“Dogs?” I said, recalling a previous caper where we’d come close to being eaten by a horse dog.
“Just a figure of speech,” she said, but the perimeter is surely rigged with motion detectors.
“Terrific,” I muttered, yanking out the last of the thorns sticking into my jeans. Some had left rips and tears. Fortunately ripped jeans were in this season!
Katie’s khakis and linen top were shredded in several places and now dotted with blood from her thorn stabbings. Fortunately, my body had shielded her and I’d taken the brunt of it.
“Come on,” I said, “let’s try around back. Maybe a terrace door is open. Remember, the minute we see a kid or Kim or Mike, we call the police.”
The words were barely out of my mouth when we sensed movement to our right as three enormous German shepherds rounded the corner of the house. Of course, it had to be German shepherds, the smartest breed known to man! As they raced toward us, Katie deployed her pepper spray on the leader, then zapped the other two with the stun gun. The stunned ones dropped like rocks with barely a whimper, but the recipient of the pepper spray rolled around on the grass, clawing at his eyes, emitting a high pitched keening sound I’d never heard a dog make.
“Better stun him, too,” I said. “Put him out of his misery. Let’s move. They won’t be out forever and my guess is the tattooed warriors will be joining us soon.”
As if on cue, Rico and three thugs came around the house, guns brandished. Wilda pushed me out of sight and Josh yanked Katie into the bushes. So focused were they on the canine patrol, they hadn’t spied us yet. We sidled along the west wall of the enormous house, and had almost reached the terrace, when we came to a very fancy bulkhead, teak doors and brass handles. I grabbed a handle and was surprised to find it open. We could hear yelling as the gang approached so we slipped in the door and descended the dozen steps to another door, Katie’s flashlight lighting our way.
I opened the inner door, also teak with an even fancier set of handles and we found ourselves in a small theater, no doubt where Lincoln and Ms. Do-Gooder enjoyed first run movies. I stared at the darkened screen before heading for doors at the opposite end of the room. The others followed and we found ourselves in a hallway, the walls covered in dark, red brocade. Tacky, if you ask me, but what do I know about interior decorating?
We could hear scuffling from behind us and above. It was probably a matters of seconds before they would find us. There were three closed doors in the hallway. The first led to a small office, the second to a stairway going up, elevator beside it. The third had been painted with bright colors, rainbows and flowers. “Bingo,” I said, trying the handle. Locked.
Before I could moan and groan, Katie produced a set of lock picks and had the thing opened in less than minute. Just as well as we heard footsteps coming down the stairs and others in the theater. “Come on,” I said, pushing everyone in and closing the door.
Katie shone the flashlight for just a second and we found ourselves in a small closet-like space. A wide, green plastic laundry shoot appeared to be the only other exit besides the door to the hall where the footsteps were converging.
“What the hell is this?” Josh whispered.
“I don’t know, but let’s go!” I jumped first, careening down a twisting tube until I landed on a large circular trampoline. As usual, Katie followed and was soon on top of me. Josh and Wilda managed to descend more gracefully as the voices above told us we’d been found.
“Shit,” I said, “get off this thing and let’s find a light switch. They know where we are anyway.”
As I spoke, we heard more scuffles and realized we were about to have company coming down the slide. Without a word, Wilda and Josh took hold of the trampoline and shoved it across the room. Fortunately, at that moment, Katie found a bank of light switches so we had a bird’s eye view of Rico and two of his cronies as they crashed to the floor, guns flying. We took advantage of their momentary disorientation to disarm them.
“Katie, stun gun two of ‘em and leave this one alone,” I said, pointing to a meaty little guy, whose head was under Wilda’s boot.
With Rico and the other one out cold, number three subdued, we had a chance to survey our surroundings. It looked like we’d landed in Kiddy Heaven. There were climbing walls, jungle gyms, kitchen areas, shelves of toys as well as an impressive library of children’s books. At the far end of the room, there was an enormous mirror, similar to the one I’d seen at Meridian. I opened a door beside it to find a small space with tripods and camera equipment. I shook my head, a wave of nausea creeping over me. “What do you wanta bet this is connected to a projector upstairs in the theater? Jesus Christ.”
