“What?” she asked, a touch of panic in her chest.
“It’s Robert. His Plymouth just turned into the driveway. Tom, get under that tarp with the body and I’ll get rid of him.”
“I’ve got Renada’s little gun here. I can put the barrel in my mouth and end this, you know.”
But he complied. They stopped and gritted their teeth against the squeak of the Plymouth brakes as Robert pulled onto the lawn alongside them. A grim-faced Renada sat close to him. Gary had the presence of mind to be preemptive. “Robert, damn it man, we were all worried about you. Where have you been all day? What’s wrong with Renada?”
“She saw someone who looked like Horst in town and it totally freaked her out. She needs me to take her away to a safe place tomorrow until things are all right again here.”
Beth looked at Renada for confirmation but she was turned away, ignoring them. She directed her attention back to Robert. “Where will you take her?”
“It’s best that none of you know. Where are you three going?”
“Beth had some old carpet to throw away. We’re taking it to the dump.”
“At night?”
“Yeah, so we won’t be seen. Otherwise she has to buy a carpet disposal permit.”
“I never heard of anything like that.”
“It’s new; some EPA thing.”
“But who’s defending the house, just Tom?”
“No, we need you to do that. Tom’s asleep in the storeroom with some flu bug, some real contagious Afro-Mongolian bug. We think he got it from the carpet.”
“He caught the flu in August?”
“Leave him alone and he’ll be all right tomorrow. Just watch for intruders and we’ll be back in an hour. I know you’ll keep Renada safe. We are very proud of you,” said Gary.
Beth and Dani chimed in telling Robert how brave he was. Beth told him to disable his alarm system as she had seen sparks near the cellar door. She urged him to be careful doing it.
As soon as the station wagon started moving, Tom threw the tarp off of his face. “Air,” he gasped. “How often did Harv shower, Dani?”
“No so much, I would imagine. It hardly matters once you’re dead for a while, though. Where can Robert take Renada, Gary?”
“His mother has a big old place in Calumet. I met her once. Mother Matthews used to work the docks at Duluth. That somehow made her rich. She collects firearms, does her hunting with a bow and arrow, and drinks alone in redneck bars. Robert said she’s beaten two aggravated assault charges.”
“I wondered where the balls in his family went. She and Renada ought to get along famously.”
Gary spoke over his shoulder to Tom. “That was too close. For a moment I thought Robert had seen you. Stay under the tarp, except your face, all right?”
“Whatever,” Tom muttered, sounding like a man whose last shred of human dignity was gone.
When they approached Mildred’s house, Beth could see through the trees that lights were on in her front room. She was home, and Beth was going to have to do a bear impersonation. She wondered how good a shot her aunt was with that old shotgun.
Gary killed the headlights and turned into Mildred’s long driveway, going slowly. Good thing, too. Thirty feet in, a heavy chain blocked their path, anchored to two opposing oak trees, each over two feet in diameter.
“Nuts,” said Gary, bringing the station wagon to a full stop.
One by one they got out. The relief on Tom’s face was obvious and he grumbled that as the softly sprung and heavy-laden wagon had made its rolling navigation of the curving side road, Harv had tried to get intimate under the tarp several times.
“Why would Mildred do this?” Gary fretted as he fingered one of the padlocks that secured the chain.
“Because she came home and found me in her drive today in the Nash and didn’t like it,” said Tom. The others gave him a “well, you idiot” look.
The four of them carried the body as close to the house as they dared before Beth split off toward the garbage can cage. Twigs cracked under foot and she winced at each small noise. At the garbage there was almost no smell. Mildred’s exemplary housekeeping extended to her refuse containers.
The cage had a hinged top and a place for a padlock but no lock. You didn’t have to be Einstein to figure out that Mildred had borrowed it to secure the driveway chain. It allowed Beth to lift the lid and bang the two cans together. She elected to defer the questionable bear grunt that Gary had taught her. As soon as the kitchen light at the back of the house lit, she ducked behind the garage for cover. Mildred had a back yard light like Beth’s, but it was less powerful. How good were the old woman’s eyes at night, anyway?
