Smoke and Mirrors wm-4

by John Ramsey Miller

  68

  Winter and Brad exited the casino just as a limousine, its windows covered by dark film, rolled to a stop under the portico. An enthusiastic Pierce Mulvane rushed up, flanked by Albert White and the blonde secretary, who was holding an opened notebook, pen poised, awaiting dictation. A man in sunglasses with slicked-back brown hair and a deeply scarred face stood off to the side, scanning the crowd.

  Two bellboys, each pushing a bag carrier, appeared and took up positions on the street side of the Lincoln. People on their way in and out of the casino stopped to gawk.

  Albert White took out his cell phone, looked at the display and took the call, turning his wide back to the group.

  Winter watched as the passenger door opened and two bull-necked security types got out and stood behind the limousine driver, who had opened the passenger door closest to the curb. A third security man, wearing an unbuttoned cashmere overcoat over a turtleneck sweater and gray woolen slacks, stepped out and scanned the area, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. No doubt he was armed, the coat open to allow him immediate access to a weapon. He leaned back into the car and gave an all clear.

  The main occupant, a man with short silver hair, gold-rimmed eyeglasses, and manicured nails that shone in the daylight like abalone, climbed out and the driver shut the door behind him. He smiled as Mulvane approached with his hand out. Winter was too far away to hear what was said, but close enough to read Pierce’s lips. As they shook hands, Pierce said, “Welcome to the Roundtable, Herr Klein. This is a great pleasure for us all.”

  Klein? Now this is an interesting development, Winter thought. He looked from Mulvane to Albert White to the man with the deep facial scars, whom Winter caught staring in his direction. Although Winter had never seen the man before, he seemed to be familiar with Massey, probably thanks to Albert White. Big surprise. The scarred man was about Winter’s height and built like a middleweight. Winter figured he was with casino security. Unlike the men protecting the head of RRI, scar-face looked just like the sort of hard-edged muscle who might break legs when he was asked to, and would probably enjoy the work. Winter paid close attention to Klein’s and Mulvane’s security people, because he had a distinct feeling he would see them again soon. Unfortunately, he was rarely wrong about that feeling.

  69

  Alexa was headed to the far edge of the casino parking lot when she heard someone yelling her name.

  “Alexa! Alexa!”

  She turned to see a panting Jason Parr running toward her, waving frantically. Alexa stopped and waited for him to catch up, breathless.

  “Jason.”

  “You…you…left before…you got…your cut.”

  “Don’t be silly. I had a blast. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Man, I ain’t had a run like that since my second wife caught me with my secretary and got her hands on my forty-four Bulldog.”

  “Sorry to hear it.”

  “Well, my wife got me good.”

  “She shot you?”

  “Be better if she had. She gave me a divorce so I could marry my secretary. Talk about revenge.” Jason took an envelope from his coat pocket and offered it to her. “This is roughly ten points. I didn’t have time to do a count because you run off on me. They’re counting it up now.”

  “I have to go,” Alexa said. “And I can’t take that.”

  She saw Brad’s truck heading toward her.

  “Sure you can,” Jason said. “We had a deal and I always honor my word.”

  Brad pulled up. Winter was in the rear passenger seat.

  “Good luck,” Alexa said to Jason.

  “You come back anytime I’m here and gamble with me. Same deal. I’ll be here till Sunday.”

  “I think this is my last time,” she said.

  Alexa didn’t know Jason Parr was going to hug her, but he lifted her off her feet and turned them both three hundred and sixty degrees before putting her down.

  “Now I’ll be lucky all day. I can feel it.”

  Alexa said good-bye, opened the truck door and climbed inside, closing the door behind her. Jason was already running back to the casino.

  “I think your new pal really likes you,” Winter said.

  “He only likes my luck,” she said. “Who was the VIP in the limo?”

  “That was Klein, the owner,” Winter said.

  Alexa asked, “Mulvane was the carrottop fancy pants with fat Albert?”

  “By the way, Winter changed your plan,” Brad told her.

