by Randy Rawls
I chuckled. “Now, you sound like Sargent. You know I’m a team player.”
“Like hell,” he said as I punched off.
I leaned forward in the booth. “Finally a break, Dot. We have work to do.”
“Me, too,” Dabba said through a mouthful of burger. “Gonna git my Linda back.”
“Yeah, you, too,” I said, wishing I could say anything except that. Somehow, I had to ditch Dabba before the witching hour. I felt sorry for her, but having her around, waving that gun of hers, was far from number one on my list of favorite things.
When Dabba finished her meal, we moved outside and sat at a table in the shade. I soon realized what a smart selection I’d made. We were beside a screened and covered children’s playground. Dabba left us for a chair beside the enclosure where she could watch the kids play. She looked so sad, I almost reached out to her—almost.
“Okay, Dot, here’s the situation.” I filled her in on what the chief told me and my supposition that Ms. Mankosky had Ashley and was in an alliance with Larry Lawrence. I finished by saying, “We’re getting Ashley back tonight. Then we’re saving John Hammonds four million dollars.”
“I like it,” Dot said, smiling. “What’s your plan? What’s my part?” She looked around. “And, uh, what you doing with Dabba?”
I pushed the hair off my forehead, sighing in the process. “The first answer is I don’t have one yet, the second is I’m not sure, and the third is I don’t have a clue.”
“Hot dang. The way we work best. Don’t know what the hell we’re goin’ to do.”
I took a notebook from my purse, flipped it open, and began to doodle. “Here’s what I’m thinking. Lawrence should be gone from the house by eleven. I figure he’ll want to be in his hole so he can watch the money delivery. That’ll leave Mankosky and Ashley. We—”
“And any other members of the gang,” Dot said.
I thought about it and the threats in the ransom notes. She was right. “Yes. And any others. But if you were running the show, wouldn’t you have your people keeping an eye on as many of the drop sites as possible? I’d want to know what the police were doing, how they were handling it.”
“Yeah, makes sense.”
“And if I’m wrong, I’ll have to take my chances.”
“You? What am I, roadkill?”
“No. You’re my diversion. While you’re getting someone to answer the front door, I’ll be slipping in the back. Once I’m in the house, I’ll have the element of surprise. And my Walther is a powerful persuader.”
“And me?”
“You come busting through the front door and grab whoever opens it. You still have my .38, don’t you?”
“One of the things I love about you, dearie. You don’t complicate things. Can’t get much simpler than that. I like it.” She pulled at the straw in her soda, and a slurping sound was her reward. “But …”
“Yeah?”
“You ain’t told me what you’re doin’ with Dabba.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, Dot.”
“I know, dearie. But you love me for it. So?”
I looked at Dabba, who appeared mesmerized by the children. “I can’t get rid of her, so I’ll keep her with me. We can make it work.”
“I hope you’re right, dearie. I sho’ hope you’re right.”
We sat for a moment without speaking. I don’t know what Dot was thinking, but my mind was picturing the break-in at Mankosky’s. If it went right, we’d leave there with Ashley. But—that was the nasty word I couldn’t shake—if it went wrong, what would Ashley’s fate be?
A woman left the enclosure where the children were playing and spoke to Dabba in a loud voice, “You’re scaring my little girl. Why are you staring at her? You just quit it—now.”
Dabba opened her mouth, but I jumped in. “Sorry, ma’am. She just likes to watch children play. We’re about to leave.” I switched to Dabba. “Come on. It’s time to go.”
Dabba looked at me, then at the woman. “You got a pretty little girl. I used to have one, too. Somebody kidnapped her, and I never got her back.”
She stood and shuffled away, leaving the woman with an embarrassed look wrapped around a gaping mouth.
We shifted our location to a Starbucks where I called Chief Elston and told him my plan. He was not happy, but gave in when I threatened to call John Hammonds. He agreed to arrange for a four-man team to cover each drop site, from at least four blocks away. They would do nothing until he gave them a go-ahead, then they would swoop in, secure the money, and detain everybody in sight. The idea was to grab a bunch and shake out the guilty later. I hoped Bob had spread the word that none of his homeless should be in the four areas—except my watchers. I was confident they would be so well hidden, not even another homeless person could find them.
