Peppermint Creek Inn

by Jan Springer

  He’d taught her how to feel alive. He’d given her back her happiness, her joy of painting and most importantly shown her how to love again.

  She didn’t want to lose him. Couldn’t even bear to think it. Maybe she could still persuade him to run. She could wake him up. They could leave right now. Disappear. People disappeared every day without a trace.

  She sighed wearily. Deep down she knew no matter how hard she begged him to leave, he wouldn’t. He’d made up his mind earlier on the cliff when she’d first suggested leaving. He wanted real freedom. Even if he had to take such a horrible risk in achieving it. Oh, God, why did she have to fall in love with such a stubborn man.

  A sob caught in her throat.

  She almost didn’t hear the strange sound.

  A creaking noise that drifted through the slightly open window, mingling with the singing crickets and the croaking frogs. Sara’s eyes fluttered open just in time to see the quick blink of lightning flashing in the windows. A momentary shot of panic burst through her body. But almost instantly, she smiled contentedly and snuggled closer to Tom’s warm frame.

  She wouldn’t be frightened, she told herself. Storms couldn’t hurt her, only people hurt people.

  Another creaking sound spilled into the bedroom. Instantly Sara sat up in bed, fully alert.

  Tom rolled onto his back, mumbled something but remained asleep. Sara listened for what seemed a long time but heard no other sound. Could it have been the porch swing out on the veranda? It always made creepy noises when the wind blew. She found herself staring at the curtains, willing them to move. They didn’t so much as flutter.

  Maybe it had been a raccoon or even a porcupine scuttling across the veranda. She wished she could believe it wasn’t something bad lurking around out there, but what if it was?

  Another flash of lightning lit up the sky. A little closer this time.

  Without warning, a shadow flew by the window. So quick, she hoped she’d imagined it. Paralyzed by the sudden fear clutching her throat, Sara froze, and listened.

  Above the crashing beat of her heart, she heard the unmistakable moaning protest of dry hinges, as the front screen door was slowly pulled open.

  A shiver of familiar fear uncurled inside her body.

  Could it be the cops? Her frightened gaze flew to Tom who shifted uneasily in the bed.

  Another thought jumped into her head. Garry had said Jo might return early this morning. Sara’s eyes flew to the alarm clock sitting on the night table. Exactly six a.m.

  It had to be Jo. Perhaps she had good news.

  Slowly, so as not to awaken Tom, she eased out of bed, slipped into her track pants and top. Hesitantly she picked up Jo’s handgun off the night table, where Tom had placed it.

  Just a precaution, she told herself.

  Casting another quick glance at Tom, she opted to let him sleep. If Jo had bad news regarding his case, they could wait to tell him.

  On her way out of her bedroom, Sara checked to make sure the back door was locked.

  It was.

  The hallway was semi-dark as she started down the corridor and a feeling of unease swept through her as she passed the slightly open door leading to the upstairs bedrooms.

  Her hand tightened around the gun as she remembered seeing a shadow move past her window and the distinct sound of creaking hinges as the screen door had opened.

  Maybe she should go back and wake up Tom. If it had been Jo she would have come inside by now.

  Just as she turned around, she saw the dark shadow step out of the hallway leading to the upstairs bedrooms, directly into her path. For the briefest instant she prayed it was Jo. But the shock of white hair instantly dashed her hopes.

  Sara’s scalp prickled with fear and her heart jumped wildly. A warning scream died in her throat as she spied the gleaming gun in the man’s hand. And it was pointed directly at her head.

  Oh, God!

  Her heart sank and she went completely rigid. She could kick herself for not leaving the gun with Tom. She’d left him unarmed and may very well have signed his death warrant.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she forced herself to show her anger not her fear. “What do you want?”

  The briefest hint of a smile tugged at his lips and the suddenly familiar-looking man cocked his head sideways.

  “Where is he?” he spoke in a low crisp voice. A strong confident voice commanding attention and she found it extremely hard to ignore his question.

  “I suggest you leave my property before I call the police.”

