“How did he let this happen?” Candace muttered. “I didn’t think those little bastards could have taken him down like this.”
“Can I touch him?” Boo asked, moving forward.
“Be my guest,” Candace said, making room.
The Baldies had finished removing the suit and there was no denying that Rich was Mitch. I was more numb than I had been last night because I had no idea how I felt . . . Everyone moved to get a better view, except me. I was too afraid I would try to kill him once I knew he was okay, so I kept my distance. Boo knelt down and took one of his limp hands in her own. She closed her eyes and rocked back and forth.
“He was tranquilized,” she said in a hollow monotone. “They shot him with a tranquilizer gun, tied him up, and then they beat him as he was passing out.”
“What about the dead bodies?” Candace demanded.
“They were already here,” an ashen-faced Boo whispered.
“Those fuckers,” Candace hissed. “Can you tell how long ago he was tranqued?” she asked Boo.
Boo took his hand again and concentrated. “It was still a little dark out,” she said in the same monotone. “I would guess two to three hours ago.”
Dave picked up a bottle off the floor and examined it. “It should be wearing off about now,” he said, “if this is the amount they used.”
“Give me that.” Edith reached for the bottle. “Salt him,” she told her sister. “This dose and this amount should have worn off already.” She sniffed the bottle.
“What are you doing?” Kim asked, near tears.
“Making sure it’s not laced with anything else.”
“You can do that?” Mariah asked, awestruck.
“You bet your ass I can,” Edith said smugly, licking the open rim of the bottle.
“Jesus Christ, don’t drink it,” Candace gasped. “We don’t need another tranqued-out casualty.”
Edith cackled and flipped Candace the bird. “Please, I’ve have so much of this shit in my system over the years, I’m immune.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Mrs. C laughed and licked the bottle too.
They eyed each other for a long moment while we all watched in shock, waiting for them to keel over. WTF? What had they been? It had to be military, but it was mind-boggling to think of them anywhere other than the knitting shop insulting the bejesus out of everyone.
“It’s clean,” Edith said. “Not laced. This boy should be awake. Gimme the salts, sister.”
“Can I ask you a question, just in case we die today?” Mariah squatted down next to Mrs. C . . . her new hero.
“Sure, Purple. Have at it.”
“What does the C stand for and why are you a Mrs.? I thought you were a dyke.”
Baldie Dave sucked in a huge amount of air, fully expecting Mariah to get her ass kicked for calling an old woman a dyke.
“It’s okay,” Boo assured him. “They like that term. That, lesbo, and queer.”
He nodded his head, color suffusing his face all the way to his bald head.
“I’m a dyke through and through,” Mrs. C said. “The Mrs. is for respect and the C stands for Coco.” She gave a hard stare around the room, daring anyone to laugh. No one did.
“Can I call you Coco?” Mariah whispered, fearing for her life, but unable to stop herself . . . as usual.
Mrs. C sat silently for a long moment while Edith passed the salts under Mitch’s nose. “Yes, you can. I’m tired of the fucking Mrs. C thing anyway. Henceforth all of you will address me as Coco.”
Everyone nodded and no one laughed except Edith . . . who was the only one who could have gotten away with it.
“Would anyone like some background music?” Hugh asked, desperate to do his part.
“That would be lovely, darling.” Kim smiled and took his hand.
“How about some Elton John,” Baldie Dan suggested. “I really enjoyed your medley last Tuesday.”
Hugh blew up like a puffer fish and started with “Someone Saved My Life Tonight” . . . very appropriate.
Right at “sugar bear,” Mitch woke up. He was groggy, but his eyes searched the room, landed on me . . . and didn’t waver.
“Can you get up?” Candace asked, stepping into his line of vision.
“Move,” he croaked. “I need to see her.”
Candace backed away and I could feel his eyes on me as if they were his hands. I couldn’t look at him. I was so relieved he was okay, but at the same time I wanted to destroy him.
“Come here,” he said gruffly.
I didn’t move.
“Please, Kristy, come to me.” His voice was low and filled with pain. I wanted to imagine part of it was emotional, but I knew better. He’d lived a lie and played with me like I was a toy.
