Too Many Crooks Spoil the Plot

by Sarah Osborne

  “Exactement. I imagine a place I want to be, somewhere on the board. And you have to figure out where it is.”

  Interesting rules.

  “You spin the spinner and move the number of spaces in the direction shown and ask me a question, like ‘Are you closer or farther from me?’ or ‘Is it a place where you eat something?’ or whatever you like.”

  Lucie went first. We all started at the Charles de Gaulle airport. She spun five south and moved in that direction. “Are you at a place where you drink coffee?” she asked.

  “Non,” Lurleen said. “Good guess.”

  We helped Jason go next. He could read the number of spaces and we helped with the direction. “Do you need Superman to find you?” he asked.

  “Mais oui,” said Lurleen. “I will give you a little clue. I am very high up.”

  Lucie looked over the board and gasped. She whispered something to Jason.

  “Are you in the awful tower?” Jason said.

  “Yes, yes,” Lurleen said. “The Eiffel Tower. Here.” She plopped her doll on the Eiffel Tower square and Jason swooped his doll in to rescue her. “Your turn next, Ditie,” Lurleen said.

  Just then my cell phone rang. I left them to it. Lucie would play for me until I got back.

  I went into the hall to take the call, praying it was Mason. It wasn’t. It was Phil Brockton.

  “I know you said you’d call me about lunch,” he said. “But I’m free tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry, Phil, but tomorrow won’t work for me.”

  Phil was apparently speechless. He wasn’t used to being turned down—especially by me.

  “What’s happened to you, Ditie?” he finally asked.

  “Life happened.”

  “For me too. That’s why I’m desperate to see you. I’m a changed man. I know how good you were for me. I can’t leave without seeing you again.”

  “I’m sorry, Phil. I’m not on your schedule anymore. I’ve got some real problems here, and I can’t leave right now.”

  “What kind of problems? Maybe I can help. I’ve got a lot of connections in Atlanta. What do you need?”

  This was a first. Phil asking to help me. For a moment I felt hopeful. Then I remembered Tommy. Willing to be there for me unless it interfered with plans of his own. But Phil wasn’t Tommy. He deserved a chance to show he’d changed. I sat on the first step of the stairs.

  “You know anything about Sandler’s Sodas?” I asked.

  “Sure. Employs half of Atlanta, including my dad.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My dad is the concierge doc for the Sandler family.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “Which part? My dad’s getting ready to retire. He switched to the concierge business a few years ago. Now he has a few clients who pay him a healthy stipend for being available whenever they want him. It’s a good business. I might take over his practice.”

  “Wouldn’t that cramp your style in terms of reenactments?”

  “I’d be part of a group, of course. We’d cover for the patients we had. No problem. Smaller numbers of better paying clients. You should think about it.”

  “No one in the refugee clinic has money for an operation like that.”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot. You’re still the do-gooder, aren’t you, Ditie?”

  That jarred me. Was I really a do-gooder when I’d missed so much work? What about the teenager Beza I was so worried about? I hadn’t given her a second thought in days.

  “Not such a do-gooder,” I said. To be honest with myself, I always chose a low-cost clinic wherever I lived. Partly to provide good care for the poor. But as much because it was easy to get into and out of those clinics when I felt it was time to move on.

  “So what does Sandler’s have to do with your problems?” Phil asked.

  “You heard about Billy Joe’s death?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Sad.”

  “Does your dad know how he died? How he really died?”

  “What do you mean? He died in a car crash. It’s public knowledge he was into drugs.”

  “He was shot in the head before he ever went over that embankment.”

  “What in the world are you talking about, Ditie?”

  “Just what I said. There are problems at Sandler’s, and for complicated reasons I’m involved. My kids are in danger.”

  I heard a gulp of air on the other end of the line. “Your kids?”

  “No, no. Not my kids. A friend of mine’s. She was murdered like Billy Joe—a shot to the back of the head. She used to work at Sandler’s.”

