Weekend Warriors

by Fern Michaels

  “Why don’t you ladies join us. I placed our order but I don’t see a problem adding four more steaks. Hey guys, swing four more chairs over here.”

  “Well sure, we’d love to join you. We got nothing better to do and we want to wait out the rain. Y’all staying around here or what?”

  “We’re camping in the Alabama Hills,” Charles said.

  “You guys on a run?” Alexis asked.

  “Yeah,” someone shouted from the far end of the table.

  “We did it for victims of violent crimes,” someone else shouted. “You ladies want to kick in some bucks?”

  “Sure,” they said in unison as each one of them handed over a hundred dollar bill.

  The men sat up a little straighter when Charles scooped up the money and thanked them.

  “So, where are y’all from?” Kathryn drawled.

  “L.A.” someone said. “How about you?”

  “Oregon,” Yoko said.

  “So what do y’all do, do y’all work or do you just…ride around?” Kathryn asked as she maneuvered herself to the far end of the table to get as far away from Wagstaff as she could.

  “Both,” Dr. Clark Wagstaff said. Julia sat down next to him. “So what do you do?” she purred. “Claudia Abbott,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “Clark Wagstaff.” He pumped her hand for a full thirty seconds. “I’m an oral surgeon. How about you?” Wagstaff asked as he eyed the tattoo on top of her left breast.

  “I paint murals inside churches,” Julia said. “The bikes are just a weekend hobby.”

  “What about your friends? By the way, I might be interested in the Night Train. I’d like to take a look at it later.”

  “Well sure, that’s okay by me. Goes to the highest bidder. Candy down there at the end of the table makes muffins. Best muffins in the state of Oregon. Stella, over there, has her own bike shop in Portland. Makes money hand over fist. Mei Ling is a massage therapist. When she walks on your back you’d swear you died and went to heaven. She knows exactly how to please a man. So, what’s good to eat in this dump? This is a dump, you know. Excuse me, I want to talk to that gentleman over there about my Night Train.”

  Julia wiggled her way over to where Charles was sitting. He looked at her with open admiration. “It’s hard to believe you ride a Night Train,” he said.

  “You wouldn’t believe the teacher I had. How’s it going?” she asked under her breath.

  “Another hour and they’ll all be rolling on the floor. They’re all heavy drinkers except our two. They pretty much have their wits about them,” Charles said, sotto voce.

  “The food should be coming out any minute now.”

  “I didn’t order yet,” Julia said.

  “I took the liberty of ordering ahead of time. Steaks, baked potatoes and salad.

  “I’d like to make a toast to all of you for taking the time to make this run for such a worthy cause. Bottoms up, gentlemen,” he said. “To charity and the fine people who donate unselfishly of their time and money.”

  “Hear! Hear!” the men shouted raucously.

  “And now for the winner of the restored, oneof-a-kind Indian. Did you all put your names in this shoebox?” Charles asked, pointing to the middle of the table. Heads bobbed up and down. “Good. Why don’t we have one of these little ladies pick the winning name?” Charles pointed to Alexis, who stood up and leaned over the table. The two men across from her gasped when she daintily held up the little square of paper.

  “Bobby Tufts, you are the winner of the Indian! This calls for a toast! To Bobby Tufts, may he ride in glory on his new Indian!”

  “Man, did I really win? Me! Did you hear that, guys? I never won anything in my life. Man, this is so great. Wait till my wife hears about this. A toast, guys! To this kind, generous man. What’s your name again?” he asked drunkenly.

  “Alistair Fitzsimmons,” Charles said regally. “You’re right, this is one of those bottoms-up toasts. To Bobby Tufts!”

  “Now, Mr. Tufts, where do you want the bike shipped?”

  Bobby Tufts pulled a card out of his shirt pocket and handed it over. “My home address is on the bottom of the card.”

  “I see you’re a loan officer at the Wells Fargo bank. Now I know where to go if I want a loan.” Tufts doubled over laughing.

  The food arrived, thick T-bone steaks, fat, loaded potatoes and a delicious-looking garden salad.

  Two hours went by before Julia stood up and said, “I’m going to see if it’s still raining. I think it’s time for us to move on. Thanks for the dinner and drinks, Mr. Fitzsimmons. Do you want to look at the bike now or did you change your mind? Dr. Wagstaff over there said he wanted to look at it, too.”

