Unwanted Company - Barbara Seranella

by Barbara Seranella

  Raleigh was grateful that old Vic hadn't requested a Porsche or a Corvette. No, he wanted a Cadillac. And wouldn't the car's big trunk come in handy? It had already.

  Raleigh chuckled as he unlocked the door of the Eldorado, threw the canvas bag full of money behind the driver's seat, and slipped behind the wheel.

  "Ah, me," he said out loud, rubbing his hand across the seat. Nothing like the feel and smell of leather. He reached over into the glove compartment and pulled out his FBI identification just a few more loose ends to take care of, and then he would be on his way.

  He thought about the money in the backseat. A man could live like a king in Mexico with that kind of money. Hot- and cold- running señoritas. Well, forget the running part. He laughed. He'd learned so much about himself in the six months. The denial was over. It was time he stopped worrying about everyone else and do a little something special for himself. A third-world country was the ticket. Somewhere where the value of life was cheap and all ages of female flesh plentiful.

  * * *

  Ellen was not surprised when she saw the face of the man who had come to take her out of federal custody. She also knew they weren't heading for county lockup.

  "I see you got my message," she said as they left the Federal Building.

  "Where is it?" he asked. He led her over to a new-looking Cadillac parked at the curb.

  "Did you bring my money?" she countered.

  "How much do you want?" he asked.

  "Five thousand dollars," she said. "And that is not negotiable."

  "I wouldn't dream of it," he said, taking her arm and helping her into the car. "Where is it?"

  Raleigh's quick acceptance of her terms disquieted Ellen. Either she had asked for too little, or the sucker had no intention of paying. "You sure you can get the money?" she asked.

  He reached behind him and unzipped a bag stashed behind the front seat. Her eyes widened when she saw the bundles of hundreds revealed. He zipped it back shut and started the car. "Where's the tape?"

  "I'll have to go get it," she said.

  "I'll take you," he answered, pulling away from the curb.

  "N0," she said. "That is not the way it is going to happen. I will go get it. You bring the money. We'll meet at, uh, Mr. J's on Lincoln. You know it?" Raleigh had stopped responding to her. In fact, his whole manner toward her had changed from the moment the car got in motion. Without even asking her what direction to go in, he got on the freeway. "It's somewhere very safe. Your prints are all over it. Anything happens to me, and my friend makes sure the D.A. gets it."

  "You've been very clever, haven't you?" Raleigh said.

  "Why don't you pull off up here?" she said, pointing at the next off-ramp. "Let me out, and I'll meet you in an hour."

  He made no move to get over into the right lane. She started to say something else when his fist shot out at her. She felt her lip split like a ripe plum. Hot blood filled her mouth. He hit her again, this time above the bridge of her nose. The world around her receded into echoes and blackness.

  * * *

  Steve Brown radioed Mace as soon as he saw Raleigh Ward escort Ellen out from the federal courthouse. She wasn't handcuffed and didn't look distressed. The two got into a taupe-colored Cadillac Eldorado and jumped on the Hollywood freeway. Steve took up a cautious pursuit. He read off the plate number to Mace as they maneuvered through the crush of morning traffic. The situation quickly got out of control as six lanes of commuter traffic converged and merged. He knew that up ahead were several options. Raleigh could stay on the 101, or he might break off and take the Harbor or the Pasadena freeway. Just then a bus pulled in front of Steve, temporarily blocking his view. By the time he was clear of it, the Cadillac was nowhere in sight.

  "Fuck," he said out loud, and then relayed the bad news to Mace.

  * * *

  Mace was waiting for Munch as she rolled out of the driveway of the Parker Center Print Shed, where her limo had been kept while criminalists searched for fibers and prints. The Print Shed was located just behind Parker Center and adjacent to the employee parking lot. She'd signed all the requisite release forms, noting with resignation the black powder all over the bar, the television, and the passenger control panels for all the car's various bells and whistles.

  As soon as she cleared the gate, Mace jumped in beside her. "Raleigh has Ellen," he said. "Turn right up here and jump on the freeway Munch floored the accelerator and followed his directions. "Which way?" she asked.

