He arrives late morning and goes directly to the front desk. He is dressed in blue jeans, a sweatshirt, an Ohio State ball cap and large, black-rimmed glasses. He asks for information on Donna Crist. He is told that she is in Room 316 but that she is in serious condition and she is not allowed any visitors. He thanks the nurse for the information and walks over to the gift shop. He picks up several magazines to browse as he watches visitors and hospital personnel come and go. Then he notices an orderly go into the men’s restroom who looks to be about his size.
He enters the restroom and the orderly is the only other person there. He quietly locks the bathroom door behind him and lies in wait for the man to depart the bathroom stall. The man finally opens the stall door and seems surprised to see someone else in the bathroom. Before he figures out what is going on, Stuart produces a switchblade knife and stabs the man in the abdomen, careful not to sever any major arteries. He doesn’t want a lot of blood on the scrubs. He pushes the man back into the stall, stuffs his handkerchief in the man’s mouth, and removes his scrubs. He puts the scrubs on over his street clothes. He closes the stall door, ties the man’s hands and feet, leaves the bathroom, and walks up to the third floor. He figures fewer people will see him on the stairs than on the elevator.
He opens the third floor door and checks the signage on the wall to see which direction to go for Room 316. He follows the arrow, turns a corner, and abruptly stops. There is a uniformed officer sitting by the door to Room 316. The officer turns and looks his way.
Stuart never misses a beat. He waves at the officer and says, “Sorry officer, I got off one floor too soon.” He decides that now is not the time to finish the job, although getting past this one guard would be simple. He doubts very much if Donna Crist saw him let alone is able to describe his vehicle. It won’t be long before they discover the orderly’s body in the bathroom and shut down the hospital. He retraces his steps and retreats back down the stairs to the ground floor, leaving the orderly’s clothes in the second floor stairwell. Just as he is going out the front sliding-glass door of the hospital, he hears someone yell that there is blood on the floor of the men’s restroom.
Chapter 32: Revenge #3
Stephanie arrives in Charleston and drives down River Street. The one-way, narrow, tree-lined avenue has vehicles parked on both sides. There is barely enough room to navigate with her medium-sized car. She can see the flashing neon sign noting the club ahead, and just as she begins to wonder where in the world she is going to park, a car pulls out not half a block from the club. She quickly secures the parking spot.
She leaves the .9mm Glock in the glove compartment and places her small, .25 caliber weapon in a concealed pocket in her purse. She watches as several people enter the club. The men are patted down and the women are asked to open their purses so the door attendant can check for weapons. Some of the women just hand the purse to the man and others, not willing to part with their highly prized possession, open the purse for him to gaze in to its dark confines with a small flashlight.
She puts on her wig and glasses and exits the car. The line to get in the club thins as she nears the door. The door attendant, who reminds her of Tarzan on steroids with his long, flowing hair and body-builder type physique, asks to see her purse. She does not offer the clutch bag but holds it open instead. As long as she can hold the purse, Tarzan will not notice the weight of the gun. He motions her on as she asks in her best American accent, “Is Harry here tonight?”
He responds in broken English with a Russian inflection, “Yeah, I think so. Check with Patz at the bar.”
“Did you say Patsy?”
“No, I say Pat Z, you don’t understand English?”
“Gotcha, Patz. Thank you.” She is thinking to herself, I may cut your hair before I leave here, you condescending Russian baby ape.
She moves into the dimly lit building and after her eyes adjust to the darkness, she spots the bar, ventures down to the far end, and sits on a bar stool. A very attractive young girl with short shorts and only smiley pasties with tassels covering the nipples of her perky, eye-catching bare breasts comes over.
“The doorman said to ask for Patz, is that you?”
“That’s me, what would y’all like to drink?”
Stephanie is considering asking her if her mother knows she dresses like this and telling her she should put some clothes on, when all of a sudden, the music starts and three stages are immersed in spotlights. Three lovely girls come out dressed in a lot less than Patz the bartender, and each begins having a love affair with a highly polished silver pole.
