by David Archer
He cruised down the street anyway, looking in every parking lot and up and down the alleys, but there was no sign of the car. Sam pounded on the steering wheel and cursed, but after a couple of minutes, he turned and headed back to the scrap yard.
Snake was standing next to an ambulance when Sam got there, and paramedics were working frantically on the man on the ground. Sam parked a short distance away and got out, hurrying over the best he could with his bad hip.
“Snake? How bad?”
Snake shook his head. “He’s hit bad,” he said, “but the docs think he might pull through. He’s in awfully good shape, bodybuilder, you know? They say that helps.”
Sam nodded. “That was Samara in the Buick,” he said. “I tried to catch him, but he managed to give me the slip.”
“Yeah, that was him. I told you, somebody back at the apartment building is being his bitch. Ain’t no way he shoulda known we were coming here. Only thing I can figure, somebody told him I had Freddie with me and he followed us.”
Sam threw his hands wide in an expression of disbelief. “But, why? Why would he want to kill Freddie?”
“Because Freddie told me exactly what you wanted him to be able to say,” Snake said. “Parks was upstairs talking to him when the shots went off. She wasn’t anywhere near the apartment when that guy was killed. Digger must have figured out why you wanted to talk to him, and decided he wanted to shut him up.”
Sam shook his head. “Where on earth could he get hold of an automatic rifle?”
“Hell, man, those are easy to come by. There’s at least half a dozen places in LoDo you could walk in and buy as many as you want.” He suddenly turned to look as a pair of police squad cars pulled in, their lights flashing but sirens off. “This is where it gets bad,” he said. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to bail me out, would you?”
Sam glanced at the squad cars, then turned back to Snake. “You got warrants out?”
“No, but they’re not gonna be happy about me packing a forty-five,” Snake said. “Especially since it ain’t got no serial numbers.”
Sam looked back at the squad cars and grinned, then turned back to Snake. “Just let me handle it,” he said. He turned and intercepted the two patrolmen as they were walking toward the ambulance.
“Mr. Prichard,” said Officer Wilson. “We got a report of shots fired?”
“Yes. The man on the ground was shot by Daniel Samara. He was on his way here to meet me, because he had evidence that would help prove Karen Parks is not a murderer. Samara apparently followed him, and opened fire on him with an automatic weapon as he got out of the truck.”
Wilson was eyeing Snake, who was trying his best to be invisible. “Yeah, report said somebody in the truck was shooting back. You know anything about that?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Sam said. “I was here, and all I saw was the wounded man went down, and Mr. Snake, there, he was ducking down behind the truck. I didn’t see any guns, and I never got the chance to return fire, myself. I followed Samara for several blocks, but he lost me again. He caused a few accidents, and I already called those in.”
Wilson looked at him for a moment, then just nodded his head. “Okay, then that’s how I’ll write it up. You gonna take care of Snake, there? Because if you are, then I’m pretty sure I never saw him here at all.”
“I’ll certainly be glad to take care of somebody who wasn’t even here,” Sam said, and Wilson managed to hold back most of the chuckle that wanted to escape. He turned to the other uniformed officer, who had stood back and only watched the exchange, and the two of them went into a huddle. Sam saw both of them glancing his way a couple of times, but then the second officer drove away. Wilson returned with a clipboard and wrote out what Sam had said, then asked him to sign it.
The ambulance left a moment later, and Snake climbed into the passenger side of the Corvette while Sam got behind the wheel.
“Man, Dick, this sucks,” Snake said. “Freddie, he’s pretty straight up. If he said Parks was upstairs with him, it probably would be enough to put a stop to this whole thing. I was half afraid something like this might happen, but I thought if I got him to you, you could keep him safe.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t matter how hard you try,” Sam said. “I need to get you to the DA, you can at least tell him what you heard.”
