Caged Love: MMA Contemporary Suspense (Book Three)

by Thunderbolt, Liberty

  “So Ms. Murphy, you believe these two gentlemen had something to do with Mr. Harold Winstatt’s disappearance?”

  “Absolutely, Detective Westingham, they did something to Harold. I told you before they made me feel like a fly at a picnic. I’m no nagging fly at a picnic.”

  “Yes you’ve told me. Now you’re sure this is an accurate depiction of the two men who you saw leave with Mr. Winstatt on the day he disappeared?”

  “Absolutely Detective. It took me a while to get your so-called expert artist to get them just right, but that’s them. The bald one went by Dean and the spiky-haired one by Eck. You know I thoroughly checked the security tapes a second time, but surprisingly neither man appeared on them.”

  “When you previously told me your story, you said that Mr. Winstatt appeared in distress as he left the office with the men. Can you remember what he said?”

  “Well, I asked him if there was anything I could do and he said no, he’d see me in an hour or so.”

  What makes you think he was in distress then, Ms. Murphy? Were his cheeks flushed, did his eyes dart about, were his fists clenched?”

  “No, he seemed fairly relaxed, but something was obviously wrong. They were...are simply bad men. They showed up both times without an appointment and barged right in. Mr. Winstatt was a good man and I don’t know what he was involved in to get mixed up with those two,” she gestured toward the illustrations that were still in the closed folder, “but I can’t imagine anybody wanting to kill him.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Westingham said as he gazed at her. “We don’t know for sure he’s dead. Speaking of involved, I know this is a delicate matter, but I have to ask. Were you and Mr. Winstatt involved romantically?”

  Dana’s eyes sunk into her reddening cheeks as she glared. “That is ridiculous Detective and how dare you ask it. I’m not like that slut Deborah.”

  “Wait a minute, was he involved with a woman in the office named Deborah?”

  “No, and I shouldn’t even have said that, I apologize. It’s just idiotic office gossip. Something to which I don’t normally ascribe, but I guess your question was just so nasty.”

  “I know, and I apologize as well. It’s something that has to be asked in these cases. I appreciate you bringing the situation to light Ms. Murphy. I’ve spoken with Mrs. Winstatt on the phone and she isn’t so convinced that her husband is deceased. Or at least she doesn’t want to consider it.”

  “Sure she isn’t, she didn’t deal with those two bastards in the flesh. She doesn’t know what they are capable of.”

  Mitch Westingham looked at Ms. Murphy before he spoke, he didn’t want to offend her again out of fear she might fly over the desk. She was so determined, her looks so proficient, insufferably focused seemed an apt description. Still there was something else. She had a quirky quality about her. He found it appealing. Then it hit him, she reminded him of a young Ingrid Bergman, not because of her looks exactly. It was how she carried herself. In her own way she was dignified, and he softened at this thought. He loved old movies and fancied himself Detective Sam Spade, one of Humphrey Bogart’s famous characters.

  He smiled earnestly. “Ms. Murphy we certainly won’t discount your thoughts on this matter, but I have to be honest with you. Many times in situations like this the husband simply decides he’s had enough and heads off to start over. Sherry Winstatt told me about their separation, and it was partly due to financial reasons. Often the situation just becomes unbearable for one of the parties involved and they decide to leave it all behind. For all we know these two men could have been helping him do just that. Harold Winstatt could be bumming on a beach in Central America, or settling into a job in Lincoln, Nebraska. We’ll pursue these men for questioning, but frankly Mr. Winstatt is probably fine and just starting over.”

  Dana offered a resigned nod, and stood. “I thank you for your time Detective Westingham, and I am confident I know where Harold is.”

  Mitch stood. “And where is that Ms. Murphy?”

  “About twenty miles from this very office in a shallow grave in the desert or picked clean by the buzzards!”

  Her words surprised him. “This isn’t the Vegas of old.”

  “No, but it is Las Vegas, and people still kill other people all the time here.”