  “Now there’s really no need for that, little lady,” the man drawled. “I’m already here.”

  Sara jumped to attention as the man’s free hand slowly slipped into his open jacket and he produced an official-looking police badge. Her heart crashed against the prison of her chest as she tried to read the badge in the growing dimness of dawn.

  Chief Jeffries of the NYPD.

  Before Sara could think of a reply, she heard the distinct sound of a footstep behind her coming from the area of the front door.

  Her hopes soared. Had Tom heard they had company and woken up? Had he gone out the window and was now sneaking in through the front door to see who she was talking to?

  Had the white-haired man also heard the footstep?

  Sara didn’t think so.

  “Why don’t you put your gun down, mister, and I’ll do the same.”

  The unmistakable click of a safety catch being released made an icy sensation crawl up Sara’s spine. She felt her entire body begin to shake when she smelled the sickeningly sweet perfume of the woman who’d come earlier in her car.

  Suddenly she knew why the man looked familiar. He had roughly the same facial features as the woman who’d stopped by last night looking for directions.

  Her sister had always told her to pay attention to her gut instincts. Last night when she’d seen this woman, her instincts had screamed bloody murder. Tom had been shaken also.

  And he’d made love to her simply because he’d wanted to comfort her.

  Shit!

  “Drop the gun, girlie!” the woman ordered icily.

  Keeping her gaze fixed to the white-haired man, Sara replied sternly to the woman, “If you shoot, I’ll take him with me.”

  “Go ahead,” she said icily. “I’ll still be alive to finish the job.”

  Adrenaline squirted through Sara’s veins.

  Damn! What should she do? If she gave up the gun, then they’d kill Tom anyway. And if she didn’t, she’d be dead. But at least she’d give Tom a chance.

  Sara’s hand tightened on the gun. “Then prepare to die, mister.”

  “He’s in your bedroom, isn’t he?” the woman said in a sober, throaty whisper.

  A cold snake of fear paralyzed Sara legs. A wave of faintness clutched at her, she fought it away. The small of her back pushed up against the counter for support. The gun in her hand wavered shakily.

  Sara could hear the laughter in the woman’s voice as she whispered, “I’ll go around back and see for myself.”

  When Sara swung the gun on the woman, she was already gone.

  —

  The sharp smell of urine intermingling with the sweet scent of cheap wine assaulted his nostrils as he snuck into the dark alley near the corner of 1st and Maine. The alley was narrow and damp, littered with everything imaginable. Garbage cans, scraps of metal, old lawn chairs, even a dried up Christmas tree.

  Matt smiled to himself. It almost looked like the Charlie Brown Christmas tree he’d gotten for himself this past holiday season. It had decorated his apartment quite nicely, adding cheer to his drab surroundings but it hadn’t been able to comfort him.

  All his family was scattered to the wind. Mom dead. Steve dead. Steve’s wife, Emily was now working freelance out of her Prince Edward Island lighthouse. Dad and Daniel were over in Mexico doing some archaeological dig or something. And he was alone in this crazy city feeling sorry for himself.

  Well, not exactly
alone. He had his so-called wife breathing down his neck all the time. But that problem would be rectified as soon as possible. And he had Robin. Good old reliable Robin. His shrink, confidant and mentor.

  Matt squeezed past the piles of sky-high, cast-off tires that lined one wall of the six-story brick building. Gingerly he climbed over a couple of musty, tattered sofas, slipped by the burned out hull of what had once been a Chevy Nova.

  Careful not to smash his camcorder against the metal, he quietly kicked aside a few needles left behind by junkies and abruptly halted at the sound of voices. Low and muffled and secretive. A shot of adrenaline surged through his veins and he picked up his trot. They had better not start without him. He’d worked for years getting to the point where Chief Whitey Jeffries and his daughter Pauline trusted him with their lives and the security of tonight’s secret meeting.

  The fact he was allowed to go around the meeting area freely tonight without being followed or patted down for wires and guns was proof enough that Whitey had vouched for him. Flicking on his camcorder, he quickly and quietly maneuvered past more mounds of debris, stopping only when he reached the end of the alley.

