Small Town Taxi (Honey Walker Adventures Book 1)

by Harriet Rogers

  

  The story still dominated the news two days later. Ten employees of the nursing home had been arrested in connection with the smuggling and retail distribution of heroin from New York to the Canadian border. They would take empty wheelchairs down to whichever source city they were using and return with chairs stuffed with heroin, making numerous stops along the way. The first orderly arrested turned state’s evidence so the entire network began to crumble. Mr. Scarpelli was not named as a conspirator. In fact, his name never came up at all. That made me wonder how delusional his daughter might be and how far she would travel on her fantasy. Or did she know all about the wheelchair distribution network and want to take on the competition as well as her father? Susan had disappeared so no one had any answers about her intentions. The busting of the competition could encourage her or discourage her, depending on how rational her thoughts were at any given moment.

  I decided to keep her in the back of my head but not let her dominate my life the way she had been for the last few weeks.

  I was sitting at Lucille’s kitchen table munching my breakfast cookie. Lucille had decided to break it off with Arnie, and I was scheduled to take her to the nursing home. He was probably ready to leave since the facility was scrambling to replace most of its staff and the service couldn’t have been very good.

  “He’s okay in the sack but he complains too much. He was fine for a one-night stand, until he tried to actually stand.” Lucille was packing her purse for a trip to the Senior Center after seeing Arnie. I noticed her checkbook and her brass knuckles going in and assumed she was entered in a bridge competition.

  When we got to Arnie’s room, there was a middle-age man standing next to the bed. Arnie was up and dressed and his bag was packed.

  “Uh, hi, Lucille. This here is my son from Cincinnati. I’ve decided to move back. It’s too crazy here. The orderlies look like zombies. I’ll miss a few of my friends.” He winked at Lucille and I wondered if he remembered what their relationship was.

  Back in the car Lucille breathed a sigh that sounded like relief to me.

  “Now he can complain to someone else. I haven’t been dumped too many times in my life, but I’m glad this was one of them. Take me to the Senior Center. I need to go hunting.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next morning, I woke up at Jon’s house. It was 8 o’clock. Time to hustle. I was guzzling coffee when Belle wandered in. She had spent the night while she waited on a bed delivery to her new apartment.

  “You check in with Mona yet to see what’s up this morning?”

  “Nope.” I handed her the cell phone. She punched in the short code for Cool Rides, number 1, and handed it back.

  Mona answered. She mumbled two words and I groaned.

  “We have to pick up Denise. She wants a ride from her place in the Meadows,” I said. Belle had met Denise once and I had described some of the adventures I had had picking her up.

  Denise was one of our occasional regulars and she had been homeless for as long as I had known her. She called every two to four weeks wanting a ride to one of the cheap motels out on the old highway. There were three of these and she could always count on one of them to have a room available. None of the upscale, in-town hotels would take her. Most were too expensive anyway. We all kind of liked Denise. She tipped well and was always entertaining. It was just that we had to drive with all the windows down and the air conditioning on full blast, and we had to detail the car when we got back to the garage. We still ended up using one of those sprays that smell marginally better than a dead ashtray.

  The Meadows was a section of Northampton made up mostly of farms, forest and the Connecticut River. It also contained the small airport and the three-county fairgrounds. There were a few houses in the Meadows, but the city planner, in a fit of “not in my back yard-ism,” passed rules forbidding any new building in the area. The result was a large piece of land unpopulated by permanent structures. It provided ideal spaces for wildlife, drug deals, drunk college students, and a camping site for the homeless population convenient to downtown and all their sources of income. Street begging was Denise’s favorite source of cash flow. She lived with her brother and another man in a tent with an ancient propane stove inside and a campfire outside. It was the campfire and lack of a bathing facility that made us air out the cab after a Denise ride.

  “She wants to be picked up at 9.” Belle poured coffee.

  At a quarter to 9, Belle and I loaded ourselves into the cab. Jon had gone to work before either of us got up, and Lucille must have been busy. No wonderous odors wafted out that might make it worth breaking down her door, so we headed to the Meadows.