“But where are the kids?” Josh asked, gazing around.
“Sold,” Wilda said as she ground her foot into our captive’s face.
Chapter 46
I was certain there were more evil ones on their way so I crossed the room and leaned over, addressing our captive. “We’ve got to get out of here. How?”
“Fuck you.”
I waved at Katie. “Pepper spray, now.”
As she stooped ready to aim at our recalcitrant captive, he waved his arm. “Wait. Take the door over there.”
“Where will it lead us?”
“Just behind the kitchen.”
“What’s your name?”
“Fuck you.”
“Katie, pepper spray, now!”
“Paco.”
“Now, that’s better.” I grabbed a jump rope and threw it to Josh. “Tie his hands. He’ll be our leader. Take some of those doll clothes and gag him, too.”
Josh tied his hands as Wilda held him. They then fashioned a gag out of several articles of clothing tied together, a tiny flannel nightgown shoved in his throat first. Katie grabbed a few more ropes and tied up the stunned duo. Then Wilda and I each took and elbow and dragged Paco between us up three flights of stairs. When we reached the top, I pressed my ear against a closed door. Silence.
We could be walking into a trap, but what the hell. Better than dying three stories below the ground. I opened the door a crack and realized he’d been telling the truth. It looked like a mud room, paneled with white shiplap and easily twice the size of my living room. Every conceivable type of storage lined its walls—closets, cubbies, peg racks and benches.
“Wow, wish I’d brought my camera,” Katie whispered, as we stepped into the empty room. “So many great ideas here.”
“No time for pictures, come on,” I said, shoving Paco along. He had suddenly developed a limp and was clearly lollygagging. I eyed Wilda and she lifted him off the ground, propelling him across the room.
“Looks like a trap, boss,” she said, peering out the back door.
“Can you see anyone?”
“No, that’s what worries me.”
“Okay, well we could shove Paco here out and see if there’s any response.”
Immediately, he began to moan and cry, shaking his head back and forth. “Do you know something we don’t?”
His eyes registered terror. Wilda was right. It was a trap.
“Change of plans,” said, pulling him back. “We may have to take a house tour instead. Paco will be our guide.”
I pushed him toward the kitchen door. This elicited yet another round moans and head shaking. Turning back to my companions, I whispered, “Any ideas, people?”
Our only other choices were a small window that I was pretty sure only two of us could fit through and a door at the end of a small hallway which appeared to lead to the garage. I handed Paco off to Wilda and crept down the hall, opening the door a crack. Sure enough, an eight-car garage, silent as a tomb. Two of the bays were empty, the other three occupied by two Bentleys, a Mercedes coupe and SUV, a small pick-up truck and a John Deere mower.
I waved to the others and they joined me, Josh and Wilda on either side of Paco who seemed even less inclined to exit through the garage. No matter, we were sitting duck anyway. At least we might stand a chance
if we could get one of the vehicles going. I grabbed a sturdy, chef’s apron hanging on a hook by the door and whispered to Wilda. She slid into the garage and disappeared into the shadows. Katie and Josh held fast to Paco and I stayed in the hallway, listening. I was reasonably sure the house had a monitoring system so they knew exactly where we were and what we were doing. It would not be long before we were besieged.
Josh peered over my shoulder. “Jeez, a Bentley Mulliner and a Mulsanne. What kind of business is this guy in, anyhow?”
“Right now it’s the track down and kill us business, so get ready to move.”
As I turned back to the garage, I saw a shadow pass behind the Bentley Mulsanne. In what seemed like thirty seconds, there was a low rumble as the engine purred to life. A hand shot up from the driver’s window.
“Let’s go,” I whispered. “We’ll tie his legs with this when we get him in the trunk.” I handed Katie the apron as Josh and I dragged Paco along down six carpeted steps toward the purring car. As we neared it, the trunk opened and we wrestled Paco in. He was kicking now and very uncooperative until Katie brought out the pepper spray and waved it in front of him. “Not a sound, asshole, or we’ll neutralize you.” His eyes glittered with hatred, but he stopped kicking.
