by J. R. WRIGHT
“Got it,” one of the officers said and herded the others back toward the stairs.
Dunbar closed the door and made the revolver disappear under his jacket. “We have a situation.”
Hearing that, both Martina and Gloria stood before him in their robes, arms folded, mouths agape, waiting for more.
“Ben Ripley is dead! And, apparently, so is Officer Bright. They found him in an alley across the street.”
But even before he had finished, both women were wearing shocked expressions, eyes glassing over.
“How?” Martina asked. She hadn’t heard any gunshots.
Dunbar ignored the question. “I take it you two never heard or saw anything unusual?” His eyes went back and forth between their faces.
Gloria answered with a head shake. Martina, however, began to form words and glanced to Gloria before speaking: “There was a phone call.”
“What phone call?” he leaped at the opportunity for a lead.
“The guy just said: They can’t protect you.” Gloria blurted.
“What guy. Who was it? Did you recognize the voice?”
Gloria shrugged. “The voice was muffled,” she said uneasily, and glanced to Martina.
“Did you hear it, Martina?” Dunbar asked.
“No. I was in the bathroom. I did hear the phone ring, though. I thought it was Lenny.”
“Who’s this Lenny?”
“Lenny is a bartender at Hannity’s. He was worried for our safety, when we left there earlier. Without us being aware, he called the police.”
“Then what happened?” It was all Dunbar could do to keep from shouting, he was so angry. He had specifically asked them to stay close to home, preferably in the apartment when not working their individual jobs. Especially at night! But then, he was unaware that Martina worked partially at night, now.
“Officer Rip…” Marti paused, finding it hard to continue. “The two officers found us walking, and brought us home.”
So that’s why they were parked out front. “Did Ripley walk you up?”
“He did,” Martina responded. “Ben said you told him to be extra vigilant. Thank you, Lieutenant. Otherwise, we could be dead now.”
At the moment, even though it was good to know, that seemed little consolation for the loss of two good officers. Both of which he held in high esteem.
What Martina just said caught Gloria off guard. She just now realized the consequences of her having gone to Hannity’s after work. It had been against Martina’s, as well as Dunbar’s, better wishes. And now having realized her mistake, she began to cry.
Seeing that, Dunbar took her by the arms. “You have to stay with me, Gloria. There’s more I need to know. Okay?”
Gloria nodded miserably, feeling his glare.
“Now, let’s get back to the phone call. Were there any background noises? Anything of that nature? Or was it stony quiet?”
“It was quiet, I guess. I don’t recall hearing anything except his breathing.”
“Breathing? How did he breathe? Was it rapid breathing, or normal, or like his mouth was too close to the phone? You said before, the voice was muffled. What was the breathing like?”
“I don’t know!” Gloria shouted out. “You’re confusing me!” Gloria went to the couch and fell on it. “Okay.” She scrambled off the couch and marched to the phone and picked it up. Then, using a finger to kill the dial tone, she said, “Hello.” She paused. “I hear nothing, so I say hello, again. Now I hear breathing — it’s gasping — as if he’d been running. Then, in a muffled voice, he said what he said.”
Pay phone? Dunbar wondered. Where’s the closest pay phone? He must have run from the scene to a phone somewhere, that’s why he was winded. That also told him the perpetrator must not have had a vehicle close by. Why run to the phone, if he did?
“Which was?” Dunbar persisted.
“Like I told you: They can’t protect you,” she said, putting on a deeper voice.
“You’re positive it was a man?”
“Yes.”
“Could it have been Raym Koffee?”
“I was thinking that, but how could I say it? The voice was muffled.”
“At the time when you first heard the voice, did you think of Raym?”
“I believe I did, yes. But that could have been because I was thinking it was him before I picked up. I almost didn’t, the feeling was so strong.”
“So, you actually had a premonition that Raym was calling?”
“Sounds strange, doesn’t it? But I swear that’s what happened.” Gloria took on a pleading look.
“That isn’t the only strange thing that happened,” Marti volunteered. “Today I went out to buy a night dress for Gloria, and guess who showed up in the store where I shopped?”
“Raym Koffee?” Dunbar guessed.
“Exactly! And a few hours later a delivery man showed up at Spencer House, with an anonymous gift of a black nightie for Gloria, from the same shop. Do you think that was coincidental? I think the man followed me there, and the purchase of the nightie was an afterthought. A way of sending another threat. Black is symbolic of death, is it not?”
Dunbar pulled out a notebook. “What’s the name of the shop?” he asked.
“Natalie’s.”
“On Main?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Well, I have things to take care of downstairs,” Dunbar said, and turned for the door. “You two sit tight. I’ll wait by the door until you lock up.”
“Lieutenant,” Gloria said. “Thank you. I have no doubt our lives were spared tonight because of you and your people.” She watered up again.
With that, Dunbar turned back to her. “Save that for the families of those two fine young officers. They’ll be grateful to hear it.”
“Yes, sir. Then, I’ll see to it that they do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
After Dunbar left, Martina and Gloria sat on the couch and had a long cry, on each other’s shoulder.
