Stiffed

by Kitchin, Rob

  The Foxboro Hotel was built in the early twentieth century by Archibald Stewart, a rich banker made wealthy by the stock market. Constructed well outside the then small, bustling town of Carrick Springs, it was a ‘build it and they will come’ venture with no expense spared. As well as sixty bedrooms, there was a large ballroom with a glass roof, an open air swimming pool, an extensive library, and a boat house with a jetty extending into the lake at its rear. Everything Stewart felt was necessary in order to attract well healed guests from Boston and New York. After a couple of reasonably successful seasons, Stewart’s wealth evaporated with the 1929 stock market collapse and his hotel’s fortunes followed a similar decline. Over the years various individuals and consortia have tried to revive its fortunes, the last closing the doors for the final time seven odd years ago.

  We creep along the high wall skirting the property up to where the iron railings start and stare across at the hotel.

  ‘This place gives me the creeps,’ Sally says.

  She’s not the only one. Ever since I was a kid this place has unnerved me. The hotel would make the perfect set for a horror film, with its gothic looks, gargoyles and haunted atmosphere.

  It would also be an ideal place to hide two captives.

  And to get rid of two corpses.

  Or to create more.

  11

  Everything is always okay in the end; if it’s not okay, then it’s not the end.

  ‘So now what?’ Annabelle says. ‘Do we follow her in, wait here, or hide the van and find another way into the grounds on foot?’

  I shrug.

  ‘Well, we have to do something, my best employee is probably tied up in there.’

  ‘And Paavo,’ I mutter. Sometimes Annabelle’s mercenary qualities float too near the surface. I know she said that to try and motivate us into action, and that she cares deeply about Paavo, but at the same time many a true word is said in haste.

  ‘So, how are going to proceed?’

  ‘I think we should call the cops,’ Sally says.

  For once I agree with her. Now we’ve got to the crunch moment, this doesn’t feel like such a hot idea. In fact, it feels like a really terrible one. The three of us are no match for Barry White and Denise. My balls are shrinking just at the thought of meeting him again. He’s one scary dude. If he smiled, my legs would probably disappear from under me. With a gun and a temper, I’d have a stroke before the bullets even started flying. What’s needed is fifty heavily armed cops and a SWAT team. That should just about be an even match.

  ‘Maybe Sally’s right,’ I venture.

  ‘Well, there’s a first,’ Sally says gloating. ‘We better make a note of that for the record. Tiger agrees with Sally.’

  ‘It took a metaphorical gun to the head for it to happen, so don’t get too excited.’

  ‘The point is that you finally saw the light and realized that I’ve been right all along.’

  ‘You haven’t been right all along. Just this once.’

  ‘Oh, give me a break, you weasel.’

  ‘Oh-oh,’ Annabelle mutters.

  We look over at her, then to the hotel. Denise and Barry White are descending the short flight of steps and getting in the car. Barry White is holding a large pistol.

  ‘Back it up and hide,’ I tell Annabelle.

  ‘Back it up where?’

  ‘I don’t know! Just back it up so they can’t see us when they leave.’

  Annabelle starts to reverse along the road verge.

  There’s nowhere to hide. The wall to the hotel is on one side, the open road on the other. They’re going to emerge from the gateway at any second and then we’re at the mercy of whether Denise realizes that an Annabelle’s Delights van has been tailing her.

  ‘Pull out onto the road and drive past,’ I say. ‘They’ll think we’re just passing traffic.’

  ‘The wall ends in a couple of meters.’

  ‘Anna, we don’t have time!’

  Annabelle keeps reversing, shooting past the end of the wall. In front of us is the entrance to a narrow road, skirting the hotel grounds. Annabelle slams on the brakes, puts the van in drive and speeds into the turning.

  I have the passenger door open before she’s pulled to a halt. I run the few meters back to the junction and peer around the corner of the wall. The silver car has emerged and is turning towards Carrick Springs. I watch it drive off, then remember to breathe.

  Now that she’d located Kate, Denise obviously came back to the hotel to collect Barry White for their showdown over the missing million dollars.