She heard a retort and saw a burst of dirt arise four or five feet from the cage. Not bad for shooting from the back porch in the near dark. Mildred called, “You bastard, you get your greasy ass back in the woods.” There was the slamming of the back door followed by the extinguishing of the yard light. It all had an aura of oft-repeated ritual. But very little time had elapsed. Was it enough time for a half-crippled ex-Marine, an out-of-shape con man and a strong woman to smuggle a fat body past the living room window?
Beth crept out from behind the garage and again lifted the cage lid, banged the cans again and retreated posthaste behind the garage. She watched and waited for the yard light to come back on. Then she felt pressure on the small of her back.
Mildred growled, “Don’t move, buster, or I’ll blow a hole clean through your gut.”
The old girl sure got around. “I’m not moving.”
A flashlight, she assumed a very large one, washed light over her shoulders.
“Lizzie Kessler, as the Lord is my witness, you are a strange young woman.”
“Can I turn around now, Aunt Mildred?”
“Well, of course. What the dickens are you doing?”
It was going to be a bit hard to explain. She tried to stall for time. “Aunt Mildred, you come out here in the dark when there could be a bear at your garbage cans? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”
“There’s no more bear. My neighbor plugged that bad boy last year. Oh, I get it; you’ve been talking to Gary again. If that walking bull-fart ever visited me he’d know the bear is gone.”
“But you shot at me when I made noise.”
“I still have trouble with an arthritic old raccoon going after the garbage, and I’m ready to go man to man with him. And why am I telling you all this? What I want to know is this, why the devil are you here? Has it got something to do with your nitwit cousin or the two twits you convinced me to let him send out here Sunday?”
“Well, yeah, it does. You may not believe this when I tell you.”
“Try me.”
“I will. But first let me go to my car. I left my purse in the back.”
“I’ll be waiting in my house, girl.”
****
Tom’s back ached from carrying at least a third of Harvey’s weight over a poorly graded path full of treacherous tree roots and skittish loose gravel. They had dropped him twice, once from each end. The second time Gary had fallen into what Tom feared was poison ivy but he kept mum about that. At last they reached the headquarters of Gary’s so-called mining company, a collection of rusting sheet metal shacks that had been too worthless for the original company to dismantle when they’d pulled out and capped the mineshaft. They were exhausted.
Gary had packed only one spade and a square-faced coal shovel that was almost useless. The softest dirt they could find was full of rocks. As soon as they turned over a bit of fresh soil, the mosquitoes rushed from the trees and swarmed them.
They finally agreed to bury Harvey under only a foot of dirt for tonight and return to do a better job in daylight tomorrow. Dani said that was good, because they could do a little burial ceremony then too. She had seen a number of classic movies where Bing Crosby or someone like that did nice Catholic stuff. She herself was not Roman Catholic, but she could fake it.
They�
��d dug down maybe two feet when the light from Gary’s Captain Marvel flashlight failed. His next strike with the spade was to Dani’s instep. She howled in pain, gasped for breath, and hissed, “Damn it, Gary, watch what you’re doing!”
“Sorry. We’ve gotta have some light here or someone will get hurt.”
“Someone is hurt, you miserable mercantile miscreant.” She rubbed her foot.
Tom said, “There was a flashlight in the back of the station wagon. Keep doing what you can without maiming each other and I’ll bring it back.” He left them cussing one another quietly and started back along the perfidious path. A three-quarter moon was out, plus Aunt Mildred had lights on at the back of the house, and he could see his way better. He realized that Beth had never joined them. She’d had all kinds of time to do her bear act for Mildred. What was she doing?
He went to open the tailgate of the wagon and tripped over something. Beth’s purse lay in the dirt. It couldn’t have been there when they unloaded Harv. And there was a new strong smell, a hospital smell, reminding him of a childhood tonsillectomy. “Beth,” he cried, as loudly as he could.