“Whoa,” Snake said. “I can’t be going to no DA. This thing me and Parks got, it works because nobody knows. Everybody thinks I’m a big outlaw, so they don’t know what I’m really doing. Parks knows, but I can’t afford for it to get out. If there’s no other way, I’ll come forward, but not right now.”
“Snake, the DA needs to hear it from you, you’re the one Freddie said it to.”
“Then you get his ass on the phone,” Snake said emphatically. “I cannot be seen going into no DA’s office. That would ruin me on the street, and might even get me killed.”
Sam shook his head, but took out his phone. He called Burton and put the phone on speaker as he waited for the man to answer.
“Will, it’s Sam Prichard. Listen, it turns out there is a witness who can testify that Karen was on the fourth floor when the shots were fired. Unfortunately…”
“Can you get him in here? Things are getting crazy, Sam, and I’m not sure which way the wind is blowing at the moment.”
“That’s what I was about to tell you,” Sam said. “Unfortunately, Samara just tried to kill my witness. He’s alive, but it looks to me like he might be in critical condition for a while. I doubt he’s going to be able to testify anytime in the next couple of days, but I do have with me the man who found him for me and heard him say it. You want to talk to him?”
“No point,” Burton said. “That would only be hearsay, and hearsay is not admissible. Tell me who your witness is, so I can put guards on his hospital room. I’ll do that right now, just to be safe.”
Sam looked at Snake. “Freddie Pilsner,” he said.
Sam held the phone closer to his face again. “Did you get that, Will? The witness is Freddie Pilsner, and he was shot just about twenty minutes ago.”
“I got it, I got it. Let me get this taken care of, and I’ll call you back if I learn anything new.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll keep working on trying to find this bastard.” Sam disconnected and dropped the phone into his lap.
Snake took a phone out of a case on his belt. “Now let me make a call,” he said. He dialed the number and, like Sam, put the phone on speaker.
“Hey,” said a male voice.
“Panther, it’s Snake. You hear what happened yet?”
“What happened? Naw, what?”
“Digger followed me and Freddie, and unloaded an AR on us. Freddie’s in the hospital, in a bad way.”
“Holy shit,” Panther said. “Man, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. There was a truck between me and Digger, so I ducked. Freddie didn’t get the chance. Who all you got around there?”
“Oh, hell, man, just about everybody. Want me to tell them?”
“No, no,” Snake said. “I want you to tell everybody that I want Digger. I want his ass alive, and I want it soon. You tell them that if I find out anybody is tipping him off on what’s going on, I’m gonna do some cuttin’, you got that? You tell them I’ll pay good money to find out where he’s hiding, real good money.”
Sam reached over and tapped his leg, and Snake turned to look at him. Sam mouthed the words, “Ten grand,” and then pointed at himself. Snake’s eyes went wide, but he nodded.
“Tell them all there might be as much as ten grand up for grabs if I find Digger. That’s a lot of money, and all I want them to do is hand him over to me. Ain’t gotta be no snitch to the police, just give him to me. You handle that for me?”
“Hell, yeah,” Panther said. “I’ll spread the word right now.”
“You do that. Call me back if you hear something before I get there.”
He hit the end button and dropped the phone back
into its case, then turned to look at Sam. “Ten grand? Are you serious?”
“I’m absolutely serious,” Sam said. “Snake, there’s a lot about this case I can’t tell you, but it’ll be worth every dime if we find Samara. First off, I’m almost dead certain he’s the one who actually killed the other guy, and second, I’m absolutely sure he’s trying to track down his daughter to kill her. I’ll do whatever it takes to get this guy before he can accomplish that.”
Snake looked at him for a moment, then nodded his head. “You said the dead guy was a fed. If that’s the case, then he must have been working on the whole Greek mob thing. Am I right?”