  “I’m sorry to hear all that. I don’t know any more about Sandler’s than you do.”

  “I bet your dad does.”

  “Are you asking me something?”

  “I wondered if your dad ever mentioned anything about what was going on at Sandler’s. Maybe Sandler Senior or Kathleen Sandler said something.”

  “You know I can’t say anything about that, even if I knew, which I don’t. My dad keeps his professional life where it belongs. In the office. He’s a stickler for protocol.”

  “Like you,” I said. “It’s one thing I’ve always admired about you, Phil. You always kept that line straight. No discussion of your patients.” Phil kept all his lines straight. There was his work life, his Civil War reenactor’s life, his home life. All in their compartments. Never intersecting.

  “I’m not asking you to divulge anything about health issues among the Sandlers.”

  “That’s good because I won’t.”

  “As far as I know there aren’t any health issues,” I said.

  Phil was quiet.

  Had I touched a nerve? Something I didn’t know about? Were there health issues in the family? “Why so quiet?”

  “I probably shouldn’t have said as much as I did about Billy Joe,” he said. “Except all you have to do is read the newspaper to realize Billy Joe had his problems with drugs and alcohol.”

  This conversation was going nowhere. “Look, I’m sorry about lunch. If things were different, I would see you. But I can’t right now. I’ve got to watch out for the children.”

  Phil didn’t press me. “I’ve got to go back to New York soon. If you come up for air, call me. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll write. You’re not about to make another move, are you?”

  “Another move?”

  “Out of Atlanta. On to greener pastures.”

  “No,” I said, and realized that was true. “I’m not thinking of moving right now.” Funny. I’d had that thought a week ago, but it was nowhere in my mind now.

  “Good, then we’ll talk later.”

  Phil hung up. I stared at the phone for a moment and gave the clinic a call. Vic was available.

  “We’re okay here,” she said. “Do you know when you’ll be back?”

  “Soon, I hope. Do you have a minute? I wondered if there’d been any follow-up on the fifteen-year-old I was worried about, the one in the home with the ‘new uncle.’”

  “Good timing. I just spoke with the caseworker. The uncle has left the home, and we have a follow-up scheduled with the girl next week. Hopefully, you’ll be back by then. If so, we’ll switch her over to you.”

  “Thank you. I know I’ve been unreliable. I’ll do everything I can to make it up to you.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s the nature of our work. Predictable chaos. We’re managing.”

  I hung up the phone and saw Eddie waiting for me in her office. She looked at me expectantly.

  “Who was that?” she asked. “Mason? Tommy?”

  “Neither one I’m afraid. It was an old friend, and then I checked in with the clinic.”

  “Do they need you back?” she asked. “If so, we can manage.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I s
aid. “How are you holding up?”

  For a moment Eddie let down her guard. “It’s hard,” she said. “The longer we hear nothing, the more worried I get.”

  “I’m calling Tommy again.”

  This time he answered.

  “Thank God,” I said. “Where are you, Tommy? What’s going on?”

  “Easy, Mabel. You sound hysterical. I don’t have a lot of time. Are you alone?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Just answer me.” Tommy’s veneer was cracking. “I need the memory card and I know you have it.”

  “Where are you? Are you with Marie and Mr. Sandler?”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Is Dan there? Mason?” My veneer had cracked a long time ago. “Tommy, what’s going on?”

  Silence.

  “Are you there? Talk to me.”

  “You’re in danger. If you don’t give the card to me, then someone else will get it from you. Is that clear? You don’t know who you’re dealing with. Everyone will be safe if you give the card to me. I’m coming over. Don’t call the cops or someone will get hurt.”

  “Tommy, I don’t even know you anymore.”

  “You never did. Get the card.”

  Click.

  I turned to Eddie. “Did you hear any part of that?”

  “Not enough,” she said.

