Marshmallow S'More Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  "This may be a lost cause, Merry," Maria said.

  I shook my head. "No. I can't give up." I couldn't figure out how to manage it, but I couldn't quit. "Riley helped me twice in the last year. I can't abandon him now."

  We sat there for about ten minutes sightlessly watching the girls play, our minds working on the puzzle. Both Maria and I were trained agents with field experience. That was an advantage. And we had a couple of resources still at Langley we could exploit. That was another advantage.

  Riley was here, somewhere. We'd just missed him at the Japanese Embassy. That was something. Now we just needed to find him. But how?

  "This isn't Riley's phone," I said, as if that would help. "All of Riley's calls were from his phone. We've tried calling him back, but that doesn't work. I don't even know how he's charging it."

  Maria shook her head. "What should we do?"

  I sighed. "We're going to have to find out who the new yakuza guys in town are."

  To be honest, I knew this might come up. I just hoped it wouldn't.

  "You have a contact here?" Maria asked.

  "I have a contact. She's not here. She's in Virginia," I said, regretting each word as I spoke it.

  Maria stood. "What are we waiting for?"

  "A reason not to go," I said. There was no way this would be easy. It was a two-hour drive from the city, and I had no idea what to do with the girls. But if anyone knew which members of the yakuza were in the States, it would be this woman.

  "Why not?" Maria asked. "I mean, aside from the girls."

  "Because Elvinia Loretta Thigpen is a huge pain in the ass," I said as I stood to join her. "We can't take the girls."

  Elvinia. Damn. That woman was what some in the South would call "eccentric," and those in the Deep South would call her "touched." She was completely mad and also meaner than a cornered Chechen terrorist. It didn't help that she lived in the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains, running illegal moonshine. Getting to her would not be easy, and talking to her would be even harder.

  Still, Elvinia had this weird connection to the yakuza. She'd been stationed in Okinawa back in the 1970s when she'd been in the army and for some strange reason made a lot of friends in the Japanese crime syndicate. In the eighties she'd married into the biggest yakuza family in the Okinawa branch and had a couple of kids before her husband "accidentally" fell on the wrong end of a samurai sword.

  The woman was still in Japan when I was stationed there, and we had crossed paths more than once. For some reason, Elvinia took a liking to me. After her husband's unfortunate death, she had relocated to her family homestead in the middle of nowhere, hillbilly Virginia. Her sons stayed in Japan, keeping an eye on the family investments there. If crime bosses came to the States, Elvinia threw them an old-fashioned barbeque complete with blackened possum and her special recipe moonshine. It was considered an honor to be invited.

  I'd been invited when I retired. And while it wasn't the media circus Valerie Plame had when she was outed, I still made the news. Elvinia had remembered me from our time in Japan and had invited me down to her homestead. At the time, I couldn't figure out why she'd asked me to visit, and I couldn't figure out a reason not to go.

  It didn't take long to find out why she'd invited me. Elvinia tried to fix me up with one of her cousins who was also a nephew and brother. That idiot clung to me all day into the night. Every time he got me a drink, I was afraid it had a date-rape drug in it. It was the single most terrifying night of my life. And I'd hoped I'd never have to go back.

  I dialed my cell. "Mom, I know you just had them, but can you take the girls for the afternoon? See if Liam's available?"

  To my complete surprise, she said, "Yes."

  A few hours later and a dozen girls shy, Maria and I were entering Amherst County, Virginia. We'd changed into jeans and boots. Armed with Glocks and bug spray, I thought we stood a 40/60 chance of survival. I didn't tell Maria because, as a good spy, she already knew that. You'd have to be realistic, if not a bit pessimistic, in this job. It made you feel better when you get through something with no problems. I wish I could've said that was the norm.

  I'd turned the pickup truck we'd rented off the main highway about twenty minutes earlier, and we had wound our way through crumbling concrete until I'd found the hidden gravel road that would take us most of the way there.

  "What do you mean by most of the way?" Maria asked as she held on to the armrest. Had I said that out loud?

