cryin’, that voice says, ‘quit stallin’.”
“What happened next?”
“I don’t know,” he wailed. “See, I had quite a few and was stumblin’ around. Maybe I was just hearin’ voices. That happens to me a lot, you know?” He put his head down in his hands.
When he looked up again, tears were streaming down his face. “I hear Mimi screamin’ fer help, I remember that. I had my halibut bat, seems like I was strikin’ out with it, but I couldn’t…I just couldn’t hit Mimi with it. There’s those voices but it’s all gibberish, words I don’t understand. Uhh, umm, I don’t remember anything else.”
“Nothing?” said Godiva.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Nope. Next thing I knew the cops were all over me and the bloody bat was on my chest. I got a lump on my head, too. Right here.” He parted his messy hair and revealed a swollen bruise behind his ear.
“Do you think someone hit you?” Goldie asked.
“Yeah, but I dunno, I might of got in a fight over at the Lucky Lady.”
Twenty minutes later they were heading out of the prison compound.
“I don’t know about you,” Goldie said, “but I feel pretty bummed out.”
Godiva nodded. “Poor Taku Ted. Those thugs must have attacked Mimi for whatever it was she found in the samovars. Then he stumbles in drunk, tries to save her and passes out.”
“Or gets hit in the head.”
“Yeah, next thing you know the Dumkovskys kill Mimi with Taku’s bat and drop it on his chest as they leave through the back door.”
Goldie chewed on that for a while. “What I don’t get is, the samovars weren’t there. Did they steal them first and come back when they didn’t find the contents? If she didn’t tell them where the stuff was, why did they kill her before they found out?”
“Maybe they didn’t mean to kill her, but hit her too hard. Or maybe Taku aimed for Boris and hit Mimi by mistake. I hope not.”
Godiva looked over and saw tears running down Goldie’s cheek. “You know what we need?” she said cheerfully. “We need a big piece of pie with cherry ice cream on top. What do you say we head back home and get some?”
FOURTEEN
Godiva tried to make herself comfortable at Goldie’s cubbyhole desk while she glared at the beat-up laptop. No matter what she did, there was no image on the screen. She called downstairs, “Hey Goldie…is there a trick to getting the screen to light up? This thing could qualify as one of your antiques.”
Goldie ran upstairs, trying to stifle a giggle. When the screen went black about a month ago, Rudy found an old monitor at the Salvation Army Thrift Store for five dollars. He hooked it up to the laptop and it worked perfectly if you pressed F7 each time to fire it up. The ugly old thing was such an affront to Goldie’s decorating sense, that she had immediately pushed it to one side, covered it with an antique shawl and placed a potted begonia on top.
She almost felt sorry for Godiva, knowing she had columns to write, but not sorry enough to make it easy for her. Instead, she made a big show of mumbling to herself and fiddling with the old laptop computer while Godiva grew more and more agitated.
When it was clear that Godiva’s patience had finally run out, Goldie lifted the shawl and flowerpot. There sat the monitor with its $5 price tag still attached. She pressed F7 and the clunky thrift store screen lit up. Godiva let out a sigh of relief, but her smile turned to a scowl as she realized Goldie had known all along how to fix the problem. Before Godiva could scold her, the cell phone in Goldie’s pocket began to play
Foggy Mountain Breakdown
. “It’s Ollie.”
Sounding more optimistic than she felt, Goldie said, “Hi, Ollie. Have you got good news?” The slight smile broadened until she was grinning. “That’s great, just great. Thank you so much. Of course I know you’ll do everything you can.” There was a long pause while Ollie kept talking. Then Goldie said, “Yes, of course, we’ll leave everything up to the police. No, no, we won’t put ourselves in danger. Promise. Bye.”
She turned to Godiva. “Bingo! One of the people at the ferry terminal in Ketchikan recognized our goons. She even remembered the names on their passports. Get this…now they’re traveling as men named Minsky and Pinsky. She said she remembered because the names rhyme and she thought that was funny.”
“There’s only one way they could have gotten those passports.”
Goldie’s voice caught. A little sob escaped. “And that’s if the Dumkovskys are the ones who set fire to the warehouse. Poor Uri and Vladimir.”
Godiva hesitated, and then said in a cynical tone, “Your pals Uri and Vladimir could have been part of it. A smuggling ring, maybe. Did you ever consider that?”
