Destination Dealey: Countdown to the Kennedy Conspiracy

by L. D. C. Fitzgerald

  “What difference does it make? It could be an alias, or . . .” Sera trailed off. “Hey, what the hell is Bick doing with that lady?”

  “What lady?” Quin craned his neck.

  “Dammit!” J.D. pounded his fist. “That’s no lady. That’s Mrs. Paine. She should be halfway to Irving by now.”

  The three of them hurried over.

  Bick secured his arm around Mrs. Paine’s waist and hustled her to a booth in the shadows. With free admission for Ladies’ Night, she had breezed past the bouncer, while he was detained paying the cover charge.

  As Bick slid into the vinyl seat, penning her in, Mrs. Paine noted the spectacle on stage. Two half-naked women cavorted, while another posed upside down on a carousel-horse pole. She averted her eyes.

  “Bick, how could you let her in here?” J.D. growled.

  “I tried! We all did. She literally shoved me aside.”

  “It was my choice.” Mrs. Paine lifted her chin. “They couldn’t prevent me from undertaking my duty as a citizen.”

  Bick displayed his palms in a pleading gesture. “Mrs. P., we had it all under control. Quin is supposed to take your place. Like a decoy.”

  “Yeah, we got ourselves a regular sting operation going.” Quin gave a lopsided grin. “And Sera is keeping tabs on the Ruskies.”

  Mrs. Paine’s glance traveled the full length of Sera’s costume. “Humph.”

  Sera wanted to laugh, but couldn’t be bothered. “For now, the comrades are still in the meeting room. I should pretend to work before Ruby starts sniffing around. Besides, I’ll be in a better position to spy on them. You guys deal with this”—she nodded toward the straight-laced Quaker—“issue.”

  5:30 PM – CST

  J.D. made a lap around the club without seeing anything suspicious. The only person he recognized was the man Mrs. Paine had been following. Lee Harvey Oswald sat in front, fawning over the performers when they gyrated near him. The policeman noticed that the dancers gave him a wide berth. What was this guy’s problem?

  J.D. checked his watch and meandered over to Oswald’s table. He feigned interest in the show, but tasted sour bile in his throat at these young women parading around almost nude. The music ceased, and the entertainers curtsied before making their exit.

  After exchanging names, J.D. initiated an innocuous conversation about the burlesque, saying it was his first time and he was meeting a friend. Oswald imparted his personal knowledge of the best strippers and their attributes. Apparently, Tammi True counted as a particular favorite. He waxed on about each girl while the lawman sipped his Coke, disgusted with the trivia.

  Eventually, Oswald ran out of factoids.

  “I see y’all are married.” J.D. pointed to Oswald’s wedding ring. “Does the wife know you’re here?”

  “Nah, she don’t know nothin.’ She’s home with the kids.” Oswald gripped his beer in his right hand and concealed his left under the table.

  “So is my Marie. I’ve got two boys and a girl. You?”

  “Two baby girls.”

  “How old?”

  “One’s twenty-one months. Other’s a newborn.” His eyes shifted around the room.

  “Congratulations!” J.D. clinked his glass against Oswald’s with false gaiety. “My kids are older than that now, but I sure do remember when they were babies. What I wouldn’t give to rewind the clock and freeze those special moments. First words, first steps. Those are the milestones you can never get back.” In spite of himself, his mouth curved up as he thought about his own children. “They’re so cute. Growing by leaps and bounds.”

  “Yeah, so ‘er mine. Cute. Getting bigger.” Oswald frowned at his draft and took a huge gulp.

  “Heck, son. Then what are you doing here? Go home to your wife and babies.”

  “It’s none of your business. It’s complicated.”

  “It’s easy. Get up and walk out.” J.D. gestured toward the door.

  “Listen, pal, quit sticking your nose in where it don’t belong.” Oswald glared at Tippit, his resentment expanding. “I can’t just go home because I don’t live with them. And when I do it’s a bad scene. My wife’s favorite hobby is nagging. Nothing is ever good enough. She always wants more—more clothes, more appliances, more luxuries. She wants it easier for her, but she don’t care how hard I work to support her and the kids.”