  "Stay on the Hollywood," Mace said. "He's in a late-model light beige Caddy Eldorado. Last seen heading north."

  "Last seen?" Munch asked, running a red light and swerving to avoid a Honda.

  "We lost him at the merge. Cassiletti took the Pasadena, and we have another unit heading south on the Harbor."

  Munch turned onto the on-ramp, ignoring the twenty-mile-per-hour sign, making the tires scream as she took the sharp curve at forty miles per hour. Mace clutched the hand-hold above the door with one hand while he worked the mouthpiece of his radio with the other. She steered onto the emergency shoulder lane of the freeway and floored it. The limo jumped over the roadside debris. The remains of a tire thumped the undercarriage. She heard glass break as she rolled over an orange plastic bag full of garbage.

  "I see him," she said. She started trying to merge into traffic. The shoulder up ahead was occupied by a pickup truck full of plywood. As she got closer, she saw that the truck's driveshaft was hanging loose.

  "Possible suspect sighted," Mace said into his mouthpiece. "He's on the Hollywood northbound."

  "He's getting off," Munch said. She rolled down her window and signaled desperately with her arm. None of the parallel traffic gave any indication of allowing her in. "Hold on," she said, and cut the wheel hard. Horns blared. Brakes shrieked in the fashion that usually precedes the sound of scrunching metal. The limo jolted as it pushed aside a Volkswagen Rabbit. The rest of the traffic magically cleared a place for her. "We're losing him," she yelled..

  Mace continued to relay their position. Munch fought her way over to the two-lane Glendale off ramp. She was just in time to see the rear of the Caddy making the curve at the top of the overpass. "I don't see Ellen," she said.

  She kept her foot on the accelerator and quickly closed on the Cadillac. They pulled alongside, and she saw what looked like blood smeared on the inside of the passenger window.

  "Wait for backup," Mace said. just stay with him."

  Raleigh looked over then, and their eyes met. His expression didn't change as he swerved toward the limo, knocking his right fender into the driver's side of the limo. Both cars , jerked. Munch looked over in time to see Ellen's head flop backward. Her face was bloody. Munch couldn't tell if she was just unconscious or—Bam! He swerved into her again. Munch fought for control. The limo was knocked over into the guardrail of the overpass. She pumped the brakes and fought all survival instincts telling her to steer away from the edge of the road. Instead she turned into the skid, an action that made her feel as if she were heading for the edge and a thirty-foot drop. Which indeed she was. But her action was also the only way she could hope to regain control. She was only vaguely aware that she was screaming. Mace also yelled. Then they hit a large concrete stanchion, and the big car caromed back into the lane.

  Mace started to speak into his radio, then threw it down.

  "What?" she asked, her throat feeling raw.

  "It broke," he said, holding up the severed cord. '

  Up ahead, Raleigh took the first available off-ramp, heading for the sleepy town of Eagle Rock. Munch again took up pursuit. "The phone's in the back," she said. "In the armrest."

  Mace climbed over the driver's seat to get to it.

  She took the same off-ramp Raleigh had disappeared down, looking desperately for some glimpse of him. At the intersection at the bottom of the ramp, she spotted a hubcap still wobbling on the side of the road to their right. She followed in the direction he must have gone.

  "
Hw do I get this thing to work?" Mace asked from the backseat.

  She spotted the Caddy making a left up ahead. She had a clean shot at the driver's side.

  "Hold on," she yelled again to Mace.

  She aimed for the Caddy's front wheel well, thinking that she would disable the other vehicle by wiping out the steering linkage. Later, if it came to that, she would say that she must have miscalculated the speed of the other car, she would swear to it if she had to. The truth was that the last few seconds before contact seemed to happen in slow motion. just before the two cars collided she saw two hands to the right of Raleigh's head. One was his, something glinted long and silvery in the second. Raleigh's Cadillac swerved left. The front fender of the limo plowed right through the wide driver's door of the Eldorado.

