by Dennis, Pat
Betty clicked on the windshield wipers, causing Tillie’s shirt to fly into the air. It landed in a snow-covered meridian strip on the highway. She was terrified of the driving conditions but grateful the road was recently plowed. From her viewpoint, the entire planet looked as if it were sculpted from snow and ice.
Betty’s foot continued to press heavily on the gas pedal as she struggled with shifting. Clutch up … gas pedal down … clutch up, she kept repeating to herself over and over. It was the only thing she remembered from Driver’s Ed forty years earlier. That, and if the engine sounded like it was about to break in two from grinding, something needed to be done immediately—like shifting, clutching, braking, and mumbling seventeen Hail Marys.
Lori asked, “Do you think we should slow down to let the cops pass?”
“I’m afraid if I slow down, I’ll kill the engine. If they want to pass us, they will.” She hoped it were that easy. “Reach into my purse,” she instructed. “Grab my iPod and plug it into the speaker. Play anything. It’ll help me focus better on my driving.”
A blaring film score would be better to listen to than police sirens. Plus, the powerful, emotional music would reinforce her feelings of being a warrior woman.
Lori did as requested, and as the music started, Betty shouted, “Not that one! Any album but that one! John William’s poignant score to Schindler’s List was not what Betty needed to hear at the moment. She already had enough to cry about, without listening to that.
Lori clicked on the Raiders of the Lost Ark.
“Perfect!” Betty said. Indiana Jones to the rescue. The first few notes immediately made her feel like she was destined to be Tillie’s heroine after all.
Lori lowered the volume and said, “I have to ask you a question.”
The bus hit another patch of ice and began to slide into the next lane. Betty hung onto the wheel with all of her strength. She managed to maneuver the bus back into the proper lane.
When she caught her breath Betty answered, “Sure.”
Lori’s voice sounded angry. “What were you and Tillie thinking? Why were you playing cops and robbers at your age?”
Betty didn’t take offense. She knew Lori had a right to be mad at her for doing something so idiotic. “I told you, we were looking for evidence.”
“Didn’t it cross your mind how dangerous that was? If I did anything like that, you’d skin me alive,” Lori protested.
Feeling chagrined, Betty explained, “We weren’t going in completely blindsided. We had a plan.”
“Oh, a plan?” Lori answered sarcastically. “Well, that’s good to know. How’s that plan working for you?”
“Not so great,” Betty answered, her eyes focused on the speeding fourteen-ton vehicle in front of her that held her friend captive.
“So, did you find anything in your quest?” Lori asked.
“Like I said before, counterfeiting equipment, plastic strips that can trick a slot machine into paying out. That sort of thing.”
“Anything else?”
Betty waited before she answered. It would be painful to tell her niece the truth, but she couldn’t lie to her anymore. “A handgun.”
“Handgun! Was it loaded?”
“Probably.”
“Where is it?”
“We’re chasing it.”
**
“It’s hard to concentrate with you holding a nine-millimeter to the side of my head,” Tillie said as pleasantly as she could. Now was not the time to tick Ogawa off, not with a Glock in his hand.
“Funny, you didn’t think it would be hard to concentrate when this little goodie was nestled in your pocket,” Ogawa reminded her.
While keeping her eyes on the road for patches of ice, passing cars, possible stray wildlife like deer or moose, Tillie said, “I gotta say, you’re one hell of a thief, Ogawa. I didn’t feel a thing when you lifted the gun from me.”
Rose piped in from behind. “My Oga can do anything. He’s a magician, a singer, a contortionist, a ...”
“Contortionist?” Tillie interrupted.
Rose puffed up and folded her arms in triumph. “See Oga, I told you she was stupid. She doesn’t even know what that is.”
Tillie knew what the word meant. It just surprised her she hadn’t thought of it before. A contortionist, especially one as small as Ogawa, could have squeezed his upper torso through the tiny skylight and surprise Farsi with a knife in his back.
“Mr. Ogawa, do you do all that weird stuff like dislocating your shoulders to fit into places?” She asked, nonchalantly.
