Saturday Night Cleaver (A Barbara Marr Murder Mystery #4)

by Cantwell, Karen

  “Orson Wells?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are you going to kill us?”

  “Now why would I do that?”

  “Because...you’re the bad guys?”

  He shook his head. “I ain’t no bad guy, be assured. Got myself into a bit of a pickle just now what with snatchin’ you folks against your will, that’d be true enough. That weren’t in my original plans, trust me. And Rick ‘n Rita, well, they is all kinds of messed up, but they ain’t bad to the core. Least wise, I don’t think so.” He bent closer to look me in the eye. “But there is some bad guys a comin’ and I sure would like your help to bring them down. Then we can see about findin’ that friend of yours.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The large steel door flew open and Rita poked her frowny face out. “Is she done heaving? Time is ticking, time is ticking.”

  “Why, she’s feelin’ finer than a frog’s hair split four ways and sanded twice,” he drawled. “Be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  He winked at me and whispered in my ear. “Jest keep an open mind and have a listen to what we have to say. I think this kin work.”

  Not sure I really had a choice in the matter, I stood when he helped me, and back in we went. Despite their assertions to the contrary, I still clung to the hope that Colt’s text code did in fact mean he was somewhere in or around the Ashes’s house on Nectarine Drive. I decided the quickest route to the egg had to be through the hen house.

  When I reappeared in the doorway of our mini-prison, Howard smiled weakly. “How are you?”

  “Didn’t yodel my groceries,” I quipped. “How about you?”

  “We were just having a nice chat. I found out why Mr. Ash is called ‘The Butcher.’”

  “Oh?” I reached down with my hands, still tied together, and managed to rip the tape off of Peggy’s mouth before sitting back down next to her. “There you go, Sweetie.”

  She yowled for a minute, but was grateful. “Thank you,” she whispered, sensing smartly, that she should just keep quiet.

  “It’s because he is, in fact, a butcher,” said Howard.

  “Was a butcher,” Rick corrected. He shrugged. “Long time ago. It paid the bills.”

  Rita turned her wrist and looked at her watch. “We’ve postponed this meeting once already, I don’t want to do it again. Let’s get this plan in action.”

  “Your plan to eliminate us?” asked Guy. “What a way for a crime reporter to go, huh?”

  Orson leaned against the door jam. “Ain’t no one gonna liminate no one. Just listen to Miss Rita.”

  Rita nodded. “Orson says one of you is an FBI agent. Is he right?”

  Orson pointed to Howard, “That one’s FBI.”

  Howard rolled his eyes. “Why did you tell him I was a Federal agent?”

  “I didn’t Howard, I swear.”

  “Your wife didn’t need to tell me nuthin’” said Orson, smiling. “She’s that famous lady that writes the movie blogs and gits in all kinds o’ trouble. You’re famous by dee-fault.”

  This was a touchy button with Howard and I wasn’t happy Orson was pushing it now.

  I felt the need to set the record straight. “Technically, he’s not with the FBI any longer. He retired.”

  Poor Rita started twirling her hair again while her eyes moved from a whisker-rubbing Rick to Orson. She didn’t seem to be in very good control of the situation.

  Orson sighed and stood up straight. “That don’t matter none. Miss Rita and Mr. Rick here, have reluctantly arranged for a man they call ‘Hammer’ to come over tonight and make an exchange of money for the gold. Reluctantly, because this ‘Hammer’ fella wants more than just the gold. You know who ‘Hammer’ is Mr. Marr?”

  “I do,” he answered.

  “Please, tell the rest of us,” said Guy. “This is beginning to feel like story time at the local library.”

  “’Hammer’ is an anonymous Korean organized crime leader working out of Northern Virginia. They’ve never been able to get a lead on his true identity,” Howard told him. He looked back at Rita. “Let me guess,” Howard said, “you met him at Saturday Night Fever? Dr. Kyung Kong?”

