Poof!

by M. Lee Prescott

  As we assembled a short distance down the street, I said, “I think it’s best if Wilda, Frank and I take this one guys. Spike’ll stay back with you, okay?”

  “Nothing doing,” Charlie said, pulling a Glock from his glove compartment. “She’s my daughter and I’m coming with you.”

  “Charlie, we don’t even know if she’s here.”

  “I’ll stay out of sight.”

  “Dr. Bowen, this is a bad idea,” Wilda said, her voice just above a whisper.

  Charlie looked at me, his eyes pleading. “I can’t just stand here twiddling my thumbs.”

  “Come then, but stay out of sight. I’m going to the door. Wilda and Frank will be around.”

  Fiona answered the door in capris and a sleeveless tee, brown hair tied in a scraggly pony tail, no make-up. She looked like she was headed to yoga class. “Oh, great, just what we need. What the hell do you want? Haven’t you done enough?”

  She started to close the door and I shot out my foot. “I want Mike and Dennis.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Let the bitch in,” a voice said from within.

  Fiona shrugged. “Suit yourself” and waved me in.

  As the door closed, I felt cold steel against my temple. “Well, well,” I said, spying Meridian’s office manager, Nancy Pelton out of the corner of my eye. She was dressed similarly to her partner in crime—jean capris, hot pink tee shirt and flip flops. Her red hair was tied back with a purple bandana. The snap of her gum rang close to my ear. “Hardly recognized you without your red suit and high heels, Nance.”

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch. And you can tell your little helpers to back off or I’ll spray your brains all over the place.”

  “My, my, my, is that any way to speak to a customer?” I said, eyes scanning the room, buying time, before my impending doom. I hoped that Wilda was getting all this. It was a nice living room, tastefully furnished in greens, beiges and blues. A little too chichi for me, but then I wasn’t living there. I didn’t want to die there either, thank you very much.

  “Listen, ladies, I’m sorry to barge in, but I’m looking for my assistant, Mike Bowen and wondered if you’d seen her or know where she might be?”

  I felt a foot in the small of my back as I was shoved to the floor. “Oh, you’re wondering, are you?” Pelton said, placing a smelly foot on the side of my head.

  “That’s not very sanitary, you know.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” she said, removing her foot and kicking me in the side. I heard a crack. Was it her toes or my rib? Judging by the shooting pains radiating up and down my chest, it was me. I groaned, then remembered the wire. I continued to groan while also mumbling softly, repeating Wilda’s and Charlie’s phone numbers over and over. Please Douglas, let someone still be listening.

  “What the hell is she on about?” Nancy said.

  Fiona stooped and ripped my tee shirt down the front. “Jesus Christ, she’s wearing a wire.” Without hesitation, she ripped it from my chest along with a sizable hunk of flesh.

  “Ow,” I said, not sure where I hurt more, chest or side.

  “Shut up, bitch,” Nancy said, kicking me again as Fiona stamped on the mike.

  Pain coursed through me and I said a silent prayer of thanks that she was not wearing stilettos.

  “What the hell are we going to do now?” Fiona said, standing as Nancy pinned me down with a foot on my back. “You know she’s got her muscle out there.”

  “Amateurs,” Pelton said. “Granny Snooper here is our ticket. Get the other one. Leave him. He won’t last the night anyway.”

  As Nancy duct taped my arms behind my back and slapped a piece over my mouth, Fiona disappeared down a hall. She reappeared several minutes later, armed with what looked like a Smith and Wesson. She now wore stupid looking gold lame sneakers and was shoving Mike ahead of her.

  Thank God, she’s alive, I thought, making eye contact. Mike’s gaze was steady and calm, an angry bruise on her left cheek. Otherwise, she appeared to be in pretty good shape. She was similarly trussed up, duct tape over her mouth.

  “Get up, bitch,” Nancy said, pulling me from my knees to stand, gun barrel pressed against the back of my neck. I winced in pain. Please don’t let me black out.

