Realtors For Sale

by Diane Rapp

  Tamara silently worked on the phone as Paxton rattled off Troy’s number. When she was finished, Bentley poked his head between the seats, nuzzled into her shoulder and licked her cheek. She couldn’t help laughing. “You know just how to comfort me, boy.”

  Paxton offered, “I’d be happy to lick your face, but I doubt it would produce the same kind of reaction. Let’s go to your office, drop off these cupcakes, and pick up your Honda. I think the kidnapper might find it easier to follow us in your green car.”

  “Is he still back there?” Tamara craned her neck to peer out the back window.

  “Don’t look back. He might get suspicious if he sees you. I’ve got him in my mirrors.” Paxton gripped her trembling hand. “Don’t worry, Tamara. Troy is an expert at martial arts, and the rest of the team are sharp shooters. No one will hurt your aunt.”

  Paxton pulled up in front of the real estate office and helped Tamara carry the box of cupcakes inside. Bentley walked politely at their sides, but he kept his eyes fixed on the suspicious car which parked down the street.

  Mary Templeton hugged Tamara after she set the cupcakes next to the coffee pot. “When I heard on the news about a realtor going missing, for a moment I thought he got to you again.”

  Tamara eyed Paxton. They’d decided to avoid telling anyone at the office about their plan to capture the man following them. If the office was bugged, it might blow the entire scheme.

  She said, “I’m fine now, Mary. He grabbed Phyllis Rodriguez and won’t be coming after me again. The police are concentrating on finding out where they took the four women.”

  Jack Templeton bit into a chocolate cupcake and tried to avoid getting sprinkles on his blue suit jacket. “Do they have any good leads?” he asked Paxton.

  “We have an eye witness to the last kidnapping. He’s already working with a sketch artist and we should be able to circulate the drawings to departments all over the state. We’ll get them,” Paxton replied, sounding very convincing.

  Tamara handed over Mary’s keys. “Thanks for the loan of your car. We think it’s safe for me to use my own car now.” She glanced at her watch. “My aunt is expecting us for dinner, so we’d better get going.” She accepted kisses from Mary and a handshake from Jack before leaving.

  Paxton wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned in close. “You did great.”

  “I hate to deceive them, but we can’t let anyone ruin the plan. Do you really have a sketch artist working with the man who saw the kidnappers?” She handed Paxton the keys to the Honda and opened the back door for Bentley to jump inside.

  “No. The witness didn’t see them clearly. I just said it in the event anyone might be listening to our conversation.” He started the Honda and rolled up to the kid collecting parking fees.

  Tamara looked at her watch. “It’s been almost thirty minutes. Should we call first or just go straight to Aunt Jessica’s house?”

  “I trust they have everything in hand or they would’ve sent us a text.” He checked his phone for a text and smiled. “Nothing. We’re good to go.”

  Sitting in the Mercedes, Max Jacobs was glad he switched license plates on the car. He scowled as he noticed the poodle stare in his direction. “I’ll shoot you before the night is finished!” he hissed. Following the green Honda, he made sure to stay well back. “You just make it easier to see you in a green car! I love it.”

  Ten minutes later, he saw the Honda pull into a driveway and wait as a white gate opened. He parked his car down the street and decided to get closer on foot. He watched an old woman in an upstairs window kiss Suzanne’s cheek. The blasted dog sat near the window and looked down at him. He edged back behind a tree and wondered how he’d get up there.

  Music filtered down the street as a pizza delivery van appeared. The red-capped driver sang out of tune with the lyrics of the song as he stepped out and pressed the buzzer for the gate. Max heard the old woman answer.

  “Hi, Mrs. Miller. I’ve got your delivery right on time. Do you want to buzz me in?”

  “Sure, I’ll open the gate. Ring me at the front door and you know how to find the elevator,” the old woman replied.

  Max snuck through the gate after the pizza van drove through. As the young man pulled a silver bag out from the back of the car, he could smell the yeasty scent of fresh-baked pizza and Italian spices. Max pressed the barrel of his gun into the spine of the unwitting delivery boy.