  “I’m not surprised,” she said. “I wasn’t in love with it.”

  70

  Back at the sheriff’s office, Alexa went on the Internet to research the Klein family and its businesses.

  “Kurt Klein is the head of a family-owned industrial manufacturing conglomerate with roots that go back two hundred years,” Alexa said. “RRI is a very small piece of their holdings. Most of the RRI properties are large self-contained resorts located in Europe, the Caribbean, Las Vegas, and around the world. The Klein corporation isn’t publicly traded so there are no published financial figures. Maybe Klein isn’t aware of what is going on. If we assume he knows about the land and the murder, why would he be here before it was resolved?”

  “If he isn’t aware, it could give us some leverage. Sometimes people are insulated, and they just say they want something to happen and other people make sure it does,” Winter said.

  Alexa said, “And sometimes men with a great deal of money and influence aren’t what they seem, but what they choose to project. We just don’t know enough about Klein. I suspect the CIA would have a better idea about him than the FBI. I doubt Klein’s family businesses could have survived World War Two without some unpleasant alliances.”

  “You think Leigh is in any danger now that you told Mulvane we were aware of the implied threat? He’d be crazy to let anything happen to her, right?”

  Winter shrugged. “You’d think so.”

  “I can have more of my people cover her,” Brad said.

  “I can stay with her. Nobody knows me,” Alexa said. “I could just be a friend of hers visiting for support during a difficult time.”

  “A larger official presence couldn’t hurt,” Winter told Brad.

  71

  Raymond Gee had bought the three-bedroom house as an investment, and he made his son, Alan, work on it like a slave all that summer, only paying him twenty bucks a day for ten hours or more of hard labor. All that was left was to sand and paint the Sheetrock, which would take another couple of weeks. The central heating was hooked up, as was the plumbing. Raymond Gee owned seven rental houses and was always telling his son that by the time he retired, the houses would be paid for and the rent checks they generated, after legitimate expenses, would pay him more than he made as a salesman at Gates Tires in Batesville.

  Since Alan had a key, he and his best friend, Buddy Graham, had been hanging out in the house’s basement. They would smoke cigarettes, drink a beer or two, and party with Amy Buckley when she could sneak out and come there with them. While she was only fourteen to their sixteen, she was built like an eighteen-year-old, and she loved to get high. In exchange for a few hits on a pipe and their sworn promises not to ever tell anybody, she would take off her shirt and let the boys look at her breasts as long as they didn’t touch them. She enjoyed watching them masturbate to the sight of her boobs. Although this had only happened twice in two months, they were getting worried. The house would soon be ready to rent and, once it was, they’d be without a clubhouse for their tit-peeking jerk-off sessions.

  The boys knew that the neighbors were accustomed to Alan working inside the house, and since he parked his Ford Fiesta there all the time, they paid no particular attention to when the young boy’s car arrived or left the property. They were smart enough not to let other kids hang out or party in the house, as it would certainly have resulted in Raymond finding out and putting an end to the clubhouse, not to mention Amy’s intoxicating generosity.

  Wh
en Alan put his key into the lock and turned it, there was no resistance.

  “Damn, it isn’t locked,” Alan said, locking and unlocking the dead bolt twice, testing it. “If I forgot, and any tools got ripped off, my dad’s going to freak out.”

  “Maybe your dad was here and he didn’t lock it. Sounds like there’s water running,” Buddy said. “Is the shower on?”

  “Maybe a pipe busted,” Alan said. “Shit!” Alan rushed to the bathroom door. “My dad’s gonna freak out.”

  When Alan opened the door and saw what was in the bathtub, he screamed, slammed the door, and ran from the house, Buddy hot on his heels.

  72

  After picking up her bag from Brad’s house, Alexa trailed Brad’s truck out to the Gardner plantation. They passed a cruiser parked on the road going in. As they were pulling up, Jacob darted from the house and stopped beside his car, fumbling with the keys. He froze when Brad and Winter climbed from the truck and Alexa got out of her car.

