Peppermint Soul (Liza McNairy Mysteries Book 1)

by Dan Glover

  "We need to split up, Danners. See if we can outflank him. Distract him for an instant. Here, take the Springfield. Watch out, though. She's got a kick. Make sure the butt is planted against your shoulder."

  "Are we aiming to kill, Hank?"

  "Hell yes. If you get a shot, put him down. Aim for the head or for the chest. It might be Liza's only chance. If he thinks we're closing in, he's liable to take her out first so as not to have to keep an eye on her too."

  Jesus Christ it was hot. Had to be a hundred and twenty and there was no shade. Dry heat be damned, it was close to unbearable. They had to finish this quickly, otherwise there was a real chance of heat stroke out here. No water either. He motioned for Danners to take the right side while he peeled around the left skirting the enormous towers sprouting up out of the desert floor like dilapidated flowers.

  What the hell was Presti thinking? Why would he risk kidnapping McNairy? He had to know they'd come after him with all they had. Was it a trap? What if Presti had men waiting up ahead? No... the Captain didn’t trust anyone. He'd never involve other officers in a campaign like this. Then again, he just might bring in outside help. He'd done it before. That's what made the man so dangerous.

  Danners Forthright surprised him. He'd always taken the man as a sort of shrinking violet who'd fold up under pressure like a poorly anchored lawn chair. Instead, he seemed to thrive on it. Would he kill Roy Presti if given the chance? Absolutely. Danners would gun him down and not think twice. He'd seen that type before... each morning when he looked into a mirror.

  They'd have to dispose of the body out here. That was a given. Was that why Presti had brought McNairy into this desert? Sure it was. He planned on the girl disappearing. The one thing he didn’t plan on was Danners Forthright driving her to the rendezvous at the police station.

  "Hank... it's Danners Forthright. Liza's in trouble. I need your help."

  "Where are you, Danners?"

  "I just dropped Liza at the sheriff's satellite office in Pomona. She had an appointment to speak with Presti but now she's vanished along with the Captain. This place is locked up tight. According to the location of Liza's phone, they're moving north northeast. Fast. I'm guessing she's been kidnapped."

  "You two are getting too close to the truth. I warned her about that. He's taking her to the desert. Presti's got a place just outside of Trona where he buries his problems."

  "That's what we're being paid to do though, Hank... get to the truth."

  "No... you're being paid to die, Danners. Someone wants you both out of the way."

  "Are you going to help me or not, Hank?"

  "If it was anyone else, I'd say go fuck yourself. But I'm not letting Liza die over this crap. I'll be there in five minutes. Wait for me."

  Christ... Trona. It'd have to be Trona. He hated the desert. Snakes and scorpions were bad enough but hunting a man like Roy Presti on his home turf wasn’t something anyone in their right mind would care to do. Hank supposed that's what women like Liza McNairy did to men... there was no rational reason to go to her aid but here he was, ready to sell his own life for hers.

  Taking a key ring from his pocket and opening the metal storage cabinet in his office he chose a small arsenal to bring along... the Springfield, an automatic shot gun, and the ever handy M-16. Along with plenty of ammunition and the small arms he always carried Hank figured they'd be at least a match for Presti. Did Danners even remember how to hold a gun? Fucking fairy... he ought to stick to the gay bars and sunning himself at the nude beaches, not ramming his nose into something that was liable to get him killed.

  The drive out to Trona would take three hours or so depending on traffic. Presti had a good head start but if he stepped on it, Hank figured he could catch up, especially if the Captain didn’t realize he was being followed. He hated to think what the man had planned for Liza.

  Chapter 102—Peppermint Souls

  (Twins in the Sunlight)

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  "What makes you think I'm not going to turn you in, Hank?"

  "Because I know you, Liza. You'd rather let me die out here than see me in prison."

  Damn the man. He knew her too well. Still, she was tempted to go to the authorities and tell everything she knew... not that anyone'd believe her. A detective like Hank Lupo didn't commit such atrocities. He prevented them. But what about the Captain? No one would believe that either. In fact, she might well be charged with his murder. Or worse, Danners.

  She'd have to go all the way back... tell the authorities how she'd shot the wrong guy that night and how Lupo helped cover it up. The evidence was surely gone by now though. Hank Lupo knew how to clean up after himself. No... his punishment was having to live the rest of his life knowing what he'd done and who he'd hurt.