  Both cars threw up showers of tempered window glass. Steel screamed in protest as it was ripped from its bolted moorings. She didn't hear the tires popping. Her chest hit the steering wheel, and then the side of her head smashed against the window post. She felt the thud of Mace's body being knocked around in the back. Then all was still. A minute, maybe more, passed before she was able to make sense of the world.

  "You okay?" she asked Mace in the backseat.

  "Yeah, yeah," he said. He let himself out the back door as she shakily emerged from her side. They stumbled over to the wreckage and looked in through the window of the Eldorado. Ellen groaned. She was holding a bloody hand to her mouth. Her eyes were glazed over. Raleigh seemed worse off A gash had opened on his throat. The blood leaking out was a dark bright red.

  "Call for help," Mace said as he went around to Ellen's side of the car.

  Munch went back to the limo and used the mobile phone to call the police. Within minutes, fire trucks and police cars reached the scene of the accident. Cassiletti arrived just as the first ambulance got there. Ellen managed to find a damaged smile for the fireman who lifted her from the wrecked car.

  "Would you just be a dear," Ellen asked him, "and grab my bag from the backseat?"

  The jaws of Life had to be used to remove Raleigh from the wreckage. The rescue workers did what they could to stop the flow of blood streaming from Raleigh's neck wound. They loaded him onto a gurney and rushed to the waiting ambulance.

  As they passed by her, Munch made a quick assessment. He was still alive. His skin looked extremely pale, but she could see his chest rise and fall. He made slight snoring noises as he exhaled.

  One of his pant legs was ripped, and the sheath for his odd knife that Ellen had described was plainly visible. Munch noticed it was empty. She pictured the wound on Raleigh's neck—how it had looked before the paramedics covered it. It looked just like the wound she had seen on the Mexican woman's body in the Tijuana morgue. Munch looked for her friend and saw her sitting on the curb. Beside her was a storm drain. Ellen was wiping her hands on the grass beside her. Fucking Ellen. You have to love her:

  "Take him to County," Mace told the ambulance driver. Munch looked at Mace. So did Cassiletti. Then they looked at each other, and knew they were all of the same mind. How could it ever be proved that any of them remembered Glendale Memorial, less than five minutes away, whereas USC County was easily three times the distance and twice the traffic? The bleeding man would never make it.

  Mace walked over to where Ellen was being ministered to at the side of the road. "How are you?" he asked.

  "I believe I'll be just fine," she said.

  "I'll have an officer take you to the hospital just to make sure."

  Ellen winked at Munch. Munch could only wonder what she had up her sleeve.

  CHAPTER 30

  After the limo was towed away, Cassiletti gave Munch and Mace a ride over to the Bella Donna.

  "You want to come in?" Mace asked Cassiletti.

  Caroline and Asia came out to the platform. "Mommy!"

  Asia yelled. Munch waved and opened the car door before the car came to a complete stop.

  "No, you go on," Cassiletti said. "I'll start writing up our report. "

  Munch jumped from the car and ran over to the steps of the train car. She gathered Asia in her arms and hugged her until the little girl squirmed and begged to be released. Caroline watched with tears running freely. Even Mace was seen scratching the corner of his eye.

  "C'mon," he said, shooing them all inside. "I need a drink."

  They entered the parlor.

  "Mom," Asia said, "you should see this place." She grabbed Munch's hand and showed her the brass lamps with the Tiffany shades bolted to the small wooden tables. She demonstrated how the green-satin shades pulled down over the leaded-glass windows.

  "Hey, easy with that," Mace said.

  "Watch this/' Asia said. She sat in an armchair next to the door and pushed one of the white buttons set in brass on the wall. A slight clunk was heard in the kitchen. Asia led Munch in there and showed her where a number l had dropped into a slot. "That's so the potter knows who wants something."

  "The porter, dear," Caroline said.

  "Cool," Munch said.

  "And the piano," Asia said. "It really works."

  "Wow," Munch said, memorizing every nuance of expression on her beloved little girl's face. She bent down until they were at eye level. "Honey, you know how we talked about how some mommies grow babies in their tummies and some get their babies from other ladies' tummies?"

  "It's okay, Mom," Asia said. "I love you no matter where you come from."