  If Jason and Paavo are tied up in the old hotel, they were now on their own, the whole of the Taylor clan circling round Kate. All we have to do is find them, set them free and get them out of here.

  Oh, yeah, and dump the bodies of Junior and Marino. Then we’re in the clear. Problem solved. Everything turns out okay in the end.

  ‘Well?’ Annabelle says at my shoulder.

  I damned near jump straight over the eight foot wall. Is the woman trying to give me a heart attack?

  ‘They’re gone. Which means Jason and Paavo are alone in there. If that’s where they are.’

  ‘Come on,’ Anna tugs my shirt. ‘Let’s go and look for them before the Munsters return.’

  * * *

  The van is parked at the edge of the car park. The plan is that I find Jason and Paavo and free them, whilst Annabelle and Sally hide Junior and Marino in the shrubbery for the police to find later.

  I’ve left them to that task, crossing the weed-infested tarmac and climbing the short flight of stairs to large wooden double doors studded with black bolts. There had been a heavy padlock in place to keep out unwanted intruders, but like the lock to the main gates it’s lying on the ground.

  I twist the handle and tug the right hand door open. I hesitate before entering, listening for any sounds within.

  The place really does give me the creeps. I visited it a couple of times when it was still open under the tenure of the last owners. At the time the interior had been dark slate floors and elaborately carved wooden paneling with brooding landscape paintings and animal heads hanging on the walls. It was if some gothic, Scottish castle had been scooped up and transported across the Atlantic.

  I step across the threshold. It’s gloomy inside, despite the setting sun shining on the tall, narrow windows. The reception area is pretty much as it was, except the paintings and animal heads have disappeared. In front of me a grand staircase rises up half a floor then splits left and right, curving up to the landing above. To the right is the reception area, an office in behind it, and to the left the entrance to the bar-cum-restaurant.

  As I remember it, the design is basically a large rectangular donut, the hole consisting of the two storey ballroom with a glass roof and full length windows along the south side giving a view of the open air swimming pool. Surrounding the ballroom and swimming pool are, to the north, the bar/restaurant and the large library, to the east the stage area and guest bedrooms, to the south a row of bedrooms, and to the west a short set of bedrooms and the reception lobby. Upstairs the donut consists of nothing but bedrooms, down below is a maze of service rooms – kitchens, launderette, stores and so on.

  I doubt the Munsters, as Annabelle calls them, would have ventured far into building. I start to head left towards what used to be the bar/restaurant.

  I’ve only taken two paces when there’s a noise to my right. Underneath the right split in the staircase, a route through to the ballroom, is another Barry White clone, this one carrying a lot more weight, with a head of short dark hair. In his left hand is a handgun which he’s pointing at me. A medium-sized one, dark grey in color. The kind that shoots bullets that kills people.

  ‘Who the fuck are you motherfucker?’ His voice isn’t quite so deep and sonorous as his elder brother, but it’s still an octave below a fog horn.

  I think my bowels have just done a triple back somersault with a double twist in the pike position. Barry Wh
ite must have got his whole family to travel up to Carrick Springs to deal with Kate and Redneck and snatch back the million dollars. I guess we were pretty dumb to think that they’d leave Jason and Paavo unattended.

  The story of our day so far.

  Behind me the front door clunks open. I glance back to see Annabelle and Sally rush into the lobby.

  ‘What is this,’ Fat Barry says, ‘an episode of Scooby-Doo?’

  I use the distraction to start to shuffle sideways towards the far side of the staircase. I know there’s another door under the left branch of the stairs that leads down between the ballroom and the bar/restaurant towards the library.

  ‘Redneck’s is coming up the drive,’ Annabelle says skidding to a stop.

  ‘Who the fuck is Redneck?’ Fat Barry booms. ‘Now get your hands on your heads where I can see ’em.’

  ‘The guy your brother stole the million dollars from,’ Annabelle answers, raising her hands.

  ‘For fuck’s sake! Fucking rednecks.’