  The alley opened up into a tiny court. The moon overhead perfectly illuminated the trio who stood off to the side of the court. A tall woman and two men.

  He could see the two burly bodyguards still waiting patiently in the shadows behind the trio while Matt supposedly checked around for anyone suspicious. Thankfully from the looks of it the meeting still hadn’t started. Good. If everything went according to plan, tonight would be the last night he’d have to do this lousy job.

  Keeping in the shadows out of sight, Matt quickly set up his camcorder on the stand, and snapped the button over to play. When finished he casually walked into the tiny courtyard and headed for the trio.

  “Anything?” his boss asked curiously when he saw him approach.

  “Checked every little nook and cranny. We’re totally alone.”

  The chief smiled gratefully and rubbed his gloved hands together with apparent excitement.

  “Let’s get on with it then.” He withdrew a thin white business envelope and handed it to Scout McMaster.

  Matt still couldn’t get over the fact the notorious arms dealer Scout McMaster was alive. He’d almost dropped from shock when the man had appeared at the meet site moments before Matt had taken off to do his so-called security check earlier tonight. Scout had died not too long ago in a raid.

  He’d seen him get shot himself. Seen the blood blossom across his chest before he’d tumbled over the ship’s railing. The body had never been found but he’d been presumed dead. No one losing all that blood could have lived. And yet, here he stood. He’d have to bring up the conversation of how he’d made it out alive without being too obvious.

  Scout chuckled as he peered into the envelope. He whistled happily.

  “It’s the wire receipt from the bank,” Pauline quipped sweetly as she linked her leather-gloved hand through Matt’s elbow and pressed her body seductively against him. Matt tried hard not to tense from his wife’s affections. He didn’t want her to get suspicious. After all they weren’t a couple anymore. He just hadn’t gotten around to telling her yet. He’d still needed to use her for the case. But it didn’t mean he had to like it.

  “Your share from the sale of the guns off your boat. The money is in the Caymans like you instructed. Split three ways.”

  “What are you going to do with your millions, Scout?” Matt asked casually. Scout threw Matt a pleasant smile. The man truly did not have a clue that by morning Matt would be bringing him and everyone else down. Their crooked dealings were finally over.

  “Got myself a beautiful island down in the Caymans. Going to retire for a bit of a siesta. You and your wife care to join me?”

  “Oh, that is a very enticing invite, Scout,” Pauline said and smiling sweetly, leaned over and gave Scout a somewhat innocent peck on the cheek. But instinctively Matthew knew she was doing it for his benefit.

  She’d been trying real hard this past month to make him jealous in a desperate effort to get him to consummate their hasty marriage, but he’d remained distant and angry toward her. It was understandable from his point of view. Wasn’t everyday you had drugs thrown in your drink and woke up with a gold wedding band on your finger. Personally, he preferred the old-fashioned way of the man asking the woman under romantic circumstances.

  Even then, he would never ask Pauline to be his wife. She just wasn’t his type. She was too much like her father. Overconfident. Crooked to the core and too vain.

  Matt chuckled. “We’ll take you up on that offer, Scout. Considering we haven’t had a proper honeymoon yet.”

  Pauline squealed with delight, her body pressing ever closer against Matt.

  “You’re welcome anytime to come down, Matty. The chief knows where.” Scout reached out and shook hands with Matt.

  “And by the way, congratulations on your marriage. Pauline’s a good catch.” Scout threw her a smile and Matt didn’t miss her pretty warning pout. He’d heard rumors about Scout and Pauline being an item at one point in the past. But he didn’t care. He just wanted this meeting over.

  “It’s been a real pleasure doing business with you, Scout.” Chief Jeffries interjected. “A real pleasure. If you need any more assistance in the future don’t hesitate to call on the NYPD. We’ll be happy to help.”

  I’ll keep you in mind. But remember, for now I’m dead. Thanks for covering that angle for me, Whitey. If you hadn’t had your hand-picked men at the raid then I really would be dead.”