****
Harold pushed the Kessler’s Inn doorbell, irritated that he was nervous. There was no real danger for him. He was a couple thousand miles from Tony and no one knew he was here.
The woman who opened the door was striking, but not as young as his apprentice detective had described. Maybe Wyatt seldom wore his glasses. “Are you Miss Kessler?”
“No, I am her Executive Assistant, Decorator and Culinary Advisor, Renada Schroeder.” She smiled brightly and it made her more attractive. She was obviously German, and he admired the Germans except for them starting the occasional World War. She was craning her neck to survey the car he had rented, a long new Cadillac.
He took the moment to study her. She was a goddess, and Wyatt hadn’t even mentioned her, the fool. Speaking of fools, he said, “You have a fellow out on the lawn with a baseball bat. He stopped me in your driveway.”
“Yes. I apologize for that. A neighbor had a break-in last night and he has over-reacted. It was nothing, really. You have a beautiful automobile.”
You are also beautiful, he thought. “I like to be comfortable. I like nice things.”
“I too. How may I help you tonight?”
“I saw your inn sign at the road. Everything in town is full. I hoped you might have a room.”
“One room has today come to be free. It has not yet been redecorated, but it is pleasant. The young man who had it, in spite of many faults, was clean. Come, I show you.”
He stepped into the foyer. Now this was something. The house was an excellent example of unmodified Victorian architecture, much like his favorite vacation B&B near the Oregon border. Most of the furnishings were correctly of the period too. “This looks quite nice. Yes, please do show me the room.”
“Follow me up these stairs.”
He did, finding her equally appealing from behind. She showed him a large but poorly furnished and long-ago painted bedroom. She must have seen his disappointment, because she apologized, “Oh dear. I can tell you meant it when you said you like nice thing. This is much too pedestrian for you. In days we will have another re-decorated room available. Permit me to show you my room as an example.”
She pirouetted, took three steps and pushed open another bedroom door. She led him in and he peered around.
“This is very nice, Ms. Schroeder.” She looked even better in a bedroom. Was he sweating?
“Miss Kessler did this one and it is good work for an amateur. But let me tell you what I would do in addition.”
“Tell me.”
She did.
He said, “That’s fantastic. I can’t find a decent decorator for my vacation place. Victorian is simply unappreciated where I live. Maybe you could come and help me?”
“Perhaps I could.”
He told her that he was satisfied with Wyatt’s room after all, and held her hand overly long as he gave her the lodging money. She made no move to withdraw the hand. Back downstairs she purred, “Would you like drink, Mr…”
“Harold. That would be good. I see now that this is a truly good house.”
“It is good for an amateur effort. I shall help re-work it as fast as I can.” She crossed to a wet bar and found scotch and decanted two doubles, neat.
He sat on an end of the sofa, leaving ample room for her. As he hoped, she joined him, and at the middle, not the far end. “I suppose the guests are underfoot, in your way as you decorate.”
“They annoy me at times. I endure.”
He smiled radiant thanks as he sipped the cheapest whiskey he’d tasted in a decade. “Are there many? Guests, I mean?”
“There is the owner’s cousin, displaced by a fire, the scrawny man outside, and a large woman.”
“That is all?” No California Marine? He hoped he sounded conversational, not disappointed.
The question seemed to annoy her. She stated firmly, “No others.”
“The large woman is a friend of yours?”
“No, she is not.” Her tone of voice implied ridiculous question.
“I trust the cousin was not injured in the fire.”
“No, he was not.” Her tone of voice implied more is the pity.
Harold risked one more foray. He waxed inventive. “I remember when a neighbor died in a fire. It was extra hard for everyone to take because he was a young veteran, and such a good-looking man.”
“Surely he was not as handsome as you, Mr. Harold.”
He knew he was fifteen years and fifty thousand hair follicles past handsome. She edged toward him, an exotic, alluring predator. My God, what a woman this was. She wasn’t just reacting to the Cadillac, the Rolex, and the heavy gold neck chain. She saw him for the complex creature he was. He took her hand. “Tell me all about yourself.”