  That about sums it up, though I have a few others to add to the ‘fucking list’ including fucking ex-girlfriends and her badass partner in crime, Fat Barry’s fucking brothers and sister, and the fucking Pirelli clan.

  Outside a car comes to a halt, followed by two car doors slamming. We’re about to become piggy in the middle of a gun fight. And as much as that might be quite exhilarating, I prefer my thrills to be a damn sight less dangerous. Like playing Kerplunk or jumping around on a bouncy castle.

  I glance at Annabelle and Sally trying to attract their attention. I manage to catch Sally’s startled eyes and nod towards where we need to head. I’ve no idea if she understands what I’m trying to communicate.

  Just as I’m taking a deep breath, readying myself to yell my order, Annabelle beats me to it.

  ‘RUN!’

  I grab Sally’s arm and dash for cover behind the rising staircase and its stone balustrades and banisters.

  There’s a loud crack that seems to reverberate around the room and I feel a twinge in my hair. I land on the cold slate floor, Sally tumbling on top of me.

  There are four more shots from at least two different guns.

  Holy crap!

  I push Sally off and right myself so that I’m on all fours. I raise my head and sneak a peek between two balustrades.

  The front door is pushed open, but the lobby is empty. There’s no sign of Annabelle. She must have run the other way. Hopefully she’s okay. If she’s got any sense, she’ll find a way out of here and go and raise the alarm, leaving me to find Jason and Paavo.

  I spot a Crusaders cap at the bottom of the stairs. I reach up and touch my hair.

  Oh God, it’s the Crusaders cap. A supposed million dollars sitting in no man’s land.

  There’s another shot from the doorway. Then some shouting, the rattle of a machine gun and the sound of ricochets pinging off the hotel façade. It appears that Redneck and Cowboy are now the piggies in the middle. Only they have guns with which to fire back.

  We were clearly spotted tagging after Denise and followed in a convoy out to the old hotel. And now we’re stuck inside the musty mansion. Shit!

  ‘Tiger?’ Sally says like a lost child.

  ‘Yeah?’ I mutter, digging the pager Pirelli gave me from the pocket of my jeans.

  ‘I don’t want to die.’

  ‘None of us want to die.’ Well, at least not right now.

  I press the green button as instructed. Then push it half a dozen times more and jam it back into my pocket. I’ve no idea whether we’re near enough to a cell mast that’ll work out here, but summoning Pirelli seems like a good idea. If anyone has the muscle and know-how to sort this madness out, it’s him.

  ‘I have kids to look after.’

  ‘You’re not going to die.’

  I focus my attention back on the cap. If I don’t retrieve it now, then it’s lost. Any moment soon the Memphis mob are going to fight their way through the front door, no doubt followed by whoever is firing at them. Crouching, I dash, from our hiding place and grab the cap.

  There are two more shots from where Fat Barry is holed up. I’m not sure if they were aimed at me or the front door. I don’t really much care as long as I’m unscathed.

  I dive back behind the staircase.

  ‘What are you doing, you moron!’ Sally says as way of praise. ‘Are you trying to get yourself killed?’

  ‘I was retrieving the million dollars.’

  There are two holes near the top of the cap. I push my finger through then touch my hair. I’ve clearly had a lucky escape. If it were possible to buy luck, I’d like to trade the cap for a triple dose. What was I thinking, bringing the damn cap with us? We should have hidden it somewhere so we had something to bargain with.

  ‘That thing’s not worth a million dollars!’ Sally screeches. ‘It’s just a cap.’ She hits me on the arm.

  I have this horrible feeling that she’s about to slip into hysterics. I’ve no idea what you’re meant to do with a hysterical woman other than slap them round the face and tell them to pull themselves together. And I suspect that’s only a dramatic effect for the big screen and not what you’re really meant to do.

  I put the cap back on. There are three more shots from the front door, answered with two from Fat Barry and three more from outside.

  ‘Come on.’ I grab hold of Sally’s hand and we push through the door under the left hand branch of the grand staircase and hurry down the barely lit corridor.