  “Tommy’s coming over here. He warned me not to call the cops or someone would get hurt.”

  “You get the kids and Lurleen upstairs,” Eddie said. “I’ll get my gun.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Eddie and I found Lurleen in the hallway. The game had spilled out of the kitchen and out of France. They were now in England, and Lurleen was educating them about Big Ben. Once again, Jason had rescued her—this time from the clock tower before it struck midnight and she might have plummeted to her death.

  “You are my savior,” her doll said to Jason’s.

  “Your turn, Lucie,” I said and gave her a nod. She understood perfectly.

  “Let me see where I want to be,” she said examining the board. “Okay, Jason, spin the dial.”

  I pulled Lurleen aside and told her what was happening. “I’m a sharpshooter,” Lurleen whispered back.

  “Since when?” I asked.

  “Since I almost married Gerard from the south of France. Very into hunting. You should take the kids, and I’ll stand with Eddie. I promise I won’t shoot to kill, just wound your brother in some vulnerable part of his body.”

  This was no time to argue. We moved the kids and the game upstairs. Lucie went into action mode, settling Jason on the floor of their bedroom with the tile pieces. I explained to both of them that no matter what happened, they were to stay in the room. Lurleen or I would be with them. I nodded at Lurleen.

  “For now, you stay here. He’s my brother. I’ll deal with him.”

  I ran downstairs to join Eddie. She was in the parlor staring out the front window. “You know I had to call Captain Blakely,” she said.

  I nodded.

  She filled me in. No one was at Sandler’s house other than the house staff when the police arrived. The staff confirmed that Sandler, Marie Vanderling, and another individual had left shortly before the police arrived. No sign of Mason.

  “Blakely promised to send two men over here to apprehend Tommy when he showed up.”

  Nothing happened in the next hour, the next two hours. No officers came. Eddie called Blakely again. He said his men were tied up, but he’d send a patrol car as soon as he could.

  Where was Tommy? I gave Lurleen a break and tried to keep the kids entertained. We played hide-and-seek upstairs, superheroes, anything to keep them occupied. I left Lucie reading to Jason and tried to contact Tommy with no success. He was done talking to me apparently.

  By midafternoon, Jason was exhausted enough to take a nap. Lucie stayed with him while Lurleen and I hovered nearby in the foyer at the top of the stairs. No Tommy.

  That was where we were when Mason came stumbling up the front drive. The rain had stopped, and the sun was peeking out behind white fluffy clouds.

  Lurleen spotted him before I did from the window on the landing. She yelled for Eddie and ran down the stairs. Lucie stuck her head out of the bedroom and I assured her everything was fine. Then I raced down the stairs to the opened front door.

  Eddie stood there with one arm around Mason’s waist. We helped her take him to the parlor where he sank onto the sofa. He was drenched.

  “What happened?” Eddie asked.

  Mason struggled to speak. “My car . . . I’m okay . . . where is Dan?”

  “Dan’s all right,” I said. “Lie still. I have to see if you’re hurt.” I asked Lurleen to grab my medical bag from the downstairs coat closet. I checked him over. He was scraped and battered but seemed to be otherwise intact. No obvious broken bones. Of course, I couldn’t check for internal injuries. “We have to get you to the hospital,” I said. I called Piedmont Hospital over Mason’s protests and spoke with an ER doc I’d known since med school.

  “An ambulance is on the way,” I announced at the end of the conversation.

  We made Mason comfortable on the sofa. Eddie washed his face and hands. We helped him out of his wet clothes and into new dry ones. Most of the injuries appeared to be on the exposed surfaces of his body. When he was settled, he started to revive and asked to sit up.

  I shook my head. “Lie still and tell us what happened to you.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Mason struggled to get comfortable, but I could see by the look on his face he was in pain every time he moved. He was determined to sit up. Eddie and I helped him, and he seemed to breathe more easily in a sitting position.

