Murder by Chance (Betty Chance Mystery)

by Dennis, Pat

  “Canada’s what? A few hours from here?” Lori asked, standing up. She used one hand to hold onto the vertical bar again, and her other to pick up the phone receiver from the instrument board.

  “Yeah, but the wildness area starts way before the border. That means they’ll be able to drive on dirt roads that weave through the woods. They’ll be able to sneak across the border before anyone can find them.”

  Lori kept pushing buttons. “How does this stupid thing ...?” She stopped asking her question and blurted, “Watch out!”

  Betty didn’t listen. She drove straight through the red stoplight. Somehow, she managed to turn left in the process without tipping the bus over. But, she did knockdown a road sign or two.

  Betty exhaled a “whew” and mumbled another, “Sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing,” Lori stated, sitting down in the front seat and snapping a seat belt around her. “Because I have a feeling you’ll be doing it every other minute.”

  Betty felt the tires skid on a patch of black ice and the bus skid toward the snow banks along the side of the road. She was able to steer the vehicle back onto the road before a collision with a passing car. But the swerving motion must have frightened the other driver. He lost control of his dark green Chevy Blazer and careened into a powdery ditch.

  In her rearview mirror Betty caught a glimpse of the upset driver giving her a one-finger salute through his rolled-down window.

  Lori said, “Should I try to figure out how to contact the dispatcher again?’’

  “Forget about it,” Betty told her.

  “But, we’ve got to let the police …”

  “Trust me, we just sideswiped two parked cars in a casino parking lot, ran an SUV off the road and took out a few road signs, and we did it all in front of a news crew. The police have already been called.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, a silver Porsche appeared on her left. As it sped by, Betty read the license plate, Baffler 2.

  Boris was at the wheel.

  She glanced at the speedometer. The speed limit on the narrow and curvy country road was thirty-five mph. Boris had to be driving sixty. She was already going fifty-five. And Boris’ bus was going faster than she was.

  As if reading her mind Lori asked, “How fast can this thing go?”

  “Let’s find out,” Betty answered, and pushed the pedal into the floor.

  Betty saw that Lori was hanging onto her seat belt for dear life, yet she was more concerned for Tillie. There was no telling what was happening to her friend. If she were still trapped inside the luggage compartment, she was undoubtedly being tossed around like a guppy in a hurricane. But, if Rose and Ogawa had already discovered Tillie inside the bus, there was no telling what could be happening to her.

  Betty watched as Boris’ Porsche flew over a hill while driving in the wrong lane. She waited to hear the sound of an impact. Three seconds later, a Dodge Caravan came over the same hill in the same lane that Boris had used. Amazingly, he avoided killing the horrified family in the passing mini-van.

  Betty stared straight ahead, wondering what would happen next. She announced, “If there are police cars in the area, Severson will ask them to set up a roadblock, probably at the freeway entrance, or further down the road.

  Lori turned to look behind her and said, “I think Tom told me the town only has two units.”

  “Then Severson will call in the State troopers,” Betty assured her.

  “What happens if they set up a road block and …”

  Betty finished her sentence for her, “And Ogawa decides not to stop?”

  Lori asked, “Do you think he would do that? That would put all of their lives at risk, including his.”

  Betty answered, “To be honest, I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

  She realized Ogawa would be facing two counts of murder as well as charges of counterfeiting and casino tampering. He’d truly be old and stooped before he was eligible for parole.

  Lori pointed to the bus in front of them and asked,” What’s that?”

  Betty stared straight ahead as the wind tossed the snowflakes around the prairie landscape like confetti at a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. “What’s what?” Betty asked, not noticing what Lori was referencing.

  “There! That thing hanging out of the side window of Boris’ bus? Is it a flag or something? Do you think they want to surrender?” Lori asked.

  Suddenly, the thing flew away from whoever or whatever was holding it. The wind propelled it straight back and toward the Take A Chance bus. At the speed it was going, if it were made of something harder than fabric, it would have crashed through the window killing them both. But, it was only fabric. Still, it terrified the two of them.