  “Come inside,” Brad told him. “We need to talk.”

  “I have to go pick up Cynthia at my mother’s house in Memphis,” Jacob said, his hands visibly shaking. “So she can make the funeral. So the harassment will have to wait a couple of hours.” One side of his shirttail was out and his eyes looked feverish.

  “When did you last talk to your daughter?” Alexa asked.

  “Lady, if it’s any of your business, just a few minutes ago,” he snapped.

  “Now is the only other time you are going to get,” Brad said. “You leave here now and you’re on your own.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jacob asked him.

  “This is Alexa Keen with the FBI,” Brad said, indicating Alexa. “She may be the only thing standing between you and Mulvane.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jacob said.

  “Your call,” Alexa said. “But you should know that Mulvane knows that Leigh told us everything. I expect that puts you in a bad place.”

  “Mulvane never said that he was involved in anything like that. I never told Leigh that. And, anyway, if that is true, you think you can protect me from him? Like it’s just him we’re talking about. None of you know what you’re messing with. There is a billion dollars in play here.”

  “Be that as it may, we’re the only shot you have, Mr. Gardner,” Alexa told him.

  “So am I under arrest?” Jacob asked.

  “No,” Alexa said.

  Brad added, “But you know he killed Sherry for a lot less, and how good his hired killer is. He knows you’re a threat.”

  Jacob took off his coat and threw it into the car. He looked at each of them, seemed to weigh a thought-it was easy to imagine what it was-then jumped into his Cadillac and roared off down the driveway. When it turned onto the farm road, the heavy car fishtailed, squealing the tires.

  “He’ll be back,” Alexa said.

  “I don’t know,” Brad said. “He isn’t exactly known for intelligent moves.”

  “We need him,” Winter said, flatly.

  As they were heading to the porch, Hamp ran out of the house, his face bright red.

  “What’s the matter, Hamp?” Brad asked, grabbing him.

  “Daddy!” Hamp yelled, stamping his foot. “He hit Mama!”

  Brad left Hamp and ran into the house. Leigh was in the den seated on the raised stone hearth. She was trembling. There was a red spot below her left eye, and she had a split lip. Estelle came in and handed Leigh a plastic bag filled with ice to hold against her cheek.

  “Damn his hide,” Brad snarled, his arm around Leigh’s shoulders. “What happened?”

  Leigh turned her eyes to Hamp. “I’m fine,” she replied.

  “I heard him hit her from the kitchen,” Estelle volunteered.

  “Estelle, take Hampton to the kitchen,” Leigh said firmly.

  “Arrest him, Brad,” Hamp hissed. “Lock that asshole up.”

  “Hampton!” Leigh snapped. “He’s your father.”

  “Not anymore he isn’t. I hate his guts.”

  “We’ll discuss this later, after you’ve calmed down,” Leigh said. “Let me talk to Brad.”

  Estelle and Hamp left the room reluctantly. Alexa and Winter took seats across from the fireplace.

  “What happened, Leigh?” Brad asked.

  “This is terrible. I don’t know what to do-how to tell you.”

  “Take your time,” Brad said.

  “Cynthia…Jacob said Cyn called from his mother’s. Jacob said Cyn wasn’t coming to the funeral, so I picked up the phone to call her, and he stopped me and told me that I had to sign papers on the land.”

  Leigh waited a few seconds before she said, “I told him I would sell the land, but I wouldn’t do so unless I could meet with the buyer and negotiate a better deal. Like we discussed, so I could get it on tape. I didn’t tell him that. I told him the land was obviously worth more than they offered, and I wanted to negotiate personally. I told him to tell the buyer to take it or leave it. He freaked out. He was yelling that these people weren’t screwing around, that they’d kill all of us. He said this was the final offer and that if we were dead, it would make it more convenient for this person.”

  “Did he mention a name?” Alexa asked.

  “Mulvane. Pierce Mulvane. He said the casino had to have the land and the casino owners weren’t going to take no for an answer. He said they had over a billion dollars on the line, and life was cheap against that kind of investment. He said they’d kill him first, or all of us at the same time. I’ve never seen him so scared. I told him I was going to make sure our children got the maximum benefit possible.”

