by Mark Lashway
“No, we both like the idea of getting rich,” Deville told him. “But what about Maria? She works for you, we sniffed that one out.”
“She’s keeping out of sight, like me. She’s going with us to help me get the items out, then she’ll return to her regular life,” he lied. “Get it now?” How the hell did they….
“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” Deville remarked.
“I know the wait has been killing you guys,” Lando said. “Hell, it’s been driving me up a wall, too, believe me.” He could see the greed in his helpers’ eyes and his soothing tone was having its intended effect. Only it won’t be waiting that kills you two. It’ll be Frank and Lyle. I’m not sharing my hard-earned money with you two idiots.
“What time are we heading out?” Sharper asked.
“Not at least until midnight,” Lando replied. “I want to have GWIBE ramped up with most of the people in the main areas, so we can slip out without being seen easier. By the time we get to the abbey, the whole place should be asleep. It’ll give us plenty of time to set up, talk it through so everybody understands their exact jobs, then do it and make a careful getaway. I will call you when everything’s ready, OK?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Deville replied in a faraway tone.
“OK, now get the hell out of here before anyone comes along and sees us together,” Lando ordered.
As they walked away, Clay Sharper immediately picked up on his friend’s moody demeanor. “What’s wrong, Tom? It sounds like Duke has it well-organized.”
“Well-organized for him!” Deville muttered. “Probably not so much for us, at least not in the way we’re expecting.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“C’mon, Clay, think about it! Two assistants to drive us away to some hiding place? Duke must think we just fell off the fucking hay wagon! This whole thing smells really bad.”
“Tom, maybe it’s just your nerves and you’re imagining….”
“Do you trust Duke?”
“Christ, no! Ah fuck, you’re probably right, Tom. So how do we both live and collect that money?”
“Did you bring a piece with you to GWIBE?”
“Yeah, I got a .357 Magnum that I just bought back in December.”
“Good. I’ll bring my .32 Auto. At least we’ll have some protection then. I don’t intend to have crows picking the fucking eyeballs out of my corpse out on the Dakota plains.”
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
“What do you think?” Shauna asked as she slowly turned around full circle in front of Helen in Bowman’s tent.
“I think that Cam’s going to love it!” Helen exclaimed as she examined the cornflower blue dress that her younger friend was wearing. “Cam will go wild or he’s already dead.”
Shauna gave a quiet little giggle as she thought about her husband’s reaction. The dress was short, well above the knees, and was sparse enough on the top to show plenty of her shoulders, neck and cleavage.
“I really wanted to get his attention onto something other than just the usual crap,” Shauna said with a broad smile, “but I never imagined this.”
“Well, my dear, that’s the risk you take when you pour out your troubles to me. When I set out to help with a problem, I go all-in.”
“Where did you get this? Surely not here at GWIBE.”
“Actually, I did,” Helen replied. “You know how we always get those occasional hustlers passing through? Well, this one actually had some practical things, particularly along the lines of clothing and accessories. It seems like some of them are finally waking up to the fact that there are women at this thing and smell some opportunity.”
“But to land something like this!” Shauna laughed, still incredulous. She didn’t have to ask how Helen had known that this dress would fit her sight unseen. All women knew each other’s sizes, and in Helen’s case she could do it simply by eyeballing the item. “Thank you so much. Are you sure that I can’t give you some money for it?”
“I won’t hear of it. I told you before that I still owed you a little more on your wedding present, remember?”
“This makes me feel very special. Simply putting this thing on makes me feel like I’m back in civilization, you know?”
“Yes. We’re not really blessed with a lot of that at GWIBE, are we? It’s all blue jeans, short shorts and t-shirts. You know, this makes me think that it would be a marvelous idea if GWIBE had at least one dress-up night each year where everybody would look nice. It could be a very social occasion, you know?”
“That actually sounds like a wonderful idea!” Shauna cried, her eyes widening just a bit. “Let’s bring it up to the organizers sometime to put in for next year.”
“Hoooooooly mackerel!” interrupted another voice and it startled them. Sonny Lombardo was in the doorway, eyes fixated on the spectacle of this lovely young woman in her new dress.
“She wants to surprise Cam,” Helen explained, “so don’t say anything.”
“I won’t. Wow!”
“Don’t get too excited,” Helen told him. “She needs to take it off it to keep it clean and put it away, so you can haul your fat ass out now so the girl can change in peace.”
After he’d gone Shauna carefully took the dress off and draped it over one arm. “Helen, I just can’t wait to put this on again and see Cam’s reaction!” she said.
“When you do, make sure that you’re in the privacy of your tent. If you have to wear it outside, make sure Cam’s with you. There are some damned wolves here who would love to move in on you, my dear. Did you know that they’re placing odds….”
“That our marriage will fail? Yes, I do. But they’ll lose their money. Cam will have to do something extremely terrible for that to happen, like causing another riot.”
“I think he learned his lesson this time. Well, my dear, you might as well put that thing away and get ready for the judging tonight. It’ll be a long one, but I can see a twinkle in your eyes now that tells me that you’ll do it happily tonight.”