  “My god,” Betty gasped, barely able to keep the bus under control as she stared at the large piece of cloth that still covered part of the windshield. Dark red liquid oozed from the fabric and smeared across the glass as the wiper struggled to fling it off.

  It took a moment before Betty could admit what she saw in front of her.

  “That’s Tillie’s shirt.”

  Chapter 28

  The Baffler’s motor coach careened down the icy highway as the Take A Chance tour bus followed in a high-speed pursuit.

  “That blouse cost me twenty-seven dollars!” Tillie yelled at Rose, who still hung partially out of the window as Ogawa drove. For a change, Ogawa was acting his age, his real age. The man had to be in his early sixties, not eighties like he claimed.

  “I wanted to make a point,” Rose answered, pulling herself back inside the bus.

  “What point? That you don’t appreciate fine fashion?” Tillie growled.

  Rose snarled back. “That the next thing I toss out on the highway will be you, if you don’t shut up.”

  Tillie bit down on her own lip to stop from saying what she wanted to say. Instead, she counted slowly to ten before she spoke out loud. “They’re going to catch you.”

  “No, they won’t!” Rose retorted. “Don’t you think we know what we’re doing? We’ve rehearsed our getaway a dozen times.”

  “This isn’t penitentiary theatre, Rose. The sheriff won’t be shooting blanks. His bullets are going to be real.”

  “So are ours,” Rose replied in a practiced monotone.

  “Hey, what happened to your accent?” Tillie asked.

  “I’m speaking with an American accent. Notice how my words sound as if they’re coming out of my nose instead of my throat? I’ve perfected the annoying, twangy sound you Americans are so fond of.”

  “Sounds fine to me,” Tillie huffed as the bus slowed momentarily and curved to the right. Tillie could see that Ogawa was entering the freeway ramp, heading north. She said, “I gotta ask you, how did you open the door to the secret room? I thought the only way inside was through the luggage compartment.”

  “You stupid American. My Ogawa can open anything, and he can shut anything as well. Anything, including your mouth,” Rose warned.

  Tillie fidgeted uncomfortably on the couch. Her hands were bound with a silk belt from one of Boris’ robes. Her ankles were tied together as well. Rose had forced her to take off her jacket and blouse. The jacket was still sitting on the couch. The gun Tillie had found in the secret room was still inside the jacket. Her blouse was somewhere on the road behind them. She was wearing only her spandex pants and a pink lace brassiere, her cleavage fully exposed. Tillie observed Rose was focused completely on Tillie’s breasts.

  “I didn’t know you found women so attractive. Did prison do that to you? Or were you that way before?” Tillie asked.

  Rose’s hateful glare intensified. “I was looking at your stupid vulture tattoo.”

  “Vulture? Did you flunk your citizenship test? It’s a bald eagle Rose, our national symbol. Really, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for being so stupid.”

  “Stupid?” Rose yelled. “You call me stupid, you worthless whore!”

  “Who are you calling
a whore? I may be easy, but I’m not for sale,” Tillie hollered back.

  “Shut up!” Ogawa demanded from the front. Tillie saw his narrow eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. She watched as his eyes drifted to her chest.

  “Stop ogling my boobs, you old perv!” Tillie shouted.

  “Oga!” Rose screamed, placing her hands on her hips to emphasize her point. When she did, the bus listed sideways and Rose grabbed onto a cabinet door for support. Through gritted teeth she growled, “I told you if I ever caught you looking at another woman, I’d divorce you! I’m tired of you cheating on me with every slut that comes your way!”

  “Hey, I’m not a slut,” Tillie said, defending herself again. But Rose’s jealous outburst made her realize Slevitch hadn’t been Rose’s husband. Ogawa, who was one-third the size of Rose, had the honor.

  Tillie decided to use Rose’s jealousy to her advantage. If Rose didn’t want her husband staring at Tillie’s jiggling boobs, she might demand Tillie put her jacket back on to cover her breasts. Tillie would be that much closer to the handgun that was hidden inside the zipped pocket. Tillie’s words rolled off her tongue like honey when she asked Ogawa, “Hey, are you that famous Serbian actor Rose said she married?”