“Oh, for the love of Jesus in a bikini, get your ass over there,” Coco ordered. “We all know he’s an untrustworthy lying sack of shit, but he clearly loves you and you feel the same way or you wouldn’t have wanted to whack his sister earlier when you thought he was hosing her . . . so go on with your bad self.”
I was pretty sure “Jesus in a bikini” was the least offensive part of that sentence. I refused to make eye contact, but I made my way over. I knew if I didn’t, Coco would pick me up and plop me down next to him. Although, if I was honest with myself, I wanted to be near him more than I wanted to breathe . . . but that didn’t make him any less of a shithat assmonkey.
He got himself to a sitting position and pulled me close to his body. I went limp and let him do what he wanted. I didn’t have the strength to do anything else.
“I may be a sack of shit, but I’m not untrustworthy,” he said urgently, lifting my chin so I had to look at him. I closed my eyes and refused to cooperate. “I’ve been on this case for months. They’re drug dealers . . . big ones. I followed them to Minneapolis. We were trying to pinpoint the ringleaders. Unfortunately three of them are lying dead in the corner. When I realized all of you were in danger, I changed how I was going in and became one of the group instead of outside surveillance. I wanted to protect you and I wanted to be near you,” he finished softly.
I opened my eyes and stared at his battered, beautiful face. “I don’t even know you. Everything about you has been a lie or a secret.”
“I’m Rich too,” he said, trying to keep me from pulling away. He had me physically because he was stronger, but the emotional part was going to be a much more difficult battle. “I’m your friend who adores you . . . who knows all sorts of important and special things about you. I’m that guy too.”
Normally I’d be mortified to have all of my dirty laundry paraded around, but since I wasn’t sure we were going to make it out of here, I let it all hang out. Besides, he’d tricked everyone here . . . well, almost. Not Heidi and the Baldies and not Boo. She knew and she was happy for me, told me all sorts of good things were going to happen in my life. Maybe she was still right . . . I was hoping I had all the facts now, so my decisions would be based on reality. But did anybody ever have all the facts?
“Are you really a magician?” I asked, trying not to smile.
He lit up like a child when he realized he might still have a chance. “Actually, I am.” He grinned. “I had to learn for a case, years ago. I thought it was fun and I kept it up.”
“You’re an asshole,” I said lightly.
“Agreed.” He nodded, grinning.
“And a shithat and an assmonkey and a jerky son of a bitch.” I bit down on my lower lip to keep from giggling.
“Agreed, agreed, and agreed . . . Anything else?”
“Can I add something?” Candace begged, wanting a piece of the action.
“Nope,” Mitch said, finally able to stand. He pulled me up and pressed me against his body. “Kristy, I love you and all I wanted to do was protect you. I would die for you.”
I leaned in and carefully wrapped my arms around his body and heard him breathe a huge sigh of relief. I did love him. I loved him and Rich and his secrets and I might even
grow to love his sister . . . As I started to tell him I was cut off by a scream.
“Well, isn’t this touching,” Stuey-Herman spat, holding a very sharp knife to Boo’s throat, “but fun time is over, kids. Well, at least yours is . . .”
Chapter 35
A thin trickle of blood rolled down Boo’s neck where Stuey’s knife had pricked her. Her eyes were huge and she was shaking like a leaf. Mariah’s eyes were wild and I knew she wanted to kill Stuey with her bare hands. Edith held her in a firm grip.
“Let the innocent ones go,” Mitch said, moving me behind him. “You don’t want to kill Boo. You’ll be hunted like a dog if you do.”
Stuey laughed and it made the hair stand up on my neck. How in the hell did I ever think he was a semidecent guy? He was a douche and one hell of a good actor. “You’ve made it so easy for me.” He leered at Candace. “Now I don’t have to make a trip back to the hotel because you brought them to me.”
Candace said nothing and glared at Stuey with repulsion. “You know,” he said to Candace while running the knife carefully up and down Boo’s fragile neck, “I think I liked you better as a blonde.”