“It’s called double-jointed, idiot!” Rose barked.
Tillie envisioned Rose’s Oga during the coffee break at Tyler Falls. The rest of her passengers were inside the truck stop. They were loading up on candy treats and tourist trinkets while Ogawa changed from acting like an old man courting death, to a world-class contortionist. As agile as he was, he easily could have climbed onto the top of the bus, and used his skills to reach into the crammed space and stab Farsi.
That part was clear to her. What she didn’t understand was why he killed Farsi, and Slevitch? Especially if they were part of a family as Ogawa claimed, and not just crooks.
Rose waved her hands frantically and pointed toward the rear of the bus. “They’re gaining on us!”
“Faster,” Ogawa demanded.
Tillie glanced quickly at the speedometer. She was already pushing seventy miles an hour in conditions that warranted forty, max. Not only was there ice and snow on the road, the gusts of wind were growing stronger causing snowflakes to frantically swirl in the air. A blizzard was forming right in front of her eyes.
“Look at that!” Rose screamed and pointed toward the other side of the highway, where two speeding highway patrol cars were coming from the other direction.
Tillie could hear their piercing blasts as their lights flashed red. At the very last instant, a patrol car swerved around a slow moving snowplow. Tillie knew there was no way the patrol cars could cross the snow covered median. But the fact they were there meant the authorities to the north knew what was going on as well. Ogawa must have realized that little bit of insight as well.
He said, “Get off at the next exit, or sooner if you can find a way to do it.”
Tillie nodded, knowing there was no way she was going to attempt to play hopscotch on a snow-covered embankment. Not yet, not while there was a chance she could still live. She also didn’t want to pull off road and drive over what looked like white, bare flat tracts of land. In the winter what looked like simple plains could be very misleading. Frozen ground wasn’t necessarily hidden beneath. Underneath the snow a half-frozen lake might be waiting. Its thick layer of ice would shatter like crystal under the weight of the bus.
“Where are we heading? Winnipeg?” Tillie asked, keeping her eyes on the road. With every hill she ascended she prayed there wasn’t a slow moving anything on the other side. Hitting a deer at the speed she was going could kill them as easily as running into a stalled semi or a parked snowplow.
“Maybe,” Ogawa answered, “maybe not.”
“We have to go there, Oga. Boris will be waiting for us,” Rose reminded him.
Tillie took the opportunity to ask, “Is Boris your son? He looks like you Rose. He’s so handsome.” Tillie knew Boris didn’t look anything like Rose. But what mother wouldn’t take that little lie to be the truth?
“I know,” Rose answered.
“And the showgirls, your daughters?” Tillie asked.
“My nieces,” Rose said her face taking on a concerned look.
Tillie jumped at the chance to chum up to Rose. “Are you worried about them? They’re so young. Are you afraid the cops grabbed them before they could get away?”
Rose shook her head. “They know what to do. I’m sure they’re safe. But, thank you for asking.”
That was the first time Rose had ever thanked Tillie for anything, or been civil to her. For a brief second, Tillie thought she might be able
to wheedle herself into the family, after all. She shook her head in disgust at even entertaining the thought for a moment. Larceny may have been in her background, but murder would never be in her future.
Tillie asked coyly, “So was Farsi your brother or cousin?”
Stone cold silence was the only answer to her question. Rose just dropped her head, and Oga’s face grew sterner. Tillie continued anyway. “And Slevitch? Was he your relative, too? And are the girls ...”
“Shut up and drive,” Ogawa yelled.
Tillie bit her lip. She’d find out, soon enough, who everyone was. If she lived, that is.
The terrain was becoming hillier as they advanced farther north. With every incline she braced herself. The speedometer read seventy-one mph. For the first time in her life, she might push a bus to eighty.
As soon as she reached the next hilltop, Tillie saw the lone man in the distance. Around a mile and a half up the road a patrol car was parked horizontally across the highway. A single patrolman stood on the side of the car, aiming his pistol straight at them.
Tillie instantly analyzed the situation. There was no way she could drive around the car without putting the officer’s life in peril. The bus would certainly clip the patrol car and both the car and the man would be catapulted into eternity.
