Six Crime Stories (13 page)

 

*****

When Carver and Trudy walked into the big revival tent at the Baton Rouge Fairgrounds, a sweat-soaked man on stage was casting a demon out of a woman.

There were at least a hundred people in the tent, all of them watching the phony drama on stage. Carver found himself watching with equal attention--but not for the same reasons.

"By the power of the Holy Spi-rit, I, Aaron Guidry, cast you
out
-uh!" Guidry was tall and beefy, with a midsized beer belly offset by muscular arms and shoulders. His black hair and white shirt were soaked with sweat. Carver guessed he was in his mid-to-late thirties--not much older than Lee had been. "
Leave
this woman, devil!"

Guidry touched the forehead of the woman who was kneeling before him, and she snapped away from him. Her body fell to the stage and twitched while the crowd cheered and chanted.

Then, she stopped moving. Guidry towered over her, eyes closed, raising his arms to Heaven.

"Praise Jesus-uh," he said. "This child of God is nearly
healed
-uh. Oh Lord, we need a
miracle
. We need a
love
offering
from your people to continue our good work-uh."

With that, the crowd rose from their folding chairs and trooped to the stage. They threw cash and coins into a giant basket as the choir sang.

While the congregation made their offering, Guidry slipped offstage. That was Carver's cue.

"Come on," he said, motioning for Trudy to follow. "Let's have a word with this man of God."

Trudy gave his arm a firm squeeze. "Don't worry," she said. "It'll be all right."

"I know," said Carver, but his stomach was still grinding. Trudy was at his side, and Gus and Jack were nearby...but he couldn't shake the nervousness he felt as he thought about facing Guidry.

Outside, Carver and Trudy headed for the end of the tent nearest the stage. Guidry was standing there, smoking a cigarette and wiping his face with a white towel.

"Hello, ma'am." Guidry's lips peeled back from his bright white teeth in a monstrous grin. "Hello, sir."

"Excuse me," said Carver, his heart pounding. "Can you help me, Reverend?"

"That depends," said Guidry. "What kind of help do you need?"

"I've got a demon I'd like to cast out," said Carver.

"Tell me more." Guidry took a deep drag on his hand-rolled cigarette.

"This demon," said Carver. "He's a bad one. Killed my brother in cold blood, Reverend."

Guidry's grin remained in place, but something changed behind it. "I see."

"My brother, Lee, was a piano player," said Carver. "The demon murdered him in St. Louis."

"Uh-huh." Guidry locked eyes with Carver and had another drag on the cigarette. "You know, I think I
can
help you. Come with me."

Carver and Trudy followed Guidry into another tent. As soon as Carver had stepped all the way inside and let go of the flap, Guidry spun and charged, hands reaching for his throat.

 

*****

As the soldiers ran toward Sister Mayhem, rifles at the ready, she took a deep, calming breath and prepared for action.

To someone who didn't know her full capabilities, Kay might have looked as if she were in serious danger. In reality, though, her fighting prowess was so extreme that the soldiers were in more danger from her than vice versa.

Resolving not to hurt the soldiers in any permanent way, Kay steeled himself for the battle...and fell to her knees.

The soldiers drew closer, closer. Sister Mayhem watched and waited with her hands laced loosely on the back of her head.

"Don't move!" said one of the soldiers. "You're under arrest!"

"Yes, of course." Kay watched and waited patiently.

The soldiers formed a circle around Kay and drew to within ten feet of her. At that point, they were exactly where she wanted them--close enough to reach, unable to fire weapons freely for fear of hitting each other across the circle.

Sister Mayhem took a breath, then exploded into action. Suddenly pitching forward, she landed on her hands, then launched herself back feet-first. Her boots crashed into the face of one of the soldiers, knocking him to the ground.

Springing forward on momentum from the blow, Kay landed on her hands again and vaulted, pumping a kick into another soldier's head.

Kay fell with the second soldier, then rolled aside and shot to her feet in one smooth motion. Without hesitation, she charged the other soldiers.

One of the men lashed out with the butt of his rifle. Kay sidestepped and grabbed the rifle butt as it passed, using it to pull the soldier off-balance and heave him into a teammate.

The remaining soldier landed the first blow to Kay, catching her by surprise with an old-fashioned punch in the nose. Sister Mayhem responded with instant and superior skill, taking down the soldier with a love tap on the chin.

Before any of the soldiers could recover and rejoin the fight, the roar of a powerful engine surged over the blaring sirens. Kay spun to see a military cargo truck burst out of the hangar with Marty at the wheel and Sheila beside him.

As the truck hurtled forward, Sheila threw the door open. Without hesitation, Kay charged across the pavement and leaped into the cab of the moving vehicle.

She pulled the door shut and braced herself as the truck hurtled toward a distant, closed gate. Gunfire pinged off the chassis as Marty drove at top speed past running, shooting soldiers.

 

*****

Guidry's eyes did not show the slightest flicker of emotion as his big hands tightened around Carver's throat.