“Sorry, first time here. I’ll have a draft. Is Harry in?” she stammers.
“Is he expecting y’all? Do y’all have an appointment?” Patz replies in a thick Southern drawl.
“Could you tell him Danny from the marina sent me over?”
“Sure hon, let me give him a call.”
She turns her back to Stephanie, walks down to the other end of the bar, and makes a call on her cell phone. After a few seconds, she returns. “He’ll be right down darlin’. Did y’all say you wanted a draft?” Stephanie nods her head in agreement.
Patz returns with the beer. “Do y’all want to pay for this now or start a tab?”
“I’ll pay now, how much?”
“That will be eight dollars, darlin’.”
She thinks to herself, Eight dollars for a glass of beer. Maybe I should invest in a strip club, as she places a ten on the bar.
She sips on the watered-down beer. Five minutes later, Harry shows up. She can tell he is not very impressed with her wig and glasses look. “You the girl Danny sent over?”
“That is me, he said you might have a job opening. I just moved into town and stopped at the marina to see if anything was available there. Danny told me to stop at the charter fishing office just down the road and talk to Vandy, and then come on down here and talk to you. Vandy wasn’t in so here I am.”
Danny looks her up and down and replies, “Well, you sure don’t look like the dancer type unless you’re hiding something under those clothes. By the way, I called Danny at the office and on his cell phone and he doesn’t answer.”
Stephanie conjures up a puzzled look and replies, “Well, I just left there about an hour ago. He was definitely there when I left.”
“Okay, come on up to my office and we’ll talk, but I’m not promising anything.”
Stephanie peers at him and then at Patz. “Well I guess I can do that. Do you by chance have a soft drink in a plastic bottle I can take with me?”
“Sure hon, I’ve got a Diet Coke, will that do?”
“That will work just fine.”
Patz returns with the drink, sets it on the bar, and says, “That will be five dollars.”
Stephanie gazes at Harry and he just shrugs his shoulders. She lays a five on the bar and the two ones she got in change from the beer and sarcastically says, “Thanks for all your help, Patz.”
“You’re welcome, darlin’, and thanks for pronouncing my name correctly. Most people call me Patsy or pasty.”
Stephanie opens her mouth to say something but thinks better and just smiles. She follows Harry around the corner and up a flight of stairs to a large, nicely decorated office with a window overlooking the main floor. She makes note that even in the office the decibel levels from the music are still high. She opens the Diet Coke and takes a long drink.
Harry, with both hands in a prayer position under his chin, asks, “So what do I call you, sweetie? You sure are a tall drink of water.”
Stephanie has always hated the fact that everyone in South Carolina either refers to you as sweetie, honey, darlin’, or luv. “You know, I hate being called sweetie. How about just calling me Steph?”
“Hey, don’t be so bitchy, Steph, remember you’re the one looking for a job.”
“Well, you see Harry, I sort of lied about the job thing. I actually just wanted to get you alone somewhere.”
Harry smiles. “So, wh
at did you have in mind?”
Stephanie smiles back, pulls the gun from her purse, and points it at him. “This is what I have in mind, Harry. Now do what I say. Put both hands palm down on your desk and don’t say a word, just listen.” She takes another long swig of Diet Coke and pours the remainder on the lush carpet on Harry’s floor.
“What the hell are you doing, you crazy bitch? How did you get that gun in here?”
“Now Harry, I thought I told you not to talk. Danny and Vandy talked too much and now they are both dead. Before they died, they told me that it was your idea to kill the three girls who brought you guys the 46-foot Carver from Pawleys Island.”
Harry suddenly stands up, keeping his palms on the desk, and says loudly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You had better get out of here before I call the cops.”
“Sorry, Harry, but I don’t believe you.” She jams the gun into the empty plastic bottle as far as she can and pulls the trigger. It’s not quite as noiseless as having the bottle taped to the gun but almost. The bottle flies across the room as Harry crumbles to the floor, a bullet hole in his forehead.
