Stardom Can Be Murder: Charlie Parker Mystery #12
Page 21
People came and went. Mothers with kids in their cars pulled into the drive-thru lanes of a fast food place on the opposite corner. A white-haired man came out of the electronics store with a small bag in his hand. A man with longish hair, wearing shorts and a T-shirt stood outside the bookstore, leaning on a post and reading a newspaper. He might be one of the cops.
I tested my microphone by sending out a call for Dave Gonzales. No response. That didn’t help my jittery stomach at all.
Ten minutes ticked by. The miniscule earpiece that Drake had hidden under my hair sizzled with static.
“Detective Gonzales? Are you there?”
“Roger that, Charlie. I’m at your nine o’clock.”
I glanced beyond my left shoulder and spotted him in a plain car. He didn’t look my direction or acknowledge me.
“Our men caught sight of them about a block away,” he said. “They’re driving a green Cadillac. Keep watching—okay, there it is.”
If I thought I had a nervous stomach before . . . now it did a few gymnastic moves.
“Stay cool, Charlie. He’s coming up on your four o’clock. He’ll be . . .” His voice trailed off as the Cadillac came into my view.
I reassured myself that my pistol was under the seat of the truck. Drake insisted that I have it with me. Gonzales was equally adamant that I not carry it on my person. Spotting it would be the kind of thing that could set String off. If that were to happen anyway, my plan was to dash for the truck, get behind the door and have a hand on my weapon.
The green car slowly cruised up the aisle in front of the buildings. String and Mole were in the front seats, their heads turning, scanning for signs of trouble. They made a wide circle and came around to face me.
“Get out, Charlie, and set the bag down. You don’t want them coming in close to your vehicle,” Gonzales said into my ear.
Showtime. I grabbed the bag and lugged it across the seats as I stepped out. The green car was a hundred yards away.
I speed-walked to an open spot twenty yards from the truck. Took a deep breath and set the bag down.
The green car moved forward slowly.
I backed away, holding my arms out to my sides, palms up.
In my ear, I could hear Gonzales rapping out orders to his men but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. All at once his voice came clearly into my ear again. “Charlie, get back to your truck now!”
I quickened my pace, backing toward the truck but keeping the green car in sight. String must have picked up on my nervousness. He gunned the car and came straight at me.
Chapter 42
So much for taking cover behind the door of the truck. I immediately figured out that if the Cadillac hit the truck, I’d be squash. I sprinted for the edge of the parking lot where curbing bordered a narrow band of landscaping. Somehow I hoped that the overgrown shrubs and the lone sycamore tree would protect me.
String roared up beside the bag of money, and Mole opened his door and made a grab for the handles on the duffle.
“They’re taking the money!” I shouted to the world at large.
Gonzales and his team, however, had already spotted String’s maneuver. The whole parking lot instantly went into motion.
A brown van zipped to within inches of the passenger side of Drake’s truck, forming an effective blockade to String’s escape to the west. Gonzales himself did a similar move on the east side. An APD cruiser roared in behind the Caddy—where had he come from?—and a female officer dressed in casual summer wear emerged from a parked car, whipped out her service pistol and screamed at the two crooks to freeze.
Mole lost his grasp on the money bag. He tried to pull his door shut but centrifugal force swung it even farther open. One of the officers had him out by the collar and facedown on the pavement before he knew what hit him. String attempted to steer the car with one hand; the other came up with a pistol. Incongruously, I noticed that his hands were still bright pink from the bank dye. Gonzales had a two-handed grip on his own weapon and it was trained firmly on String’s face.
“Drop it!” he screamed. The intensity of his expression left no doubt that he would fire first and answer questions later.
Way to go, Dave!
String let his pistol fall to the seat, and the Caddy came to a slow rolling stop against the bumper of Drake’s truck.
I realized that I was standing knee deep in a massive clump of pampas grass whose whip-like strands were trying to slice my bare legs to ribbons. My hands were over my mouth and my eyes must have been about the size of dinner plates.