Trudy immediately leaped to Carver's defense, lashing a double-fisted blow across the side of Guidry's head. Guidry let go of Carver with one hand just long enough to swat her, sending her sprawling to the ground across the tent. Then, he returned his hand to Carver's throat and redoubled the strangling pressure.

As Carver struggled to pry off Guidry's choking hands, he realized that he was seeing what Lee had seen when he'd died. Weeks ago, in that rat-infested room in St. Louis, those same bloodshot eyes had locked with Lee's, emotionless and inhuman, soulless and determined.

Carver had gone all the way this time. He'd relived his brother's fall to the bitter end. Now, he was on the brink of following him off the face of the Earth.

In the hands squeezing his throat, Carver felt the weight of a lifetime pressing in on him. Childhood friends fallen to lives of crime, dead or in prison. Victim after victim, Lee included, killed by criminal animals.

Dark hands choking a dark throat. No Sister Mayhem to run to his rescue.

No. Carver didn't need her this time.

He had all the Mayhem he needed right there in that tent. He
was
Mayhem, he
had
to be...for Lee.

For all of them.

Fresh energy surged through Carver, and he burst into action. Instead of fruitlessly prying at Guidry's immovable arms, he plowed a fist into Guidry's chin in a fierce uppercut. Grabbing hold of Guidry's arms, he used them to swing himself forward, driving a knee deep into Guidry's groin.

The second that Guidry let go and doubled over, Carver tackled him backward to the dirt floor. Pinning Guidry's arms under his knees, Carver drew the gun from the holster under his jacket.

At that moment, Gus rushed into the tent. "Amigo! Are you okay?"

Jack pushed in behind Gus and went straight to Trudy. Dropping to his knees, he leaned in for a close look as her eyes fluttered open. "I believe she's coming around."

Satisfied that Trudy was all right, Carver turned his full attention to Guidry. Cocking the pistol, he pressed the barrel to Guidry's bloody forehead and asked the question he'd come all the way to Baton Rouge to ask.

"Why'd you do it?" said Carver. "Why'd you kill my brother?"

Guidry's expressionless gaze didn't change. "Same reason you're here," he said through split lips. "To avenge the dead."

 

*****

"The signal's coming in loud and clear." Max watched the custom-made tracking device in the dashboard of the car. Gus had designed the device, and it worked as flawlessly as his other inventions: a glowing green arm swept through concentric yellow rings, lighting up a green blip whenever it passed through the upper right quadrant.

That green blip was Sister Mayhem.

At the wheel of the speeding car, Lillian nodded briskly. "So the tracker in Kay's belt is working fine?"

"Perfectly," said Max. "She's aboard the stolen truck that bolted out of the secret base. Whoever's behind the wheel of that thing is driving like a bootlegger. They've lost every military chase vehicle on these back roads."

Lillian spun the wheel to swing the car around a hairpin turn. "But they haven't lost
me
."

Max laughed. "You sure can make this car go, beautiful."

"You bet, big bear." Lillian spun the wheel the other way and gunned the engine. "So where are they headed?"

"Northeast." Max checked the screen of the tracking device, then yanked a road map from the glove compartment and unfolded it. He compared the map to the blinking screen, tracing roads with his fingertip. "Look for Route 61."

Lillian raced over a hump in the road, and the car was briefly airborn. "So what do you think our destination is?"

Max's stomach jumped when they landed. "We know they stole something big and dangerous from the base. Maybe they want to get to a place where they can do maximum damage with it."

"And we both know what's in that direction, don't we?" said Lillian.

"We sure do." Max jabbed a finger at a city on the road map. "None other than Washington, D.C."

 

*****

"E=mc
²
." Sheila's eyes glittered as she said it. She smiled at Sister Mayhem--disguised as Leonard--who sat beside her on the front seat of the speeding cargo truck. "Do you know what that means, Leonard?"

Kay, of course, knew all about the formula, knew it expressed Einstein's theory of relativity...but she shook her head. She still didn't know exactly what Sheila and Marty had stolen from the base or what their plan was, and she hoped she would pick up a clue.

"Matter becomes energy," said Sheila. "And when it does, powerful forces are released...the very forces that created the universe."

Kay frowned, surprised at the depth of Sheila's knowledge of theoretical physics. Sheila, it seemed, was even smarter than Kay had thought.

"What if I told you that these forces could be harnessed?" said Sheila. "What if I told you that the power of the universe itself could be turned against the unjust?"

"I'd say that was incredible," said Sister Mayhem.

Sheila leaned closer. "What if I told you that
I
had that power? That it's in the back of this very truck? And that I'm going to use it tomorrow to change the world?"

Kay gazed into Sheila's wide, glittering eyes, seeking madness...finding only crystal clarity and purpose. "I'd ask you where you're going to use it."

"You'll see." Sheila winked. "Soon enough."

