Wicked Is the Whiskey: A Sean McClanahan Mystery (Sean McClanahan Mysteries Book 1)

by T. J. Purcell

  It’s boring work sitting in your truck waiting. A man gets to thinking when he has nothing to think about. I’d like to say my mind was working through every angle of the Preston case — thinking through every conceivable action Hall and her minions might next take — but it wasn’t.

  I was soon thinking about the Steelers and whether they had a shot for the Super Bowl that year. I worried about Pitt, too, and hoped they'd finally find a way to bring home a national championship — or at least respectability.

  I wondered about truck tires and fat aluminum rims, which I’d been thinking of getting for the truck, even though it was a waste of money — and even though Maureen made me divert much of what I was finally making as a PI back into the pub toward the new boiler.

  And I wondered about Erin.

  I admit I had a certain clumsiness around her — her loveliness and gracefulness turned my heart into a pat of butter in a frying skillet. It was wonderful to see her return to good health.

  I danced through an unrelated mix of such thoughts over the next several hours until my coffee Thermos finally ran out and all four sandwiches had been devoured.

  I’d sat there 12 or 13 hours without any comings or goings from Hall — and I was getting restless.

  Besides, it was getting time for me to go, as I’d made plans to meet Elizabeth Preston at the funeral home where Rosie was laid out; I needed to change into the suit that I brought with me.

  But at 6:45 p.m. a black Crown Vic pulled up in front of Hall’s house — Tony and Terry were in the car.

  Hall’s garage door opened. A red Ferrari came roaring up the driveway with Hall behind the wheel. The Crown Vic got right behind her.

  I got behind the Crown Vic. I followed them for about 20 minutes.

  I couldn’t believe where they were about to go.

  Chapter #67

  Hall and Tony and Terry drove to the funeral home where Rosie was laid out. Tony and Terry waiting in their car as Hall went inside.

  I changed into my suit inside the truck and hurried inside the funeral home, worried about a confrontation between Elizabeth and Hall. No sooner did I enter the building that my worst fears were realized.

  Elizabeth was shouting at Hall, while Hall’s goons stood by ready to push her away.

  “You murdered John, you witch.” said Elizabeth. “And you murdered Rosie. How dare you come here.”

  “I came to pay my respects to a loyal employee,” said Hall, her face bright red.

  “I know your little secrets.” said Elizabeth. “I know what John knew about your illicit activities. I’m telling the authorities everything and you’re going to jail.”

  I walked up to Elizabeth and grabbed her hand.

  “Come with me,” I said.

  I pulled her into the hallway. She was breathing heavily.

  “Please calm down,” I said. “This is not the time or the place for a confrontation. Hall is a dangerous person and not to be trifled with. Now let’s pay our respects to Rosie and get out of here.”

  We walked into an adjacent room. Eduardo stood in front of the casket, looking down at his deceased wife. His face was blank, his three children had wrapped themselves around his legs.

  “Why is mommy sleeping, Daddy?” said his smallest child.

  He said nothing. He just started at his wife’s lifeless body. Elizabeth and I approached him. He turned to us.

  “She never ran from a problem in her life,” said Eduardo. “She always ran right toward the fire — always had to do the right thing even if it put her in danger.”

  I nodded. Elizabeth began to cry.

  “She was the sweetest, most wonderful woman, Eduardo,” she said. “John adored her.”

  There was five foot wide kneeler directly informs of the casket. Elizabeth and I knelt and prayed for a few minutes.

  We tried to comfort Eduardo. He resumed his position staring down at Rosie, his little ones holding tightly to his legs.

  “Daddy, why is Mommy sleeping?” said the littlest one, again, as we bid farewell to Eduardo.

  I had to choke back tears as we headed for the door.

  Chapter #68

  Elizabeth had taken a cab to the funeral home, so I drove her home and checked the house to make sure all the windows and doors were locked.

  She was tired and sad. She thanked me and told me she was going to bed.

  I had just arrived back at the pub about to enjoy a pint, when the phone rang. Maureen was down in the basement, so I answered it.

  “McClanahan’s,” I said.

  “Sean, help.”

  “Elizabeth?” I said.

  “They're here,” she said. “They're banging on my front door.”

  “Who is banging on your front door?” I said.

  “The two men who work for Hall”

  “Do exactly what I say,” I said. “Stay inside the house and find a place where you can hide, a place where they will never find you. Do you understand me?”

  “What place?” she said.

  “That is a big house,” I said. “There has to be somewhere you can hide. Think.”

  “I'm thinking,” she said. “I'm think —”

  Her phone went dead.

  “Elizabeth?”

  Nothing.

  I jumped back in my truck and put the pedal to the floor, driving as fast as I could back to Elizabeth’s house.

  Chapter #69

  When I got to her house, a windowpane was broken and her front door was wide open. I didn't see a black sedan anywhere.

  I pulled out my Glock, and went inside.

  I heard no noise, not a sound. I walked into the library, as I did before with Elizabeth. Everything was intact. No one was there.

  “Elizabeth?” I said.

  I walked into the kitchen, a large commercial-grade kitchen designed to host large parties. I passed through it into the ballroom.

