The Kate Nash Series Boxed Set

by Keene, Susan

  “Yes.” Ryan yelled back.

  “What do you want us to do with this guy?” Brian said back.

  “Bring him in. We’ll call the police.”

  Chili still shook as if she had been out in the cold for hours. Ryan headed to the front door and I jogged up the stairs to get dressed.

  I grabbed a pair of wrinkled jeans from the closet floor and reached up to pull a grey tee shirt off a hook. My tennis shoes were by the side of the bed. I sat on the edge to slip them on and noticed Ryan had made the bed before he came downstairs. He was a one of a kind guy.

  I combed my unruly hair with my fingers and put it into a low ponytail. The entire thing took all of two minutes. I picked up my phone, tucked my Glock into my jeans at the small of my back, and headed back to the action.

  On the way downstairs, I called Roger Simon. Since there were gunshots fired, I doubted it mattered if the police came with sirens or not.

  I stepped out to see what had gone on. The people standing around looked like maids, nannies, and gardeners. Most of the residents on the street taught school or were doctors, lawyers and CEOs one place or the other. Not many were stay at home folks, except for the mystery writer who lived four houses down. I didn’t see him outside.

  Roger and a patrol car were on the way.

  On the lawn stood a tall, thin man with an athletic build. No doubt he lifted weights. His muscular thighs strained the material of his pants and his arms barely fit into the jacket sleeves. Blond hair, much too shaggy for my taste, hung over his forehead and curled at the back of his neck. The running shoes he had on I recognized as Nike Vapor Air. They were something he couldn’t pick up at the local Wal-Mart. There was nothing about him that shouted, hired thug. He was flanked by two of Ryan’s men.

  Ryan pointed to the open door I’d just come through. “Take him inside. We’ll wait for Roger before we ask him anything. I don’t want to do anything wrong and mess up the case the police will have against him.”

  Brian and Tommy walked the man inside. They secured his hands behind his back with zip ties and pushed him down onto the couch.

  Tommy relayed the story. “Matt and I were in the car out front. This guy came running down the street at a good clip. He stopped, knelt and began to fiddle with his shoe. I saw something drop from his sleeve. We got out of the car to confront him. Matt got there first and the man slugged him. I think he broke Matt’s jaw. Before I could get to him, he took off like an Olympic sprinter and headed for the back of the house. He threw the device before I could reach him. Sorry Ryan.”

  “Sounds like you did it all by the book. Don’t be sorry. If we didn’t think we might need you, you wouldn’t be here. Where’s Matt?”

  “Johnson drove him to urgent care. The side of his face is a mess. Whatever this guy had in his hand, it cut the hell out of Matt’s face.”

  While they talked about the incident, I went into the kitchen to see what he had thrown with such force it broke a double pane window. It was the size of a roll of quarters. A pin on one side had been pulled, but for some reason it hadn’t exploded. I heard the man in the front room say, “I don’t want to wait in here. I’d rather wait outside by the curb. You have no right to hold me in here.”

  I called to Ryan. Brian came with him. “This is some sort of bomb. I can see the timer in red on the side of it. It’s set to go off in four minutes.”

  Ryan looked at Brian. “Go get him.” He pointed toward the living room. The timer read three minutes, forty-five seconds.

  “What is this?” Ryan asked the man. He shrugged his shoulders.

  Brian pushed the man toward the device. “Here, get a closer look.” He took a zip tie from a pocket and fastened the man to the table leg.

  “What the hell are you doing?” The man jerked as hard as he could to try and break free. The timer read two minutes.

  I turned around and picked up Chili. “We are going outside. You can stay here and deal with what you did.”

  The man’s eyes were frantic. “That’s murder. You guys will get the needle for this.”

  Ryan looked down at the bomb. “You’ve got a minute and a half. In exactly forty seconds, we are all leaving this house, except you.”

  The man sat horrified now. “Reach in my pocket and get my cell phone. Dial 67, you will hear two clicks, put in 923 and wait until you hear it ring punch 1181. It will shut off.”