  Matt fought valiantly to contain the excitement surging through his veins at Scout’s unexpected but very welcome confession. An un-coerced confession would stand up in court quite nicely when Matt brought the charges against these three. This was almost too good to be true.

  “When I get my new face and identity, I’ll be in touch and we can continue our productive partnership. It’s been most profitable and—” he turned to Pauline, a secretive smile curving his fat lips “—and a most enjoyable venture.”

  Pauline nodded, the pout on her pretty face deepening. Matt pretended not to notice.

  “Adios, amigos.” Scout saluted sharply and disappeared into the shadows with his two bodyguards.

  “There goes a very happy man.” Chief Jeffries replied as he turned to Matt. “And I’m glad to hear you are going to take my daughter on a honeymoon. It’s about time.”

  “Oh, Dad, isn’t this fantastic?” Pauline let go of Matt’s arm and hugged her father. Whitey smiled affectionately and said to Matt, “The honeymoon is on me.”

  “No, sir, we couldn’t possibly—”

  “I’ll hear no objections. You’ll head out tonight on my private jet.”

  Tonight? Dammit! Think fast, Matt.

  “Okay.” Matt nodded. “How about you drop my wife at the apartment for me, while I pick up something to celebrate on the plane.”

  Pauline pulled herself from her father’s embrace and threw her arms around Matt. He tried not to shudder with revulsion as he was forced to return Pauline’s seductive kiss.

  When she was finished, she purred, “Can’t you take me home?”

  “Darling, I’ll swing by and pick you up in an hour or so,” he lied. “Now, run along. Or you won’t have enough time to pack.”

  Thankfully Pauline scrambled into gear. She grabbed her father’s arm and hurried him out of the alley. Matt waited patiently until they’d gone. Then he quickly hustled over to the video camera, grabbed it and the stand, and scrambled through the obstacle course. He flew out of the alley ignoring the stares of curious passersby and hopped onto his bike where he’d left it parked. He removed the stand from the camcorder, stuffed the items safely into a saddlebag behind him and sped off.

  The cool wind slapped against his sweat-drenched face and he smiled. It felt good. And for the first time in a long time, he felt alive. It was over. This crap was finally over.

  Now, he co
uld quit all this undercover stuff and get on with his life. Maybe even settle down. Maybe he could go up into Canada and visit Robin’s brother’s daughter-in-law, the woman who owned the inn. Maybe. His smile widened. Yeah. Maybe.

  It had grown quite dark when he pulled his bike in around back of Robin’s tiny bungalow. Darker than any night he could even remember. The moon had slipped beneath a black satin blanket and no lights glowed from his windows.

  At this late hour, Robin would be asleep. Surely, he’d forgive him for waking him up. Especially when Matt told him the case was finished. Matt banged on the back patio door and waited anxiously for an answer.

  Robin would freak when he found out what he’d got on tape. He’d be doing cartwheels down the street. Heck, they’d both be doing them. He knocked again. Still no answer.

  Where the hell was he?

  He knocked louder. He could feel the glass beneath his knuckles tremble as he pounded harder. He dared a look over his shoulder, his eyes sifting through the shadows checking if anyone was watching. Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck wiggled in alarm. That always happened when he was being watched by someone.

  Nothing moved anywhere. Just a dog barking somewhere nearby.

  Despite that fact he couldn’t get back into that jovial mood he’d found himself in earlier when he’d thought about heading into Canada and paying a visit to the owner of Peppermint Creek Inn.

  Tonight had been easy. Too damn easy. As if they’d presented the evidence to him on a silver platter. But then again, he’d worked pretty hard to gain their trust. Why shouldn’t it be easy?

  He’d been working undercover for years. Getting into Chief Jeffries’ good graces. And now he was Jeffries’ right-hand man. It was almost unbelievable that this whole charade was finally over. His only regret was he hadn’t been able to nail down the chief as his brother Steve’s murderer.

  But with all the other evidence he’d collected over the years and handed over to Robin, and then this stuff tonight the chief would end up behind bars anyway.