“I feel so guilty,” Gloria said, between sobs. “It was all my fault! If I hadn’t gone to Hannity’s and gotten drunk, none of this would have happened.”
“Yes. And if Lenny wouldn’t have called the police, they’d be alive and we’d be dead. Please don’t blame yourself, Gloria. We have too much to do, for that.”
“What…?” Gloria said, pulled away and glared at her. “What are you thinking, Martina?”
Marti got off the couch and went to pour the tea. “I don’t know. But I’m not going to just sit around waiting for him to kill you — me — or someone else again! He’s got to be stopped, once and for all.”
“You’re that sure it’s him… Raym?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, who else could it be, right?”
“If you’re not sure, Gloria, then you had better tell me now?”
“Okay, I’m sure,” she said, folding her arms under her breasts, uneasy about what Martina may do.
“Good.” Marti sat two cups of tea on the table and went back to the kitchen for the bottle of brandy. “Now what we need is a plan.” She poured some brandy into her steaming cup and sat the bottle down uncapped, in case Gloria wanted some.
She didn’t. She wanted to be aware enough to reject any plan Martina may come up with, if that included killing Raym. Not that he didn’t deserve to die. Perhaps he did. It was just that it wasn’t in her to be a party to such a thing. She wasn’t a killer, and never would be. That’s why her carrying the Beretta was so silly. She knew all along she would rather die than pull the trigger. On anybody.
“First off, I need to know Raym’s daily routine?” Marti started.
“Well, he goes to work…”
“Every day?”
“Yes. Every day,” Gloria said. “His father insists on it. There’s a strategy conference with the sales staff for an hour or so, at nine every morning. And since Raym is the vice president in charge of sales, he needs to be there.”
“What, exactly, do they sell?”
“Lots. Lots and lots of building lots, both residential and commercial. And they’ve been doing it for near a hundred years.”
“Are they still selling parts of that original ranch, I heard about from Gwyn Raizel?”
“The vast majority of that, except for the family cemetery and original ranch stead, has been gone for decades. However, thanks to some smart thinking on the part of a distant grandfather, they won’t run out of land to sell any time soon. He devised a system they call, ‘Leap Frog.’ As land is sold close in for a premium price, other replacement land is purchased further out, for less. Therefore, as the city grows, there’s always Koffee land, just waiting to be chopped into more lots. Ingenious, don’t you think?” Gloria said proudly, as if still a member of the family.
“Very,” Marti agreed. “What about the present wife? Does she work?”
“She’s his secretary now. Poor girl couldn’t hold a respectable job, so Raym started taking her to work with him. I guess she answers the phone when he’s not there. I don’t think she can even type.” Gloria said with a sour expression.
“Can you give me a layout of the Koffee building? Where his office is, in there? And the location of the room where they hold the morning conference? What about security, do they have…?”
“Why do you want to know all of that?” Gloria asked.
“Because I want to play with his mind a little… like he’s playing with ours. Go on the aggressive. Make him start looking over his shoulder. Make him wonder if, perhaps, his life is in danger, for a change.”
“You sure you’re up to that?”
“Oh, I’m up to it, alright!” Marti cracked a smile. “I ought to tell you about what I did to some of my high school tormentors. It wasn’t pretty. Come to think of it, maybe that’s partly the reason I got zero date offers throughout the four years.”
Gloria smiled back. “What did you do?” She was anxious for a good laugh in her sorry state of mind.
“Well, I’ll give you a hint. I got good at injecting a few drops of jalapeño juice into foil condom wrappers, without it being detectable.”
“Oh my God! Then what?”
“I think you can figure out the rest. Now, get some paper and draw me a diagram.”
“No, I can’t… figure it out. Tell me?”
“Okay… on one occasion I slipped a note, along with the doctored condom, into a guy’s desk, that read: “Meet me under the left field bleachers of the baseball field, at lunch break. Be ready, I won’t have much time.” I then signed it with the name of the best looking girl in class. She was a virgin, but a real prick teaser. Every guy in the senior class, without a doubt, wanted to be the first with her.”
“Okay. Then what?” Gloria said anxiously.
“God, can’t you figure anything out for yourself…? Okay, he went there as instructed, and, of course, he made himself ready. Well, to make a long story short; did you ever see a guy try to run across a school yard with his pants down to his knees? There was no water hydrant at the baseball field, and believe me, he needed to wash badly. There were even some vocals, as I recall. I think it went something like this: Ahhhhhheeeeee! Ahhhhheeeee! as he hopped and skipped along.”
Gloria laughed heartily. Marti, however, didn’t join in. She was too serious about her planned endeavor to be amused by that old childhood prank, she had replayed in her mind so many times over the years in moments of reflection. What she had planned for Raym Koffee, however, was much more devious. Perhaps it would even be deadly — for one of them.
Once getting the diagram of the second floor, where Raym’s office and such was located, Martina made the suggestion that they both get some sleep. Tomorrow was another work day, albeit hers didn’t start until four pm.
The following morning, as it was the previous morning, they again went for breakfast at the diner before going to Spencer House to settle Gloria in for the day. From there, Marti headed directly back to the apartment. She had things to do there before going on with her plan. One was to strap on the Beretta. Another was to change into the sexiest day dress she owned. It was a shapely, button to the neck one piece in black satin, with sleeves.