Stephanie closes the door as she leaves the office and waves at Patz as she departs the club.
Patz calls out, “Hope you get the job.”
“Yeah, me too sweetie.”
As she leaves the club, the door attendant asks her if she found Patz. “I certainly did. Thank you so much for all your help.” She takes two steps, turns, and says, “Now go get a haircut.”
The attendant gives her the finger as she turns and continues on her way.
She drives back to her hotel and has no problem getting a good night’s sleep knowing that in some small way she has avenged the murder of her three friends. She opts to catch a boat back to Bermuda the following morning and then island hop back to Antigua. She plans to return after things settle down a bit. She will then pursue the maps in Georgetown and find the buried treasure. She pitches the unloaded .9mm Glock in a retention pond outside of her hotel and, after wiping away any fingerprints, places the .25 caliber gun in an oilcloth and plastic bag. She buries it in a flowerpot at the hotel. She hopes it will still be there when she returns.
Chapter 33: The Day Spa
I am just about to start calling beauty salons in Lancaster when my phone rings. It’s TC. “You’re not going to believe what’s going on down here. Are you sitting down?”
“Yes, I am. What’s up? Did you figure out where the treasure is buried?”
“No, I’m afraid not, but three men were killed yesterday, or should I say murdered. Guess who they were?”
“TC, I have no idea, so why don’t you just tell me.”
“The three guys who were arrested for trying to sell my boat in Charleston.”
“You mean they weren’t in jail?”
“No, they were all out on bond. But wait, it gets better. Guess who I thought I saw yesterday in Murrells Inlet?”
“I have no idea.”
“Stephanie.”
“You’re kidding. Stephanie Langchester?”
“Yes, our Stephanie.”
“No TC, not our Stephanie. You hired her, not me. Have the authorities ever found or heard from her or the other three girls?”
“Don’t know, no one has contacted me,” he replies.
“Okay, let me call Jim at the office and have him see what he can find out from his FBI friends. I’ll let you know. In the meantime, be careful.”
“No problem. Have Jim call me if he needs any info on them.”
I immediately call Jim. “Hey big guy, are you on the golf course?”
“No, I am not on the golf course. Why does everyone think I play golf every day?”
I chuckle. “I have no idea. Hey, I need you to check with your sources and see what you can find out about the four girls who worked for TC on the salvage job in Pawleys Island. Call him if you need information. There’s a file on my desk with their names. Let me know what you find out, and before you ask, I have not got your OSU shirts yet but I will.”
While I’m waiting for Jim to call me back, I figure I will begin calling around town to beauty shops to see if by chance I can find out some gossip on Ms. Ridlinger. My story is going to be that I want to surprise my girlfriend with a complete spa makeover and I don’t want her to know about it.
Fortunately, on only my fifth call, I hit pay dirt. “This is The Beauty Day Spa, Beth Bryan speaking, how can I help you?”
“Hi, Beth, I’m a friend of Ginny Ridlinger and I wanted to know if by chance she might be a client of yours?”
Beth does not answer immediately but finally says in a cautious sort of way, “And why would you like to know that?”
“Oh, I’m sorry Beth, I’m, you might say, a close friend of hers, and I wanted to get her a gift card for a spa treatment and makeover but I wanted it to be a surprise so I couldn’t ask her where she gets her hair done. What’s your best deal?”
The thought of a big sale loosens her lips. “Oh, you must be that well-off oil guy she’s been telling me about.”
Touchdown! I quickly reply, “Now Beth, we don’t want to start spreading rumors, do we?”
“No sir, what takes place in the beauty salon, stays in the beauty salon. Our best deal and one I know Ginny will love is the CEO Treatment. It runs $450 but worth every penny.”
“Well Beth, that’s the one I want. Where are you located? I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon to pick it up.”
Beth gives me the address, which I repeat as if I am writing it down, and I remind her not to mention this to Ginny. I now have my answer. Ginny and Von Spineback know each other very well and they were both in the Air Force. So I wonder what the link is between Wilmont Oil & Gas Company and Anchor Hocking.