  “Hooked up is more like it,” answered Rick to Howard’s comment. “They were having an affair.”

  Boy, it seemed like there was some swinging going on in the suburbs after all. Rick and Dandi and Rita and Kyung ‘Hammer’ Kong. As usual, sleepy little Rustic Woods was proving not so sleepy after all. “You mean Kyung Kong is a surgeon and a crime boss?” I asked.

  Rita snapped at Rick’s accusation. “I told you it didn’t mean anything just like your little Southern side-dish didn’t mean anything to you.” Such a sweet couple. Yeah, they were gonna make it.

  Howard turned his attention back to Orson. “What did you mean when you said ‘Hammer’ wants more than the gold?”

  “They is lookin’ fer Mr. Rick and Miss Rita to give ‘em use of this location fer purposes that are still unclear, but I’m wagerin’ they ain’t legal if yoo know what I mean.” He folded his arms and leaned against the door jam again. “Now Mr. Rick and me, we just want to be able to split our gold three ways and leave here free an’ easy. Miss Rita, she’s willin’ to do what it takes to cinch her spot on that ree-ality show and she figures participatin’ in an FBI take-down might just do it fer her.” He glanced at Rita. “You were even thinkin’ book deal too, right?”

  She shrugged. “I’d get my agent on it right away. I mean, if Snooki can get one, why not me?”

  Guy got into the conversation. “Have you forgotten that you not only killed a man, but are soaking him in drain cleaner as we speak?”

  “It was an accident!” She threw up her arms. “Self-defense. I’m sure a jury will believe me, especially if I help catch some real criminals, right?”

  The look on Guy’s face was priceless. He gave me a sideways glance that said what I was thinking: this woman and Snooki have more in common than she realizes.

  “Don’t misjudge me by the way I talk, Mr. Marr. I read the newspaper every day and I pay attention to what’s goin’ on in the world. This ‘Hammer’ fella is surely on the FBI’s radar.”

  Howard arched his brows, but didn’t answer. I knew, however, the cogs of his mind were turning. Finally, he spoke. “What time is this meeting arranged for?”

  “4:30 a.m.,” answered Rick.

  “What time is it now?”

  Rick looked at his watch. “2:15.”

  “That’s not enough time to bring in a Federal crew. But I have a better idea that might work if I can get the right person on the phone.” He held up his hands, still bound by the plastic bags. “You’ll need to cut these if you want my help.”

  At first, I thought Howard’s plan might be to karate chop them the instant his ties were cut, but instead he demanded that all of our bindings be removed, then asked Rick for that phone. It didn’t surprise me that the person he chose to call was Erik, although, truthfully, I had no idea what Howard had in mind. I suspected he was playing Rick, Rita, and Orson, but I couldn’t be sure. Erik was relieved to finally have heard from Howard—he’d been searching for us since we’d gone missing, and in fact, his next destination was the empty restaurant where we were being held.

  After ten minutes of strategizing over the phone, Howard hung up. “He’ll call me back in a few minutes, but he thinks we can make this work.”

  Howard’s plan was actually simple. Erik would contact his buddies in the Fairfax police department with the tip that an exchange was about to go down between a restaurant owner and the infamous Korean organized crime boss ‘Hammer’ who the FBI had yet to locate. The police would jump on it fast, knowing they could take credit for something the FBI had been unable to manage themselves. As a Bureau insider, he knew too well
that the FBI loved the spotlight. Consequently, other agencies, bureaus, and departments scrambled like demons when they could prove the Federal attention-seekers less than efficient.

  Evidently, I was wrong that Howard was playing our captors. “You mean, you’re really going to go after these Koreans?”

  “If Erik can pull it together, absolutely.” Rick’s phone rang in Howard’s hand and he answered. A second later he hung up. “They’re on the way.”

  Guy rubbed his hands together with excitement. “An inside story. My luck has changed. My luck has changed.”