  She hastily walked away, not waiting for a response. Detective Westingham watched her competent gait, and imagined her suddenly spinning around and saying, “Play it again, Sam.” The line was a misquote from Casablanca, it didn’t fit the situation, but popped into his head anyway. What she did say when she spun around was, “Aren’t you even going to look at the drawings?”

  She turned the corner and a more fitting thought entered his mind, she’s right; people do still kill others in this town. He knew that all too well. He flipped open the folder and slid the first picture to the left until two faces stared up at him. Westingham eyed the illustrations and thoughts of Nick Maris and Raydell Richardson popped in his head. Then he thought of the surveillance video he’d seen a couple weeks ago. The faces that stared back at him did have a definite resemblance to the men that had words with Nick.

  There had of course been other bodies found in the desert, and these two men looking back at him were definitely physical enough to end Maris’ and Richardson’s lives. Then again, their builds and malicious appearance might be a product of Dana Murphy’s imagination. Still it tickled his brain that they reminded him so much of the two in the video.

  It just didn’t make any sense. Harold Winstatt’s body had not even been found. He was in his mid-forties and unimposing while Nick and Raydell were in their mid-twenties and fit. There just didn’t seem to be any connections between them. Still, Westingham made a note to look for any links between any of the three men. And he’d definitely try to track down the two faces staring back up at him. Maybe it was all coming together.

  Then his phone rang. In a few seconds he was heading for the door thanks to a break on the triple homicide. He tucked the folder with the drawings into a paper-laden corner of his overworked crumb-riddled desk.

  Chapter Four

  All of them, Bretten, Rodrigo, Brooke, Whit, Doc, and Bear stood in a semi-circle underneath an Elm tree. It was full and tall with its trademark vase-shaped branches. The sun however was too low in the sky for it to shade the group, and too far away to warm the morning. Hands in pockets, chins low, they made small talk. None of them really had much to say.

  “It was a nice service, peaceful,” Doc offered.

  The group nodded. “Yeah it really was,” Whit said. “Seemed like Tristan handled it okay.”

  More nods.

  The group searched for additional words as Tristan, hands jammed in his pant pockets, unbuttoned suit jacket flapping around his hips, made his way toward them. Brooke left the semi-circle and gave him a hug.

  They separated and Tristan eyed everyone. “I know it’s a pretty good drive, and Bear for you to fly in from Vegas means a lot.”

  It really was a fairly long drive. Close to five hours from Enid to Olathe, Kansas. Most of it was on I-35 so it was pretty easy. The group let Tristan know this. “Well I didn’t expect it, especially you two.” He gestured toward Bretten and Rodrigo.

  “Hey man, we’ve had our differences, but you’re still alright Tristan,” Bretten said.

  Tristan nodded in response and wanted to punch Bretten in the mouth despite his nice gesture. He turned to Whit. “Coach I’m going to stay here at the gym in Kansas City, get things squared away and train here for a while. I’ll be back to Enid off and on over the next couple weeks. I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I might need to spend quite a bit of time up here.”

  “I understand. You do what you need and let us know if we can do anything for you.”

  “I will, I need to go talk to a few other people.”

  Tristan turned and walked off. The group reverted back to their hushed tone. “Whit, we’d better get on the road if we want to make it to St
. Louis by late afternoon,” Doc said.

  They were due at a startup promotion that evening and hoped to take a look at a couple of up and coming fighters.

  “Yeah, I’ve got to get back to the airport,” Bear said. “My flight leaves in a few hours.”

  He was on his way to New York. “Bear you’re a star now,” Whit said. You about to get these guys signed with the UCC?”

  “Give me a couple months, won’t be much longer than that.”

  Doc and Whit said their goodbyes and headed off. Bear pulled Bretten aside. “I know this isn’t exactly the time for business, but earlier this morning I secured you a deal with Slam energy drink.”

  “The same company Darnell is with?”

  “Yeah, makes perfect sense, now they have both you and Darnell. Slam energy drinks sponsoring the two guys with the craziest slams in MMA history.”