  “Elizabeth?”

  Nothing.

  I walked into the back of the house. Under ordinary circumstances I would have marveled at the fine carved wood lining the walls, the stained glass windows that made it look like a chapel and the formed plaster ceiling that was nothing short of spectacular. Instead I called out.

  “Elizabeth?”

  I worked my way back to the front foyer, then to the living room, then the kitchen. Furniture was knocked over. The kitchen cabinet doors and drawers were open or tossed on the floor.

  I went upstairs and went through all eight bedrooms with the same results — beds were overturned, closet doors were open, clothes were strewn on the floor.

  “Elizabeth, are you up here?”

  No response. There was no sign of her.

  I jumped back in the truck and headed toward Maryanne, worried that Tony and Terry were about to claim their next victim.

  Chapter #70

  Just as I pulled onto the Maryanne Bridge, I saw a black Crown Vic pull away from the center of the bridge.

  I gunned the motor, stopping at the spot where they were parked. I ran to the railing with my flashlight and looked down to the dark water.

  Elizabeth was splashing in the water, coughing.

  I removed my suit coat, climbed over the railing and jumped feet first off into the open air.

  Time slowed to a crawl. I could feel the chill in the air as my body rocketed toward the cold water. I tasted the distinct, pungent smell of the river. I knew my odds of survival would improve if I hit the water cleanly. I held my arms close to my thighs, pointed my shoes downward and kept my head steady.

  I could feel my speed increase, then as, I hit the water, I felt like I was hitting concrete. Every inch of my body was pummeled.

  Within an instant, my body was submerged 15 or 20 feet into the freezing cold water. I swam to the surface. My adrenalin was pumping.

  I called for Elizabeth frantically before I heard her choking as she fought to keep her head above water about 20 feet from me. I saw to her.

  “Help,” she said, choking in w
ater.

  “Be calm,” I said. “It’s going to be OK.”

  “Help.”

  “Kick your legs, as fast as you can,” I said as I neared her. “Keep your head above the water.”

  She did just well enough to allow me to take hold of her shoulders from behind. I kicked my legs hard as I swam backwards to move us toward the river bank.

  We were both breathing hard when we got there. We laid on our backs when we did. My body felt like a Sherman tank had driven over it.

  “They tried to kill me,” said Elizabeth.

  “Did they drug you?”

  “They tried but you got there before they could do it, thank God.”

  “How do you feel?” I said.

  “My body aches in places I didn’t know were there.”

  I smiled.

  “We have to get out of her,” I said. “Can you walk?”

  “I think so.”

  She nodded. I helped her to her feet and we walked up the bank to the ramp that led onto the bridge. I got her back to the truck grateful that my keys and my Glock were still hidden behind the seat where I’d put them before jumping in the water.

  I fired up the truck. While holding the Glock in my left hand, I took a U-turn on the bridge and got us out of there.

  Chapter #71

  I drove Elizabeth to her home and stood guard as she changed into dry clothing and packed a suitcase. We were in and out in under five minutes and got right back on the road and heading to Gertrude Miller’s house.

  I called Erin on my cell to let her know we were coming. Elizabeth slept most of the way. As I drove, I wondered how the meeting would go between her and Erin.

  We arrived at Mrs. Miller’s West Virginia home an hour later. I honked the horn to alert Mrs. Miller and Erin that I was outside and not a threat of any kind. Before I got out of the truck, the front door opened and Erin walked outside.

  “Is everything OK?” she said.

  I told her what had just happened to Elizabeth.

  “Oh, my God.” said Erin, rushing to the passenger side of the truck to tend to Elizabeth.

  We opened the door. Elizabeth was still sleeping. I gently tapped her shoulder and she woke.

  “Are we there?”

  I nodded.

  Erin approached Elizabeth.

  “Sean told me what happened to you,” she said. “You need to get a hot shower. Would you like some coffee or tea?”

  “Please, I don’t want to trouble anyone.”

  “You’re not troubling anyone,” said Erin. “While you shower, I’m going to make you something to drink. What would you like?”

  “A cup of tea might be nice,” said Elizabeth.

  “Something to eat?”

  “Just some tea, thank you.”

  “Come inside,” said Erin, helping Elizabeth out of the truck and enter the front door.

  Erin and I helped her walk inside, as I carried her suitcase.

  Gertrude Miller was sitting in her rocking chair adjacent to a roaring fire. The house was toasty.

  “Bring Elizabeth over here,” she said to Erin, smiling.

  Elizabeth walked up to Gertrude, tentative.

  “It’s my honor to meet you after all these years, Mrs. Miller,” she said.

  “The honor is mine,” said Gertrude. “I wish we had met long ago.”

  Gertrude got out of her rocker and gave Elizabeth a big hug. Erin hugged both of them. Soon, all three were laughing and hugging.

  The meeting went way better than I thought it would.

  “Ladies,” I said, “you have my cell number. You’ll be safer here than anywhere but you call me immediately if you need anything.”

  They were so enamored with each other, they were soon recounting stories about John.

  After Elizabeth was situated, I got in my truck and headed back to the pub.

