He said, “You’re right about that, Georgie. I wish we were meeting here in the Gallery for a better reason, too, Stacy. I know Georgie and Max are glad you’ve joined them. When you can, Max, will you please get me a list of all the items that are missing? Whoever did this may try to find buyers for the items, so we should get on top of that as soon as possible.” Max nodded wearily, as though he understood.
“We’ll make it a priority,” I said. “I’ll call someone from the corporate archives right now. They’ll have all the information related to identification at their fingertips.”
“Any idea what the going rate is for the stolen items?” Jack inquired.
“It varies, but the entire collection is worth millions. One of the cels on exhibit is a rare one, recently appraised at close to half-million dollars,” Max said.
Jack emitted the low whistle he uses to register surprise. “Really?”
“Yes. I hand-painted it myself. It’s one of the earliest cels I created forty years ago for Catmmando Tom. That makes it valuable.”
“More like priceless,” I muttered. Jack still seemed a bit stunned. Mention outsized prices for big-ticket items or sky-high compensation paid to CEOs like our company founder, and Jack experiences something akin to vertigo. Frugal by nature, spending that much money on anything probably seems unreasonable even though Jack appreciates art.
“Why is something that valuable on display?”
“So people can view it.” Max had taken on an exasperated tone that sounded haughty as he continued. “Clara Hendricks has assured me our Gallery is museum quality in every way, including security. Art is meant to be shared, Detective. Hand-painted cels are a part of our history as animators and my personal contribution to that history.” Max did not wait for a rebuttal from Jack but turned to me.
“You were planning to call Clara, right, Georgie? She’s up to speed on what’s where—or what ought to be where.” Words failed him again, and Max stopped speaking. Despite the dismissive way the man had treated Jack, my heart went out to him. Our founder could drive me up the wall at times, but there was also something vulnerable about him. Mad Max did not handle setbacks well. Not in the short run, at least.
“Yes. I have Clara’s number,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll be a big help. Please excuse me while I make the call.”
With that, our little group dispersed. Jack strode across the room toward the uniformed police officers and the head of security. Stacy took a seat next to Max as I stepped away to make my call.
I also decided to ask the EMTs still hanging out in a corner of the gallery area for a couple of bottles of water. Max probably would have preferred something stronger than that, but I hoped water might counter the gray cast to his complexion.
It seemed like it should be midnight, but it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. The All Hallows’ Eve party in Arcadia Park would be going strong. Families brought their children to trick-or-treat at locations set up throughout the park tonight. A haunted house created for the evening was a favorite attraction, as were costume contests, hayrides, and events including pumpkin carving and apple bobbing. All were attempts to give the night a homey, small town feel. The party would continue until midnight, marked by a display of fireworks that no small town could afford to host.
Mad Max is always a man of glaring contradictions, I thought. I snagged water for him after speaking briefly to Clara Hendricks on the phone. When I rejoined them, I handed a bottle of water to Max and offered another to Stacy.
“Clara’s on her way, Max.” But before I could say more, a shout rang out.
“Shots fired in the tunnels.”
4 Caught in a Web
We all jumped when that shout went out from a member of the security staff. Not Ralph Emerson, but one of the young associates from his department. The man was pacing back and forth, evidently uncertain about what to do next.
As we looked on, Ralph checked his phone. “I don’t see an alert. Are you sure?”
“Yes, Sir. The call came to me, personally, not through formal channels. It’s from Julie Kennedy, a friend, not a Security Associate. She’s Arielle and coming off her shift early. She heard shouts and gunfire. Julie’s hiding. I told her not to move until we get there.”
His friend Julie is but one of several associates at Marvelous Marley World to assume the role of Arielle. And Arielle is only one of three beloved shepherdess characters inhabiting Max’s pastoral utopia as portrayed in Arcadia Park and full-length animated feature films. Fans around the world are smitten with the charming trio of shepherdesses charged to keep watch over their flocks and thwart evildoers bent on harming innocent creatures like the little lambs in their charge. It was too bad Julie Kennedy didn't possess special powers or a magical shepherd’s hook like her imaginary counterparts.
“Where?” Ralph asked.
“Backstage Area 3 West. Also, she says the men involved are ‘in character,’ Sir.”
Jack raced across the floor to be by my side.
I sucked in my breath after hearing that last bit. Oh no, bad guys in character outfits, that's not good, I thought. It had to be the same thieves who had robbed the Gallery. Still, Bill Miller, who had caught the thieves in the act, would have mentioned it if he had shot at Marvelous Marley World characters. Had the full moon on All Hallows’ Eve unleashed a crime spree at Marvelous Marley World?
I knew exactly where Matthew’s friend was hiding out. An entire network of utility corridors ran underground from here, beneath the administrative campus buildings, to Arcadia Park. Thieves on the run, looking to disguise themselves, could find character outfits there.
Like so many other projects in Mad Max's world, the underground conduits are a marvel of engineering. They are used to transport people, supplies, and equipment. They keep the Park, surrounding resort hotels, and our day-to-day business operations running smoothly. The idea of armed and dangerous men with underground access to those locations was just plain scary. Max must have come to the same conclusion. He blanched, his skin almost as white as his hair.