  Denise’s castle of the moment was an old Army tent. It could house six people, so room wasn’t an issue. Privacy was. The outhouse and general wash-up was several acres of woods behind the tent and the Connecticut River. Once a month, Denise would save up enough dimes, nickels and quarters for a hot bath and a real bed.

  We pulled up on the dirt road about fifty feet from the tent and honked the horn. This would have been considered bad manners with any other fare. We always walked to the door and knocked. If that failed to get them out, we called on the cell phone. Denise didn’t always have a cell phone and, when she did, it wasn’t always charged. She would arrange her rides the day before, when she was in town working the sidewalks. Given the lack of privacy, we never approached the tent or the area around it. I had done that once. I found her brother sitting with his back against a tree, five feet from the tent. He was bare-assed and taking a giant dump. He grinned and waved his penis at me. I retreated to the taxi and sat with all the doors locked until Denise came out.

  Apparently the morning toiletries were over. Denise trotted down the path to the road and slid into the back seat.

  “Forward, James, or make that Jamette.” Denise was looking chipper and wide awake. Her hair was combed, and she was, shockingly, wearing mascara.

  “Got myself married last night,” she said without any lead-up to the story. “The old man, well the new old man, is already out at the North Prince Motel. Hitched a ride there with one of the farmers. I told him I’d join him once I got my face done.”

  “You look lovely, Denise,” Belle said.

  “Yeah, well, ever the blushing bride. I need to get away from the brother for a while. He’s such a prick. I tried to get the cops to haul his ass. There’s a warrant out. But they could care less about that shit.”

  “What’s the warrant for?” I asked, getting sucked into the story.

  “Oh, just 30 days for an open container.”

  “That’s probably not a priority for the police. They have a lot on their minds these days.” Like a few murders and an uptick in the heroin supply, which would now be a downtick—for a short period of time. Northampton had become a small town with big city problems.

  “I coulda told them about the murder,” Denise mused. “But I called the FBI instead. They told me to call the staties.”

  “Did you?” I glanced over my shoulder at her, wondering if Denise could have seen one of the murders on Jon’s agenda. Or if she was talking about one of the other homeless folks who might have crossed her brother once too often. Would anyone in authority in Northampton notice if a member of its homeless population suddenly didn’t show up for work? Given Denise’s source of income, most of the population of Northampton probably wished she would miss a day at work.

  “Nah, I got bored with it. He wasn’t worth the trouble. Anyway, now I got my honey to keep me busy.”

  “Yeah, guys’ll do that to you,” Belle said, looking at me.

  Denise, oblivious to Belle and me, continued her train of thought.

  “I thought they might want to know he murdered a guy and dumped him in the Ashfield Lake. Wrapped him right up in one of my best blankets. Stones, bungee cords and—plop—right in the lake. Yup.”

  “Did you see this happen?” I asked, wondering how much was true and how much was
an attempt to get rid of her brother. Sibling rivalries, one never knew. Functional family is an oxymoron.

  “Well, duh. Of course I saw it. Bodies sure do look white when they’re dead.”

  “Denise, maybe you should tell the Ashfield police, or maybe someone right here in Northampton.”

  “Nah, they all think I’m crazy. ’Sides, I don’t bother them, they don’t bother me.”

  “But you did call the FBI.”

  “Did I say that? Well, maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

  I gave up questioning. I could tell Jon what she said. Leave the ball in his court. I had enough on my mind. Like, where was Susan? The Springfield police hadn’t turned her up at Daddy’s house. Unless Daddy had thrown her out or worse. But she was his sole heir. Even if she was a woman, she was a Scarpelli woman. How much did family mean to the old man? Was he sure she really was his family?