Sam grinned. “You’re not entirely wrong, but it’s bigger than that. My gut feeling is that somebody in the crowd yesterday morning lifted Karen’s gun, then gave it to Samara. By using it to kill a federal agent, he set her up for a pretty big fall. He may not even have realized that the guy looked enough like him that we’d think he was the dead one, but once the news got out I’m sure he decided to take advantage of it. Don’t tell anybody else about this, because it’s supposed to be a secret, but right now he probably thinks he’s in the clear because everybody thinks he died.”
“Then why would he bother to try to kill Freddie and me? Something isn’t adding up, Dick. There’s something we’re not catching on to, here.”
Sam glanced at the outlaw beside him. “Now, that’s something we can agree on.”
12
Sam pulled up in front of the apartment building and was surprised to see no crowd out front.
Snake laughed. “Why you surprised? After you offered a ten thousand dollar reward, I’d be shocked if anybody was still here. They’re all out looking for Digger, trust me.”
“Well, I hope they have some luck. You’ll call me if anything comes of it?”
“Hell, yes,” Snake said. “You the man with the money.” He climbed out of the car and walked toward the building as Sam drove away.
Sam decided to go to the hospital and check on Freddie Pilsner. It only took him about fifteen minutes to get there, and he was glad to see that Burton had wasted no time. Four police officers were standing around the emergency room, and Sam recognized one of them from his days on the force.
“Charlie Stevens, right?” Sam asked as he walked up to the officer. “Remember me?”
Stevens nodded and smiled. “I remember you, Sam. You always treated us lowlifes with respect. How you been?”
“Hanging in there,” Sam said. “You’re here guarding Mr. Pilsner?”
“Yes, sir,” Stevens said. “Orders from the DA’s office. We’re supposed to make sure nobody gets to him without their approval.”
Sam nodded. “Good. Any word on how he’s doing?”
Stevens turned and glanced toward the room where several doctors and nurses seemed to be busy. “One of the doctors made the comment a few minutes ago that he’s probably going to pull through. Guy looks like he’s built like Stallone, back in his younger days, and I guess his muscles were so thick they slowed the bullets down enough to keep them from doing as much damage as they might have.”
Sam’s eyebrows moved upward. “Really? Maybe I need to hit the gym more often. Who’s the doctor in charge, do you know?”
Stevens pointed at the doctor who was coming out of the room. “That guy,” he said. “I didn’t catch his name, though.”
Sam stepped to one side and caught the doctor’s attention, then flashed his ID. “I’m Sam Prichard, a private eye. Your patient in there is an important witness in a case I’m working on. Can you tell me anything about the prognosis?”
The doctor sighed. “I think he’s going to live,” he said. “He’ll be going into surgery in a few minutes, to remove a couple of bullets that didn’t make it all the way through. There’s one lodged next to his spine, and another sitting just inside his right shoulder blade. Right now, we’re checking for signs of internal bleeding that we need to deal with, but it doesn’t appear that any of his major organs suffered any damage.”
“That’s good news, Doc,” Sam said. “Any idea how soon he might be conscious enough to answer some questions?”
“Well, it won’t be today. You might check tomorrow, I’d say maybe around noon or so. If everything goes well in surgery, he should be awake and coherent by then.”
Sam nodded. “All right,” he said. “Thanks for the update.”
He waved goodbye to Stevens and walked out of the hospital again. He got out to his car and sat on the front fender for several minutes, just trying to think of what he might do next.
He realized he hadn’t heard anything back from Melinda Davis, so he took out his phone and dialed the number again. Once again, it rang several times before going to voicemail. He didn’t bother leaving a message this time, but hung up the phone and called Indie.
“Hey,” she said as she answered. “I just heard something on the radio about somebody getting shot. It wasn’t you, was it?”
Sam grinned. “No, but I was there.” He told her quickly what had happened in his meeting with Snake and Freddie, and then about Freddie’s condition in the hospital. “That wasn’t why I called, though. Can you check on Melinda Davis’ cell phone? See if you can figure out where it is? When I talked to her this morning, she got all upset and called her husband. They were supposed to be leaving town to go somewhere safe, but I haven’t been able to reach her since then.”