Goldie pursed her lips and shook her head. “No way! They were very reputable. They would never team up with thugs like that.”
“Well, maybe they did and that’s why they were killed. By the way, did the lady at the ferry terminal say where were they headed?”
Goldie sniffled. “Umm…Bellingham. That’s where the Alaskan ferries dock. It’s about ninety miles from Seattle. The agent said they just managed to get on the three o’clock ferry, or they would have had to wait until Friday. It’s about two and a half days, so they’ll get to Bellingham on Friday morning.”
“Okay, Sis. You know what that means. We’ve got to check the schedule and get there by the time the ferry docks to find out where they’re headed. We certainly can’t rely on your pal Ollie. He’s probably happy to have them out of his hair. If we’re right and they’re after something in those samovars, your customer in Seattle will be next.”
Goldie made a note to herself to look up the woman’s number and call her to warn her. “Ollie mentioned something about leaving it to the cops in Washington, but I can’t remember exactly what he said.”
Godiva looked at Goldie’s pathetic old laptop and rolled her eyes. “Look, I do need to get those columns done. Let’s see if we can get out on a flight tonight. When we get to Seattle, I’ll just buy a new laptop to work on while I’m there. When I’m done I’ll give it to you to replace this old piece of garbage. That way, at least I can catch up on enough work to keep ahead of my commitments.”
Goldie raised an eyebrow, feeling just a bit jealous that her sister could buy an expensive laptop with less thought than Goldie would give to buying a blouse on the bargain rack at Fred Meyer’s. But then, Godiva wouldn’t have all those millions if it weren’t for her dear departed husband, Max DuBois, one of the most obnoxious men Goldie had ever encountered. Just the thought of being married to that uncouth loudmouth quashed the little flash of envy. “Leave tonight? You’re kidding…aren’t you?”
Godiva put her hands on her hips with mock indignation. “No, I’m serious. I’m partly packed and it shouldn’t take you long to throw a few rags in your duffel bag. It’s about five thirty now. We can be out of here in half an hour. Call Rudy and tell him to open the shop tomorrow. We’ll just check into the hotel a few days early.”
Goldie warmed to the idea. “Well, I guess Mom and Uncle Sterling would really be surprised to see us waiting for them when they arrive tomorrow afternoon.”
“There you go. I just know they’ll be delighted to have some extra time with you while I’m sitting in my comfortable hotel room typing on
your
new laptop, instead of sleeping in a sardine can and trying to coax a few words out of this jerry-rigged contraption.” She gestured toward the old computer. “Then on Friday morning you can drive us to Bellingham.”
“Back up for a minute, why will I be the one to drive to Bellingham?”
“Because I’ll be sleeping in the reclining seat. You’re an early riser, I’m not. You can’t expect me to be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed if we have to get up at four in the morning. So the way it works is: I pay for the car, you drive. Those Dumkovskys shouldn’t be hard to spot. Let’s get moving. Do you know when the next flight leaves?”
Goldie threw up her hands in frustration. “This is Alaska, and it’s the tourist season. Every flight is bound to be booked solid. Do you think you can just waltz up to the counter and buy two tickets?”
“Well, there can’t be that many traveling first class.”
Goldie felt like she was instructing a slow student. “Okay, here’s the reality: first class seats are booked just as fast as the economy class…by wealthy people like you, my dear sister, who can’t get a reservation for the regular seats. We have tickets on Friday’s flight only because your precious Angel booked them a few weeks back. This may be one time your money just won’t work, Sis.”
“Says you. Pack your bag and then get that old wreck of a car going and let’s find out.”
* * * *
The terminal was swarming with summer travelers. Godiva elbowed through the VIP line, ignoring the protests and dirty looks from the people she pushed aside. Goldie leaned on one of her sister’s Louis Vuitton traveling cases and worried that airport security would muscle her sister out of the airport. Godiva used every manipulative maneuver she knew but it was no use. The agent said they were booked solid with several standbys ahead of them. As Goldie predicted, even first class was full.
They decided to have a cup of tea in the coffee shop and brainstorm their next move. One thing was certain…if they took their scheduled flight it meant they would definitely miss the Dumkovskys’ arrival in Bellingham.