“That was excellent advice you gave Julie,” Jack said, and I relaxed a bit at his clear, calm voice. “Great job, uh, sorry, I don’t know your name.”
Max seemed relieved, too. He listened intently as the young security guard introduced himself.
“Matthew Seton, Sir.” He smiled at Jack as he spoke in the same deferential tone he used to address his boss, Ralph Emerson.
“By ‘in character,’ do you mean the shooters are in Marley World character costumes?” Jack asked for clarification.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Let’s go. Matthew, you know how to get to your friend, don’t you?” As he spoke, Jack motioned for a uniformed police officer to join him. The EMTs grabbed their packs and were also on the move.
The group moved toward the elevators. The head of security continued barking orders into a headset he had donned. When the elevator pinged, a team from Marley World private security stepped out. They were armed and almost as well-armored as S.W.A.T. guys I’d seen on TV.
Another in the bank of elevator doors opened, and Clara Hendricks joined us. She looked aghast at the scene. Max rushed to greet her. I thought he meant to comfort the woman who had just stepped into what looked more like a combat zone than a museum. But once he pulled her off to one side, Max stood close and spoke in a low voice. He shook his head in response to something she said. Then Max gestured emphatically, pointing his finger in her face that was only inches from his. They turned away from us as they continued their heated discussion.
“What’s that about?” I wondered. Stacy made eye contact with me. Her brow furrowed, and a puzzled expression swept over her face. She mouthed the word "what?" I held out my hands and shrugged. Stacy went back to work using a tablet computer she held in her hands.
“Georgie.” Max called out, suddenly. “Go with them. Call me the minute you know what’s going on.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Jack argued. �
��As soon as we have a handle on things, I’ll give you an update.”
“No. That will not do. I insist that you go, Georgie.”
For a moment, I flashed on childhood images of the impish Rumpelstiltskin character from the fairytale, who threw such a riotous tantrum he split the earth and fell into a nasty crevice.
I feared Max was on the verge of a fall alright—onto the floor with a stroke or heart attack. His face was purplish red instead of pale and gray. Given the amount of stress he was under, it wouldn't surprise me if he became the next victim of this ghastly evening.
I spoke up using the same clear, calm voice Jack had used with Matthew moments earlier. “I’d like to go, Jack. I spent a lot of years in those tunnels traveling to and from work each day. I’m familiar with the locker rooms and break areas, and I know my way around. Maybe even better than Matthew or most of Ralph's security team.”
I recognized the look of resignation in Jack’s eyes. He knew it would do no further good to argue with me. Mad Max stood there too, with his jaw clenched and arms folded across his chest.
“On one condition. You do what I tell you to do. If I say stay put, you stay put, okay?” His tone grated but I responded amiably.
“Sure, Detective. No problem.” We surged ahead, filling two elevators. The descent down into the utility tunnels took less than a minute. Our elevator must have been the slow one. When we exited, Ralph and his team members piled into in two Park-Karts—golf carts, basically. They took off as I swiped my keycard and a wheel lock released on a Park-Kart in a space nearby.
Jack took the wheel. I sat next to him in the front seat. The uniformed police officer and EMT guys sat three abreast in the back. It had taken us an extra minute to help the EMTs stow their gear. When we took off in pursuit, the Park-Karts ahead of us had increased their lead.
“How trigger-happy is Ralph?” Jack whispered, so only I could hear.
“I believe he's smart enough to fear our corporate lawyers if he overreacts. That should make him cautious, but Ralph’s new around here." An issue with Buddy Bear during the investigation into Mallory’s murder had caused a shake-up in security. Our previous Security Chief had taken an early retirement. "Tonight, is the first time a situation has put Ralph to the test, as far as I know."
"Taking off as he just did, without making sure we were with him, isn't reassuring," Jack said, pressing the pedal to the floor. Our top speed probably wasn't more than 35 mph, but the Park-Karts are wide open and it felt risky. Once again, I found myself hanging on for dear life with Detective Wheeler at the wheel.
"I hope you're right about Ralph and your lawyers, Georgie. We're losing ground to the guy."
“I know where we’re going. In fact, if you hang a right up there at the intersection Ralph just blew through, I know a shorter route. We might even get there first.”
“Okay, but get ready to duck down when we arrive if I tell you to.”
“Sure, if you promise to pry me out later. That’ll be like opening a can of sardines.” I imagined squeezing myself down into the tiny space at my feet. I try to stay limber with stretching exercises every morning, but I’m no pretzel.
“You have my word on it.” He winked.
“What?” one of the EMTs asked from the back seat.
“Nothing, just getting directions from Ms. Shaw. Hang on. We're taking the next right turn a little fast.”
I would have said something about slowing down if associates were roaming the area. So far, we had not spotted a single soul—armed or unarmed. A good thing, given the dangerous men we were after. Still, it felt eerie. Our headlights bounced back at us from spots on the floor and walls. Shadows loomed as we passed. Less than five minutes later, we approached another intersection.
“Take the next left, Jack, and we should be almost there,” I said.