“Oh, I cannot tell everything. I will tell enough to amuse you. I shall expect you to do the same.”
“Fair enough.”
This was going to be a good, a very good evening, whether she knew anything more about Thomas Hawk or not.
****
Tom leaned against the station wagon tailgate after finishing his tale for Mildred. He was not relaxed, but not as tense as when she had him at gunpoint after she found him there hollering for Beth. “So that’s about the whole story,” he summarized, concluding his briefing.
“Hot damn, it sure is. You know, I actually think I believe it. No one could make that up. I mean, this Tony gangster sent guys across the country after you and three of them are already dead. Beth and Gary are in this up to their eyeballs and one of these mobsters burned the store and maybe himself.”
“We’re not sure who died in the fire.”
She snorted. “It wasn’t another paper boy. Oh, sorry, you’re sensitive about that.”
“Mildred, I smelled ether at this car. We really need to get the others and find Beth.”
“Oh, shoot, yes. Let’s go. Where do we go?”
Gary and Dani appeared. Gary said, “Uh-oh. Hi there, Aunt Mildred.”
“Don’t ‘hi’ me, Tom has told me what you’re up to. You can’t stay out of trouble for a day, can you?”
Tom interrupted. “Guys, Beth is missing; maybe given ether and taken. Have you seen her?”
“Not since we left the car fifteen minutes ago,” Dani said. She was limping. “What happened?”
“Mildred caught her at the garbage. Beth agreed to explain to her at the house after she went back to the car for her purse, this purse.” He held it up, acid boiling in his stomach.
“Are you sure about the ether? Maybe the bear got her,” cried Gary.
Tom shook his head. “He’s as dead as Harvey out there. Mildred’s neighbor popped him months ago.”
Mildred looked peeved. “You boys have lost Lizzie. You can’t do anything right.” She turned her wrath on Dani. “Hey, you’re the big girl from the alley Friday. You’ve fallen into terrible company, young
lady.”
“You don’t know what bad company is until you meet the guys who are after us. Call me Dani.”
“Danny—you have a boy’s name. It figures. All of you come to the house and we’ll get some flashlights to find Beth. Wipe your feet when you come in, Gary.”
“I’m not five years old.”
“No. You were more reliable then.”
An hour of searching for Beth yielded nothing. Gathered in the house they fought panic. Dani broke the silence. “Horst may have her. He kidnaps people. He took Tom.”
“Is Horst the snot-nose kid with the overpowered gold car or the chubby Commie spy?” asked Mildred, who didn’t have her playbook fully memorized yet.
“The fat Commie. Wyatt has the Firebird,” explained Tom. “But it’s more likely Wyatt has her. Damn it. Look at what I’ve done. I swore I wouldn’t let something like this happen to her.”
Mildred shook her head sadly. “It’s time I call the police and report Beth missing.”
Gary grabbed her wrist. “Wait. They’ll come out here. How will you keep them away from your special basement house plants?”
Dani clapped her hands. “I knew I smelled pot in here.”
Mildred shushed her. “I forgot about that. We can handle it, though. We’ll just make clear that Beth was out of the house when she went missing and get them started looking in the woods. It is the only place to look. I’ll say she came out here to make soup with me, went to the herb garden and disappeared. Those cops on the night shift are nitwits who’ll believe anything I tell them.”
Gary demurred, “We can’t do it that way. We had trouble burying Harvey, you know, the body.”
“What trouble?”
“We didn’t have good shovels and he’s only down a foot or so because it’s rocky out there. You can kind of smell him.”
Mildred wheeled on her grandnephew. “We can’t get the cops here to help find Beth because you and she juiced some wop from California, and you can’t even plant him decently. You called yourself a mine owner and you didn’t have any bloody idea what the soil was like at your mine. If the police go out there to look for Beth, they’ll smell a stiff. Have I got all that right?”
Hiding Tom Hawk Page 18