  “And that was when he hit you?” Brad asked.

  Leigh started crying. “He told me he’d lied, that they took Cynthia. That she wasn’t in Memphis at all and that she was fine, and she’d be released after the land deal was finished, but we’d never see her again if it didn’t go through.”

  “You think he was in on it?” Brad asked.

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know. He said he didn’t know who had her, that he’d spoken to some man twice who had her phone. I said I would call Mr. Mulvane and get her freed.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “God, I think he’s telling the truth. And she needs her insulin. They might hurt her. You have to do something.”

  “Leigh, Alexa is going to stay with you,” Winter said firmly. “We’ll figure this out and get her back.”

  He nodded to Brad, and the two men left the room in a hurry.

  Alexa said, “Leigh, Winter threatened them and I don’t think they’d dare harm Cynthia. But if you decide you want me to do so, I’ll bring in my FBI Immediate Response Team. Though I have to tell you that I can’t guarantee it won’t do more harm than good at this point. We need to talk to Jacob and make sure that he told you the truth. She’ll be fine.”

  “But you aren’t sure,” Leigh said.

  “No, I can’t be one hundred percent, but this is my field of expertise. Mulvane is in a very difficult position because he knows we know about the land. If he’s behind this, he’ll make sure she’s all right.”

  “Jacob won’t cooperate,” Leigh said. “There’s no telling what he’ll say or do.”

  Alexa heard the sound of Brad’s siren wailing in the distance.

  “They’ll catch up to him,” she said.

  73

  Cynthia lay naked on her side on the ice-cold tile floor of a fancy bathroom. Her abductor sat on the toilet contemplating her, an empty insulin syringe in his hand.

  He said, “Did that help? I’m new at this diabetes thing.”

  “You need to give me more,” she said weakly, covering herself as best she could with her hands. “Let me measure my blood sugar.” Her vision was still blurred, but maybe clearing. There was a bottle of water on the floor beside her and she managed to keep herself covered until she took a long drink. He didn’t seem interested in her sexually. Maybe it would be better if he were. She had decided that, in exchange for
a shot to make her feel better, she could let him screw her. It was no big deal. She’d had sex with a few men she wasn’t attracted to when they had something she wanted.

  “The water in the tub is warm,” he told her. “Get in. You smell like piss and bile.”

  “My clothes?” she asked.

  “They’re in the washing machine. I have to wash them before you put them on. I have a nice warm robe for you when you get out of the bath.”

  “Of course I ruined my clothes. What did you expect?”

  “I’m no expert, but if I gave you more insulin, I suspect you’d be a lot more trouble.”

  “Please,” Cyn said. “I won’t try to escape.”

  “But you might, Ms. Gardner. I know a great deal about you. More than I care to, in fact.”

  “My mother will pay you whatever you want.”

  The man said, “All I want at this moment is for you to get into the bath.”

  Standing, the man helped Cynthia up. Her knees buckled, but she stepped into the warm bath and sat. The man recaptured his former position on the closed toilet and watched her as she bathed, but the ugly bastard didn’t seem to want to do more than that.

  And she made sure he saw plenty. She knew that men went stupid when she showed them even less of her body than he was seeing.

  “You know,” she said, mentally bracing herself, “this doesn’t have to be so unpleasant. I mean, if you wanted to, like, have sex with me, I wouldn’t say you couldn’t. We couldn’t,” she said, smiling.

  The man smiled back. “You want to trade sex for your freedom?” And then he laughed loudly. “I don’t think so.”

  Angry at the rebuff, she thought, He’s gay.

  74

  Jacob’s Cadillac had left the road, shot straight across a cotton field for fifty yards, and ended up nose-deep into a tree. Brad left the road and drove to the scene, cutting the siren when he stopped, but leaving his blue lights flashing. As Winter climbed out, the cold wind was like a slap in his face.