  J.D. raised his eyebrows. Then what was he doing here? “I know it’s tough providing for your loved ones. You have a lot of responsibility and a lot of bills to pay. Myself, I have three jobs. But when I’m not working, my family comes first.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? Everything I do is for my family. I only put up with my current job to make ends meet. My boss ain’t smart enough to see my potential. But one day the world will see what I’m capable of. I’m going to make my mark.”

  “Yes, but until then, what about your children? Nothing can replace the job of a dad. Who else is there to teach your kids right from wrong? Who gives them answers when they have questions? You’re the most important man in the world to your children.”

  “As the most important man, you have to make your kids proud. It’s up to you to set an example.” Oswald looked smug.

  The officer rose. “That’s the spirit. You’ve inspired me to go home tonight and be the best dad I can be.”

  Oswald shrugged.

  “Nice talking to you. I gotta go find my friend.” J.D. shook his hand as the music blared for the next number.

  5:40 PM – CST

  J.D. had barely returned to the booth when Sera rushed over with a breathless announcement. “Meeting’s adjourned. Kon is in the office settling up with Ruby. They could be on the move any second.”

  “Okay, folks. It’s showtime.” Standing, Quin bounced on the balls of his feet, not knowing where to begin.

  J.D. looked at Quin. “I’ve got to catch them in the act of kidnapping you, so I’ll station myself out back to ambush them. When the time comes, keep close to the Russians.”

  Bick slid out of the booth and patted the weapon tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “I’ll cover your six.”

  “Negative. I need you to stay here and protect Mrs. Paine. Don’t let her out of your sight.” J.D. hastened away.

  A few minutes later, Sera discreetly tilted her head. “Kon is emerging.”

  “What? Where?”

  Sera placed a hand on Quin’s cheek to stop him from whirling around.

  Bick narrated, “He’s headed toward the stage. With the way he’s scanning the club, he seems to be searching for someone.”

  “Us?” Quin goggled.

  “Don’t be silly.” Sera wanted to be more scathing, but he deserved a break. “He doesn’t know who we are, remember?”

  While they observed Kon’s movements, Mrs. Paine remained focused on Lee Oswald. He sat near the runways, appearing agitated. She was horror-struck when he abruptly rose and skirted the perimeter, loosely in their direction. How could she explain her presence to him?

  Bick resumed chronicling Kon’s behavior. “He’s winding his way around the tables.”

  As Oswald advanced, Mrs. Paine pulled the scarf around her face. She could not let him see her. Replaying her promise to Marina, she made a snap judgment. She leapt up and dashed toward the back hallway.

  Caught unaware, Bick refocused. “No!”

  Sera was closer. She clattered her tray down and pursued. She darted around the familiar layout and blocked Mrs. Paine’s path. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  They sparred side-to-side, ending in a stalemate. Unbeknownst to either, Kon was sauntering closer.

  Mrs. Paine charged forward, knocking Sera directly into Kon.

  Bick and Quin ran after Mrs. Paine, hurdling over Sera and Kon. Ruby waddled over to yell at Sera.

  Mrs. Paine punched through the swinging door and careened along the hallway, trying to reach the exit J.D. had used. Bick and Quin caught up as she reached the corner. Suddenly, a door opened from farther d
own, and they heard two men speaking Russian.

  Mrs. Paine gasped and covered her mouth.

  The Soviets halted, eyes riveted on her.

  Bick and Quin grabbed her arms. As they spun her around, the barroom door opened.

  It was Kon.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  MONDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1963

  5:45 PM – CST

  Hearing an unexpected scraping noise, J.D. jerked his head up. Someone had opened a window on the second story where the Carousel Club was. The dim light from inside illuminated a woman’s stockinged leg and black pump sticking out over the sill. A head and torso emerged onto the fire escape. Holy smokes! It was Mrs. Paine, followed by Bick and Quin. According to the floor diagram, the three had departed out the men’s room into the dark alleyway behind the club.

  As Mrs. Paine and Bick clambered down the fire-escape stairs, Quin caught J.D.’s eye. He thrust both arms forward at the elbows. “Go! We gotta go!”

  Waiting in the getaway car, Sam cranked the engine. J.D. ran around to the driver’s side and ordered him to shove over. With no time to argue, Sam obliged.