  “That’s awesome, Bear. How much are we talking?”

  Bear just smiled.

  “Come on Bear what’s the number, a thousand?”

  “That’s ridiculous. A thousand...try thirty five hundred per fight.”

  “What! Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely, I told you big things were around the corner kid. Now you make sure you don’t screw it up by losing next weekend. And speaking of next weekend, you need to get home so you and your boyfriend over there can get back to training.”

  “I won’t Bear, I promise you that,” Bretten said.

  Bear then gave Rodrigo the same speech about training, winked to Brooke, and strode off toward his rental.

  They watched him go and headed back to their own car. “What was that all about?” Rodrigo said.

  “Big news.”

  “Big news, what kind?”

  “I’ll tell you when we stop for lunch. I saw a diner on our way in to town that looked pretty good.”

  “Look at that, Rodrigo. He slams one washed up has been in Davis and now he’s having secret meetings.” Brooke joked.

  Bear shut his car door and glanced in his rear view mirror. He then clicked on his cell phone and made a call. He’d been gathering information on fighters every chance he got. He waited until the man on the other end answered. “Yes Sir, Mr. Smith, I have some information that might prove useful.”

  Chapter Five

  Samantha stood behind the counter with her father. He owned Joe’s Diner, having taken over for his father some twenty years before. Samantha was Joe’s only child and didn’t plan on spending her life running the diner. She figured it would die when her dad decided to give it up, and that was a shame because he made some great grilled onion hamburgers.

  It was a day off from school, a teacher’s workday. Most of her friends were out having a good time as fourteen year olds were supposed to do when school was out, but she was hard at work with her dad. She didn’t mind. She loved and respected him, and loved the diner too.

  Only a handful of the booths and tables were occupied, the calm between the breakfast and lunch rush. She wiped off silverware and stood guard behind the Formica countertop. The door opened and the familiar bell came to life. Samantha felt the late morning air sweep into the diner, and along with it came two men and a woman. “Good morning, you all just take a seat anywhere,” she said. “I’ll bring you over some menus.”

  Bretten, Rodrigo, and Brooke thanked her and headed to a booth. They sat, Samantha on their heels with menus and water.

  “Okay stud, what’s the big news?” Rodrigo said.

  “You know Slam energy drinks?”

  “Yeah, they sponsor Woods. Matter of fact it might be the reason he’s so hyper bro.”

  “Then I guess I’ll be hyper, too!”

  “So Bear got you a deal with Slam. Is it good?” Brooke asked.

  “For me it seems amazing, I don’t know, maybe for a hot UCC fighter like yourself it isn’t that great...thirty five hundred per fight.”

  Rodrigo let out a low whistle. “That’s not bad,” Brooke said. “Especially considering you’re still new to MMA. Guess it pays to win belts.”

  They talked more about Bretten’s new deal while Samantha carried dishes to the kitchen. She pushed through the swinging door, and her dad was on the way out. She intended to throw them in the sink, and then take the new customers’ order. They all looked ordinary enough, but there was something about the way they carried themselves. Even the petite, beautiful girl had a certain quality, confidence, that Samantha admired instantly.

  She turned and started to go back through the door when she caught a glimpse of her rigid dad. His hands were raised in an odd fashion. Samantha crinkled her brow and started to ask what he was doing, but then she followed his gaze. A man with short dark hair and sun glasses to match stood waving a knife. The silver tip was only a foot from her dad’s face. The man said, “Give me all the money or I’ll gut you, I swear.”

  Samantha’s body stopped working, her breath caught in her chest. The man hadn’t noticed her. She thought of the three new customers, the ones who carried themselves so confidently, and slipped through the door. To her horror, she almost turned into another man. His back was to her and he too had a knife. An elderly couple was unsteadily handing him their wallets and other valuables. Samantha’s breath made it to her throat, no further, and she walked right behind the second man.

  The new customers were in a booth in the corner, oblivious to what was going on. Samantha picked up her pace. On the way she prayed she picked the right ones.