  Rita wanted as much publicity as possible, so Guy was allowed to use the phone to contact his boss who would be asleep, but thrilled to get that kind of call no matter what the hour. Howard knew the Fairfax County police wouldn’t be happy about local news crews being anywhere near the area, so he read Guy the riot act and threatened very serious bodily harm if they didn’t stay hidden until after police made their move.

  “If I wanted to put myself in danger,” Guy responded, “I would have chosen to be a war correspondent. Instead, I report on crimes after they happen, and that’s how I prefer things. You have no worry, sirs. Hidden we shall remain.”

  In short time, Erik and a smaller than expected contingent of police arrived, some plain-clothes, some uniformed, and set up the sting operation. Rita and Rick weren’t wired in case Kong’s men decided to search them. Instead, listening devices were quickly rigged just inside each entrance. Erik was given an ear piece to receive communication from the lead officer on the team, then he climbed into the ceiling and pulled Howard up to join him. Something I was sure wouldn’t help his injured leg heal any faster. With help, they were able to mask their presence with the ceiling tiles that had been leaning against the wall.

  Because Howard had some familiarity with the Korean language, his assistance was key. Hopefully he’d be able to tell whether the plan was progressing toward the desired end. A hidden video camera was aimed at the door for police to visually monitor the meeting between the Ashes and Kong’s crew.

  The gold had been locked in the back of Rick’s truck this entire time. Orson had Rick give him the keys to his truck so it could be parked in just the right location for them to be able to show Kong the valuable coins, but not allow them access until the agreed upon payment was made.

  During the set up, Erik was informed of the dead body melting in the Ashes’s basement bathtub, but it was decided, for the safety of the current mission, that no police would be dispatched to their house until after the job was done and the Koreans were in custody. While the possibility was slim that police activity at the Ash house could alert Hammer’s crew to a problem, they couldn’t risk the chance.

  By 4:19, everything was in place and ready for ‘Hammer’ to arrive. I sat in the back of an inconspicuously parked cruiser, unwilling to leave Howard. Peggy sat with me, willing to wait it out. Guy was in a Channel 10 van with a crew ready to pounce, like the press can do, on the scene the minute an arrest was made. Clarence was invited to join them, and they promised to let him ride along to the Ashes’s house afterwards, where Guy would continue his report on the wild shenanigans in the suburbs. Clarence and I were still hanging onto a shred of hope that Colt would be found there.

  So basically, I had two jobs to do: sit around and worry. Worrying I could do. Sitting around? Not my strong suit.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The unmarked cruiser we waited in was positioned discreetly at the far, dark end of the very empty parking lot that faced the half-built restaurant. A handy grove of trees that had not been bulldozed during the lot’s construction masked us nicely. For the first time that night, I had an outside view of the building where I’d been held hostage. The brick-front structure was larger than it seemed from the inside and if it ever got off the ground, would be an expansive sports bar and grill. But sadly, even though an impressive sign had been raised, it remained unlit. I counted four concrete pads around the perimeter of the huge parking lot—the ground had been laid, but work had been abandoned. It was apparent that this had once been the site for anticipated growth, but I was guessing that the bad turn in the economy had halted the expansion.

  With time to kill, I decided to finally ask Peggy why she had been trying so hard to reach me all day.

  She made a fist and grimaced. “That Dandi Booker, she screwed me over and I ended up having to pay for all of those goldfish out of my own pocket. They showed me the order with her signature on it.” She brushed a lump of stray curls away from her face. “And you know, she isn’t so nice as she seems. That’s just an act. She tears people to shreds when they turn their backs. People she calls her friends.” She was on a roll. “You know Holly Richards, right?”

  I nodded.