  Bick grabbed the counter-weighted ladder and rode down first. He used his mass to keep it from rolling back up as he assisted Mrs. Paine, who struggled in her skirt and heels. When they had cleared the final rung, Quin jumped the last five feet and landed adroitly, bending his knees on impact. The ladder clattered as it retracted.

  Sam heaved open the passenger door and bent forward so they could squeeze in behind him. Bick dove in first and yanked Mrs. Paine after him.

  From Sam’s doubled-over position, he surveyed the fire-escape window. The KGB were tumbling out. “Hurry up. Here they come!”

  Quin snaked into the backseat, and Sam slammed the door shut.

  J.D. punched the accelerator and they peeled out, narrowly missing a dumpster adjacent to the rear stairs.

  Mrs. Paine gripped Bick’s shoulder as she gazed out the back window. “They’re getting into that black car. They’re coming after me!”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll lose them.” J.D. wrenched the steering wheel, making a hard right onto Field Street.

  Mrs. Paine banged into Bick as they hurtled around the corner. Heavens, J.D. really knew how to handle a vehicle. He drove like a cop from the movies.

  Heading north, they crossed over Commerce. The officer sped up as they approached Main Street, giving the impression he would continue straight. At the last second, he jammed the wheel to the left, fishtailing onto the thoroughfare.

  Bick observed the black DeSoto sail across Main Street. “Excellent tactic! They kept going.”

  “Oh, thank goodness we lost them.” Mrs. Paine drew in a deep breath and held her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening. A simple, God-loving housewife and mother of two couldn’t be hooked up with clairvoyant time travelers in a crazy car chase with homicidal Russians. At least she had left her children with Marina. They were home safe. That was a blessing.

  As the Chevy zoomed east across Houston Street into the heart of Dealey Plaza, Quin looked over the infield toward the Pergola. What the? “That’s them! They’ve found us!” He saw the DeSoto headlights racing along Elm Street, running at an angle to Main. The KGB were about to intersect them at the Triple Underpass.

  J.D. floored the gas pedal through the underpass out of Dealey and blasted the horn to frighten other drivers out of the way. As the two roads merged, the KGB closed the distance between them. J.D. made a rash decision. Half a mile after the Triple Underpass, he cut right just before a bridge, taking them down a bumpy embankment. Trees lined the right and a stream burbled on the left. The car rattled violently as they trundled across the dry riverbed.

  Sam steadied himself by planting a hand on the roof. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m driving along the Trinity River, trying to lose them.”

  “Trinity River?” Sam bellowed. “Are you insane?”

  “It’s not dangerous. The ground is pretty flat and the river is hardly a trickle.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant; I meant this is where they kill Mrs. Paine!”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  MONDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1963

  6:00 PM – CST

  “No one’s going to get killed today. Not if I can help it.” J.D. revved the engine as the turquoise Chevy bounced along the rutted riverside.

  “Did we lose ‘em?” Quin gripped the seat in front of him, eyes wide with fear and excitement.

  “Yeah, I think so.” Bick sensed the adrenaline rush drain from his body. “Close call.”

  “Not so fast, Bick. After all, it won’t take them long to figure out where we went.” Sam reached out to adjust the passenger side rear view. “I see something, but I can’t quite make it out in the dark.” He screeched an obscenity. “It’s them! The bastards turned off their headlights. They’re gaining on us! Wait a minute. What is he doing? One of them is hanging out the . . .” Crack! A bullet ripped the side mirror clean off the car, precisely where Sam’s hand had been a second before. “Those commies are shooting at us!”

  “Everybody get down. Now.” J.D. began swerving back and forth, scraping low branches on the right.

  “Forgive me, Mrs. P.” Bick threw his arm around her shoulder, thrust her forward, and anchored his torso across her like a human shield.

  Crash! Mrs. Paine screamed as the rear window shattered, raining shards of glass over them.

  “Okay. That’s it. They’re messing with my car. Now it’s personal.” Quin grabbed his gun from his ankle holster. He balanced it over the back seat in the gaping hole where the window had been.