Tillie reached over to shift the gears down when Ogawa screamed, “Don’t slow down.”
She cautiously placed her foot lightly on the brake as Ogawa pushed the gun harder into her temple. He demanded, “Turn off the road.”
“Where?” Tillie asked straining to see an exit through the frosty window. “I don’t see an exit.”
Ogawa bellowed, “Turn!”
He placed his free hand on the wheel and began to steer it to the right. Tillie had to go along with his actions. If she tried to yank the wheel back to the left, they’d end up rolling over for sure. Or worse yet, Ogawa could pull the trigger, either by accident or not.
“I’ll do what you want,” she screamed.
Ogawa released his hand. Tillie could feel the hair on the nape of her neck stand in terror. She took a deep breath and, with all of her strength, turned the steering wheel one hundred and sixty degrees. The bus ran over a bump of some kind and soared in the air for a moment and then landed, continuing upright.
Without losing a beat, Tillie steered down the side of the ditch and then up the other side. As soon as she reached the top, the rear of the bus hit the embankment and fishtailed left, and then right. The bus, still going at a dangerous speed, toppled over. The last thing Tillie saw was her world turn upside down—then going blacker than she could ever have imagined.
**
Betty and Lori each let out a cry of anguish at the same moment. They’d watched in horror as Boris’ bus swerved off the road and tumbled on its side ahead of them. Betty began breaking.
“Tillie!” Betty whispered quietly. At that very moment, two patrols car sped past toward the wreckage. Severson’s car was in the lead.
Along the side of the road, the bus was lying like a gigantic, purple and white coffin on wheels. Betty could see the dents and crunches in Boris’ smiling, painted image that decorated the entire side. Both State Highway Patrol cars and the local police pulled up alongside of the accident. Policemen jumped out of their cars, pulled out their pistols and raced toward the wreckage. News trucks arrived and reporters and cameraman jumped out.
Betty continued her struggle with shifting, clutching and braking as she slowed. She managed to reach the scene without killing the engine, and pulled the bus up behind a police cruiser. As soon as she stopped, she opened the door and she and Lori rushed out.
“Tillie will be okay. I know she’ll be okay, ” Lori said as they raced along the highway’s shoulder, each of them slipping on the salt and ice as they ran.
“She has to be,” Betty answered, knowing it would be unbearable to think otherwise. When they were within a few yards of the bus, a patrolman rushed up to them, his firearm drawn.
“Stop right there!” he demanded.
Severson heard the command and turned to look. He yelled, “They’re okay. You can let them by.”
The patrolmen lowered his gun and Betty and Lori rushed over to the sheriff.
“Why are you here?” she spat out quickly as her shoes pressed into the crunch snow that surrounded her feet.
Sheriff Severson grimaced. “I was going to ask you the same thing. What the hell were the two of you thinking, trying to chase down a speeding motor coach?”
“We weren’t thinking, “ Betty admitted. “But I meant, how did you know to follow us so quickly?”
The sheriff answered disgustedly. “We were a few minutes away from apprehending Ogawa when you took off after him. We’re planning to arrest him and his gang for murder and counterfeiting, if he’s not dead that is.”
Lori asked, “You knew about the secret room?”
The sheriff looked at her confused. “Not until you just mentioned it. We found a phony bill in the one of the slot machines. It had Rose’s fingerprints all over it. Then we figured out one of the showgirls was the one who broke into the penthouse suite, trying to frame Tillie.”
“Speaking of Tillie,” Betty said, pointing toward the crash scene. Two patrolmen had climbed on top of the bus. Incredibly, as the officers managed to yank the door open a hand appeared from inside the bus, clutching and waving a stack of bills in the open air. Betty couldn’t tell whom the fingers belonged to. The wiggling fingers could have been Rose, Tillie or even Ogawa.
Relief appeared in the whisks of red hair that were edging upwards out of the doorway. Tillie hoisted herself slowly out of the bus. The two officers guided her to the ground. Limping, and holding one of her arms in obvious pain, Tillie trudged toward the two women.