“We made a deal,” Mitch ground out, pulling the focus back to him. “I gave you my name and you said you’d leave them alone.”
Candace’s head whipped around to Mitch in utter shock. I didn’t understand the significance, but it was huge if Candace’s reaction was anything to go by.
“You are worth quite a lot, Mitch Sanderson. I know plenty of guys who’d like to see you dead, but do you really think I’d pay up on a deal with a fed?” He shook his greasy little head in disgust. “Stan,” he shouted, “get your sorry ass in here.”
“My name is Fred,” Stan said, his usual chipper self. I realized that Stuey was definitely the brains in this operation. All along I’d thought it was Stan . . . Why that surprised me, I didn’t know. I’d missed every clue around me the entire time . . . I’d make one hell of a detective. Not.
“I believe some of our friends are armed. I’ll ask once nicely and then I’ll carve the little girl’s neck up. Throw your weapons over here.”
Mitch gave a curt nod to our group and Candace, the Baldies, Edith, and Coco began to disarm. Guns, nunchucks, and knives slid toward the insane little drug dealers. I snuck a quick glance at Coco when I realized she hadn’t given up her samurai sword. Her jacket concealed it and since so many weapons hit the deck, it must have been unimaginable to Stuey that there might be more. Mariah’s pocketknife was missing from the pile as well as the knife that Edith had used to cut Mitch free. I hoped to God they knew what they were doing. This was not a game.
“Stan, remove the arsenal and I’ll clue our good buddies in on the plan.”
“Fred,” he corrected in a pissy tone as he gathered the weapons and took them out of the cabin.
“Well, Mitch Sanderson,” he sneered. “I am the kingpin you’ve been looking for. I’m the one in charge and I’m running the show.”
“Hmmm,” Mitch said, shaking his head in confusion. “Your name has never really come up. Now, those guys”—he pointed to the pile of dead bodies in the corner—“I definitely recognize them.”
“Goddamn it, I’m the kingpin,” Stuey screamed in such a rage, he threw Boo to the floor and she scrambled away. Realizing his mistake, he quickly pulled a gun from his pocket. “It’s automatic,” he ground out, “so even if you rush me, I’ll take out at least four of your innocents before you take me down.”
“We’re not going to do anything stupid,” Mitch calmly assured him. “There’s no reason to kill all these people. You’ve got me. That should be sufficient.”
“And me,” Candace added.
“And me,” the Baldies and old lesbos said in unison.
“I’ll do it too,” Mariah added. The rest of us nodded in favor of going with the group.
Mitch rolled his eyes and groaned.
“It’s lovely to see you all so ready to die for each other. It will be much more fun for you, I’m sure. I’m curious . . .” He aimed his gun at Candace. “What’s your real name, sweet thing?”
She glanced at Mitch and a silent sibling telepathy passed between them. “What do I get if I tell you?” she countered.
He grinned and licked his wet thin little lips. “A quick death, my love. A very quick death.”
“As opposed to?”
“A very slow and painful one.” He smiled.
“I’m going to reach into my pocket for my ID. You good with that?”
“Oh yeah, baby, just go real slow.”
Candace reached into her pocket and pulled out a man’s wallet. With the quickest sleight of hand I’d ever seen, she lifted an ID out and replaced it with another. There was no way Stuey could have noticed. They only reason I saw it was because I was behind her and I heard Mitch’s quick intake of breath. She slid the wallet over and backed away.
Stuey yanked the ID out of the wallet and laughed. “You used your real name, you stupid fed,” he barked. “Heidi Kugel. Nice, very nice.”
No one breathed and no one moved. I was terrified my slightest movement would clue him in to the fact that Candace had pulled a fast one.
“Sooo, here’s the deal, friends . . . Stan, bring in the surprise,” he yelled.
Stan walked in and put a box on the table and walked right back out without saying a word.
“Inside that box is a bomb. A bomb that will tear you to shreds and destroy this lovely little cabin and our sedan, but enough clues will remain to implicate the dead assholes in the corner, the sweet little drug-smuggling Bigfoot group, and a couple of dirty feds.”