  I did as he said, and the timer stopped with thirty-one seconds to go.

  There were so many questions to ask the man. I wished Roger would get here. At that moment, he came in the front door. The first thing he spotted was the bomb. “What’s that?”

  He nodded to the man who now sagged to the floor. The only thing holding him up was the restraint around his wrist. I answered for him. “It is a bomb; our friend here was nice enough to shut it down for us.”

  Captain Simon looked over his shoulder. “Patrolman Floyd, call the bomb squad, tell them to get here yesterday. I’ve seen these before. Someone can turn it back on as easily as he shut it down.”

  I looked down. The timer still rested on thirty-one seconds.

  Roger took out a note pad and pen from his pocket. “Someone tell me what happened here.”

  Brian began and related the entire story. Roger told him to release the man from the table leg. I kept my eye on the timer.

  Ryan helped the intruder stand on wobbly legs. After a patrolman read him his rights, Roger began to question him. “What’s your name?”

  “I don’t have to tell you,” he said defiantly.

  “No, you don’t. Let me lay out a few facts for you before you decide to be uncooperative. One, you committed an assault. Two, you stand to go down for the attempted murder of these good people and most likely the men outside. Those charges alone will be enough to keep you in prison for the rest of your life. Three, you are a hired goon. The people who hired you would rather you were dead since their little plan didn’t work. Going to jail would not be safe for you. And four, I don’t like uncooperative people. They make me angry. When I’m angry I tend to exaggerate the severity of the offense. Are you following me?”

  Several long seconds passed without a sound in the room. It only stopped because the bomb squad arrived. They ushered us out of the house and a block down the street.

  Roger looked at the bomb thrower and said, “I’m only going to ask one more time. What is your name?”

  “August Gillette,” the man answered, “and I want a lawyer.”

  Twenty minutes later the bomb squad came out pushing a hazard box. One of them said to Roger, “We’ll take this on the trailer and detonate it at the site. It might be small, but it’s mighty.”

  Patrolman Floyd put August Gillette into the back of his patrol car. Roger followed. Before he left, he said, “I’ll be in touch. I can’t wait to see who his attorney is.”

  I called after him. “One more thing, what about the door and damage here?”

  He paused. “The CSI team is on its way. Shouldn’t take them long to go through it and release your house back to you.

  “With your connections Ryan, you should be able to get it fixed by tonight, tomorrow at the latest.”

  CHAPTER 21

  T he CSI team came and went within an hour. Ryan called in a favor and a service man was on his way to replace the glass in the side of the French door.

  I put Chili in her crate and sat it outside in the shade on the patio. The glass had exploded inward. It covered the floor, table, and counters. In our attempt to clean up enough to survive before a cleaning service got there, we used a broom, damp cloth, and even the vacuum cleaner.

  Each time we were sure we had enough cleaned up to let Chili in, Ryan took a flashlight and shined it on the floor. Tiny flecks of glass shimmered back at him.

  We didn’t have the equipment or know how to remove all the damaged glass. We ordered a pizza, grabbed a couple of soft drinks, and headed outside to keep our little buddy company.

  One of Rya
n’s men came over with cardboard and covered the opening so Chili could be freed from her crate but couldn’t go into the house.

  The doorbell rang, Ryan went out the backyard gate and walked to the front to retrieve our food. He not only came back with the food, Amy and Nathan were with him. Both were armed.

  The people who wanted the story of Ivy Tucker and family to stay secret showed how resourceful they were. No matter how many men, cameras, and security precautions we implemented, the group kept coming with new and different ways to try and stop us.

  Nathan had a pizza box in his hand. “Did you bring a pizza? I ordered one a little while ago.”

  Nathan handed the box to Ryan. “This one is yours; I intercepted the driver out front. I also checked it for bugs. It is spyware free unless they hid it in the cheese.”

  I walked toward the boarded-up door. “Want a beer?”

  Nathan said yes as did Ryan. Amy answered, “I’ll take a soft drink. I don’t want to take any chances with our baby.”