  The road, if you could truly call it that, had gotten very bumpy. Deep ruts in the mud from recent rains and erosion made the driving treacherous. It was slow going. So slow that the mosquitos kind of flew alongside us, waiting for their dinner to stop and emerge from the vehicle.

  "I hope your insurance is paid up," I said, wincing at another bone-jarring jolt.

  "I think my intestines are no longer connected to anything inside me," Maria said grimly.

  I stopped the truck. The road had vanished, crossed with a huge, felled tree that had been taken over by kudzu.

  "We walk from here," I said, unbuckling my seat belt.

  It was even hotter here than it was in DC. Turning the AC off and stepping outside caused my sunglasses to fog over. I threw them into the truck—the woods were so dark and thick I really didn't need them. Instead, I reached for the bug spray and coated myself in a fog of the sticky, smelly stuff. Bio-conscious sprays didn't work here. You needed the full strength only a DEET neurotoxin could supply. Maria winced as she sprayed herself head to toe. Sure, it smelled bad. But the alternative of turning into one human-sized mosquito bite was worse. Way worse.

  The walk was straight uphill. I only knew we were heading in the right direction because Elvinia had planted poison ivy along the trail to what she called the "meeting place," where we'd be met by someone who'd take us to her. She had a great sense of humor, that woman. She'd figured only a crazy person would follow a trail of toxic plants. I was starting to think she was right.

  "Leaves of three, let it be," I said to Maria.

  She gave me a look. "That bug spray has made you crazy."

  "That's what we say in Scouts to identify poisonous plants like poison ivy," I replied. "Avoid any plant that has three leaves, or between them and the mosquito bites, you'll want to kill yourself."

  "Such a charming place." Maria smirked. "I wonder why more people don't build summer homes here." She swatted away a cloud of mosquitos that were apparently impervious to the toxic poison we'd used on ourselves.

  "And watch for ticks too," I added. I probably should've briefed her before we got out of the truck.

  "Wonderful." Maria's eyes began darting back and forth now, watching for any tiny bug approaching.

  Ticks were bad here. Last time I was at Elvinia's I actually saw a whole herd of them crawling toward me through the grass. There weren't many spy weapons you could use against them. Well, none that worked anyway.

  We started walking more slowly as the foliage got thicker. The trail was barely visible. We were almost there.

  "Whatever you do, don't scream. And don't pull your pistol first," I said.

  Maria gave me a look. "I'm kind of missing my desk job right now."

  "Don't worry. We'll probably be okay," I said without a lot of hope.

  "When do we find whatever it is we're looking for?" Maria asked.

  "We don't. It is actually a they, and they find us. This is the trail to find them," I said, climbing and keeping my eyes open.

  We didn't talk as we hiked the last few hundred feet, mostly because it was too hot and humid and we needed to save our lung capacity for making it up the mountainside. Sweat poured off of my face and found its way down my body, pooling in my clothes. My skin was crawling with what I hoped were imaginary bugs. I just kept thinking about Riley. And how much he was going to owe me after this.

  "Yew can stop rightchere," a male voice snarled in front of us. The man was short, skinny, and wore camouflage that mostly hung in rags around his bony
frame. Oh yeah, and he was carrying a twenty-gauge shotgun which was unfortunately aimed at us.

  "Elvinia's expecting us," I said with my hands raised in the air.

  "Well mebbe she is," the man growled, "and mebbe she ain't." He stood there, staring at us. A bird chirped. It was so quiet I swear I heard the ticks crawling toward me.

  "So…" I said slowly. "Are you going to take us to her?"

  "Mebbe I will, and mebbe I won't," the man said, not moving a muscle. Apparently he hadn't made his mind up yet. This was a hillbilly standoff. It's a little different than a Mexican standoff, where each person has a gun held on the other. In this case, only one guy had a gun, but he wasn't entirely sure what to do with it.

  "Okay." I shrugged. "So what do we do now?"

  The redneck (I decided to name him Clem since he didn't introduce himself) looked a little surprised by my question. Apparently, the word mebbe was the only one in his vocabulary.