  Sam simultaneously rummaged for the revolver he’d stashed in the glove compartment. As he leaned out to aim, J.D. shouted, “What are you nitwits doing?”

  Sam ducked back in. “We have to do something!”

  Quin discharged the weapon, causing a deafening boom inside the vehicle. The projectile sailed high over the pursuing car.

  “Put those guns away before someone gets hurt!”

  “It was just a warning shot.” Quin crouched as the KGB returned fire. “Guess it didn’t work.”

  Bick gave a muffled yell from his prone position. “Take out their radiator. That’ll fix them.”

  “All right. But be careful!” Tippit kept up his serpentine maneuvers.

  While the KGB continued their volley of bullets, Quin fired three rounds in succession. The first two missed entirely, but a split second after the third, the front passenger tire burst and the DeSoto spun out of control, heading toward the sparse trees.

  “Yee-ha!” Quin cheered.

  “I take it that worked.” Bick cautiously rose.

  Sam couldn’t resist riding Quin. “Some shot. I thought you were targeting the radiator.”

  Quin blew into the barrel of his Remington. “I stopped ‘em, didn’t I?”

  6:45 PM – CST

  Jittery and nauseous, Iggy drove the Ford as rapidly as she dared through the streets of Irving with Sera, Dee, and Jay in tow.

  As they arrived at 2515 West Fifth Street, Iggy felt elated to see the Chevy parked at the curb. Her relief turned to foreboding when she noticed the bullet-ridden car.

  Distressed, the four of them rushed into Mrs. Paine’s house to determine the fate of their friends. They found J.D., Sam, Quin, Bick, and Mrs. Paine shaken but unharmed, seated in the living room drinking coffee. An open bottle of whiskey sat on the table. The car chase survivors immediately clamored to explain their harrowing escape at the Trinity River.

  When they’d finished, Iggy poured herself a steaming mug, relieved at the outcome. “All that matters now is everyone is safe.” She leaned back and rested against the couch cushions.

  Dee looked around the room at everyone relaxing and recovering from their ordeal. What was wrong with them? Didn’t they understand what was at stake? She tried to hold back, and succeeded for about two seconds before exploding. “No, our safety is not all that matters
now!” Instantly gaining their attention, she stood up in a fury. “I had the plan all worked out. Now everything is utterly and completely ruined.” She turned on Mrs. Paine. “This is all your fault. If only you had listened to us, our mission wouldn’t be in jeopardy. You should never have gone into the Carousel. Now, we’re no better off than we were before. It’s hopeless!”

  Mrs. Paine’s face twisted with outrage at the attack, while J.D. stared in surprise. Each wondered what was hopeless.

  Iggy jerked forward, spilling coffee on her pants. “Dee Doherty! That is no way to behave. Sit down and show some respect. These people are trying to help us.”

  Dee scowled.

  Sera choked on a snicker as Miss Diplomat was scolded. Quin caught her glance and rolled his eyes.

  J.D. was taken aback by Dee’s negativity; she usually seemed so optimistic. He’d witnessed this kind of tantrum in his own family and knew how to diffuse it. He took a deep breath. “I need everyone’s cooperation in remaining calm. We have important issues to discuss, but y’all have to keep a level head. Clearly there is more to this situation than you people have let on. I have my theories, but I’m going to need some explanations.”

  Sam endeavored to interrupt, but J.D. held out a palm to stop him. “Not yet. First things first. Tonight there was an attempted kidnapping by violent criminals. So far, these men are at large. It is only prudent we post lookouts to ensure our safety. Do I have any volunteers to guard the house?”

  Sera punched a fist in the air, eager to recuse herself from this pointless conversation. Quin followed suit. The police officer accepted their offers.

  Sera ducked into the bathroom to change into civilian clothes.

  J.D. sat with his chin resting on a steeple of fingers. He was buying time so tempers would cool and he could command their undivided focus. After a few minutes, he straightened. “Now we start at the top. No offense to you, ma’am”—he nodded at Mrs. Paine—“but why did you folks travel fifty years to the past to save a Quaker housewife?”

  “I think the housewife herself might hold the key to that question.” Bick matched his voice to the officer’s measured tone. “Mrs. Paine, what did you hear in Russian at the club? Would you be willing to translate for us?”