  “Don’t cry out! If you do everything I say, I won’t kill you. Walk up to the front door just like normal,” Max growled.

  “Sure thing, man. You can have the pizza but I don’t carry no money. Customers use their credit cards when they call in the order.” The young man’s voice quavered with fear as he clutched the delivery bag against his chest.

  “Walk inside and show me the elevator.”

  “Mrs. Miller has a camera at the front door, so she won’t open up if she sees you behind me.” The boy’s hands shook as he reached for the doorbell.

  “I’ll stand flat against the wall, and she won’t see me.” Max stood against the front wall but held the gun in full view of the boy.

  Troy stood gripping the silver bag as a light illuminated the front porch. “Is anyone with you?” the old woman asked, sounding suspicious.

  “It’s just me, like always.” Troy flashed a broad smile. “The pizza is nice and hot with extra cheese.” The phrase was the signal that the perp was nearby. Max heard a loud click and the boy turned the fancy glass doorknob.

  Max shoved the kid, keeping the gun against his back. “You go through first and don’t try to be a hero.”

  The boy slouched, holding the silver bag against his chest. He walked inside the dark entryway as Max peered through the open door. “Turn on the lights,” he ordered.

  “It’s okay. A light comes on automatic-like once we get through the front door.” As they entered the foyer together, a lamp flickered on. Max scanned the long hallway for cameras but all he could see were dollhouses and musty old antiques. “Can she see us inside here?” he asked.

  Troy shrugged. “Don’t know. I never asked and can’t see any cameras. Do you?”

  Max shook his head as he gazed up at the balcony. “How do we get up to the second floor?”

  “The old woman uses an elevator, since she’s got bad hips or something.” The boy gestured toward a mahogany door. “The elevator is behind that carved door, and she sends it down when I call on the intercom.”

  Troy’s face looked pale in the dim glow of the lamp. “You’d better call.” Max shoved the terrified lad closer to the mahogany door. He watched the boy push an intercom button.

  “Could you send down the elevator, ma’am?” the boy said into the box. They heard a motor rumble and the walls shook.

  “What’s that?” Max asked as his gun swung around.

  “That there is the elevator motor. She sends it down, I get inside and she makes it go back up. There’s no way anybody but her gets it to move.”

  When the motor stopped, the heavy wooden door popped open. Max peered into the dark hole and suddenly jerked back. Paxton stood with a gun pointed into the culprit’s face.

  “Stop right there, Paxton Johnson, or I’ll shoot this here boy!” Max jabbed the gun into Troy’s chest.

  Lights blazed overhead and doors popped opened around the entire hall with guns pointed in the perp’s direction. In the split second of distraction Troy swung the silver bag up in front of his chest like a medieval shield. Angry, Max pulled the trigger. A loud clang echoed through the hall, and he was shocked to learn the pizza bag contained hard metal sides. Troy propelled his leg into a forceful roundhouse kick and hit the perp’s knee.

  Voices shouted for Max to drop the gun as pain exploded through his knee. He collapsed onto the floor, grabbing the knee moaning as someone snatched the gun from his hand. Several gun barrels pressed against his body and Paxton secured handcuffs onto his wrists.

  “The kid broke my damned knee with his kick!”
Max groaned and writhed on the floor.

  Paxton bent down and said, “Hello, Max Jacobs. It was nice of you to join our party.”

  “What? You know my name?” Max sputtered.

  Jerry slid Max’s gun into an evidence bag. “Yeah, we got a good print off of the syringe you dropped in the bushes at the last crime scene, and a few more inside the kitchen. With your record, you really should be careful about touching hard surfaces during a crime.”

  Troy asked, “You need some help to stand?” He grabbed Max’s arms and jerked him up off the floor.

  Jerry shouted, “We need a chair in here, so the guy can sit while he talks to us.”

  “I’m not talkin’ to nobody without my lawyer.” Max glared at Jerry. “Paxton, tell your man to take it easy on me. Can’t you see, I need a doctor?”

  Paxton frowned. “We told you how we knew your name, but how did you know mine?”