Coming back down, she went to the spot where the police car had been the night before. Looking for blood, she found none on the concrete, anywhere. Nonetheless, she made a vow to Ben Ripley, wherever his spirit may be, to avenge his death, or die trying. Then, after another moment of reflection, she moved on to her car in the parking lot, got in and started it. The box containing Gloria’s red night dress still lay on the opposite seat. That somehow reminded her of Parker. Today, the poor man would just have to wait until later to be blessed with her company. She smiled pleasantly, with just the thought of him. He did love her kisses. She could tell. He almost always became erect under the sheets from them. But it seemed not to embarrass, or prompt him to hide it in any way. Were all men like that? How could she know, she thought remorsefully? She pulled the car out onto the street.
Twenty minutes later she was pulling up in front of the coffee shop across from the Koffee Building. She sat in the car for a few moments in an effort to calm herself — which failed miserably — then bravely crossed the street. After a quick walk to the parking lot to loosen the valve cores on the two rear tires of a particular vehicle, using the slotted caps — which she tossed away thereafter — she rounded to the front of the building.
A musty smell smacked her in the face as she entered. This brought her grandparents’ hundred year old farmhouse to mind. She took a moment there, giving her eyes time to adjust to the change in light. To the left, a staircase came into view, just where Gloria said it would be. Reluctantly, she went to it and began to climb. The stairs creaked with every step she took and this further unnerved her. She heard a typewriter clicking away somewhere, but didn’t know from where: up or downstairs. Finally, at the top, she stopped and listened a bit. There were voices to be heard now, but distant and muffled. Moving on slowly, more creaks gave her presence away. However, she kept going, and even picked up her pace a bit. Her hand slipped into the small purse she carried and her fingers touched the Savage 32 semi-automatic pistol there, but she did not grasp it. Just knowing it was handy was comforting enough for now. Then there was the Beretta on her leg, for backup. She wasn’t expecting to have to use that today, either. But again, she was grateful to have it along, as well.
Reaching an open doorway, Marti was immediately noticed by a mousey looking blond at a desk inside. “May I help you?” the woman asked. No doubt it was Raym’s wife she faced now. She recognized her from the wedding picture in the newspaper clipping Gwyn had shown her. She thought her mousey looking then, and that hadn’t changed any. Her name was Sheela, with double E’s, as she recalled.
“I’m looking for Raymond Koffee?” Marti asked, gripping the handbag and looking about.
“He’s in a meeting. Perhaps I can help you?”
“Well, it’s kind of personal,” Marti said nervously. She wasn’t faking it. The truth of the situation was enough to make her knees knock, just as they would have been if her charade were true. Maybe a little more.
“Personal? In what way?” It was evident she had the wife’s full attention now. Maybe she already began to suspect that she wasn’t going to like what she heard. “Please sit down.”
“I guess… in a family way,” Marti said. “That might be a good way to put it.” She sat uneasily on the hard wooden chair before the desk.
“Are you saying you’re pregnant?” There was an edge to her voice now. “You don’t look it.”
Marti nodded. “The doctor said, just a little.” She flashed two fingers spaced about a half inch apart.
“Who got you pregnant?”
“Raymond. I mean, he said he would marry me if that should ever happen. So…”
“Are you sure you’re talking about Raym Koffee?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s him right ther
e,” Marti pointed to a picture of Raym, at the side of the desk. It was turned her way enough to see it clearly. Now the face before her turned to pure anger, and the woman stood.
“And who’s that with him, there in the picture… do you think?”
“Well, that looks a little like you, ma’am,” Marti said, meekly. It was the same wedding photo of the two of them as was published in the newspaper, except in color.
“And why do you think that is?” she said through clinched teeth. Hissing!
“Don’t tell me you two are married!” Marti stood as well. “Now what am I going to do?” She faked sobbing and covered her face with quivering hands.
“How do I know you’re not lying, young lady?” Sheela asked. “What proof do you have you’ve ever been with him? There are lots of women that would like to get their hands on some of his money.”
With that, Marti removed the hands and went for the clincher. “He was with me just last night, until the wee hours of the morning. You must have known he was gone?”
“He said he’d been at the club…” Sheela said, near under her breath. Then, in three determined steps, she rounded the desk and marched from the office. Halfway down the hall toward the conference room, she yelled, “Raym…!” It was done with all the rage a scorned wife could muster.
Frightened by it, Martina froze for a second to gather her wits. Removing her heels then, she sprinted to the stairs, and once there, took those two at a time all the way down. Outside, she slipped the heels back on, and, dodging traffic, made it across to her car.
Less than a minute later, Raym bolted through the door. He looked both ways — up and down the sidewalk — then caught sight of her across the street, standing boldly by the car. With his jaw slack now and his eyes bulging with recognition, he yelled, “You!”
Having accomplished what she set out to do, Marti casually got into the car, started it, and drove away. In the side mirror, she saw Raym dashing toward the parking lot. “Good luck with that,” she said aloud, and accelerated.