As they waited for the tea, Godiva overheard the lady in the booth behind them say that she would give anything to stay even one more day before going back to Seattle. Godiva winked at her sister and slid out of the booth.
As she passed the table beside them, a woman pointed to Godiva and asked her companion in a stage whisper, “Is that someone I should recognize?”
Her companion turned in Godiva’s direction and fixed her with a stare, then snapped her fingers and said with a heavy New York accent, “Yeah. I think it’s what’s her name? Wait, it’s coming to me. Oh, yeah, she looks like that picture in the paper. You know, the advice column,
Ask G.O.D.
, or something.” The other woman started to get up. “Maybe she’ll give me an autograph.” Godiva pretended not to hear them and kept walking. She had a mission.
Godiva approached the folks in the adjoining booth and greeted them with her sweetest voice. “Hi, my sister and I are sitting behind you and I overheard you say how you wish you could stay a little longer. I have a good proposition for you.”
The man, clad in a loud Hawaiian shirt with hula girls on it, stiffened his back and began to speak, “Look lady, if you…”
Godiva held up her hand.“Nothing fishy, sir. You see my sister and I have first class tickets for Seattle on the ten o’clock flight Friday morning, but we have an emergency and have to be there tonight. The problem is there are no seats available.” She flashed a million dollar smile. “If you were willing to switch with us, I’d make it worth your while. Our first class tickets for your economy tickets and I’ll even give you enough money for two nights in a hotel. What do you say?” She discretely made no mention of the fact that finding a hotel room would be like finding a diamond on the beach.
The woman gave her husband a pathetic puppy dog look, and he shrugged. “Uh, yeah, sure. The wife really wanted to stay a few more days, but it better be enough for a good room. No flea trap.”
With victory at hand, Godiva reached into her purse and held up five one-hundred dollar bills. “Do I look like someone who would stay in a flea bag? Is it a deal?”
She strode back to the table triumphantly. “Okay, our plane leaves in two hours. We’ll have to sit in the cattle car, but at least we got on. Myra and Norton over here,” she gestured toward the couple behind them, “will go over to the ticket counter with us and work it out when they finish their snack.”
Goldie shook her head in disbelief. “You’re amazing. I would have bet money you couldn’t do it.”
Godiva smirked. “Ah, money. That’s the magic word.”
Goldie pretended not to hear and reached for her cell phone to call the shop. Rudy picked it up on the first ring and chirped, “Silver Spoon Antiques, if it ain’t old, we ain’t got it.”
“Hey Rudy, we’re at the airport, getting ready to chase those Russians to Seattle. They boarded a ferry in Ketchikan and we’re going to beat them to Bellingham. You’re in charge of the shop until I get back.”
Rudy didn’t sound too surprised. “Yeah, I figgered you gals were up to somethin’. Belle came by a while ago and said she talked to Ollie. Then she commenced to tellin’ me about you trackin’ the Ruskies and visitin’ Taku in jail.”
“That’s my mother-in-law…news travels faster than a speeding bullet when Belle gets hold of it.”
Myra and Norton dabbed their chins with their napkins and stood up to pay the bill. Goldie jumped up. “I gotta go, Rudy. I’ll call you from Seattle.”
Before she could disconnect, Rudy shouted into the phone, “Almost forgot to tell ’ya boss. Ollie said they fished two more o’ yer samovars outta the channel.”
FIFTEEN
The Alaska Airlines jet rolled into in Seattle at 10:37. Godiva was starting to wind down and get grumpy as clumps of cases tumbled down the chute. Hopeful passengers elbowed their way past the twins, hugging the rim of the baggage carousel and praying their luggage actually made it. One particularly large man stomped on Goldie’s foot. As she hopped up and down in pain she spotted her beat up duffle.
Goldie grabbed the handle, pulled it over the edge and thunked it down on the floor. “What luck. Mine came right away.”
Godiva paced, clearly losing it as most of the other passengers rolled their suitcases away. “Great. Wouldn’t you know it? Your crappy duffel bag comes down right away and I don’t see my Louis Vuitton bags anywhere. With my luck, they’re probably lost again.”
“Cool it, Godiva. You’re getting upset. Think positive,” Goldie said in a soft, soothing tone. “Breathe from your diaphragm. Go like this.” She demonstrated by closing her eyes, thumb and middle fingertips touching on each hand, and hummed a soft “Oomm.”