We hopped into the lush leather interior just as the door from the kitchen opened and three armed assailants rushed in. “Door?” I screamed to Wilda, who sat in the driver’s seat. She reached over and pressed a button. The garage door began to open just as the first man reached the backseat window.
“Go!” I screamed as he fired, missing us, the bullet, passing through the open window into the quilted leather front seat just missing Josh who was crouched down.
“Everybody down!” Wilda cried and the Bentley shot forward.
A phalanx of fire power assaulted it. Bullets zinged and pinged as bits of glass rained down, but the armored doors protected us as we cowered on luxurious carpeted floors. Wilda drove blind, pedal to the metal as we raced down the gravel drive toward the gates. “Can’t find the God damn gate remote,” she said, rummaging around.
“Try the dashboard. It’s probably built in!” Josh said, leaning toward her. As our pursuers ran to catch up, the two of them scanned the ridiculously complicated collection of knobs, dials and gauges searching for the magic button, I held my breath. So close, but yet so far. We’d never get all four of us over the wall in time. Less than fifty yards from thick iron grate, he cried, “Eureka!” as we watched the gates open.
“Close them,” I screamed, as a pick up hot on our trail rounded the drive.
As we raced out, gates half closing then opening behind us, I heard sirens. “Thank, God,” I said, turning to Katie, who was white as a sheet. “You okay?” I said, putting my arm around her shoulders.
“Never better,” she said, leaning against me.
“Still glad you came?”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” she said, “Wait till I tell my cardiologist! He’s always nagging me to lose weight, watch my cholesterol, blah, blah. If this didn’t give me a heart attack, nothing will.”
“Just take it slow,” Wilda said. “Sometimes when the adrenaline wears off, that’s when your body reacts.”
“Just what us mature ladies need to hear at this moment,” I said, as three Fall River police and two Old Harbor cruisers rounded the corner and screeched to a halt, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God, our heroes,” I said
Chapter 47
Douglas Roberts stepped out of cruiser number one. Two cars behind, an old friend, Roger Demaris, originally a member of Old Harbor police department, emerged. As they and eight officers approached, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or jump up and down. Then, I realized if I did any of those things I would surely wet my pants.
Demaris grinned as he approached us. “Ricky Steele, why am I not surprised?”
He and I had met on a previous case, when he was on loan to a neighboring station in Windy Harbor. He had made romantic overtures, but I was so besotted with Jay Harp at that time that I was not encouraging. Besides, he was years too young for me. He looked well, thick dark hair longish, with a few streaks of gray, trimmer, healthier.
“Hey, Detective, heard you have a new position.”
He nodded. “You remember Detective Dugan? This is the third member of RHD, Detective Greta Burke.” He referred to the Regional Homicide Division he ran with his two detectives.
I shook her hand, but Dugan hung back. “Nice to meet you, Detective Burke. I heard you got a promotion too, Detective Dugan?”
He gave me a curt nod. “And, it’s Lieutenant Demaris now.”
Hands on hips, Roberts said, “Listen folks, I hate to break up old home week, but we’ve got a situation here.” He stood beside the Bentley, which now resembled Swiss cheese, its beautiful tan roof and sleek black sides dotted with dozens of bullet holes. “Jesus, friggin’ Christ, what the hell is this?”
You can guess to whom those words were directed. I decided talking really fast with a smile on my face was my best option. “We’ll explain later. There’s a bad guy tied up in the trunk, who you really need to talk to. His associates were right behind us, but I’m assuming they’ve now retreated beyond the iron gates of Chez Ramsay, where Linc and his cronies have been hosting secret auctions.”
He motioned to two officers and they headed for the trunk as Wilda pushed the release button. “What auctions? What the hell are you talking about?”
“The kids, Douglas! This is where they’ve been selling the kids after Meridian’s site folded up. You got to get hold of Ramsay, Pullman and Winters and find out where they’ve placed the kids. There were four or five sold off last night we think. They’re gone and we need to—“
Ignoring me, he nodded to the officers taking Paco away. When he turned back, he snapped, “You, you, you and you, in my car, now.”