  Alexis stood up and flexed her shoulders. “Hey, you guys, are any of you going to the Testicle Festival in Montana this year? If so, we’ll see you there!” she said brightly.

  “Yeah, yeah, we’re all going,” Bobby Tufts said.

  “See ya. Nice meeting all of you,” Kathryn said.

  “Hey, Sam, come take a look at this lady’s bike,” Wagstaff said to Sam La Fond, who was staggering to his feet.

  Kathryn and Alexis both grabbed three full bottles of beer off the table as they followed Julia and Yoko outside. Kathryn shoved her bottles into Yoko’s hands so she could unscrew the bottle of Rohypnol that was in her pocket. In the darkness with the rain pelting them, she had no idea how much went into the beer bottles.

  “That’s a beauty, all right. Bet you want a pretty penny for it, eh?”

  “A lot of pretty pennies. We’re staying at the inn tonight but plan to leave around seven. We’re heading north. If you want to come by early and take a look at it in the daylight, feel free. What about you, Dr. Wagstaff?” Julia said, holding out a bottle of beer to him. He gulped at it. Yoko held out a second bottle to Sam La Fond. Charles pretended to drink from his.

  “Where’s the car we’re supposed to transport them in?” Kathryn hissed.

  “The Ford Mustang parked next to the pickup truck. The key is in the ignition. I’ll be by in the morning. I have to see about getting my guests back safe and sound to the campground now. I’m very interested,” he said loudly, for the benefit of the others.

  “I’m not interested,” Wagstaff said, slipping to the ground.

  “I think your friend is drunk,” Alexis said. “Aren’t you going to pick him up?”

  “Why should I?” La Fond asked belligerently.

  “It’s raining. He could drown.”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Yoko said. “Just out of curiosity, Mr. La Fond, how many women did you and your buddy rape on these rides?”

  “Lots and lots and lots,” he mumbled as he fell on top of his friend.

  “I told you, Kathryn,” Yoko said gently. “Hurry, we have to get them in the car before someone comes out.”

  “He won’t remember the question when he wakes up, Kathryn,” Julia said just as gently.

  It was better than a precision drill as the four women grabbed Wagstaff’s legs and arms and dumped him unceremoniously onto the back seat. They did the same thing with La Fond. When he rolled onto the ground, Yoko shrugged. “Oh well.”

  “Looks like we’re set to go. Yoko, wait till we pull out and you stay on our trail. Let’s go,” Kathryn said, straddling the cycle. She peeled out onto the road, the others right behind her.

  Kathryn slowed to a bare crawl when she noticed oncoming headlights. She didn’t pick up speed until the lights were out of sight. She swerved onto the rough road and tore down it at full throttle, the rain pouring down her back. She was soaked to the skin when she opened the tailgate to yank down the ramp. She was back on the Electra Glide and roaring up the plank a minute later, Alexis and Julia right behind her.

  “Leave the headlights on, Yoko, until we get them inside. Same deal, sisters, feet and arms. No need to be gentle,” Kathryn said.

  “Listen, I have to take Murphy out. I’ll be wit
h you in a minute.”

  Yoko held out a napkin-wrapped package. “Take your time,” she said. “I gathered up some of the steak bones for Murphy to chew on. Do you wish to give it to him? There’s quite a bit of meat on them. Those men did not eat much. It was such a waste of food. I remember the days when I had only scraps to eat.”

  “That was sweet of you, Yoko. Thanks. Hopefully, it will keep him occupied. He’s going to know there are strangers in the back. I don’t know how he’ll react. He might bark his head off and there’s no way I can control that.”

  “So what. Dogs bark all the time. This,” Yoko said waving her arms at the trees, “is pretty far out. We are soaked, Kathryn. We need to get out of our wet clothes.”

  Kathryn unlocked the cab and climbed up. Murphy licked her face and then snatched the napkin-wrapped bundle out of her hands. “Yoko, thanks for…you know.”

  “Yes, I know. You are welcome, Kathryn.”