  “I ain’t talkin’ to no cops, I told you!”

  The elevator door snapped shut and its motor hummed to life. Soon Bentley, Tamara, and Jessica stepped out of the elevator into the hallway. Max cringed as Bentley rushed forward, snarling.

  “Keep the crazy dog off me!” Max shouted. “He’s dangerous, probably got rabies.”

  As Tamara held the leash tight, Bentley barked and crouched ready to leap at the culprit. Tamara said, “Bentley’s had all his shots, so you won’t die of rabies. But if you bleed on Jessica’s Persian carpet, I can’t guarantee that you’ll survive her wrath.”

  The kitchen door opened and Shirley dragged out a vintage plastic chair with metal legs. Jerry shoved Max into the chair and secured the man’s arms behind his back. “Sit nice and quiet until backup arrives.”

  “I want my lawyer,” Max demanded.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re not going to talk without a lawyer. We get it.” Paxton patted down the suspect’s pockets and removed a cellphone, a wallet, and a wicked switch-blade. “Paula, make a note. The perp was carrying a concealed weapon in addition to an unlicensed firearm. He also shot at an undercover police officer before being disarmed.”

  “The pizza boy was a police officer? He never said nothing about being with the cops, so that charge won’t stick.” Max glared at Troy.

  “You were mighty eager to shoot me.” Troy laughed and removed his red pizza cap. He finger-combed dark hair into place and said, “Jessica, we’ve got to order more pizza. The stuff in this bag is all ruined, might give us lead poisoning.” He chuckled and hefted the bullet-dented silver bag.

  Jessica said, “Don’t worry, I’ve got warm lasagna in the oven, young man. There will be plenty to eat after we dispatch the perpetrator.” She examined Max with distain. “I can’t believe you tried to kidnap my niece twice! In the old days, vigilantes would simply string you up and let an undertaker collect your remains for burial. Too bad!”

  Max shouted, “I’m injured! Your undercover man broke my knee for no good reason. I’ll sue you for grievous harm!”

  Troy displayed the bullet lodged in the silver pizza bag. “See that, chum? It’s the place you tried to shoot me. I’m trained in martial arts to defend myself, mister. You won’t be suing anybody. You probably won’t see the light of day, since kidnapping carries a life sentence. You’ve got four counts, so tell us where to find those women.”

  “I need my lawyer,” Max shouted.

  Suddenly Bentley rushed at the man, snapping his teeth near the man’s ankle. Tamara pulled back on the leash attached to the camo harness. “It’s okay, boy. He’s just making noise and can’t hurt anyone.” She wrapped her arms around the angry poodle’s neck as he snarled at Max. “After we find those other women, you’ll be in jail for life.”

  “I want a deal!” Max demanded and his eyes widened. “I know important stuff. You’ve only got me on attempted kidnapping, and you’ll never find them other women without my help!”

  Paxton stepped closer. “Did I hear you right? You want a deal? I thought you wanted to speak with your lawyer, so which one is it?”

  “A deal. I want a deal or those women are goners for sure.”

  Shirley handed Paxton a cellphone. “You should speak with the governor now, Paxton. She’s heard every word.”

  Paxton shrugged and spoke into the phone. “Hi, Governor! Yep, we captured one of the gang members, the one who tried to kidnap Tamara Owens. He wants to make a deal. Sure, it did sound like he threatened the lives of the victims if he didn’t get a deal.”

  “That’s not what I said! The women won’t die, they’ll just be shipped out of the country tonight. My Boss told me your name, Paxton Johnson, and also told me the women are all together waiting for a buyer. You don’t have much time before they leave the country, so you need my information to find them,” Max shouted.

  “Okay, ma’am. I’ll see what I can do.” Paxton swiped the screen and handed the phone back to Shirley. “The governor wants us to get the perp a doctor and a lawyer. If those women disappear before a deal is signed, he’ll face the death penalty. It’s an election year you know.”

  “What? I told you, they’re not going to die!” Max thrashed against the cuffs and nearly tipped the chair over. “You can’t give me the death penalty! I didn’t kill nobody.”