  “Excuse me please,” she frantically whispered rousing the three from their conversation, “Please help, those men have knives. I’m afraid he’s going to stab my daddy!”

  Bretten, Brooke, and Rodrigo looked up at the young girl and then past her. Sure enough a man was across the small diner pointing a knife at a couple. A few other patrons darted by the dumbfounded trio, and slipped out the side door. It was all happening so quietly, as if somebody had hit the mute button.

  “You two take the guy over there,” Bretten whispered. “I got the one at the register.”

  Before Rodrigo or Brooke protested, he slithered out of the booth and made his way toward the front of the diner.

  Everything happened with a swiftness that rivaled a raging river. The man at the register was stuffing money into his pocket and demanding the rest when Bretten got to him. He whirled around brandishing the knife, but was too late. Bretten locked up his wrist rendering the weapon useless, and then delivered one smashing right hand to the man’s jaw. He heard it, even saw it dislocate. The man crashed to the floor and laid there, unmoving.

  An instant after the first crash, another ricocheted through the diner. Bretten cranked around toward Rodrigo and Brooke and for the first time realized how stupid this was. He didn’t see them and flashed to one of them being hurt. There was commotion along the back wall between two tables. He ran around a table, jumped an overturned chair and finally gained a clear view.

  Rodrigo and Brooke were rolling to their feet. The man who’d threatened the other patrons was lying unconscious on his back, his shirt up exposing a pale stomach, and his bald head streaked with his own blood.

  Rodrigo looked at his friend and roommate. “You’re crazy bro.”

  Bretten clutched Brooke and asked if she was alright, and then surveyed the scene. The girl who asked for help was now crying in her dad’s arms.

  “You’re probably right dude,” Bretten said.

  Chapter Six

  Darnell Woods and Bobby Newcomb dragged themselves through the rickety wooden front door. “I’m telling you Bobby, you’re starting to dip your head when you shoot. You’re inviting a guillotine.”

  They’d just finished their morning workout and had about an hour to relax and grab lunch before heading back across the alley. Since the gym was operating with a skeleton crew they had to pick up the slack. “You really think I’m ducking? I’m not feeling it for some reason.”

  “We’ll work on it some more this afternoon. What’s for lunch?”
/>   “I’m eating tuna fish sandwiches. You can eat ass for all I care,” Newcomb said.

  “I’m sure you’d like that wouldn’t you fatty.”

  Newcomb headed for the kitchen and Woods turned on the TV. It was on a news channel. Millsap was down here earlier. Woods was surprised he’d spent long enough away from his room to watch anything. He searched for the remote intending to turn the channel to ESPN, but as he hunted, the anchor grabbed his attention.

  “Here is an amazing story from our affiliate in Kansas City KCTV5, apparently a couple of would-be armed robbers picked the wrong time to hold up a restaurant. They ran into the toughest kind of customers, professional cagefighters, here’s Ty Johnson of KCTV5 with the story from Olathe, Kansas.”

  Woods turned to the screen and staring back at him was a reporter and Bretten. “You gotta see this, Maris is on TV!” he yelled.

  The reporter briefly told the story and then said, “And I’m joined by Bretten Maris, professional cagefighter and Superior Resolution Viewing’s welterweight champion. Mr. Maris, can you tell us exactly why you got involved, and how you happened to be at the right place at the right time?”

  “Sure, we just came from a funeral, a friend’s dad passed away earlier in the week, and we were on our way back to Oklahoma when we decided to stop and eat.”

  “So Mr. Maris, why did you decide to help?”

  “Actually the waitress came running up to us not long after we sat down. She alerted us to the situation and begged for help. I guess we could have cut out the side door, but that’s just not our nature.”

  “Did you just stroll right up to the robbers? Could you tell they were armed with knives?”

  “Yes and yes, the man at the register was busy collecting the money and he didn’t even notice me until it was too late. I put him in a wristlock so he couldn’t use the knife and then broke his jaw.”