  "Well?" I pressed. I'd had to deal with his type before. It didn't matter if you were in backwoods Mississippi or the wilderness of Romania—there was always this guy.

  Clem looked around himself. Maybe he thought he had others with him, or maybe he was afraid of a black bear sneaking up on him. It was a little unclear what he was thinking at this point. But time was running out. We had to get to Elvinia and back to my parent's house before the evening ended.

  "Hey, Clem!" Another voice echoed through the trees. Really? His name really was Clem? Maybe the bug spray made it possible for me to read minds. It wasn't doing a good job because, outside of his name, I was drawing a blank.

  "Whatchya doin?" The voice belonged to a giant of a man whose face was hidden by matted black hair. It might have been a bear for all I knew. This guy was about six-foot-five and probably three hundred fifty pounds. Long black hair hit his shoulders, and a grizzled beard hung down to his navel. The beard was full of leaves, twigs, and unidentifiable matter that my gag reflex really hoped was food.

  "Hey, Earl," Clem said. "I wuz fixin ta shoot these uns." He pointed the gun toward Maria. She didn't look intimidated. She had one of the best poker faces in the business. That was, until he spat a long, dark stream of tobacco juice onto the ground. Her face expressed something that looked a little like a cross between horror and disgust.

  "Zat so?" Earl brushed hair from his eyes, with what could only be described as a giant, hairy paw, and squinted at us.

  Clem shrugged. I felt a bit more nervous realizing that Clem might just shoot us for no reason at all.

  "Wut fer?" he finally asked. Earl scratched his beard, and a pinecone fell out.

  "Wuttuya mean, wut fer?" Clem countered.

  And once again, we were at an impasse.

  "If it's all the same to you"—I interjected this meeting of the minds—"we'd rather not get shot. For whatever reason. We've actually come to see Elvinia."

  Earl thoughtfully scratched his head. "Okay," he said at last. "I reckon I can take ya to her."

  As we walked up to him, Earl held out his hand. "I'll need your shooters."

  "We don't have any," I lied.

  Earl nodded to Clem, who stepped up and felt the small of my back. He pulled out the pistol, then took Maria's. I'd figured they'd do something like this, but you really are limited to where you can hide a gun when you're somewhat slender. And no, I wasn't about to use any caliber smaller than a .45. If these guys were on the 'shine, they wouldn't even feel a .22, .380 or even 9mm.

  "Can I shoot 'em for having guns?" Clem looked hopeful.

  "Nah." Earl wiped a hairy paw across his forehead. "Let's go."

  Maria and I followed him, trying not to make eye contact with the now dejected Clem, who sadly hung his head as we passed.

  It was easy following Earl. Kind of like following a giant, sweaty bulldozer wearing overalls. He moved slowly, lumbering through the woods with a definite sense of purpose. I made sure to leave a trail of scratched bark and broken plants so we could find our way back just in case we didn't have our chaperone. Elvinia's homestead was well hidden in the Blue Ridge Mountains. If we were lucky, she'd have someone take us back, but we'd have to make sure we didn't piss her off.

  Maria tapped me on the shoulder. "How far is it?"

  "Not much longer," I said, even though I really didn't know. Earl was walking so slowly we were in constant danger of bumping into him. Even though he seemed fairly easy going, I didn't want to find out if I was wrong.

  Eventually, we crested a hill to see a valley below, tucked in between three small mountains.

  "That looks like a Colombian drug lair," Maria whispered.

  I nodded. "You were thinking tar paper shack with an old-timey still, weren't you?" I waited for her to nod. She didn't. She was staring at a frog that had jumped out of Earl's beard. It hit the ground running and hopped away into some brush. Earl didn't even notice.

  "Elvinia likes things a certain way," I said as we carefully picked our way down the steep hillside to the compound.

  Elvinia had built a Spanish-style mansion, complete with tiled roof and fountains. Considering her background, you'd have thought she'd have a Japanese-type décor. But no, she was just crazy that way.

  "Feeeeeyun!" a woman screamed from inside the house before stepping onto the front porch. Elvinia squealed when she saw me, then hurled her short but plump body at me. I braced myself for the impact.