  I went over to the parlor door to close it, and there stood Lucie and Jason, hand in hand in the hallway. We hadn’t heard them come downstairs. “You look like little mice,” I said. “Come on in.” Their color didn’t look much better than Mason’s. “It’s okay. Mason had an accident but he’s all right. We’re going to send him to the hospital to get checked out.”

  Mason managed a smile.

  Very delicately, Lucie touched his hand.

  Jason gave him the tiny action figure he held in his left hand. “You can take my little Spider-Man to the doctor’s office. Mommy always lets me take him with me to the doctor. She says Spider-Man never cries. So I never cry, even when I get a shot.” He looked about ready to cry now. Mason thanked him. I hugged Jason, and Lurleen put an arm around each kid as she led them back upstairs.

  Eddie and I remained at Mason’s side.

  “I’m all right,” he said. “I walked half a mile to get here.”

  “Your color is better.” Suddenly all the emotion I’d been afraid to feel washed over me. “We’re so relieved you’re safe. You’re back here with us.”

  I looked over at Eddie. She’d teared up. “Thank God,” she said.

  “I got off easy. It’s just my ribs. I think I bruised them in the accident. I was pushed off the road like Billy Joe.”

  “Only Billy Joe was dead when he got pushed off the road,” I said. “Shot in the head. Captain Blakely didn’t tell you the truth.”

  “I know. Dan told me what really happened. Blakely hasn’t been honest with me about a lot of things.” Mason shifted on the couch and winced in pain. “Where is Dan?”

  “Lurleen spoke to him a few hours ago,” I said. “He was at Sandler’s house with Marie Vanderling. They wouldn’t let him leave, but he wasn’t harmed. Marie said they wanted him out of the way for his own good.”

  Eddie draped a throw over his legs. “The police checked out Sandler’s home and didn’t find him. They’d moved on apparently.”

  “Who are ‘they’?”

  “Marie Vanderling and Mr. Sandler Senior,” I said. “And Tommy.”

&nbs
p; “So Tommy is involved. And Mr. Sandler?”

  “It’s hard to sort the good guys out from the bad,” I said. “Marie said they were about to capture the mastermind, and she was sure it was Kathleen Sandler. She said they were afraid Dan would mess things up before they got the evidence they needed and maybe get himself killed in the process.”

  Mason rubbed his bald head. “None of it quite fits.”

  “Why did you leave without telling us?” Eddie asked.

  “I didn’t have time to call you. I’m sorry, Mom. I know you were worried sick about me.” Mason shifted on the couch to look at his mother. He tried hard not to show her he was in pain. “Dan heard something. He took his gun and went outside. I watched from the window but it was too dark to see where he went. A car with no lights was parked at the edge of the drive. It took off ten seconds later.” Mason coughed and grabbed his side. He stopped speaking for a moment to catch his breath. “That’s when I set the alarm and left the house. I was sure they’d grabbed him, so I jumped in the Jaguar. I almost caught up with them, when another car sideswiped me, and I ended up in Nancy Creek.” Mason rubbed his bruised cheek. “It’s wasn’t an effective way to kill someone if that’s what they intended. The embankment is fifteen feet at most. I think whoever did it wanted to scare me or put me out of action for a while. It worked. I don’t know how long I was out, but I spent most of the day trying to get myself out of the car. It’s totaled.”

  “So you were knocked unconscious?” I asked.

  Mason nodded.

  “No one saw you?” I asked while I examined his head. No visible lumps. No cuts or lacerations.

  “My car was buried in the overgrowth.”

  I told Mason the rest of what we knew, including Tommy’s demand that I give him the card. “Then he never showed up.” Suddenly I got scared for Tommy. What if something had happened to him?

  Eddie saw me blanch. “Don’t jump to any conclusions.” Before she could say more, we heard someone ring the doorbell.

  It was Dave Blakely.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Blakely asked when he entered the parlor and saw Mason on the couch.