  “So tell me how to find the women, and get yourself a reduced sentence,” Paxton said, leaning over the man.

  “No deal! I want full immunity, and I want to see it in writing before I tell you anything,” Max blustered.

  “I’ll ask the governor, but I’m not sure she’ll agree. We’ll talk again at the hospital.”

  Minutes later, Max screamed obscenities as they loaded him into an ambulance. Shirley climbed in the back to accompany the prisoner to the hospital. Tamara stood with Bentley watching the ambulance drive away.

  She asked, “Will the governor give him immunity to find those women?”

  Paxton shrugged. “It’s possible but it takes time to write up a legal agreement. We’d better work fast to find those women before they are whisked out of the country.”

  Tamara frowned, her eyes glistening with tears. “How do we find them without caving into Max’s demands? I don’t want to see him walk. He promised he would get me no matter how long it takes.”

  Jessica stepped closer and asked, “How about tracking down his partner?”

  “What partner?” Paxton and Tamara said in unison.

  “Max followed your car from a real estate office in Montecito. Surely his partner is the broker, Travis Jenkins. I assume you’re getting a search warrant for his office.”

  “I’m on it already,” Paula said, holding up her phone. “I’m tracking down a judge to sign our warrant, right away. The governor texted me with the name of a judge who will see us tonight. Now I’m glad I voted for her last election.”

  Jerry said, “I’ll go keep an eye on his office until Paula shows up with the signed warrant.”

  Paxton swiped the screen of the phone he confiscated from Max, relieved it was not password protected. “Max made several calls to the same number today. Troy, get me an ID on this phone number right away.”

  He nodded and punched the number into a reverse number directory on his computer tablet. “It’s unlisted,” he said with a sigh. “Probably a burner phone.”

  “Can’t we make a call and see who answers?” Tamara asked.

  Paxton shook his head. “If we make a call, they’ll expect to hear Max on the line. A call will put them on alert before we know their location.”

  Tamara paced, her mouth narrowed into a thin line. “I know of one specific property Travis Jenkins bought recently, the house my clients wanted to purchase. Let’s go check it out while your team secures a warrant.”

  Paxton gestured toward the door. “After you and your super snooper, my dear.”

  “You’re not going to argue that it’s too dangerous for us to come along?” she asked as she headed toward the Honda.

  “It wouldn’t do any good and would be a waste of precious time.” He tur
ned to Jessica and shouted, “Save us some of your lasagna. It smells delicious.”

  “If I need to make a whole new batch, you’ll have plenty to eat. Just call when you’re on your way back here.” Jessica bent down to pick up broken pieces of a shadow box and sighed. “I should have cleared out the foyer before we allowed such a vulgar man to enter my establishment.”

  Chapter 12—Searching for the Women

  They drove up Brinkerhoff Street and turned on Cota until they reached Garden Street. Tamara said, “Take this turn toward the Santa Barbara Mission. I’ll tell you when we get close to the house.”

  Paxton’s attention remained riveted on driving, often glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure no one was following. When Tamara pointed to a large house on the right-hand side of the road, she said, “That three-story Spanish-style is the one, and I see lights inside.”

  They pulled into a parallel parking space and Tamara gasped as she stared into the window of the dining room. A family sat at a stately wooden table, talking animatedly as they enjoyed dinner.

  “Do you know them?” Paxton asked, leaning forward to stare through the windshield.

  Tears trickled down Tamara’s cheeks as she nodded. “They were my clients, the ones who wanted to buy the house. Travis Jenkins poached my clients. He bought the house out from under us and obviously flipped it, sold the home to my buyers! How could they cut me out of my commission?”

  Paxton gripped the steering wheel with his knuckles turning white. “Do you think those clients might be involved in the kidnappings for Jenkins?”

  Tamara shook her head sadly. “No. They are an ordinary family who really wanted to buy the house. He saw a chance to make a quick profit and cut me out of the deal. It’s unethical, but I can’t see them involved in anything illegal. We’d better leave before they see us sitting out here.”