  “Move it,” she said, pushing me toward the kitchen where they grabbed their bags. Apparently, we were using the back door. I considered kicking backwards, aiming for Nancy’s groin, but then remembered the brain spraying and proceeded meekly.

  The fresh air felt good as we stepped out and headed for the car park and a black Escalade.

  Chapter 53

  A shadow passed to our right and suddenly Wilda appeared, as if by magic, directly in our path. Nancy shook her head as Fiona reared back and spied Frank’s movement to the left, training her gun over Mike’s shoulder.

  Nice work, guys, I thought. What kinds of bodyguards were these?

  “Drop all your weapons, and I do mean all or Granny here gets one in the head.”

  “Followed by you,” Wilda said, her voice a low growl. “You kill her, we kill you.”

  “I’ll take my chances. I can use your friend here as a shield.”

  After several minutes, Wilda nodded to Frank and their guns clattered to the pavement, followed by his knife. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, my only consolation that if it was Winters holding me, my brains would have been splattered long ago.

  Nancy dragged me along, not bothering to pick up the weapons, but kicking them well out of reach. “I should shoot you point blank, but our beef is not with you.” We had reached the Escalade and she slammed me against the front passenger door. Tears came to my eyes as pain shot through my chest. Sirens screamed in the distance, coming nearer by my reckoning. Douglas heard me!

  I gazed over at Mike, giving her a slight nod. She flashed a look of understanding as I stood up straight and brought my right leg back. My heel went straight to Nancy’s groin. At the same time, I elbowed her as hard as I could and ducked. I could hear scuffling beside me and I hoped Mike was doing the same. As Nancy groaned and doubled over, I spied Fiona’s gun aimed straight at my head. As I tried to duck, a gun went off and suddenly Fiona crumpled, grabbing hold of her right hand. Geez, what a shot!

  With a unison cry of “Arrgh!” Katie and Alice rushed in from the opposite side of the carport, brandishing garden rakes. No doubt pepper spray was sure to follow, I thought as they rained holy hell down on Nancy Pelton.

  In the melee, Charlie rushed forward and grabbed Mike, pushing her to safety behind the Escalade. The sounds of sirens close by mingled with Fiona’s screams as Wilda subdued her. Before she knew what was happening, Veruga was in handcuffs, her tee shirt ripped from her body and wrapped around her arm as a tourniquet. Frank had slapped handcuffs on Nancy and now had her face down on the pavement where she moaned and groaned.

  Charlie untied Mike as Katie and Alice helped me. When my gag was off, I called to Wilda, “Dennis, he’s inside. I think he’s in pretty rough shape.”

  Mike came around the car, “Yes,” she said. “It’s pretty awful.”

  Katie had one of my arms, Alice the other as Spike came round the side of the complex, Lolly behind him. “How are you?” I asked Mike.

  “Okay, but I wouldn’t have been for long.”

  Charlie stood with one arm round her waist as he tucked his gun behind his back. “Mike looks better than you,” he said, as I saw stars and slowly began to sink toward the ground. Just in time, he caught me. “Hey, babe, it’s over,” he said as blackness descended.

  Epilogue

  I regained consciousness just in time to see Dennis Leonardo carried out on a stretcher. They were airlifting him to Boston with a severe concussion, two broken arms, a shattered knee cap, and fractured femur. If I hadn’t known it was him, I’d never have recognized him. Both his eyes were black and blue and swollen shut and his face was covered with cuts and abrasions.

  Charlie insisted that Mike and I be seen at the hospital so we a
ll traipsed over. As I suspected, I had two cracked ribs. Mike was shaken, but fine. We reached her just in time. Fiona and Nancy were cleaning house. The police found their bags packed and tickets to France for a flight the following day.

  Thanks to the wire, Roberts had been tracking our movements, but after my mumbling, he called Wilda and she filled him in. Barry McCann, Wade Pullman and Oscar Winters were in custody. When the police surrounded the cabin cruiser three miles out to sea, they found the two Meridian owners, one of their lackeys driving the boat and Lincoln Ramsay. As they approached the boat, Ramsay put a gun to his temper and pulled the trigger.