“That, I will. Thanks again, Helen. This meant a lot to me.”
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
“So, we’re on the same page as to what we’re doing tonight?” Duke Lando asked the fake Maria Sanchez from his hiding place.
“I don’t like it, Duke. Breaking in and taking stuff? It seems really low-rent for somebody from your background,” she protested.
“You’re absolutely right, honey,” he soothed her, “and it’s the last way I’d imagined getting this done, but goddamnit, everything has gone wrong so far and the only way to pull it off successfully is to go back to basics with a really simple plan. Got it?”
She said nothing, unable to argue any more. She needed the money too badly. Without it she would be forced back to her home territory in California, where it would only be a matter of time before she was caught up in something and the felony warrants came back to haunt her.
“With the money you can head off wherever you want and start fresh,” he added, guessing her thoughts. His eyes showed warmth and a bit of sadness. “I love to see people turning their lives around, Maria. It happens so rarely that it’s a joy when it happens.”
“Alright,” she sighed, totally compliant now. “Tell me how it plays out.”
“We’re gonna gather sometime after midnight. We do the job, get out of there clean. While I go back to GWIBE to be seen around, I have two assistants who’ll drive the guys to a hiding spot and then bring you back to another spot, where I’ll pick up the stuff and pay you.”
“The guys? Who are the….oh, you mean those two jerks Tom Deville and Clay Sharper?” she asked with clear distaste.
“Yeah,” he replied in a sympathetic tone. “I wish I didn’t have to, believe me, but I need the sets of hands to make this work.”
“Tomorrow morning I’m out of here,” she told him. “Make sure you have my money tonight, Duke, and no excuses. I want out of here.”
“Of course, honey. Duke L
ando always carries out a deal,” he assured her. If he’d known her better he would have noticed the slight licking of her lips that was a sign that a warning had gone off in her head. “OK, it’s not long before dark. Stay low, get some rest and prepare yourself for tonight. Tonight will see your life take a major turn.”
Why will it change tonight and not tomorrow? she thought while walking away. For such a simple plan he put some complications into it. Two assistants to drive me and those two guys away? Isn’t that luxurious, though….oh shit, he isn’t actually thinking….well, I’ll make sure my blade has a really good edge on it before tonight. I really wish I had a gun.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
The sun was sinking too slowly into the hazy western sky, its brightness a bit muted from an invisible film caused by the rising humidity in the air, but seeming fierce nonetheless. The people of GWIBE were taking it easy for the moment, nobody had much ambition to do anything in this heat. Campsites were being lightly cleaned, little details taken care of, whatever people could find to kill some time while not draining themselves. Only with night would the energy return with another round of the notorious GWIBE nightlife.
Two tired men slowly strolled down the main dirt road, their cups of beer almost empty and their clothes sticking to them from heavy sweating. One of them really wished that he could be inside a darkened tent right now, relaxing.
“I can’t go on much longer like this, Ned,” Cam told the investigator. “I need to rest.”
“Yeah, I understand, Witter. It’s too damned hot for this, but Darryl is with the abbot right now and is down by the demonstration area.”
“Good. We need to ask a lot of questions and get a lot of good answers. Time is short.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Absolutely. Whatever Lando’s scheme, why would he keep waitin’ around to do it? I mean, that just increases the odds of somethin’ bad happenin’ in the meantime that would torpedo it, right? Lando’s not stupid. He’s got to realize that.”
“I’ll admit there’s a certain logic to what you’re saying,” Inkwell conceded. I’ll never admit it to him or anyone else, but thank God I have Witter here to help me. Otherwise I’d probably be two steps behind Lando all the time.
“There’s no use doin’ the good cop, bad cop routine with Abbot John. He’s way too sophisticated to fall for that. What I propose is that we both be bad cop.”
“As long as we don’t overdo it, Witter. The last thing my department needs is another complaint. We’ve had enough personnel issues to last us quite some time.”
“Ned, we’re on the trail of two potential murderers, includin’ a very corrupt businessman lookin’ to hurt that abbey. Get real.”
“And let’s not forget the mysterious Lutheran mole, a third potential murderer.”
Cam groaned inwardly and remained silent.
“I’ve got some good stuff for you,” Inkwell continued, cracking a wicked smile now. When I was gone that short time to the latrine, well, my guy back at HQ called me with some very interesting information. The dead kid, that Joey Harper, was actually one Joey Creed.”
“Oh? What about him?”
“His father is one Henry Creed, who lives in Nashville and has been divorced from the mother for almost eight years now. The mother is Janet Creed, maiden name….Lando.”
Cam stopped, taking a moment to stare at Inkwell, who smiled more broadly at the effect that it had had on him. “Shit. But you know what? I really shouldn’t be surprised. That corner that Duke has been painted into is gettin’ smaller each day.”
“That’s right,” Inkwell chuckled, “and do you know what the best part of being in my position is? Guess.”
“Bein’ able to decide how long Lando will dangle out there before you reel him in?”
“You’re exactly right, Witter!” Inkwell boomed in unusual exuberance. “You’re damned good. Hey, do you think that Duke is aware of that too?”
“Of course he is.”