As officers surrounded Josh, Wilda, Katie and yours truly, I stood my ground. “Wait, Douglas, please! You can take us in, lock us up, do whatever you want, but please promise me you’ll search Lincoln Ramsay’s property and let me make one stop along the way?”
“Search his property, you say? Would that be at the same time I return his bullet ridden limousine?”
“It’s a Bentley,” Josh said. “And we have to go somewhere. It’s just a couple of streets over. They’re holding two girls and—“
Roberts turned his gaze to Josh, eyes blazing. “I don’t care if it’s a fucking zoomobile. You four are going nowhere! Pacheco, get him in the car.”
An officer ran up to Demaris, who had been quietly observing our little tete-a-tete.” “Search warrant, Sir.” He handed him a paper and Demaris waved to his team, which included five other officers all men. “Okay, people, vests on, then head up the hill!” He nodded to Roberts, “You guys okay here?”
“Thanks, Rodge. If it’s okay, I’ll send a couple of my guys with you.”
Trying in vain to wriggle my arm out of Officer Pacheco’s iron grasp, I said, “Please, Douglas, five minutes! Two little girls lives are at stake, please. Can we all just head down there, take a peek and then you can haul us away? Please!”
“Jesus Christ, I must be crazy. Where’re we going?”
“Barry McCann’s.”
“The boat guy? What the friggin’ hell, Steele. We’ve got no cause, and no search warrant.”
“But, we have Katie, who knows him, or his niece, at least. They’re real chummy. If you just let the two of us pop in, see what we can find?”
“You’ve got five minutes. You, Hardy boy, lead the way.”
Chapter 48
McCann’s monstrosity was in the French Chateau style. The cost of the slate roof alone would feed a small army. Unlike many of the Annex dwellings, the McCann’s had no wall or gate so we were free to cruise right up the circular drive and park to the side of the castle. The police cruisers stayed on the street with Josh and Wilda in the car, ready to spring if needed. I nodded to Katie the
n rang the bell. Our plan was to pay a visit to Uncle Barry and ask for the tour he’d offered us at the clambake.
The door was opened by a short, stooped bald visage in butler livery. He was barely five feet tall and appeared to have the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders. “Hi,” Katie said, giving him one of her beautiful smiles. “We’re here for the tour Barry promised us yesterday.”
As he regarded us with a disdainful eye. We must’ve looked like aliens from Frumpville, I thought with my ripped jeans and Katie’s khakis in shreds, streaked with blood. Our hair like we’d just come from the Munster’s hair salon. I giggled maniacally. “Sorry about our clothes. We went on an early morning hike and got caught in some beach rose bushes.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. McCann is not in. Was he expecting you?”
“Oh, what a shame,” Katie said, dabbing imaginary tears from her eyes. “I’m leaving for California at noon and I so wanted to take away memories of the home Barry told us so much about. He was insistent that we drop in any time this morning.”
He hesitated and I prepared to stick my foot in the six-inch-thick door jamb, an action that would no doubt break all the bones in my foot and ankle should he decide to slam it in our faces. To my surprise, he gave a slight bow. “I’m Stewart. I run the house for Mr. McCann. I could give you a quick tour. Come in,” he stepped aside and swung the door open.
It wasn’t the Breakers, but it would certainly give some of the Newport mansions a run for their money. As Stewart led the way, we marveled at the marble floors, paintings and tapestries. Like an experienced docent, he pointed out many of the pieces and described their origin and history. The mirrored ballroom had apparently been modeled on one at Marble House in Newport. We oohed and aahed appropriately. Except for the cook, Freida, and an upstairs maid tidying up the gigantic master suite, there did not seem to be anyone else about.
As we completed the tour of the living quarters that included nine bedrooms, ten baths, a library, music room, solarium, study and conservatory, Stewart said, “Mr. McCann is a wine connoisseur and has an extensive cellar. Would you like to see it?”
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