My part, other than rescuing Ashley and capturing Ms. Mankosky, was to let the chief know when I had physical control of Ashley. I also told him my priority was Ashley. If I had to let the woman go, she could run. Then she’d be his responsibility.
He was adamant he needed to have someone with me, and I was just as adamant I had all the help I needed. Finally, to throw him a bone, I agreed he could have a team no closer than four blocks away from Mankosky’s house, and they could take over once I secured Ashley.
“Beth, there’s one thing you better be aware of. I don’t know how you’re planning to get into the Mankosky house or how you plan to grab Ashley, and I probably don’t want to know. But, if it goes south, and you have broken any laws, you’ll be treated like any other citizen. No favors. Understand?”
I exhaled a puff of air. “Yeah, I get it. But I don’t think Mankosky will be pressing charges. She’ll be too busy ducking.”
“Fine. That’s settled, then. Now, who do you have working with you?”
I looked at Dot and Dabba and winked. “Some real pros. They could teach your boys some lessons.”
“So, who—”
“Dropped call,” I said and closed my phone. When it rang almost immediately, I turned it off.
I leaned back, reviewing the plan. A nagging point leapt to the front. Suppose I couldn’t get in the back door. Maybe they had deadbolts. Maybe they had a chain on the door. Not getting that door open fast enough was the difference between success and failure.
I activated my phone and called a friend who ran a cop supply store. He and I had done business in the past when I needed something slightly out of the ordinary for normal citizens. In return, I ran down a couple of deadbeats who owed him money.
When he answered, I said, “Mo, Beth here. I need something.”
“So do I—a million dollars so I can retire. You got it for me?”
“If I had that much money, I’d retire and not have to do business with your shady operation.”
“Hey, it’s not shady. I sell cop supplies to our law enforcement officers. Nothing illegal with that.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s through the front door. What about that back entrance?”
“Enough, enough. You’re on a cell phone, aren’t you? What do you need?”
I told him, and he only groused for a minute or so before giving in. We agreed I’d pick it up within the hour.
thirty-one
At eleven p.m., I parked two blocks away from Mankosky’s house on a cross street. “Okay, ladies, it’s the witching hour. Dot, give Dabba and me ten minutes, then head for the front door. We’ll get around back and be ready to break in. You hit that doorbell and don’t let it stop ringing until someone shows up. As soon as it opens, cry rape or anything you can think of to keep the person engaged. With luck, it’ll bring everyone else in the house running to the door.”
I patted Dot on the shoulder. “I know you can make a ruckus. I’ve heard you do it. Dabba and I will be alert for your signal. When I hear you screaming, I’ll count
to ten, then I’m going in. I would prefer to do it without a lot of noise, but I can’t take the chance with a deadbolt or a chain. I’ll make as much racket as necessary to get through that door. Once inside, I’ll increase the uproar, which should draw attention away from you. That’ll be your clue to come through that front door, moving like a cat with a tin can tied to its tail. Be ready to neutralize anyone who tries to stop you. Don’t kill ’em, though—unless you have to.”
Dabba said, “What about—”
“I’ll get to your part in a minute. Let me finish with Dot first.” I stopped and thought through the actions I laid out. “That’s about it. Dot, once you’re inside, we’ll team up, secure everyone we meet, and search for Ashley. Do you have the duct tape?”
“Got it,” Dot said, patting her purse. “Uh, one question, though. What if it’s not the right house?”
“Not something I want to consider. But if it’s not, you and Dabba run like there are Dobermans nipping at your butts. I’ll wait for the police.”
Dot’s mouth opened, but I turned away from her. “Now, Dabba, I need you for my backup. You’ll help me with the break-in, then remain outside the door, covering me in case someone comes running. Be careful, though. It could be an innocent neighbor, someone who thinks we’re burglars. Stop them. Don’t shoot them.”