  Charlie drove us home. As he helped me out, I leaned over and hugged him. “Thanks.”

  “I’m gonna put Mike to bed, but I can come back if you need me?” He traced his fingers along my jaw.

  “That’s okay. I’ll be fine. See you soon though?”

  “Count on it.”

  “Take good care of Mike,” I said, peering through the window at her. “You okay, partner?”

  She gave me a thumbs up. Before I knew what was happening, Charlie pulled me close for one of his great kisses. As I broke away and joined the others, I found all three of them grinning.

  “We headed in, yours truly weak-kneed, and found Bob Briar and Ron Pruit sitting on the deck with Vinnie. I guess they weren’t taking any chances. Alice’s husband was overseas, or I was pretty sure he’d have been there too. We spent several hours recounting our adventures after which the group dispersed. Katie and Lolly packed up. Bob and Katie were dropping Alice at her sister’s until her flight the next morning.

  “Hey, Rick,” Vinnie said, as we packed the cars. “These are good people. Next time, call me and I’ll get Chas involved.

  “There will not be a next time!” Ron said.

  As Lolly hugged me, she whispered, “Don’t listen to him. I’ve found my calling now.”

  “Oh?” I said, smiling at her.

  “Dispatcher!”

  “She did an awesome job with that,” Alice said, laughing as she tossed her bag into Bob’s truck. “Vinnie, who is this Chas, anyway?”

  “Next time, doll,” he said, giving her a wink.

  We hugged, then I found Katie. “Hey, buddy,” I said, tears in my eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you. In fact, I doubt I’d be standing here without you.”

  She grabbed me in a bear hug, but not before I glimpsed her teary eyes. “All in a day’s work, baby. I’ll be standing by.”

  Bob opened his mouth to protest, but I beat him to it. “Not for a long time, baby. Maybe never. I’m not losin’ you to the likes of Meridian.”

  “And, let’s not forget the tattoo brigade!” Alice said. “Now, keep us posted about Dr. Gorgeous. Is he coming over tonight?”

  If Vinnie’s neck had snapped around any faster, it would have flown off. “Dr. Gorgeous, that sounds promising!”

  Please read on for chapters from Jigsaw!

  About the Author

  M. Lee Prescott is the author of dozens of works of fiction for adults, young adults, and children, among them A Friend of Silence, In the Name of Silence and The Silence of Memory (Roger and Bess Mysteries), Jigsaw, Song of the Spirit, her contemporary romance series, Morgan’s Run Romances, and finally the Ricky Steele Mysteries—Prepped to Kill, Gadfly, and Lost in Spindle City of which Poof! is the fourth!. Three of her nonfiction titles have been published by Heinemann, and she has published numerous articles in the field of literacy education. Lee is a professor of education at a small New England liberal arts college, where she teaches reading and writing pedagogy. Her current research focuses on mindfulness and connections to reading and writing. She regularly teaches abroad, most recently in Singapore.

  Lee has lived in southern California (loved those Laguna nights!), Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and various spots in Massachusetts and Rhode Island. Currently she resides in Massachusetts on a beautiful river, where she canoes, swims, and watches an incredible variety of wildlife pass by. She is the mother of two grown sons and spends lots of time with them, their beautiful wives, and her amazing grandchildren. When not teaching or writing, Lee’s passions revolve around family, yoga (Kripalu is a second home), swimming, sharing mindfulness with children and adults, and walking.

  Lee loves to hear from readers. Email her at mleeprescott@gmail.com, and visit her website to hear the latest and sign up for her newsletters!

  AUTHOR WEBPAGE AND NEWSLETTER SIGN-UP

  A Note from the Author

  I am thrilled to bring you Ricky’s newest caper. Thank you so much for reading it. Darker than the previous books, its content deeply disturbing, I put the manuscript down many times over the past two years, not having the stomach to continue. The sad reality is that child trafficking is rampant in today’s world and, so I persevered finally completing Poof! There are millions of children worldwide who suffer unspeakable abuse that robs them of their childhood and often their lives. This is one story among thousands.