  Ryan was barefoot. He slipped his loafers off at the door as to not track any glass outside. “You guys stay here and have a seat. I’ll go into the war zone and get the drinks and napkins. We planned to eat picnic style. We don’t think it is safe to take plates out and set them down on the counter until it is cleaned.”

  I gave Amy a super-sized hug. “Where’s Digger?”

  She pointed to Chili’s crate. We opened the door so the dog could come and go in the yard. Digger joined her in the bed, and both chewed on treats Amy brought with her.

  Ryan came back with several sodas and beer bottles in a small cooler.

  Nathan took a long drink of his beer, “The guys said you had another problem over here. Are we going to have to put snipers in the trees to stop this?”

  Ryan sat his drink down. “Hum, not a bad idea.”

  I smiled. “My thought is a large country estate with an alligator filled moat.”

  Ryan held his bottle and motioned with it. “I think the glass speaks for itself. I’m contemplating my lovely wife’s idea, playing duck-and-run has become tiring, and gets more dangerous every day.”

  I joined Ryan in relaying step-by-step what had happened that afternoon.

  My phone rang. It was Roger. “Morris Rainy showed up to represent August Gillette. I should have known. There have always been rumors about him being connected to organized crime and drugs. But lately he has represented every hired man, no matter who is behind it. I wish there was a way to know who his real clients are.”

  I turned my speaker on, and everyone heard what he said. “Did you question him?”

  “No, not yet, that’s why I’m calling. Mr. Rainy had a meeting with opposing counsel in another case. Said he’d be back in an hour. If you get here before he does and I can hide you, I thought you might want to listen in.”

  “Great. We’re on our way.”

  Ryan and I were still dressed in our grungy clothes and didn’t take time to change. We each grabbed a piece of pizza to eat on the way. I looked at Ryan. “Think it’s all right for me to bring Chili?”

  “Don’t worry about her,” Amy answered. “We’ll stay here with her. She and Digger are so happy and content to move now. If they decide to come out of the crate, we can entertain them until you get back.”

  I ran back and gave Amy a peck on the cheek. “I doubt we’ll be long. Two people are coming. A man is on his way to replace the door and one of the companies Ryan uses is coming to clean.”

  Before we scooted out the door to the garage, Ryan looked back at Nathan. “Be careful and stay armed, better safe than sorry.”

  Amy and Nathan both waved us on.

  The police station hadn’t changed in thirty years. It sat seven steps above street level as did most of the buildings downtown. They added a handicap ramp on the front and back otherwise it was the same squat, unattractive brick building with the street number in brick built into the façade.

  We parked in the back lot where the police parked their personal cars. The public, including lawyers had to use the front door. It lessened our chances of running into Morris Rainy.

  I walked straight to Roger’s office, Ryan by my side.

  He put us in a small space behind Interrogation Room Two. When I’d been a cop the room was for storing office supplies and items we needed but didn’t know what to do with. We had room to sit, stretch our legs and not hit each other’s elbows. No claustrophobic could have stayed over a minute in the cramped space. Other than a two-way mirror and a sound system so we could hear the proceedings, the room was bare, and the bile green paint did nothing to make it appealing.

  I had interviewed many a suspect in the room we now stared at it through the two-way window.

  Roger walked into the empty room. A patrolman escorted Mr. Gillette in shortly after. He was fitted with arm and leg chains.

  The attorney arrived last. “Let’s get this misunderstanding straightened out. Mr. Gillette would like to sleep in his own bed tonight. Wouldn’t you, August?”

  The man nodded.

  Roger remained silent. He turned on a recording device and TV and gave a stern look at the man who sat next to his Dapper Dan lawyer. “August Gillette, is that your correct name?”

  August answered. “August Westfield Gillette.”

  Roger― “How old are you, August?”

  They went on with the preliminary questions for about twenty minutes. Then Roger asked, “What took you to the Mead home this afternoon?”

  “Nothing, I went jogging. My shoe came untied and when I stopped to tie it, two men accosted me.”