Thirty minutes later, Jim calls back. “Here’s what I found. Stephanie has not surfaced but the other three girls are dead, murdered. According to my people, British Intelligence thinks Stephanie, who once worked for them, killed the girls, and they are looking for her.”
“Thanks Jim, that answers my question.”
That same afternoon, Ginny Ridlinger shows up for her 3 o’clock appointment at The Beauty Day Spa. By 3:30, Beth Bryan can’t stand the pressure any longer. She tells Ginny all about her conversation on the phone with Mr. “Big Spender” and makes Ginny promise to act surprised and not to tell him she told her.
Ginny knows that her friend would never call the beauty shop. In fact, he made it very clear; not to mention their relationship in public, at least not yet. All of their public appearances, which have been few and far between, have always been outside of Lancaster. She asks Beth if by chance her office phone would show the number of the caller. Beth brings it up and shows it to Ginny.
“Yep, that’s him,” Ginny lies, knowing that the number does not belong to her significant other and benefactor but to the private investigator from Myrtle Beach.
As soon as Ginny gets into her car, she calls Von Spineback and breaks the news about the PI calling the beauty shop trying to find out if she was hooked up with him. Von is not a happy camper, “And how did your beautician know you were seeing me?”
“Von, I never mentioned your name. I only said I was seeing a guy in the oil business.”
“Well, we can’t let anything slow us down until the sale goes through, so I guess I’ll have Stu have a talk with our PI friend.”
Chapter 34: Rhubarb
My phone won’t stop ringing. This time it’s big Steve. “Mickke D, I just got the results from the autopsy on that Kevin fellow. He was poisoned. The M.E. found large traces of rhubarb leaves in his system, as well as several pain pills. Rhubarb itself is fine to eat but the leaves are toxic as hell. Now we have a murder, and since the deed happened in the county, the Sheriff’s Department is handling the case.”
“My God, why would anyone eat rhubarb leaves if they’re poisonous?”
“The M.E. thinks he may have ingested something that had been laced with extract from the le
aves. He found a green substance with a mint smell to it among his stomach contents. Without an autopsy, the cause of death would have just been an overdose since they found pain pills in the car.”
“So where do we go from here, detective?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“We don’t go anywhere. It’s the Sheriff’s case now.”
“What about Donna Crist? Have you heard anything about her condition?”
“She’s still in serious condition and there is a guard on her room. I’ll let you know the minute I hear anything. Why don’t you just go back to Myrtle Beach and let the authorities handle this? By the way, I’m sending over a copy of that file you wanted. Turtle, I’m sorry, I mean Officer Tom Barrish will deliver it to you.”
“Turtle?” I blurt out.
“Long story, don’t ask,” he replies.
“Thanks, Steve. Can’t wait to look it over. I think I’ll stay around for a while. I’m still looking into the death of Sissy’s husband five years ago. But I will stay out of their way. Let me know if I can help.” I end the call before he can answer.
Within minutes, there is a knock at my door. I grab my .45 from the bedside table and quietly go over to the door. I look through the peephole. I see a uniformed officer on the other side of the door. I move away from the door and ask, “Who is it?”
“Detective Reynolds sent me over with an envelope for you.”
“What’s your name officer?” I learned a long time ago that one could never be too careful.
“Officer Barrish.”
I replace my weapon on the table and open the door. The officer hands me the envelope and asks me to sign a receipt, which I do. I thank him and close the door.
I take out the copied file and begin to read. The M.E. found no bruises or trauma to the woman’s body. He found water in her lungs so she didn’t die before she ended up in the tub. There was a half-empty bottle of vodka on the table with her fingerprints all over it. Her stomach was full of pain pills. She had checked in alone. The detective in charge of the crime scene had made two notes, which he included in his report. 1) There was no suicide note, and 2) her cell phone is missing.
Death on Mt Pleasant Page 10