  If you like Poof! and would be willing to write an Amazon review, I would be so very grateful. If you would like to sign up for future book releases and occasional notices about my books, please visit my Author Website and sign up for my newsletter. I promise I will not share your address, nor will I flood you with emails. Do visit my website to read more about my books and to hear what’s next.

  Finally, this book has been revised, proofed, and edited many, many times, but my intrepid assistants and I are human, so if you spot a typo, please email me at mleeprescott@gmail.com and I will fix it. If you’d like to know more about my other books, please scroll ahead to the next section, which is followed by sample chapters of Jigsaw, the first title in the Juls and Tuck Mysteries.

  Warm wishes,

  M. Lee

  Contemporary romances and mysteries by M. Lee Prescott include:

  The Ricky Steele Mysteries

  Book 1: Prepped to Kill

  Book 2: Gadfly

  Book 3: Lost in Spindle City

  Book 4: Poof!

  Also featuring Ricky Steele:

  Jigsaw

  Roger and Bess Mysteries

  Book 1: A Friend of Silence

  Book 2: In the Name of Silence

  Book 3: The Silence of Memory

  Contemporary Romances

  Well-Loved Romances

  Widow’s Island

  Hestor’s Way

  Morgan’s Run Romances

  Book 1: Emma’s Dream

  Book 2: Lang’s Return

  Book 3: Jeb’s Promise

  Book 4: Rose’s Choice

  Book 5: Hope’s Wonder

  Book 6: Ruthie’s Love

  Young Adult Historical Romance

  Song of the Spirit

  Sample: Jigsaw

  After their dear friend, Rosie is found dead, business partners, friends and one-time lovers, Juls Whitman and Tuck Potter find themselves tracking a serial killer. When they realize they are in over their heads, the pair call family friend, Ricky Steele, a private investigator from the nearby city of Fall River.

  Together, the trio follow a puzzling trail of evidence, getting closer and closer to a monster who preys on handicapped women, then strews jigsaw puzzle pieces over their lifeless, mutilated bodies. With Juls’ limp and reconstructed knee, will she become the killer’s next victim?

  Prologue

  The gloves snapped as he slipped them off, disposing of them as he always did after an outing. A deeply satisfying sound, the snapping of latex and powdery dust feathering up into the air. Brother loved it. Just as he had loved Rosie in those final moments as she begged for her life. “Oh sweet Rosie,” he crooned lying back on the musty cot in the darkened room. “You made me soooo happy.”

  Already the euphoria was ebbing away, sucked into the insatiable maw of time, eroding his pleasure, washing away his joy. Try as he might, Brother was powerless to stem the flow, the precarious happiness seeping away only hours after the outing until all that remained were powd
ery smudges dotting his furrowed brow.

  Chapter 1

  July 27, Thursday

  “Alright ladies, take the field!”

  Bobby Gagnon, coach of the Flint Flames of the greater Fall River Women’s Softball League, frowned watching ‘his girls’ take their positions. In his forties, a twice-divorced, recovering alcoholic Gagnon still looked like the triple A ballplayer he had once been. While his hair was thinning on top, his wiry, muscular frame looked much as it had in his twenties thanks to years as a brick layer.

  “Jesus Christ Peters! Put something into your throw—anything! I haven’t seen a rag like that since—

  “Souza! The catcher, Souza, the catcher, for Christ sakes! Her mitt’s where it always is, at the end of her goddamn arm!

  “That’s the way Gladys—stretch for the throw.

  “Wilson! Center field’s that way! Atta girl!”

  As Gagnon continued yelling, coaxing and browbeating, the occasional compliment thrown in, his eyes scanned the street. Finally, the person for whom he’d been waiting hopped out of a dark green pick-up, J & T Limited lettered in black and gold on the cab’s door. The pick-up took off and Bobby turned back to the field, feigning indifference as the latecomer jogged onto the field.