  “She and Holly have lunch at least once a week, sometimes twice. But at the Fall Festival planning meeting, all Dandi did was complain that Holly is so lazy that she has to have a housekeeper and a nanny.” She shook her head. “Who cares? I wish I had a housekeeper and a nanny. Good on her.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, patting her hand. “Obviously, Dandi has a few problems of her own.” I could have told Peggy about Dandi’s drunken fit in the bar, but decided against it. Howard was right, I didn’t like the spreading of rumors. Fighting gossip with gossip wasn’t the answer. “What about the fish?” I asked. “What did you do?”

  She sighed. “I finally found a place that would take them.”

  “Where?”

  “Lake Muir.”

  Probably my head trauma and lack of sleep accounted for my slow understanding. “What?”

  “I dumped every single one of those suckers into Lake Muir tonight. That’s where I was before I saw your car. You didn’t think I drove that far for milk did you?”

  We sat quietly for a minute, then she jumped with excitement. “Oh! And my last call was actually about Roz. She’s coming back here for a week.”

  Now that was exciting news. “Why didn’t she call me?”

  “She’s going to. She needs to ask you if she can stay with you.”

  “Why is she coming back? She doesn’t have family in the area that I know of.”

  Peggy shook her head. “They haven’t received a rent check from your new neighbors in two months and now they’re not answering their phone.”

  When planning their move across country, the first offer Roz and Peter had received on their house fell through at the last minute. They were so desperate that they took the Penobscott’s request to rent with an option to buy after the first year.

  I remembered my tree talk with Melody. “That’s strange. Melody, the wife, said she got permission from them to take down a tree. So they must have had some conversation.”

  Peggy shrugged. “That’s what Roz said. But it’s good for us that we get to see Roz, right?”

  “I’ll take it.”

  Peggy smiled and we snuggled close together for warmth and companionship. Nothing like a good friend during a trying time. I vowed never to ignore her calls again.

  “I’m sorry,” I said after a minute.

  “For what?”

  “For not believing the best in you.”

  “None of us is perfect.” She squeezed my arm. “But I accept your apology.”

  A radio squawked in the front seat. “We have movement,” a crackly male voice announced. “White delivery truck, unmarked, heading Southwest on Route Two Fifty-four. Should arrive any minute. Do we have video?”

  Three of the police cars had visual access to the restaurant and Rick and Rita’s activity through wireless video feed. Our car was one of them. “Roger that,” our cop responded. “Number two has video.”

  Another squawk. “Roger, Number three has video.”

  “Number one is visual,” replied another, to make for three confirmed visuals. “Don’t move ou
t until I say.”

  “Roger.”

  “Roger.”

  “Roger.”

  Cop number two, had introduced himself to us as Officer Riker, so I just couldn’t resist the urge to make a funny. “Hey, Riker,” I said to him, “they got it wrong. You should be Number One. Why didn’t you make it so?”

  His puzzled expression told me the joke had fallen flat.

  “You know.” I pressed forward. “Star Trek the Next Generation?”

  He shook his head.

  “I don’t get it either,” said Peggy.

  “Never mind,” I said. “It won’t be funny now that I have to do all of that explaining. So, Riker, how do we know this is the truck we’re waiting for?”

  “We don’t.”

  Riker, like most cops I’d met, was small on small talk.

  “If it is, and this thing is about to go down, will you be sure to keep my husband safe?”

  “Will do, ma’am. Will do.” He gave a terse nod. “But from what I heard, that man can take care of himself.”

  His expression turned serious, his face rock hard. He pulled the radio to his mouth. “I have eyes on the truck. I have eyes on the truck.”

  Sure enough, from our vantage point, tucked behind some trees on the far end of the parking lot, we could see a large white delivery truck motoring slowly toward the rear of the restaurant. Within seconds, it had moved behind the building and out of our view. Peggy and I scooted forward to see Riker’s video display. The image, sent via one of the strategically-placed cameras, showed Rick and Rita pacing in the back hallway waiting to play their part. Rita twirled her hair, then stopped to clench and unclench her hands. She did that a few times, then returned to hair twirling. Rick never stopped rubbing his beard and I wondered if he’d eventually just rub his face clean.