  Ogawa didn’t answer her although Tillie saw a slight smile on his face reflected in the rearview mirror.

  Her next words tumbled out in an exaggerated breathless tone. “I think I could be an actress. Some people think I look like an older shorter Marilyn Monroe,” she said, inhaling rapidly, her breasts moving up and down like a pair of ripe cantaloupes in a runaway supermarket cart.

  Ogawa didn’t respond, but Rose did manage to kick her in the shin. “Stop flirting with my husband, you slut,” Rose yelled.

  “Ouch,” Tillie yelled back before adding, “What husband? You just said you were going to divorce him.”

  “I am,” Rose shot back, giving Ogawa the evil eye. “He’s dead to me now. But that doesn’t mean you’re still not a slut.”

  “Yeah, but at least I’m the slut who broke up your marriage,” Tillie snarled.

  Tillie said ouch again as Rose kicked her once more.

  Tillie needed to get at the gun. If flirting with Ogawa could give her the opportunity, she’d go for it. Or perhaps she could figure another way to get loose. However, she also didn’t want Rose to pick up her jacket. The extra weight alone could tip Rose off that something was in the pocket that shouldn’t be.

  “You look a lot younger than the eighty-eight years you claimed to be,” Tillie cooed to Ogawa. “What are you, in your sixties, like Rose?”

  Rose responded in a snit. “I’m only fifty-four! And, I’m constantly told I could pass for thirty-four.”

  “By who? The little voices inside your head?” Tillie asked.

  Rose pulled her foot back in full attack mode, but Ogawa hollered, “Rose, stop kicking the hostage.”

  Hostage? Tillie wondered. That’s what she was to them? She thought she was only an intruder they’d discovered standing inside their secret room.

  Tillie muttered, “Thank you, Mr. Ogawa.” After a brief pause, she added, “I was being honest when I said you had me and everyone else fooled. Until I saw you with your shoulders straight and your old man shuffle gone, I had no idea. Even your voice sounds different. Before that, I would have sworn you were an octogenarian. I’ve got to say, you’re one great actor.”

  “Thank you,” he answered, pushing the accelerator down even further.

  Good, Tillie thought, the little man’s ego is bigger than his brain. Tillie knew she could work with that. If nothing else, she could keep the two of them playing good kidnapper—bad kidnapper for a while, to keep them distracted.

  Tillie continued talking. “If you think you can hold me for a huge ransom, you can’t. I’d bring in a hundred dollars, tops. My friends aren’t rich and my family wouldn’t pay a dime to get me back. In fact, they’d pay you to keep me.”

  Rose responded in a condescending tone. “We don’t need money. We’ll use you to negotiate with the police.”

  “You think they’re going to make a deal so I can be let go? The sheriff thinks I’m worthless. Want to know what he said to me? It’s something even you could understand, Rose. Once a con, always a con.”

  Ogawa interrupted, “Boris just sped by. Hang out the window Rose, and see if anyone else is following us besides the tour bus. That’s as far as I can see.”

  Rose lowered the window again and hoisted her large body halfway through the window.

  Tillie said, “If you open your mouth and pant, you’ll look just like a Saint Bernard.”

  Rose leaned back inside and slapped Tillie then leaned out the window again.

  Tillie bent forward and said, “Listen, Ogawa, like I said, the sheriff hates me. I’m positive he’ll try to convince a jury that I’m part of your gang.”

  “What gang?” Ogawa said. “We don’t have a gang. We’re a family.”

  Tillie said, “Well, you’re not exactly the Brady Bunch.”

  Ogawa retorted, “We do what we need to do to survive.”

  “Me too, and I’ll do whatever it takes, not to go back to prison again,” Tillie said. She felt ashamed that what she was could well be true.

  “Humph,” came the reply from Rose, her upper body still dangling in the frigid air.

  Tillie wondered if she leaned hard enough to the left, if she could knock Rose completely out the window. As soon as Tillie edged close to her, Rose pulled back inside.

  Rose announced, “There’s a bunch of red lights flashing a few miles behind us.”

  “Damn,” Ogawa said, “Rose check the map in the glove box. See if you can find an alternate route.”