“But I got to find Linda. She won’t know who you are. She’ll be scared. I can’t stay outside.”
“Please, Dabba,” I said. “I really need you there. I can’t afford to have someone surprise me from behind. I need you to protect my back. Without you, this cannot work and we’ll never recover … uh, Linda.”
Dabba appeared to think about it. “Okay, but make sure you tell Linda her mama’s waiting for her. And you bring her to me fast. If you don’t, I’m bustin’ in that house.”
I exhaled the lungful of air I’d been holding, while hoping Dabba would agree to stay where I wouldn’t have to worry about her. “I promise. I’ll bring Linda to you.”
“I don’t like it, but I’ll do it. If you ain’t out with Linda fast, I’m goin’ in.”
I figured that was as much control over her as I’d ever have. “Is everyone ready?”
“Dearie, I was born ready,” Dot said. “Seems like I spend all my time waitin’ for you.”
“Ready to git my Linda,” Dabba said.
We did fist bumps, then got out of the car.
Dot said, “Wait up a minute, dearie.” She took me by the elbow and steered me toward the back of the car. Over her shoulder, she said, “Dabba, I just got something I need to tell Beth.”
“I’ll be right back.” I made a motion for Dabba to stay where she was.
When we were a few feet away, Dot said, “You know you can’t trust Dabba. If she does what you say, I’ll be one surprised ol’ woman.”
“I know. But I don’t have many options. Telling her to stay with the car is a loser. It’s better to give her a job to do. I’m hoping she won’t come crashing in until after we have things under control.”
Dot sighed. “Good luck, but watch your back. She’s your joker in the deck.”
I stared at Dot, wondering if I would ever have a better friend. Life sure deals some strange hands. A homeless woman, almost twice my age, with a terrible track record and me—a misplaced Texan with a private eye license—on the way to becoming best friends. Didn’t make much sense. I pulled her to me in a hug. “Thank you.”
“Humph. Don’t git all squishy on me, now.” She squeezed me in return. “Now, let’s do it.”
I let her go. “Yeah. Okay, let me gather our stuff, then we’re on our way. Remember, ten minutes.”
A moment later, Dabba and I skulked from shadow to shadow as we worked our way toward Mankosky’s house. I wanted to approach from the rear, not taking a chance someone would spot us coming down the sidewalk. During our afternoon reconnaissance, I noticed that the house behind it, facing Elmendorf Street, had an open back yard that joined with Mankosky’s. That was the direction Dabba and I headed, down Elmendorf Street. The three-feet-long package we carried might have made us obvious to anyone looking through a window, but I couldn’t worry about that. Even if they called the police, things should be over by the time they arrived.
I was in the lead with Dabba behind. “Move a little faster,” I said. “We have to be in position before Dot gets there.”
“I’m movin’, I’m movin’. What is this thang? Weighs a damn ton, it does.”
“It’s our passport into the house holding Linda. That’s why we have to move fast.”
She grumped, but picked up her step, and soon we were creeping alongside the house facing Elmendorf. The windows were dark, making me hope either no one was home, or they were sound asleep. So far, our luck held.
I whispered, “We have to get across the open yard between the houses. Can you make the run?”
“Humph. Don’t go slow, or I’ll be passin’ you, and pullin’ you along with this thang.”
I smiled. “Let’s go.”
True to her words, Dabba pushed me all the way.
At the back of Mankosky’s house, we pressed up against the siding, the package at my feet. I knelt and pulled the covering off, revealing a battering ram. It was solid steel with a flat head and straps so it could be swung by one person. In the backroom of Mo’s store, I had hefted it and let it swing. Mo said it weighed about thirty-five pounds and would crush its way through any standard lock and doorframe it hit. According to him, it was a favorite of SWAT teams around the country. I hoped he was right. I figured one smash at the door would bring everyone running, and I had to be inside before they arrived. I counted on surprise to give me an upper hand.