  Halfway along, a set of stairs leads up to the bedrooms above and down into darkness. Opposite the stairwell is a set of double doors that lead into the ballroom.

  I pull to a stop.

  ‘There’s an exit out into the hotel grounds at the end of this corridor,’ I say to Sally. ‘I want you to get out and go and hide in the trees, wait for the police to arrive.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you.’

  ‘You’ve just told me you don’t want to die. The way out is that way.’ I point along the corridor. I wish she would make her mind up.

  ‘I don’t want to die, but I’m not going out there on my own! What are you planning on doing?’

  ‘I’m going to try and rescue Jason and Paavo. They should be in there.’ I point into the ballroom; that’s the territory that Fat Barry seems to be defending. It really would be easier if she left for both her and I. She’s a complete liability given the state she’s in presently.

  There’re more shots in the lobby.

  Sally’s face is twisted in indecision.

  ‘Sally, just get out of here.’ I push her towards the exit, then turn my attention to the doors into the ballroom.

  I gently push open the door on the left and look through the gap back towards the lobby entrance. Fat Barry is just inside the door, half his bulk in the gap leading in behind a bar. On the parquet dance floor in front of the bar, six or eight feet from the large, two storey high windows looking out onto the swimming pool area, are the prone figures of Jason and Paavo.

  I squeeze my head further into the room and look around. At the far end is a stage framed by two large, red velvet curtains, stage scenery depicting the interior of an apartment still in place. Up above, the glass roof is covered in grime and moss. Grasses and bushes have taken root in the concrete surrounding the swimming pool area, pressing up against the glass. The ballroom itself is empty, but it’s like a hothouse after the sweltering day.

  It’ll be almost impossible to get across the room without Fat Barry spotting me. What I need to do is circle round to the swimming pool area and come in through glass doors, or work my way down the windows from the far side of the stage.

  A hand taps me on the shoulder. I clunk my head on the door reeling back and round, my heart having fallen out my backside.

  Sally is standing there bug-eyed.

  ‘Jesus, Sally! I thought I told you to leave.’

  She doesn’t reply. I think she might have gone into shock or something.

  The doo
r from the reception lobby opens and Redneck hobbles through holding an Uzi.

  Oh Christ!

  I grab Sally’s hand and dart for the staircase leading upwards.

  There’s a rattle of gunfire and the plaster on the corner of the stairwell blisters with ugly welds.

  I drag Sally up the stairs as fast as I can manage. It would be a lot easier if she hadn’t slipped into some kind of addled state.

  ‘You’re a dead man walking, chickenshit,’ Redneck yells after us. ‘A dead man.’

  * * *

  At the top of the stairs we turn left heading into the unlit gloom, Sally trouping after me as if she’s sleep walking. At the far end is a fire door, its handles tied together with a heavy chain held in place with a large padlock. I shake the door in vain, then we turn right, heading across the back of the upper level of the stage, then zigzag out onto a corridor lined with bedrooms, windows on the right-hand side giving a view down on to the swimming pool area. The bottom of the pool is filled with muddy water and dead leaves. On the left, a set of stairs heads back down.

  I start down and Sally holds me back.

  ‘I need to rescue Jason and Paavo,’ I say to her.

  Reluctantly she follows. At the first floor the stairs continue down into darkness. To the right, four steps lead up to a door that must open onto the backstage. In front of us, there’s a door into the swimming pool area and to the left the corridor provides access to a number of bedrooms.

  Somewhere close by two shots are fired.

  Sally flinches and hides herself behind me, trembling. I need to find somewhere safe to leave her. God only knows how many people are running around taking potshots at each other. Too damn many, that’s for sure.

  I head for the first bedroom, dragging Sally with me, and try the door. It’s unlocked. We enter the empty room. The carpet has been lifted, leaving floorboards flecked with paint, and the light fittings have been removed so that bare wires hang free from the walls. There are no curtains framing the window, but on the outside bars have been fitted to stop trespassers entering.

  I turn back to the old fashioned door. It’s never been converted to a keycard system and there’s a key hanging in the lock. Thank God for small mercies.