“Hang on. Left turn ahead,” Jack said, speaking to our companions in the back seat. Once he made that turn, Jack finally slowed down. A lit placard identified the entrance to Backstage Area 3 West. He turned the golf cart headlights off, and it grew darker in front of us. Whispering, Jack asked, “Is that the only entrance?”
“Yes,” I replied in the same hushed tone.
Jack pulled over to the wall on the same side as the locker room door, came to a complete stop, and got out.
“Officer Castillo, you're with me. The rest of you, stay put while we check this out. All of you,” he added, making direct eye contact with me. I sucked in a breath of air when Jack pulled a gun from under his jacket. Where had he picked that up? When?
I was quite sure he hadn't been wearing it at my house. I hadn't frisked him, but I knew from our close encounter when he arrived for dinner he wasn't wearing a gun and holster. My heart raced. The pitter-patter, in part, caused by the memory of that clench, and partly from fear of what he was about to face.
“Be careful, Jack,” I whispered. He leaned in and replied close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath on my face.
“Don’t worry, doll. I’ve got this.” He spoke those words in a hokey private eye voice he uses occasionally. Gun in hand, he flattened himself against the wall and scooted the few yards to the entrance. Officer Castillo did the same. Jack stopped for a second, pointed at something on the ground. He and the officer stepped carefully around the spot.
When they reached the entrance, Jack peeked around the edge of an alcove just outside the door to 3 West. He motioned for Officer Castillo to take up a post on the other side of the entrance, pointing at the ground again. The officer nodded in acknowledgment and took up his post. With their backs, flat against the wall on either side of that opening, Jack shouted.
“Police. If you’ve got a weapon, drop it now. Come out slowly, with your hands up.”
Nothing.
With his gun drawn, Jack stepped in front of the door, and then he disappeared into the locker room with Officer Castillo on his heels. I heard him shout “Police” again, much more muffled this time, then silence. The next minute was agonizingly long.
Suddenly the two golf carts that had been ahead of us approached from the opposite end of the tunnel in which we sat. They pulled up across from the locker room area and stopped. Ralph, Matthew, and the armed security team members disembarked as they spotted us. They looked at each other as though they were trying to make sense of what was going on. No one asked us any questions, however.
Two members of the security team with their guns drawn checked the entrance as Jack had done moments earlier. Apparently, they had no plans to announce their arrival. Security Associates took up positions on either side of the locker room entrance for thirty seconds. A man who had to be the team leader motioned for them to follow him. He stepped in front of the door and his men did the same, with Ralph bringing up the rear. Five armed men now crowded into a space that couldn't be much bigger than a typical doorway.
Jack must have figured out they were there. He shouted from inside, “Police. I'm coming out. I've holstered my weapon. One man on the ground and one very scared civilian in here, so cool it with the guns, okay?”
With that, Ralph's team backed up and Jack stepped out into the corridor alone. He spoke for a moment with them. Matthew was beside himself, and could not contain his questions any longer.
“Where’s Julie? Is she okay? What did she say? Can I see her?"
“Hang on another minute, Matthew,” Jack responded. “Georgie, can you come here? The EMTs, too, please.”
We were all at the entrance in a flash.
“Georgie, Julie’s scared out of her mind but says she’s not injured. She wouldn’t let me get a look at her, so I can’t be sure. She asked me if we had a female police officer with us. I told her no, but that the company had sent a female member of the Marley World staff along with us. She asked for your help. I want the EMTs to check her out after you’ve spoken to her. Are you willing to go in there first?”
“Of course, Jack. Do I need to worry about where I step or anything like that?”
“An excellent question. Not here, anymore. These guys have just trampled through blood drops that came from someone entering this space earlier. Someone who I imagine got out of a golf cart up there between the entrance and the place we parked. There are more drops up there and more on the floor in the doorway outside the men’s locker room. You won’t need to go in there, Georgie. That’s where the trouble occurred.” Ralph looked a bit embarrassed but said nothing.
“I hear you. I’ll avoid that space,” I said.
“Don’t move stuff around if you don't have to. Julie’s in the large dressing room near where the lockers are all lined up. She claims she didn’t see much, heard shouting and gunshots before she called Matthew, and took cover. There has been another shooting. The victim’s not going to need EMTs I’m afraid.”
“Oh no, Jack. Is it a Marley World associate?”
“I’m not sure. He’s half-clad in something that looks like a combat costume with a furry-booted leg.
“A Tom-Trooper,” I said. “He must be one of ours.”
“Not necessarily,” Jack said. “He was shot in the chest at close range. That’s probably the bullet that killed him, but it’s not the only one in him. I’ve already called the county CSIs and asked them to send a second team out here. The first one’s still at the Gallery with the guard’s body, and they have a lot of work left to do. They found blood drops leading away from the scene. I sent a photo of our new guy to the uniformed officer I left at the Gallery.”
Jack took a deep breath and continued. “Ralph? Your security guy, Bill Miller, says our dead man is the one he shot at as the thieves ran away. I don’t want to jump to conclusions until we’ve had the forensic team in here. Maybe he has identification on him that can help us figure out if he works for the Cat."
“Someone knows their way around here,” I said, even though I hated coming to that conclusion.
Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Box Set Page 20