Handcuffs snapped onto the two felons so quickly that I nearly missed it in a blink. The killers were lying face-down on the ground and the whole scene began to draw a little crowd. Dave Gonzales picked up the duffle full of money and quickly locked it into the trunk of his vehicle before anyone could take advantage of it.
String’s baleful glare followed the movements of the bag. Then he turned that stare on me.
Yikes. I really hoped Gonzales had been right about these guys getting maximum sentences.
Chapter 43
That edgy feeling waxed and waned over the coming weeks as the whole bank robbery and kidnapping were relived in the media. Once they knew my real identity, the media swarmed me for awhile. Well, okay, it was only about two days—some ill-timed earthquake in Chile took away my steam pretty fast.
I couldn’t forget the hatred in String’s eyes as the police pulled him up off the asphalt and shoved him into the backseat of a cruiser. It seemed that he’d fixed all the blame for his lost riches upon me. Because I wasn’t really Cristina Cross? Because I’d tricked him to that parking lot on that particular evening? I had no idea.
When I saw the newspaper announcement of Billy’s funeral I called his mother. She was clearly in shock, with no understanding of how her son became involved. I couldn’t offer any answers to that, but I did my best to let her know that he’d been pretty decent to me. Grabbing me in the bank and tying me up had clearly been done under String’s orders, after all. By the time the call ended, neither of us really felt a lot better but I’d done my best.
I found myself being extra careful about locking doors and windows for weeks, until I realized that the trials would still be months away and I wasn’t doing myself any good by stressing over it constantly.
Gradually, life at home and at the office has returned to normal. Ron and Victoria are looking pretty serious and I keep speculating about whether there might be an autumn wedding in the family. She would be a fun sister-in-law, somebody who would get me out of the office once in awhile. She might even instill some fashion sense into me.
Our other new family member is fitting right in. Freckles has become quite the watchdog and very protective of me, and it’s largely because of her that I’ve relaxed somewhat. Maybe that early imprinting, the day Drake found her during the time he’d been so worried for my safety caused her to bond to me. Her unconditional love fills my heart, and I’m glad we share our lives with her.
For Dan, always my partner and my inspiration
So many people to thank for their contributions to my life and my writing career. My parents started me on the path to my creative and entrepreneurial endeavors. My daughter Stephanie is such an inspiration with her work ethic and diligence in meeting her life’s goals. My son Brandon, with his free-spirited approach to life reminds me sometimes to just lighten up. My husband Dan is so supportive and never complains about the hours a writer spends locked away. My friend and editor, Susan, is there for my impossible deadlines and always comes through in a pinch. And of course there are my readers, many of whom take the time to send me encouraging notes and to so considerately spread the word by recommending my books to their friends. And, finally, to all the pets over the years who’ve reminded me that dinner is sometimes as important as typing one more sentence, that getting out of the chair now and then to stretch those muscles is a good thing, and that my work is way more enjoyable in their company.
My heartfelt thanks to all of you!
Stardom Can Be Murder
Published by Secret Staircase Books, an imprint of
Columbine Publishing Group
PO Box 416, Angel Fire, NM 87710
Copyright © 2011 Connie Shelton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Although the author and publisher have made every effort to ensure the accuracy and completeness of information contained in this book we assume no responsibility for errors, inaccuracies, omissions, or any inconsistency herein. Any slights of people, places or organizations are unintentional.
Book layout and design by Secret Staircase Books
Cover image © Kasia Biel
Cover background image © cekur
Also published in trade paperback
First trade paperback edition: May, 2011
Books
by Connie Shelton
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Vacations Can Be Murder
Partnerships Can Be Murder
Small Towns Can Be Murder
Memories Can Be Murder
Honeymoons Can Be Murder
Reunions Can Be Murder
Competition Can Be Murder
Balloons Can Be Murder
Obsessions Can Be Murder
Gossip Can Be Murder
Stardom Can Be Murder
Holidays Can Be Murder - a Christmas novella
The Samantha Sweet Series
Sweet Masterpiece
Sweet’s Sweets