  "I spoke to an attorney friend," Caroline said. "She's going to pave the way for you to resolve your custody issue."

  "Thanks," Munch said. Had ever the word felt more inadequate?

  Mace set Asia on one of the barstools and lifted the bar top to let himself in behind the bar. "What can I get you, ma'am?" he asked her.

  Asia grinned, clearly in heaven. "A martini," she said.

  "One Shirley Temple coming right up," Mace said. Munch moved closer to Caroline and spoke in a tone keyed out of Asia's hearing range. "So what's next?"

  "For now the court has granted you guardianship. The judge is convinced it would be detrimental to the minor involved to break custody. They'll want to do a home study and a background check. We'll write you letters of recommendation. Everything will work out."

  "Anything I should be doing to get ready?" Munch asked. "Do you have anything in writing that indicates that you have the consent of the parents?"

  "You mean like a will or something?" Munch asked.

  "Social Services would accept a letter in Jonathan Garillo's or Karen Parker's handwriting in lieu of a formally witnessed document."

  "I think I have something like that," Munch said. "It just needs to say that me having Asia is what he wanted, right?"

  Finding such a document should be no trouble at all.

  Caroline's mouth formed a half smile. "Yes, that should do it." The two women embraced.

  "All right, all right," Mace called out from behind the bar top. "Enough with all that. I'm still taking orders here." He addressed Munch. "What'll be? A Coke?"

  "Coffee," she said, moving to the small porter's kitchen. "I'll get it."

  The cabinets were lined with snug-fitting shelves, reminding her of the setup in her limo. She imagined that when a train was in motion, it was much like a boat, and everything needed to be secured to handle the sway and bumps of the track. She found a kettle and filled it with water, then opened other cabinets until she found instant coffee, creamer, sugar, and mugs.

  "How about you, Caroline?" Munch asked.

  Caroline was sitting on the piano bench, watching the play between Mace and Asia. "I'm fine," she said.

  Munch filled a mug and brought it into the front room of the Bella Donna. Mace turned to say something to her, and then his face went ashen.

  "What?" Munch asked, looking down at her clothes, her chest, wondering what had caused his reaction. Then she looked at the mug in her hand, noticing for the first time the name printed across it: Digger. "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—
"

  But Mace cut her off with an upturned palm. "It's all right," he said. "I, uh. I, just, uh." He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was strangled. "Excuse me a minute." He stumbled out from behind the bar, down the hallway toward the rear bedroom.

  The women watched him stop, turn, then sink to his knees in an upright fetal position. He covered his face, and a moment later they heard the unmistakable sounds of a grown man sobbing.

  "Mommy?" Asia asked. I

  "Don't worry," Munch said. "It's okay."

  Caroline was already up and moving down the hallway. Then she was beside her husband, cradling him, rocking him. After a minute, Mace's arms opened to accept her.

  Munch heard her murmur, "Finally."

  EPILOGUE

  That evening Munch saw a green four-door Buick sedan drop Derek and Violet off in front of his building. Derek waved good-bye with the sheaf of papers in his hand.

  "Where have you been?" she asked.

  "I cannot comment on that," he said.

  "What's got into you? "

  "I've had an epiphany," he said. "I'm going to become an FBI agent." He crossed the street to show her the papers. They were application forms. "I'm going to need a reference from someone in law enforcement. Do you think Mace St. John would help me out?"

  "I don't know. I think he's planning on taking a week off from work. Maybe you can ask him when he gets back."

  "Hey," Derek said, "where's the limo?"

  "At the body shop." She didn't tell him about the bundle of hundred-dollar bills Ellen had pressed on her at the hospital. She hadn't asked Ellen where they came from. With Ellen, it was sometimes better just not to know.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  "Got in a little fender bender."

  "What about your friend?"

  "She needs a little work, too."

  "But everything turned out okay, right?" he asked.

  "Yeah, I guess it did." From inside the house, Munch heard the phone ringing. She ran inside to catch it. She was trying to get Ellen a bed in a women's recovery house. They said they would call if a space for Ellen opened. Whether she would stay there was up to her.