  We pulled up in front of the North Prince Motel. There were only two other cars parked in front of rooms, so there was plenty of space for Denise and her new “husband,” but I told her I would wait while she talked to the front desk. Sometimes, if they were mostly rented or if they had had a good week, they would turn her away. Whether they let her rent a room depended on how much they needed her cash. They would have a major cleanup after she left. Denise pulled a wad of money out of her loose pants pockets and peeled off a twenty- dollar bill.

  “Keep the change. Do I know how to tip or what?” She must have had five hundred dollars in the wad. It was a ten-dollar fare.

  Belle got out of the car. “Must have had too much coffee. I’ll be right back.” She went into the lobby to find the restroom. Denise followed her in.

  I sighed and slouched in the seat. I yawned. I stretched. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of the sun on my face. I decided to call Jon and mention what Denise had told me. Or, if I were honest, just to hear his voice. Speed dial is great. I pushed the number button for Jon, put the phone on speaker mode, and slid it into the center console.

  “Stevens.”

  “Hi, lieutenant of the cute butt.”

  “I sure hope this is Reverend Mother Mary from my high school days.”

  “We’re about to head back to Cool Rides. We just dropped Denise off at the North Prince Motel. I have a good story about that. I thought I might pass it on to the police.” I gave him the short version. He groaned and said he’d pass it on to the State Police since he couldn’t be sure it was in his jurisdiction, and he hoped to hell it wasn’t. I heard a click and I leaned back to enjoy more sunshine.

  When the car door opened, I pushed myself up to a sitting position, opening my eyes as I reached to turn the key…and saw Susan sitting in the passenger seat with a very large gun. She certainly had a good supply of those ugly pieces of metal. It answered the question about where she was and how delusional she had become. She wasn’t looking good. The power suit of our first encounter was gone. She still had on the baggy clothes from the hospital. They had a few tears and smears of dirt down the front. Her short hair was getting frizzy and tangled and her eyes had dark circles under them. She looked as wild and crazy as she was.

  “Hi, Honey, I’m back. And, by the way, Belle has been detained. This was not the smartest place to come. Amazing how easy it is to get crazy people to be sane for just long enough to do what you’ve paid them to do.”

  “You bribed Denise?” That was about as low as Susan had gone so far. Denise was crazy and unpredictable. But so was Susan. She had clearly lost the power of logical thought.

  “I gave her and her new idiot a wedding present of a big fat roll of cash. It was the least I could do.”

  “So, now what? You want to make your bones on me?”

  “Oh, Honey, you’ve been watching too many Godfather movies. Anyway, bones or no bones, I’m not going to shoot you dead and dump you in a nice, smelly toilet, if that’s what you’re worried about. And I promise I won’t put a dead horse in your bed. Come to think of it, that might be an improvement for you.” I didn’t like the detail she provided. Lester Cardozzo had been dumped in a toilet. And Jon was almost in my bed.

  “Then what the hell is going on? What are you trying to do?” I asked.

  “I’m just trying to finish up. The board of directors assigned me a project, and I need to make a completed presentation next week.”

  “A project? I’m a project?” I answered dumbly.

  “Yeah. I’m supposed to enhance the possibilities of transportation along the 91-interstate corridor between Hartford and the northern border of Vermont. We reached maximum capacity with our current carriers and then your idiot cops busted them. We need to expand, and Cool Rides is the ideal expansion associate. But we need some cooperation here, and Willie isn’t providing it. Are you getting my drift here?”

  “You want me to convince him to join your project.”

  “You are so perceptive. You might make partner yet. Belle is just going to sit tight with my friend in there while you and I go for a ride.”

  Leaning forward, I gave my brain a silent pep talk and started the car. Don’t panic. Stay calm until you can’t.

  “Where to?”

  “Cool Rides, of course.”

  “What are you going to do when we get there?” I hadn’t expected her to go into such a public place.

  “I’m going to give Willie a contract. Then I’m going to call my friend in there.” She waved her hand at the motel office. “I’ll tell him to chop off one of those beautifully manicured fingers Belle loves so well. Every hour until the contract gets signed, he’ll get another finger. Special delivery, by taxi.” Susan started laughing and I realized her tenuous hold on reality had disappeared. Unfortunately, the gun she was holding was very real.