I whispered to Dabba, “Remember, once I get inside, you keep your eyes open for anyone coming behind us. Don’t hurt them though—unless you have to. Make sure before you jump anyone.”
“What, you think I’m crazy or sumthin’? I knows how to git things done.”
Squinting at her in the dark, I let my eyes roll, then decided to believe her. I took a deep breath before saying, “I trust you. I’m nervous. That’s all.”
“Then let me do it. It’s my Linda in there.”
There went my newfound confidence in her.
The faint sound of a ringing doorbell saved me from having to answer. The house had the old-fashioned kind that actually rang, rather than dinging or chiming. It must have been Dot, and she was riding that button like it was a fire alarm in a high rise.
I took my Walther from my purse, then handed the purse to Dabba. “Hold this for me, please.” I lifted the battering ram and got into position beside the door. It was awkward because I was trying to hold my pistol and one of the straps in the same hand, but I wasn’t about to give up either one. The doorbell went quiet, and I stepped around and let the ram swing. The door crashed inward, just as Mo said it would. I dropped the ram and raced inside, finding myself in the kitchen.
Something slammed into the middle of my back as a hand reached around and grabbed my right arm. That sent me into an out of control spin which brought me face to chest with a huge man who could only be Lawrence Lawrence.
Another mistake, making me wonder if I was doomed to set a new record in this case—my third biggie. My first was jumping to the conclusion John killed his wife and the maid. Then there was the soccer field, resulting in a trouncing I still felt. And now, I’d made another. I had assumed Lawrence would be at one of the ransom drop sites by now. Apparently not.
When I tilted my head up, I saw that he looked just like the chief described him—one big, mean son of a bitch.
My right hand hurt, and I realized it was because Lawrence had it crushed in a death grip. My pistol clattered to the floor.
“Well, Ms. Bowman, we meet again. Guess you didn’t learn anything last night. You’ve made yourself a pest. Hasn’t she, Edith?” He l
ooked toward the entryway into the kitchen and I groaned. A woman stood there, holding Dot in front of her. From the look on Dot’s face—pure outrage—I guessed the woman was in control.
“Ms. Mankosky, I presume?” I had to give credit to the police sketch artist. He’d done a good job of capturing her. I looked at her left hand, the one squeezing Dot’s arm. She wore a large marquise-cut green stone on her third finger. My guess was it was an emerald, and as described, surrounded by diamonds. It didn’t help my situation any, but I applauded Ms. Dimitri, the school secretary. She had nailed it.
Edith Mankosky smiled, a small one. “Nice to meet you, Beth Bowman. Who’s your friend here? She’s not very talkative.”
“You just take that damn gun outa my back, and I’ll show you talkin’. I’ll spell out some words all over your ugly face. What you say to that, you fat bitch?”
Dot was wound up, and I had no doubts she would do just what she threatened.
“Feisty, isn’t she?” Lawrence said, laughing. “You might need a bigger gun to handle her.”
I gave a quick shake of my head to Dot, hoping she’d get the message to cool it. If she did, she didn’t show it.
“Well, you gon’ put down that peashooter and go toe-to-toe with me? Or, ain’t you got the guts? Hell, I’m twice your age, and you damn sure outweigh me. Shit, I bet you got forty pounds on me. But I’ll still kick your fat ass all over this place.”
Edith shoved her toward me and took a step to the side. “Shut your mouth, you old hag, or I’ll drop you right here. I can do it now just as good as later.” She waved her pistol around Al Capone style. “You do know both of you have to die, don’t you? But you’ll do it at my convenience—when and where your bodies won’t turn up too soon. Larry, lock them in my bedroom closet. We’ll leave them there until Joe gets back with the ransom. Then we’ll take them to the Glades and get rid of them.”
Joe? Another miscalculation? No, I forgave myself for that one. Having another person covering a drop site didn’t surprise me. The emails had said the writer had enough people to keep things covered at all times. “Just a minute,” I said. “You at least owe me an explanation. How’d you know I’d come busting through your back door while my partner rung the front doorbell?”