“Do you think it’ll cause him to cancel everything and slip away quietly?”
“Of course not. He’s too greedy and too blockheaded to do that.”
“Well, then, I’d say we’re quite ready to do our thing with Abbot John. Hey, we’re almost there, but I want a drink before we do it. Something with light body and not a lot of hop bite. I’m thinking along the lines of a helles.”
“Yeah, I know a place to get one on the way,” Cam sighed. “I can use one too.”
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
Duke Lando lay on his back in the shade of his hiding place, a t-shirt wrapped around his eyes to block out the light as he tried to use various exercises to calm himself. He needed to get at least a few hours of sleep before they headed out later tonight. The job would require clear thinking and steady nerves. Exhaustion and frustration simply wouldn’t do.
He placed his cellphone right next to one ear so he could hear the ring when Lyle and Frank managed to call him back. It was aggravating that his latest call to them had yet again been forwarded to voice mail. But for that, he would have gladly turned the thing off for a while.
His sister had called a while ago, hysterical after having been notified of Joey’s death. He’d done what he could to calm her, coolly lying to her about his whereabouts, convincing her that he was in Oregon tied up on business. She’d bought it. It would take a few days for Joey’s body to make it all the way home, with maybe another day or two after that before any services could be held, since the father would have to make his way out there. It was all manageable, though. Tonight they’d do the job, the next two days he’d spend being seen around GWIBE, then there’d be a third day for doing a slow, unhurried goodbye. After that he’d hit the road and drive like hell for home, where he’d be the grieving uncle and supportive brother.
I’d really like to go hunt down Lyle and Frank and chew their asses to bits, he angrily told himself, but I can’t be seen. Those fucking cops are out there.
-24-
“See that look on his face, Witter?” Inkwell mumbled almost inaudibly as they approached Darryl Stayne and Abbot John in a deserted little spot behind the main demonstration tent. “He knows.” Cam merely nodded.
Inkwell made sure to put on a show of draining the last of his current beer and carelessly throwing the plastic cup to the ground. Then he walked up to the abbot and said, “Time is short and yours is up, Abbot John. You know why we’re here.”
“Yes, I do,” the abbot calmly replied, his expression changing from worry to serenity as is typical of one who is finding peace. “Before we begin, however, I want to make a few things clear to you gentlemen.”
“Oh, and what’s that?” Cam asked, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice.
“Mainly, that I never lied to you or led you astray in any way whatsoever.”
“You just didn’t tell us the whole story, isn’t that right?” Cam added.
“Yes, that’s right. I had what seemed to be very good reasons. Go ahead and ask me everything you want and I will answer fully.”
“Duke Lando,” Inkwell began. “When and how did you first come to know him?”
“When the abbey first began making beer, we looked around for malt suppliers. Flatlands is a very prominent name in the business, so we approached them. Duke paid us much attention and even traveled to our abbey to meet with us and check out our operation. He seemed to be a very motivated, professional type interested in doing business.”
“So how did it go from there?”
“Fine, at least at first. What seemed to be eagerness on his part to help us develop a mutually beneficial relationship, however, turned out to have a darker side.”
“Which was?”
“He showed an unhealthy interest in our products and other things. After a short time he made a direct pitch to us which would have involved the abbey agreeing to make Flemwalloo Imports the exclusive distributor for our line of beers. Duke said, and it was one of the only time
s I found him truthful, that our beers were among the best abbey beers he’d ever had and that he thought there would be a tremendous market for them in North America.”
“But you turned him down flat,” Cam prompted.
“Yes. There was no way we were going to give up control of that, especially not to Duke, whom we were beginning to have misgivings about.”
“But bein’ Duke, that wasn’t the end of it,” Cam added.
“No, unfortunately not,” the abbot sighed. “We then turned to other maltsters, ending the relationship with Flatlands. Hearing nothing more from Duke, we thought that that period was over. Then, a few months later, we received a visit from a man representing Paulswell Finance, a venture capital firm. This Mr. De Soto informed us that the firm had heard about our products and was interested in investing in our operation for state-of-the-art equipment in exchange for marketing considerations, as he put it.”
“So you smelled a rat with that, too,” Inkwell said.
“We wondered how he had heard about our products when we hadn’t even brought them out of final development yet. Who in their right mind would invest in such an unknown….”
“So you immediately put out feelers on them, didn’t you?” Inkwell cut him off, his eagerness showing now. “Heh heh, you employed the Catholic Church’s vast intelligence network to….”
“Nothing so dramatic as that,” the abbot replied, “but the church does have certain resources. In short, we discovered that the founder of Paulswell Finance, one Slade Kyrick, went to the same high school as Duke Lando, graduating only one year later. It also seems that Paulswell has given loans to Flatlands on several occasions over the years.”
“So you axed that whole proposition too,” Inkwell said.
“Of course.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing. Things settled down to normal for several months. We heard nothing more and went about our usual business of developing our beers. It was quiet. Then things began happening all at once. We discovered that GWIBE was planning its annual gathering close by, and then shortly after that poor Manuel….”
“Did you know him really well?” Cam asked.