  I gurgled and took off.

  Traffic on the strip was heavy and we hit every red light. There was a fender bender in front of one of the strip malls and both parties were out and screaming with traffic inching around their wildly waving arms. Half an hour later we pulled up at Cool Rides. There were no cars in front of the garage, and the office seemed quiet. There should have been phones ringing, music blasting, tools clanking in the garage. I knew this, but Susan didn’t have the rhythm of the company hardwired into her brain.

  I grabbed my phone and shoved it in my pocket. Cool Rides runs on cell phones so the drivers take them everywhere. If you were sitting on the toilet, the phone sat next to you. You never, ever left them in the car.

  I got out cautiously. Susan looked at me. “I’ve got a very large gun under this coat, Honey, and I’ll use it. Probably on Willie first. He’s been such a pain in the ass. Maybe that would be most efficient. So, behave yourself.”

  I raised my hands over my head and turned to the office door.

  “Oh please, enough with the theatrics. This is a fucking business meeting, not the final episode of The Sopranos. Just walk in like you’re checking for another fare.”

  I lowered my hands and tried to see what was going on inside the building. Not much, as near as I could tell.

  Mona was in the office cubicle, her head bent over papers on the desk. Willie was probably in the garage. I was on high alert, adrenaline pumping, absorbing details I’d never noticed. The unisex bathroom door was cracked open. The door from the office/waiting area to the garage was the same. There was silence from the garage.

  Susan walked us to the office and spotted Mona. “Go find Willie, or Mona will lose a kneecap,” she said into my ear.

  “So, where’s Willie?” I tried to lean casually against the door.

  “Garage,” Mona replied without looking up.

  Susan gestured me in that direction with the coat. I would never think of jackets as just an accessory again.

  Willie came in from the garage, looked up and saw Susan. His expression changed, and a wave of hatred I had never seen before crossed his face as he walked toward us.

  “Susan,” he said, “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t come around here again.”

 
“Aren’t you cute today? We didn’t agree. That’s the problem here. We need to agree I’m not going to change the shape of Honey’s face. Or Mona’s knees. Or Belle’s hands. Or just put a fucking hole in your head. We need an understanding.”

  Willie looked around. “Where is Belle?”

  “Oh, Belle’s hands are in good hands. They have a big ax.” She paused. “So, let’s negotiate.”

  “Just what is it you want from Cool Rides?” Willie was talking too loudly.

  “I need you to service whatever I want transported up the interstate corridor. I need your assurance you understand exactly what the consequences will be if you say no again. And our business needs 50 percent of your business. You will be paid extremely well.”

  Willie shifted his weight forward. Mona rolled her chair closer to the desk. I stood like a stone. Although the “paid extremely well” had not escaped my notice.

  “What part does your father play in this?” Willie asked.

  “Ah, dear old Dad. No ambition. You could run a truck through his company and he wouldn’t notice. It needs new blood. That would be me.”

  “Why not just increase his truck fleet? Use them.” Willie had raised his voice.

  “Too obvious. They get searched every time they take a load of shit somewhere.”

  “Why me? Why not Lennie’s limo or Larry’s or Lulu’s or whatever the hell it is?”

  Susan looked at him like he was the stupidest person on earth. “Because, Mr. Country Hick, they are at capacity. We load them up any more and somebody is going to notice. I can’t believe they haven’t been busted yet. Nope, Cool Rides is the cleanest operation around. And with the other competition gone, thank you so much,” she said, turning to me. “It’s just perfect for our expansion plans. Now sign the damn contract.” She pulled a single sheet of paper from her jacket and placed it on the table.

  I couldn’t believe Susan thought a contract signed under this kind of duress was going to change her family or business status. She might have to kidnap one of us permanently to make this work. Maybe she assumed none of us would go to the police. Maybe this was all in her head and Daddy had no expansion plans at all. So many maybes, so little sanity.