  Fifteen minutes later, both men were inside the truck and the tailgate was closed and locked down. “First things first,” Julia said. “We need to get out of these wet clothes and into dry ones. Stand still for a moment while I look around. “The sheets are in place, the entire floor is covered. That’s good. The table is up, there’s a clean sheet on it. We have a dozen towels. The lights are on. That’s good. I can see perfectly. Gloves, everyone. Who goes first?” she asked, tying her surgical mask behind her head.

  The women looked at one another. “La Fond didn’t drink as much of the beer as Wagstaff did,” Alexis volunteered. “You better do him first. Put a drop on his tongue, just to be sure.”

  Julia held up her gloved hands. “It’s up to you three to boost him up to the table. Yoko, take both his feet, Kathryn and Alexis, grab him under his arms. There you go. Take off his pants. On second thought, just pull them down.” She picked up the scalpel. She looked up over the mask. “Hospital procedure or quick and dirty?”

  “Just do the Q&D,” Alexis said.

  Kathryn leaned against the wall of the truck, her eyes on Julia’s hands. How deft and sure she was. She said it wasn’t brain surgery, but still, without her skill, this wouldn’t be happening. She blinked. It was happening. She was seeing it with her own eyes. She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard La Fond’s jewels drop into a small pickle jar. Even from this distance she could read the Mt. Olive label. Two down and one to go.

  “That’s a very nice, neat bandage. Will it come loose?” Yoko queried.

  “Probably. When they start rummaging for the missing goods, they could dislodge it. Depends on how frantic they get. Okay, this guy’s done! Next!”

  While the women lifted La Fond off the table, Julia stripped off her gloves and pulled on two new pair. She waited, her hands in the air until Wagstaff was on the table. Yoko yanked at his pants until she had them down around his ankles.

  Kathryn sucked in her breath when Julia picked up the scalpel. Ten minutes later, Wagstaff’s nuts plunked into a mayonnaise jar. She slid to the floor of the truck and put her head between her knees.

  “What are we supposed to do now? My brain’s frozen. I can’t think. What?” Kathryn shouted. “Somebody tell me.”

  “Hey, take it easy, Kathryn. We’re taking them in the two cars back to their campground. We put them in their tents and split. Charles will be there to point out which tents belong to them. It’s okay that you forgot. We have it under control. Now, let’s move. If we fold up the legs of the table and lower it to the floor, we can slide it down the ramp and we won’t have to carry them so far. We can drive the cars right up to the opening,” Alexis said.

  Kathryn shook her head to clear it. “Has Murphy been barking all this time?”

  “Yes,” Yoko said.

  “Julia and I are driving. C’mon, Kathryn, look alive here.”

  “I’m alive. Let’s do it.”

  Charles waved the light from a small flash-light to show them he was waiting. They drove the cars as far as they could before they climbed out. It took fifteen minutes before the men were settled in their sleeping bags. Yoko bent over and zipped them up. She smiled at Kathryn.

  “Get out of here now,” Charles said.

  “What about the Mustang?” Julia asked.

  “I’ll drive it deep into the bushes. Did you wipe it clean?”

  “I did,” Yoko said.

  “We’re outta here,” Alexis said, climbing into the driver’s seat of the car.

  “Wait a minute,” Kathryn said. She unzipped the flap of the tent and stuck her head in. “In the words of President Bill Clinton, gentlemen, I feeeel your painnnn.”

  Charles clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing as Kathryn sprinted for the car.

  Back at their home base, Kathryn yanked at the tailgate. “Cleanup time! Somebody is watching over us. All this rain has to do is keep up for another couple of hours, and it looks like it will, and it will wash away our tracks.”

  They did what they had to do. The motorcycles were stashed in the back, the wheels on the tarp Kathryn had spread earlier. The sheets, towels, bloody gauze pads and gloves were shoved into heavy-duty trash bags. The table would be dumped as soon as they found a suitable trash container, the trash bag somewhere in San Francisco. The mayonnaise and pickle jars were placed with the Snapple bottle in the lunchbox. Kathryn handed it to Julia.

  The women stood outside the truck, the rain beating down on them. Their arms stretched out till they formed a tight little circle. No one said a word.

  Kathryn climbed into the truck. She waved. “I’ll see you all in five days.”

  The CB was in Kathryn’s hand the minute she crossed the state line into Kansas. “This is Big Sis. You there, Bugle Beagle?”