“Sure,” Indie said. “I got the computer right here, give me a couple of minutes.” He sat on the fender and listened to her tapping on the keyboard, but it was only a little more than a minute before she spoke again. “Sam? According to its GPS signal, her phone is somewhere near the Washington Park Recreation Center. It’s on, but it’s not showing any completed calls since this morning. Had a number of incoming missed calls, though.”
A chill went down Sam’s spine. “I’m not that far from Washington Park,” he said. “I’m heading over there now. Is there any way you can help guide me to the phone?”
“Um, yeah,” Indie said. “Let me open another window and tag the GPS on your phone. I can get you within 3 feet of it, that way.”
“Okay,” Sam said. He put the phone on speaker and dropped it into his shirt pocket as he got into the car. “I’m on the way there now. It’ll take me about ten minutes or so, so just stay with me.”
“Okay, babe,” Indie said. “Sam, I hope she’s okay.”
“Me, too, baby,” Sam said. “Me, too.”
“Kenzie just got home a few minutes ago. She’s all excited about the Christmas play, and she’s in the living room telling our mothers all about it. Which reminds me, your mom says I should ask you about when you played Santa in the Christmas play. How old were you?”
“Oh, good grief,” Sam said. “I don’t know, maybe eight or nine? That was a long time ago, you know. I think I was eight, I think it was the third grade.”
“Aw, I bet you were adorable. Did you have the beard and everything?”
“Yes, and the red suit and the pillow stuffed down my pants. As I recall, everyone said I did a fantastic job. Had this big sack full of empty boxes I had to carry around, and a cardboard fireplace I had to jump out of. I did the best ‘Ho Ho Ho’ anyone ever heard.”
“Your mom says she has pictures,” Indie said with a giggle. “I told her I can’t wait to see them.”
“That would be mom,” Sam said. “I don’t think I can remember her not having a camera in her hand when I was a kid. She was always taking pictures of me and my sister.”
“Hey, and speaking of your sister, your mom says she’s coming in for Christmas. I’ll finally get to meet her.”
Sam grinned. Indie had only spoken to his sister Carrie on the phone. She hadn’t made it back home for Sam’s wedding, or even for a visit since then. She had been concentrating on her career as an actress for the last few years, and had finally landed a role on a weekly sitcom. It was only a small supporting role, but Sam made a point of letting her know how prou
d he was. His baby sister was on TV, doggone it, and he was telling everybody.
“It’s about time,” Sam said. “We’ll have to do something special while she’s here, something to make sure she never forgets this visit. Hey, I know, we could have a baby. That would make it pretty memorable, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re a smart-aleck,” Indie said with a smile in her voice. “It would be pretty awesome, though, if she was here to see little Sam Junior come into the world.”
“There will not be any Sam Junior,” Sam said with a mock growl. “There’s no way in the world I would saddle a kid with this name. Do you have any idea how cruel children can be? I was called Pam, Bam-Bam, Wham and a hundred other variations. No way, no way on earth. Besides, it’s going to be a girl.”
“Yeah? You think so?”
“Absolutely. I’m destined to be surrounded by beautiful women, so it’s gonna be a girl.”
Indie lowered her voice. “Sam, you know it’s perfectly normal for a man to want a son, right? I’m not going to be upset if it’s a boy.”
“Neither will I, but it’s going to be a girl. Me and God had this talk, so it’s going to be a girl.”
“You know, I told our mothers how insistent you are that it’s going to be a girl, and my mom says you’re just worried because Beauregard told you once he’s due to be reborn anytime. You’re not seriously afraid he would end up as our baby, are you?”
“Of course not,” Sam said. “I don’t even believe in Beauregard, you know that.”
“Then why are you so dead set on having a daughter instead of a son?”
Sam sighed deeply. “If I give you a straight answer, will you drop it?”
“Yes, if that’s what you want.”