“Why us?” Hugh asked. I could tell he felt betrayed by Stuey. They had done several concerts together. To Hugh, that was sacred.
“Why you? Why you?” Stuey laughed. It was such an ugly sound, I felt sick to my stomach. I moved closer to Mitch and breathed him in. “I chose the stupidest group of losers I could find. A group so fucking stupid that they would drive around in a van and trailer loaded down with eight million dollars in drugs without asking questions. Leased under their name and driven only by them,” he sneered. I thought Hugh was going to cry or kick him in the face. “A group so fucking clueless that if they had gotten pulled over by the cops, I would have walked away and they would have spent a nice long time in jail for drug possession . . . massive drug possession. A group so motherfucking stupid they would run around looking for a creature that doesn’t exist while I conducted million-dollar drug deals right under their noses. That’s why I chose you. The show was a cover so the idiotic people of Duluth didn’t get suspicious.”
“Did you ever film us at all?” Hugh asked quietly.
“No, Hugh. There was never any film in the camera at all. And yet again, you people were too stupid to notice. So you see, Mitch Sanderson and Heidi Kugel, I am the kingpin and now I’m a very rich kingpin. I killed my competition and . . .”
“I killed them,” Stan shouted, coming back into the room. “You stood there like a pussy and screamed.”
“Shut up,” Stuey hissed. “You may have pulled the trigger, but it was my plan . . . all mine.”
Hugh nodded his head, turned to Kim, and buried his head in her chest. He also did something strange with his hand. Oh. My. God . . . Hugh had just taped Stuey’s entire villainous monologue on his phone. God, if we didn’t get blown to bits, Stuey and Stan were so going down . . .
“You pathetic losers have ten minutes left of your lives and then . . .”
“Thirty,” Stan interrupted him.
“What?”
“They have thirty minutes. You said to set the bomb on a thirty-minute timer and I did.”
“No,” he said through tight lips. “I said set the thirty-minute timer to go off in ten minutes, you ass.”
“My bad.” Stan shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the cabin.
“Okay, fine,” Stuey huffed. “You have about twenty-three or twenty-four minutes left while we make our getaway.
I’ll be sure to let the authorities know where to find you after you burn to a crisp.”
“Did you ever find your wallet?” Mariah asked.
I stopped breathing and dug my nails into Mitch’s back.
“No, I did not.”
“The only trail we didn’t look on is the southwest one. Maybe it’s out that way,” Edith suggested, mildly.
“Well, it just so happens that’s the way we’re leaving, so I may get lucky yet. Oh”—he grinned—“I’ll be needing your phones. My battery died.”
I peeked out from behind Mitch’s back and caught the evil grin that passed between the lesbians. We might not get out of here alive, but I had a feeling the Slime Guys might find themselves a little hung up.
After collecting our phones, Stuey calmly walked out of the cabin. The sound of multiple locks being set made my heart drop. I didn’t think even Mariah was good enough to pick us out of that. Besides, they were on the outside of the door. Fucktard.
“Are they gone?” Kim asked.
No car started, but Candace pulled her listening device out and pressed her ear to the door. “They’re on foot. They’re talking about walking to a meeting point . . . and getting picked up.”
Edith and Coco slapped each other high fives and went to examine the bomb.
“Don’t touch that,” Mitch said tersely. “Dave and Dan, how much bomb training have you had?”
“Hopefully enough.” Dan was sweating and Dave looked like he was going to hurl. With Mitch, they carefully approached the box and slowly opened the lid. No one in the room was breathing. I glanced at my watch. That had taken a full five minutes.
“This is complicated,” Dan muttered, sweating profusely now. Mitch leaned in and studied the bomb.
“Oh, for the love of Jesus Christ in a thong, get the fuck out of my way,” Coco hissed, shoving the Baldies to the side.
“Stop,” Mitch snapped harshly. “What makes you qualified to go near that bomb? This is not a game.”
“I’m old and mean. I’ve been around more blocks than you’ll ever see in your lifetime. Trust me when I say I know what I’m doing,” she told him in a tone that made me scared out of my mind and hopeful at the same time.
Size Matters (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) Page 29