Betty yelled, “Tillie!”
Tillie responded with a weak smile and then stumbled, appearing to pass out. An officer caught her right before she hit the ground. He wrapped his arms around Tillie’s body, lifted her up and carried her as if she were nothing more than a sleeping child.
Chapter 30
“I wasn’t in a coma.” Tillie said one more time, poking at her lunch plate filled with organic spring greens, almond bits and Mandarin orange slices. “I don’t know why you keep saying that.” Although her arm was in a sling, and the buffet jam-packed with customers, she’d refused to let Lori or Betty carry her food back to the table for her.
Lori said, “In our minds, you were. You were passed out for three hours.”
“Did you ever think I passed out because the cop next to me was a hunk of burning love?” Tillie suggested, a sly look making her eyelids crinkle.
“Most cops are hunks, even with their love for all things pastry.” Betty smiled warmly. It was wonderful to see her friend joking around, considering she’d been involved in a horrific accident only twenty hours earlier.
She asked, “Did the doctor say how long it would be until you can drive again?”
Tillie responded, “It should only be a few weeks. By that time, I’ll be off pain killers for my sprained wrist.”
Gloria had arranged for a tour bus and driver to take them back to Chicago. Take A Chance Tours would be able to leave right on schedule. In only three hours Betty would be checking her clients’ names off on her checklist and watching them board.
“You really are lucky,” Betty said, shaking off the image of what could have happened to her friend.
“Incredibly lucky,” Lori added, sitting back in her chair.
Betty noticed Lori gazing toward the buffet entrance. Tom Songbird had said he would be joining them.
Tillie nodded. “I know I am, not like Rose or her poor Oga.”
Both Ogawa and Rose had been severely injured in the accident. Rose suffered a broken leg and a cracked pelvis. Because Ogawa had been standing up when the bus crashed. He catapulted through the windshield like a racehorse out of the gate. Although he wasn’t killed, he’d never work as a contortionist again, or wa
lk. His spine was severed.
As Tillie lifted her arm to take a sip of coffee, a glimmer of gold sparkled on her wrist.
“You’re wearing your bracelet!” Lori said, grabbing a spoonful of New Orleans bread pudding. The last time she’d seen the familiar piece of jewelry it was on Ogawa’s wrist in the security tape.
“Tom gave it back to me this morning. He said the cleaning lady found it in the dressing room, the same place she discovered Betty’s cell phone and laptop,” Tillie stated.
“Ogawa must have stolen it off your wrist without you knowing it,” Betty said, shifting her attention to Lori’s plate of bread pudding. As far she was concerned, life didn’t get any better than eating a concoction made from French bread soaked in eggs, sweet cream butter, and oceans of Kentucky bourbon.
Tillie said, “That little jackass Ogawa could yank teeth from a mule without the mule raising an eyebrow. He’s a genius. Too bad he didn’t use his talent for good rather than evil.”
Betty agreed as she poked at her Tandoori Chicken. The dish was excellent but she’d already sampled five different international cuisines. Now that the murders appeared to be solved, she could finally concentrate on her job. Before she checked out of the hotel, she needed to post a brief review of the Hungry Moose Buffet on her blog, as well as share a few recipes.
Betty asked, “Tillie, did Ogawa or Rose talk about being related to Farsi and Slevitch?”
Tillie shook her head. “Not really, but they did talk about ‘family’. The sheriff told me afterwards that he’d discovered Farsi and Slevitch were Ogawa’s brothers-in-laws.”
Betty didn’t mention that it was she who informed the sheriff of her hypothesis that Farsi, Slevitch, and Rose were related. She’d suggested their propensity for being overweight was genetically connected.
Lori admitted, “It still shocks me that Rose didn’t cringe when her own family member was killed onstage in front of her.”
Tillie answered disgustedly, “That’s an example of how strongly the Serbian gang feel about the people who rat on them. Once someone turns, they’re no longer considered human, even if it was only a few minutes earlier that you would have killed for them.” Tillie catapulted an almond bit into her mouth. “Did the sheriff say anything about the money?”