  “I need their names,” the lawyer said. “We will be filing suits against them for assault.”

  Roger glanced at Raney but said nothing.

  Roger ― “Where did you get the bomb you threw into the Meade’s home?”

  August― “I didn’t throw a bomb. I didn’t have a bomb.”

  Rainy― “What proof do you have that my client threw the bomb or even had it in his possession?”

  Roger glared at the lawyer. “Because he defused it when he realized he might blow up with it and his victims.”

  Rainy looked toward Gillette.

  Roger turned his full attention to the subject. “Let’s get to the point. You threw an incendiary device into the Meade home. You wanted it to explode. Who hired you to do that?”

  August looked at Rainy. “I didn’t know the man. He gave me money to throw the thing on the back patio. I threw it too hard and it landed in the house.”

  Roger ― “How much did the man pay you?”

  August again deflected to his lawyer.

  Rainy ― “Tell them.”

  August― Ten thousand dollars.”

  Roger― “You want me to believe a stranger gave you that much money to throw something onto a patio.”

  August― “It’s the truth.”

  Roger― “Then how did you know how to shut the bomb down?”

  August― “I guessed.”

  Kate turned to Ryan. “This is ridiculous. I just want to know who hired him.”

  “Roger will get to that,” Ryan answered.

  The interrogation went on another thirty minutes with Roger asking and August giving ridiculous answers.

  Then, I could tell, having worked as Roger’s partner for seven years, he’d had enough.

  Roger― “Let’s cut to the chase. I want the name and description of the man who hired you. I want to know if he gave you the device and why he said he wanted you to throw it on the Meade’s patio. You are looking at charges of attempted murder, misuse of a deadly weapon, and terrorism. And oh yes, assault for the man’s jaw you broke. Your best bet is to co-operate. If you don’t, I think you are looking at a long prison stay, maybe the rest of your life.”

  Morris Rainy leaned over and whispered in August Gillette’s ear. Gillette nodded and began to speak. “I work at the Dancing Springs Day Spa, I’m a trainer. Hundreds of people visit there each month. One night I w
as at Mucho Taco and a man I knew from the spa came in. He said he needed a white guy to play a joke on his friends.

  “I knew it wasn’t a joke when he offered me ten thousand dollars. My mom is sick, and I thought the money might help her out. I said yes.”

  Roger asked. “Who constructed the bomb? What did the man look like, or better yet, what was his name?”

  “He told me his name was Michael Smith.”

  Roger tapped his fingers on the table. “Why did he say he needed a white guy? Sounds like he was a white guy.”

  “No sir, he looked to be Hispanic.”

  “Let me get this straight. A man belongs to your gym by the name of Michael Smith. He gave you ten grand to throw a bomb onto the Meade’s patio as a joke, is that your story?”

  Morris Rainy leaned back in his chair and smiled at Roger. “Sounds like the man you are really after is gone.”

  Roger turned his attention to the attorney. “Why would you think he was gone? I have the man I want. I have the man who assaulted Mr. Meade’s employee, the man who threw the bomb, the man who defused said bomb. I don’t need to have the name of the other man to have a solid case against your client.”

  Rainy turned red. “I’d like to have a word with my client alone, without your tape recorder and monitor.”

  Roger didn’t say anything. He stood, turned off both machines, looked at his watch and said, “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  There might not have been a recorder on in the room yet Rainy sat directly facing Gillette and talked in a low voice. No matter how hard we tried to watch and listen, we didn’t hear a word. We sat back down when Roger went back into the room.

  Morris Rainey turned toward August Gillette. “Don’t say anything else to these people. I mean nothing. I will take care of the matter we discussed and,” he patted August Gillette on the shoulder. “Mr. Gillette is ready to tell you the entire truth now.”

  He began. “One of my cousins was Dennis Romano. When Kate Nash and her sister broke up the DeMarco family a few years back, it cost Dennis his life. I was getting revenge.

  “I got the plans for the little bomb off the Internet and carried out my plan. I’m responsible for everything.”