  He didn’t seem exactly grief-stricken to hear of Sally's death. Almost as if he expected it. Or had a hand in it. Liza wouldn’t put it past him. Still, she got the impression that Roy Presti had more to do with her death than Hank. Apparently Presti had his hands in lots of pies and the demise of Sally Lupo was just another in a long list of malfeasances stretching back over four decades.

  Liza'd been fortunate. But then again she'd always been lucky. Other girls her age might well have succumbed to the lure of quick and easy money. Prostitution and the porn industry were tailored to pretty young things fresh out of daddy's loving arms. Or she might have ended up like the Picany twins... caricatures of themselves eking out a subsistence on the fringes of society... unknowns and unwanted. Instead, she'd been able to pull herself up by her bootstraps. Make something of herself... even if it was just a two bit junkie.

  Speaking of which, thank Christ Danners had the foresight to bring along her bundle. Her knight in satin armor. Always ready to fight the dragon for her. Or to lead her to it. Jesus, that little tear in the duct tape securing her wrists... that's all it took. Once started, it was easy to loosen the bonds holding her in place. Yet it took all her patience to wait... to pretend she was still taped. To remain still long enough that Presti turned his back on her for a moment.

  It seemed like everything happened in slow motion. Reaching down, plucking up the chunk of rock, and swinging it at his head must have taken an eternity. She was positive he'd turn in time to see the blow coming. And he did. She'd been caught out. Shot. Left to die in the wilderness. Even as his head tuned toward her he was raising the pistol that he carried in his hand. Thumbing off the safety.

  But then wonders of wonders... the man collapsed on his own. A popping sound echoed off the rocks, like someone hitting a coconut with a hammer. And Presti went down like the wrath of God had descended upon his ass. It was a long three seconds or so before she heard the rifle retort. Danners had hit the mark. Ranger Rick riding to the rescue. She did the math. Jesus, he must've nailed the Captain from over a thousand meters away. Danners wasn’t lying about being a crack shot.

  When the bullet nailed him and the Captain went down, she almost felt sorry for the man. Almost. What should have been one of the most satisfying moments of her life was instead filled with remorse, knowing Presti would die where he fell... would lay there until someone else happened along and discovered the skeleton moldering away in the hot desert air. She'd heard the leg snap. Knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Gut shot too.

  She supposed it served the man right. If Danners was correct, Roy Presti was the brains behind everything. And he was right. Deathbed confessions had a way of bringing out the truth in a person. Remember Marcy? Yes, I do, Lissi, yes I do. Presti had orchestrated one of the most heinous set of crimes ever perpetrated by any human being against another. As soon as the bullet hit him

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  And he in turn hit the ground the man started talking, like Danners had punched some unseen button, pulled a weird little string and got the Captain wound up.

  "I never meant to hurt anyone, Liza. You have to believe that."

  It'd been a kill shot. She'd heard of people absorbing wounds like the one Presti suffered and yet li
ving, but not out here. Were those his intestines leaking out his stomach? Yeah, most likely. The Captain knew it too. It showed in his eyes. Maybe he saw the reaper heading his way. Or else something even more terrifying. What else could keep a man alive like that?

  "I do... stay quiet, Roy... help is on the way."

  Only help wasn’t on the way. Presti was going to die out here and he must have known it. Must have wanted to make peace with whatever God he did or didn’t worship. What was it that Vonnegut said? There are no atheists in foxholes. And Roy Presti was hunkered down in the final foxhole of his life.

  "No... no time... Christ it's cold. Listen... all those kids... it wasn’t my idea... I tried to make them grab the bums and hoboes off the street... not the kids. They went against me, Liza."

  "Who did, Roy?"

  "All of them... Olay, Baker, the Lupos... even Allen Picany, at least until his girls vanished. Tell them all how sorry I am, will ya?"

  "You know I will... but Jesus, Roy... what are you saying? Were all those people involved?"

  "Wise up, girl. Of course they were. Them and lots more. We could've had a good thing, Liza... we didn’t need to start grabbing kids. But that's where the money was at. It's funny... the pain just went away. That's a good thing... right?"

  "Sure it is, Roy. That means you're going to make it. Now stay quiet. I'm going to get help."

  "Listen to me, Liza... don't bother coming back. If I live I'll only spend the rest of my life in the can. Let me die in peace. If I had to choose a place, this is it. Do it for me. I could've killed you right off, you know. I let you live for a reason. Remember that."