  "You have to call me Merry now," I croaked through a crushing hug.

  Elvinia released me, and I staggered backwards, clutching my throat, "Nice to see you too!" Our host wore overalls that matched Earl's. Frizzy red hair stuck out of her head at all angles, and she smiled through missing teeth. You couldn't let her looks fool you. Crazy and shrewd were the only words you could accurately describe her with. It's funny how often those two things went together.

  I motioned to Maria. "This is my friend and colleague, Maria." I watched with some amusement as Elvinia crushed her in an embrace.

  "Well, come inside, y'all!" She held the door open for us, and we went in.

  I should've prepared Maria for the shock. Sure, the outside looked like a Spanish hacienda, but the inside was something entirely different.

  "Are those real Picassos?" Maria gasped, pointing to a row of paintings. Inside the house, the décor was postmodern with white floors, walls, and ceilings and very little of anything else. The furniture was so eclectic you needed a manual to find out how to sit in it. Everything was brushed steel and white leather. It was unsettling to say the least.

  "Yep! You've got a good eye!" Elvinia grinned. She looked like a backwards redneck in a European museum. Like someone who'd have been thrown out just for thinking about setting foot in there.

  "I've met his former lover, Françoise Gilot." It was weird hearing a sharp, Southern accent speak a French name. Somehow, she pulled it off.

  "Anyhoo, Françoise sold me some of Pablo's stuff. Ain't it pretty?" Elvinia looked very pleased with herself. I'm sure she couldn't talk art much with Earl and Clem. And even then it would probably be over Andy Capp or Li'l Abner cartoons.

  "Elvinia," I started. "We need your help."

  "Come on in for some sweet tea! Brewed it myself!" Our hostess waved me off before turning to head down the hall to the kitchen.

  "Wow…" Maria said, eyes agog. "Just…wow."

  "You'll get used to it," I replied, even though we weren't going to be there long enough to get used to anything.

  The kitchen was modern and up to date with stainless steel appliances, quartz countertops, and every kind of pot and pan available to mankind. She even had a pasta arm between the sink and stove.

  "Here ya go!" Elvinia pushed two glasses filled with tea toward us. She'd added a lemon and mint garnish to both. "Now I know you didn't come back here to see my cousin Knob again. Although I don't mind tellin' you, he was mighty interested."

  I suppressed a shudder. "No, I'm not here to see Knob." I gave Maria a look that hopefully said "don't ask."

  "Dam
mit," Elvinia said. "That boy needs to get married! Not many girls would take him, you know, due to his affliction." She turned her attention to Maria. "I don't suppose you're single?"

  Maria shook her head and waved her hands in front of her. "I'm not really into guys," she lied. I smothered a grin.

  "Don't that beat all?" Elvinia said with a surprised look. Her expression faded immediately, and she got down to business. "Oh well, whatchya want?"

  I tried to make myself sound as casual as possible. "We need some info. On the yakuza."

  Elvinia's face went from smiling and happy to dark and stormy. You never really knew with her what it would take to set her off. I knew she had a soft spot for the Japanese syndicate. Would it be enough that she'd take offense?

  "Why do you ask?" A chill seeped into her voice, and I tried not to shiver under her piercing glare. It was possible I'd figured this all wrong. Maybe I should've said I was interested in Knob.

  "It's Riley, my former handler," I started slowly. "He's missing, and we traced some intel back to the Japanese Embassy."

  Elvinia put her hands on her hips. "And you figured it had to be the Ninkyo Dantai, right?"

  "Ninkyo Dantai?" Maria asked.

  "Chivalrous Organizations," I explained. "It's what the yakuza call themselves."

  Elvinia's scowl deepened into a snarl. "It's what we are! We take care of family! We ain't no renegade criminals!"

  I raised my hands. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put it that way. It was insensitive of me."

  Our host muttered, "It ain't our fault we get blamed for everything. Why do ya want information on the family?"

  "I just want to know if you've heard anything. That's all. I'm not asking you to turn Riley over or to negotiate his release," I lied hopefully. Because that would've been awesome.