Sister Mayhem nodded, realizing she was stuck with Sheila and Marty for the duration. If she wanted to find out what their target was, determine their full plan, and stop it, she would have to ride with them all the way to the end of the line.

If the thing they'd stolen, the cargo in the back of the truck, could harness the power of the universe as expressed in Einstein's equation, the stakes had never been higher.

 

*****

"You killed my brother to 'avenge the dead?'" Carver kept the barrel of the gun pressed to Guidry's bloody forehead. "What kind of sick joke is that?"

"Are you calling my dead sister a
joke
?" Guidry's head left the floor as he spat the words. "Her murder's
funny
to you?"

Carver pushed Guidry's head back down with the gun barrel and held it there.

"Carver!" Gus called out from behind him, but he might as well have been a world away. "Don't do this,
hombre
! You are going too far!"

"He's right," said Jack. "We have other ways to handle this."

"I have chemicals that will force the truth out of this
diablo
!" said Gus.

Carver heard them but couldn't stop himself. He pressed the gun barrel harder into the preacher's forehead. "Who's your sister, Guidry?"

"
Delia
Solomon
. Late of
Harlem
, New York." Guidry bared his teeth in an insincere smile.

Carver frowned. As he stared at Guidry's face, he saw something familiar there; it was something he hadn't noticed until now because it was blurred by the wear and tear of time...and the fog of rage. "You're not Aaron Guidry. You're
Marcus
Solomon
."

Guidry chuckled. "Nice to be recognized," he said. "Considering we were your
neighbors
. Me and Delia. Now do you remember what happened to her?"

The memories rushed back to Carver like a hurricane. Of course he remembered Delia, the beautiful girl from the tenement across the street. The girl who had died on her sixteenth birthday.

"The fire," said Carver. "I remember."

"Tell me, Carver." Guidry sneered up at him. "How did it start?"

Carver had been only seven years old at the time, but he hadn't forgotten. "It was arson," he said. "Retaliation in some kind of gang war."

"But who
started
it all?" said Guidry. "Who
caused
the retaliation?"

Carver searched his mind. "I have no idea."

Even flat on the floor with a gun to his head, Guidry projected menacing hatred instead of fear. "His name was Lee Moreau. Ring a bell?"

Carver's blood froze. "That doesn't make sense," he said. "If a gang was retaliating against Lee, wouldn't they burn down the building he was
living
in?"

"Not if they thought
I
was the one who'd ripped them off," said Guidry. "Not if
Lee
had
framed
me for stealing their drug money!"

"No." As Carver said it, he wondered if Guidry was telling the truth. Even back in the old days, Lee had gotten into trouble and hung around with a bad crowd.

"So this is why you killed my brother?" said Carver. "To avenge the death of your sister?"

Guidry nodded. "And the ruination of my own life," he said. "My own family blamed me and cast me out. I followed a trail of despair and depredation...until the Lord showed me the way. He led me to take a new name, to start over and preach His holy word. Then He led me to a jazz club in Nashville where Lee was playing piano."

Carver gazed into Guidry's bloodshot eyes, searching for a sign that he was lying. All he found was a direct, unflinching stare.

"I followed him from there," said Guidry. "I haunted him with the Holy Spirit. And one night in St. Louis, I finally took what I was owed."

Carver swallowed hard as he faced a grim possibility. Maybe, Lee had gotten what he had deserved.

If Guidry's story was true, Lee had caused Delia's death and concealed his role in it. He hadn't killed her with his own hand, but he had been a party to the murder.

"Well?" Guidry squirmed, snapping Carver out of his dark reverie. "Do you understand now?"

Carver stared at him, expressionless, unmoving.

"An eye for an eye," said Guidry. "That's what the Bible says. Now the scales are balanced."

Carver's finger twitched on the trigger of the pistol. For a moment, his heart swelled with the urge to shoot.

He wanted it more than anything, more than he ever could have imagined. After helping to dole out justice for so many others, he wanted justice for himself.

"Go ahead then." Guidry closed his eyes. "Do what you have to."

"Carver, no!" It was Trudy. He felt her hand touch his shoulder. "If you do this, you'll destroy yourself. You'll ruin your life."

"Si," said Gus. "Killing a man in cold blood like this--it is
muy malo
. And you know what it would mean, don't you? You know what we would have to do."

Carver nodded. "Yes."

"We'd have to take you down," said Jack. "We'd have to bring you in. First to Kay, then the police."

Carver's heart pounded. "He killed my brother."

"And if you kill him," said Trudy, "he'll have killed you, too."

"Come on,
mi hermano
," said Gus. "The filthy
perro
is not worth it."

Sweat rolled down Carver's face and burned his eyes. His finger twitched once on the trigger. Twice.

Then, he pulled the gun from Guidry's forehead.

As Carver leaned back, Trudy threw her arms around him. "I love you," she said. "I promise, it'll be all right."

"I promise, too," said Gus, snapping a chemical vial under Guidry's nose, putting him instantly to sleep.