  As Rose searched the glove box for the map, Tillie butted in. “Rose will take too long to find it. Let me help. I’ve been driving these roads for years. I know them backwards and forwards.”

  Tillie wasn’t exactly telling the truth. She’d never been farther north than Moose Bay. When Ogawa didn’t respond, she continued, “Plus, you’re only driving sixty. I can drive faster, no problem. I’m a professional bus driver.”

  Rose spat in her face and asked, “Why should we trust you?”

  Tillie shook her head, trying to shake off the spittle from her cheek. “Because I’m inside the same speeding death ship you are. If your husband’s going to kill us all, I’m part of the us that will be killed.”

  “My husband is an excellent driver!” Rose blurted out. “Everyone in our family is, especially Boris.”

  Ah ha! Tillie thought. If Rose and Ogawa were married, Boris was probably their son. The two showgirls might even be their daughters. Boris and the women shared ebony-colored hair and razor sharp cheekbones. Their almond shaped eyes hinted of an oriental nighttime visitor to some ancestor, generations ago.

  But who the heck were Farsi and Slevitch? If they were family, why were they disposed of as easily as used Kleenex during flu season?

  Tillie continued, “I can tell Ogawa’s a good driver, but not in this case. Maneuvering a vehicle of this size at this speed takes practice. Let me help. Besides, I need a job. There’s no way in hell anyone else will hire me after a body was found stabbed to death in a bus that I left unlocked.”

  “It didn’t matter if it was locked or unlocked,” Rose scoffed. “Oga went through the skylight.”

  Tillie should have felt relief on hearing that Ogawa didn’t enter bus through doors she forgotten to lock. She would have thanked him if she wasn’t screaming, “Watch out!”

  Ogawa steered the bus to the left, missing by mere inches the car parked along the edge of the highway. The man chatting on his cell phone hadn’t even noticed he was a millisecond away from becoming road kill.

  Gripping the wheel tightly, Ogawa asked, “Are you sure you can grab the wheel safely and take over without tipping us over?”

  “No problem. I’ve done it before,” Tillie lied.

  Tillie saw Ogawa staring into the side rearview mirror.
She could hear the sirens gaining on them. She knew the Take A Chance bus was close behind, although she had no idea who was driving. She prayed silently it wasn’t Betty. Her friend could probably run into three cars, a truck and a goat while sitting at a stop sign.

  “Untie her, Rose,” Ogawa demanded.

  Rose growled at him. “Are you sure?”

  “Do it,” he insisted.

  With her nostrils flared, Rose reached down and untied Tillie’s hands. Tillie rubbed her wrists for a few seconds before bending over and untying her ankles.

  “Stand up,” Rose demanded.

  Tillie immediately lifted herself up and reached for her jacket.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Rose snapped.

  “I don’t want you or your hubby staring at my tits,” Tillie explained.

  Ogawa demanded, “Let her put it on Rose. It’ll draw less attention from truck drivers that pass.”

  Rose mumbled a few Serbian words while Tillie quickly grabbed her jacket and zipped it up. She could feel the pistol rubbing against her side. With any luck, she’d be able to grab the gun as she drove.

  “Get in front,” Rose yelled, and pushed her toward the seated Ogawa.

  Tillie watched Ogawa deftly push his seat backwards, while maintaining control of the bus. Keeping one foot on the gas, he partially stood up and yelled, “Slide!”

  She understood what to do. She slid underneath Ogawa, as he lifted his lean torso up and away from the seat. He continued to hold onto the steering wheel. As soon as Tillie’s rear hit the seat she grabbed the wheel. Ogawa quickly let go, and Tillie placed her foot on the gas pedal. In a matter of seconds the two had exchanged places.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Ogawa demanded.

  Tillie understood he was concerned she’d choose to slam on the brakes or crash the bus on purpose, hoping she’d live, even if no one else did.

  “I won’t,” she lied, just as she felt the cylinder of a handgun press into her temple.

  Tillie was impressed. Not only was Ogawa a great actor, he was also a master pickpocket.

  Chapter 29