  So she walked off and left him there. When finally she met Hank and Danners, she told them Presti was dead. And in a way he was. It'd been a long trudge. Not only was she feeling the heat, the Jones was creeping in, and the thirst. Christ, the thirst. Making her skin crawl the way it did. Swelling up her tongue. Twitching involuntarily until every muscle in her body hurt.

  "I don’t know if I can make it, Lissi. I'm so tired."

  It's okay, sissy Lizzi. It's a long walk back to where you left the vehicle. Just wait a while, with me. We'll talk. You know. Like we used to just before going to sleep. Lean on me, sweetie. I'll help you along. You know I will.

  "Thank you, Lissi. A thousand kisses deep."

  A thousand kisses deep, Lizzi.

  Was it all a game she played with herself? A dead girl couldn’t talk so she talked for her. Was that it? That's what the doctors said... the ones who mother dragged her to after she'd been found and brought back by the authorities. Gave her the choice of either going home or going to the reform school. You're damned lucky I took you back, Liza. You broke your father's heart, you know. I know, mother... I know.

  If not for Lissi she would have long ago succumbed to the lure of the grave. Lissi had a strength she lacked. Always did. Was that why she kept her alive? Or was it love? They had their own private language. Always did. Even in the womb she remembered sharing secrets with her sister. But that's impossible, Liza. Fetuses don’t talk to one another. But did I say

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  We talked, mother?

  Lissi had red hair while she had platinum blonde. Yet each of them had a patch of the other's hair where their heads touched while inside the womb, or so Liza liked to think. Peppermint twins... that's what daddy called them. Peppermint twins with peppermint souls. Shut up about that, Liza. She's gone.

  Finally she learned to keep quiet. Some things were better left unsaid. Speaking with the dead was one of them. They locked people up for shit like that. Fed them pills. Gave them shock treatments. Taught them all the niceties of what it meant to be sane. Lie to us and we'll let you go, sweetheart. Tell us the truth and we'll keep you forever and ever.

  Goodnight my darling.

  She wanted to go home. Take a long leisurely bath. Shoot up a thigh full of smack and lay back, let the water cover her face. See how long she could go without breathing. Have a long peppermint soul talk with Lissi. Maybe even join the girl. The only thing stopping her was a man. Dammit. Did Danners have any idea how she really felt about him? She'd been hurtling hints his way for months. Hell, years. Yet he seemed totally oblivious. Or maybe he knew and didn’t want to let her down. Yeah. That was probably it. He loved her despite himself.

  She'd torn everyone who ever reached out for her and now here she was, in love. It served her right if he rejected her. What else could he do? Danners didn’t go for women. She knew that. What the hell was she thinking? She felt like a drunken whore in a midnight choir, little more than a gypsy thief.

  She supposed the case was over. Hank would go back to his desk job... maybe take over for Presti. Danners would mourn his lost Benji bear and perhaps the twins. And she'd go back to Compton to score some more of the name brand that kept her going. Kept Lissi talking to her. Kept Danners at arm's length.

  Good night, my darling.

  Thank you for reading Peppermint Soul. If you enjoyed my story please be kind enough to leave a review. I read each one and always learn from them.

  The greatest heroes probably have no idea how heroic they are.

  Books by Dan Glover

  Liza McNairy Series

  Peppermint Soul

  Baja Blues

  Deadhead

  Horror

  Water and Stone

  Philosophy

  Lila’s Child: An Inquiry Into Quality

  The Art of Caring: Zen Stories

  The Mystery: Zen Stories

  Apache Nation

  The Lazy Way to 100,000 Twitter Followers

  The Gathering of Lovers Series

  Billy Austin

  Lisa

  Allison Johns

  Tom Three Deer

  Justine

  Yelena

  The Mermaid Series

  Winter's Mermaid

  Mermaid Spring

  Summer's Mermaid

  Mermaid Autumn

  Short Stories

  There Come a Bad Cloud: Tangled up Matter and Ghosts

  Mi Vida Dinámica

  Streets

  Thoughts on the 5:58

  About the Author

  Dan Glover lives and writes in north-central Illinois. He has written 18 novels as well as numerous short stories. You can connect with him on Twitter @DanGlover1 and find out more about him on his website DanGlover.com