  Chapter #72

  When I got back to the pub, Morton and Wilson were waiting for me in the ally.

  “Something is up and we came here to warn you,” said Morton.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “Mr. Wilson and I have been taking turns keeping an eye on Hall’s buildings,” said Morton. “Today, I saw a group of young men talking in the parking lot. They looked to be fit and well trained. They were loading a white van with equipment that looked like us to be some kind of SWAT gear — guns, ammo and assault gear.”

  “Morton came and got me and we went back,” said Wilson. “We watched them for several hours when a black Crown Vic drove into the parking lot. Tony and Terry appeared to be giving the men instructions. Four of them got into the van. Tony and Terry got back into the Crown Vic and drove off with the van following them. We followed them onto the highway. Once we concluded they are likely coming here, we sped ahead to come and warn you. They’ll be arriving soon.”

  I had Morton and Wilson park their car and wait inside the garage, then alerted Mick and Maureen to join us. Mick and Maureen had set up the security system and welded latches on the pub’s door to hold the steel bar in place. The laptop was plugged in and ready to monitor a dozen strategically placed cameras. Mick had even premade a half dozen ham and Swiss sandwiches and set up a coffee maker in the garage. It didn’t take three minutes for us to get situated and ready to catch some bad guys.

  At about 2:00 a.m. — about 30 minutes after Morton and Wilson arrived — we saw, on the computer screen, a black Crown Vic driving slowly down the alleyway and a white van behind it.

  The vehicles stopped a half block away. The Crown Vic pulled to the side. Tony got out of the car and walked to the driver’s side of the van. He appeared to be giving instructions, then got back in the car. The white van began to crawl toward the back of the pub.

  “Here they come,” I said, feeling the adrenaline surge.

  Mick and Maureen got up and pumped their shotguns. I did likewise. Morton and Wilson stayed put.

  We watched the computer screen.

  The van parked near the rear door. Four men jumped out, assault style, and stormed the back door. It was locked but we designed it so that they could break in easy enough. A muzzle to the handle did the trick. The four rushed inside, the spring-loaded steel door closing behind them.

  “Cover me,” I said to Mick and Maureen.

  We slipped out of the garage, Mick and Maureen on either side of me. I picked up a steel bar I’d laid near the door and set it into the two latches we’d had welded to the door jamb — trapping four bad guys in our stair well.

  I looked down the alley. The Crown Vic spun its wheels as it cut down a side street away from the pub. We heard the car roaring down Carson Street for a few blocks before the sound became muffled.

  We heard pounding on the steel door as Hall’s mercenaries tried to get out. We went back in the garage and watched them on the laptop.

  We all laughed as we watched them argue with each other and pound on all three steel doors trying to get out.

  “I guess the plan worked,” said Morton.

  The police arrived and the four bad guys were arrested without any issues — that left Tony, Terry and two mercenaries.

  Our luck was beginning to turn.

  Chapter #73

  I got right back to shadowing Victoria Hall the following evening.

  I sat in my truck up on the hill from her house. I had some of the coffee and sandwiches Mick had made, but after four or five hours, the sandwiches were long gone and my Thermos ran out.

  It was getting near 9:00 p.m. I was about to head back to the pub to refill the Thermos when a black BMW 7-series sedan pulled into Hall’s driveway.

  Two men got out.

  One man I did not recognize. He was small and skinny and wore his baseball cap backwards.

  The other was Guido Mosconi, comedy club owner and son of erstwhile mobster Salvatore Mosconi.

  Well, now.

  They went inside Hall’s front door and stayed inside about 90 minutes.

  The front door opened and Guido and t
he other fellow walked to the BMW. Guido got into the driver’s side and the other man the passenger’s side and left.

  I followed them.

  Guido descended from Mount Washington down to the Liberty Bridge. I kept him far enough ahead to see him without tipping him off that somebody was following him — at that hour we were the only two cars on the road.

  He drove straight through the light onto a road that fed down into the South Side. He drove through some back roads until he hit 12th Street, then made a right and drove all the way to the narrow street's end.

  He parked the car in front of an old row house. Its façade was comprised of white aluminum siding, dented and warped in many spots. Every window in the house was brightly lit — the lights appeared to be on in every room.

  The other man got out of the car and waved to Guido.

  He opened the screen door — an old aluminum door with an upper and lower window, the screens still in — then opened the front door. Just as he did an older woman, mid 60's if I had to guess, presented herself. She was short and wearing a fuzzy, blue robe. She hugged him and pressed her head against his shoulder.

  I couldn't make out exactly what she said, but it was along the lines of “Where have you been? Why are you out so late? I was worried.”

  They went inside the living room and closed the door.

  I noted the address, 107 12th street.

  Guido pulled away and I followed him.

  Chapter #74

  He drove through the Liberty Tunnels and got onto Rt. 51, heading south. I suspected he was heading to the old industrial campus that housed Victoria Hall’s heroin operation.

  He arrived about 45 minutes later. The garage door opened and he drove inside. About 10 minutes later he pulled out. I continued to follow him.

  This time, he jumped onto Rt. 837 and headed north. About an hour later, he got onto the Parkway and headed East — to the Gutbuster Comedy Club.