  “I’m here, Sis. Where you been? Had a call out to you.”

  “I know, Bugle, but stuff started caving in on me and I had to split for a while. Went off to Bermuda for some down time. What’s up, Bugle? The messages sounded urgent.”

  A bird swooped down and flew across the windshield. Murphy let out an ear-splitting bark and lunged at the window. “Shhh, boy, it was just a bird. Sorry, Bugle.”

  “The guy said he was a district attorney in the District. You know my feelings on the law and how they hound you guys. Said it was important and you should call right away. I didn’t tell him squat. You better give him a call. What’d you do with the dog when you went to Bermuda?”

  Dog. Oh shit. Screwup number five, or was it six? Bile rose up to her throat. “I left him with a friend in San Francisco. Why?”

  “No reason. I like dogs. You said he was the best thing that happened to you after Al died. Listen, drive with the angels and I’ll keep in touch. You carrying lettuce or squash?”

  “Romaine lettuce. I got two extra boxes if you want some.”

  “Nah. I hate rabbit food. I’m a steak and potatoes man. Take care, Sis.”

  “You, too, Bugle. Over and out.”

  She reached over behind Murphy and dialed Myra’s number on the special cell phone. “Hi,” she said in a shaky voice. “I just crossed the line into Kansas and called the dispatcher in Roanoke because the D.A. back there has been trying to get in touch with me. We had a nice talk. He wanted to know what I did with Murphy when I went to Bermuda. Imagine that.”

  “Why don’t I put Charles on the phone, Kathryn?”

  “That sounds good.”

  “Kathryn, it’s so nice to talk to you again. Mike Daniels drove from Sacramento to San Francisco to pick up your dog. He lives at 3055 Fifth Avenue in Sacramento. He dropped him off at the airport when you landed.”

  “Thanks. See you in a few days.” Kathryn clicked off the power and then clicked it back on. She dialed the number Jack Emery had given Bugle. She punched in the extension and waited.

  “Jack Emery here.”

  “Mr. Emery, this is Kathryn Lucas. I understand you’ve been trying to reach me. I just got your message.”

  “You just got it! I thought you truckers lived on your CBs.”r />
  Kathryn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Some do, some don’t. I don’t. The reason I just got your message was I just returned from Bermuda. I needed some time to…think. I know you had no way of knowing this, but my husband just passed away recently. I needed to get away. What is it you want from me, Mr. Emery?”

  “Did you make a delivery to Myra Rutledge and did you stay overnight and sleep in your truck while it was parked at her estate?”

  “Why are you asking me these questions? Technically you’re the police. I didn’t do anything wrong. Hell, the woman hasn’t even paid for the stuff I dropped off.”

  “What did you drop off?”

  “First I think you better tell me why you want to know.”

  “I’m the one asking the questions, Ms. Lucas.”

  “And I’m the one that isn’t answering. If there’s nothing else, Mr. Emery, I’m going to hang up. I need to pay attention to the road. By the way, I’m in Kansas.”

  “When do you expect to hit Virginia?”

  “Three days, four at the most. I have to drop off some lettuce in North Carolina.”

  “I’d like you to stop by my offices when you get here.”

  “Again, Mr. Emery, why? Look, if those bathroom fixtures are defective it has nothing to do with me. I just pick up and deliver. You’re making this sound like I need a lawyer. If I do, I’ll give you her name now and you can take this all up with her. I might be picking up a load of pine straw in North Carolina so I can’t say for sure where I’ll be. She’ll know how to get in touch with me.”

  “Okay, what’s her name? You did say her, didn’t you?”

  “Nicole Quinn. Her office is on G Street. If there’s nothing else, I have to sign off here.” Kathryn allowed a smile to tug at the corners of her mouth when she heard him curse under his breath. She broke the connection and tossed the cell phone on the seat next to Murphy. He nudged it until it was behind him. He stretched out, his tennis ball between his paws.

  Kathryn yanked at the baseball cap that said Lucas Trucking, settling it more firmly on her head. She adjusted her sunglasses and concentrated on the road in front of her as she tried to imagine what Clark Wagstaff, Sam La Fond and Sid Lee were doing. Murphy slept on the seat next to her.