Trudi Baldwin - Sammy Dick, PI 02 - Acid Test for Yellow Flower

by Trudi Baldwin

  “I’m just sayin’—and don’t try to weasel your way out of it, Geo. Bye. Thanks for the intel.”

  I immediately dialed Gloria’s cell phone number. The call dropped right to voice mail. Next I tried her house phone. It rang and rang. No answer.

  I quit trying, scanned the group and proclaimed in a loud voice, “An emergency’s come up. I need clothes and shoes right away. Does anyone have some I can borrow? Mountain and I’ve got to head to Sedona and the only way I can figure out to get there fast enough is by plane or helicopter. I’m leaving that to you, Mountain, while I find some clothes.”

  “I think I have some for you in my locker,” offered Trinity. “What size shoes do you wear?”

  “Party poopers!” muttered Larry right beside us, adding, “Who needs clothing when we’re having so much fun? Just kidding. Sort of.” As he finally slid his phone into his pocket.

  Sally Snort shot past us down the stairs to the factory floor and began supervising the containment of the two acid cans and the cleaning out of the Mother Vat. Both cans had survived intact. All her proactive ordering was coming in handy. I’d have to tell Gloria how competent Sally was, that is if Gloria lived through the day.

  I knew Mountain and I needed to leave as soon as possible, but before we walked down from the platform, I leaned over and gave Tanya a kiss on the cheek. Larry whipped out his phone again for one last snap. Naked girl to naked girl talk. I whispered in Tanya’s ear, “Thanks, girl, you saved my life.”

  Tattooed Tanya broke into a genuine, ear-to-ear grin. “Just doin’ my job,” she said. There was hope in the world, after all, at least for most of us.

  Marissa, not so much. When I said, “Fredric is the he behind the scenes, isn’t he, Marissa?” she began to tremble all over and break into chant again, “I will never tell. I will never tell. I will never tell.” Her reaction did not bode well for Gloria.

  Next, I descended the opposite end of the platform to avoid the crowd in the middle. When I reached the floor, I sidled over to Hayden who was now assisting Sally Snort at ground level.

  “Who are you, anyway, Parker?” he whispered in my ear, annoyed, confused and somewhat angry.

  “My real name is Sammy Dick, and I’m an undercover investigator hired by Gloria Strumheinnie to investigate an acid spill that occurred in the Yellow Flower line. I’m sincerely sorry, Hayden, that I had to deceive you to do my job. I also give you my deepest thanks for rushing out to get help for us. I have more explaining to do, I’m sure, but Gloria’s life may be at stake, so I’ve got to run.”

  “Just one more thing, Parker ‘er Sammy, before you go. Were you faking during our kiss?”

  “I enjoyed the kiss, Hayden, except for one thing. I’m not a smoker, and I never will be, but you are an awesome catch for someone.”

  At this point, we were distracted by two uniformed Phoenix police officers, one male and one female, striding out onto the factory floor in response to Mountain’s call for back-up. Various articles of clothing arrived at the same time, courtesy of Trinity. While the female officer helped Marissa into a dry, fresh gown from the gowning room, the other officer unlocked Marissa’s handcuffs and handed them back to Mountain, then applied his own as soon as the gown covered Marissa’s naked body. You never knew when Mountain might need his cuffs.

  One snake down and one to go I thought as I pulled on Trinity’s super-tight, stretch jeans that were about three inches too short in the legs and a wrinkled but clean hoodie. No bra. No underwear. The shoes were a problem. Trinity did keep some spare socks and high-top tennis shoes in her locker but they were one size too small for me. They’d have to do. I scrambled into the clothing while Mountain arranged for a police helicopter flight to Sedona. I heard him also calling the Sedona police to alert them while I laced up Trinity’s high-tops. My toes curled in at the front to make the shoes fit.

  Perhaps because I’m in such good physical condition, my energy seemed to be returning in huge surges. Only my ribs still hurt, alternating between sharp stinging jolts and dull throbbing, as a result of the sumo wrestler flops inflicted on me by that snake Marissa. I made a mental note to get checked by a doctor just as soon as we arrested Fake Freddy, or at least just as soon as we brought him in for questioning, since I had to admit we didn’t have any real evidence against him other than Geo’s hacks—definitely not admissible in a court of law, unless, of course, Geo were the one being arrested for hacking.

  “The Sedona police may not be much help,” Mountain disclosed as soon as he got off the phone. “There’s a huge art event in town and nearly all police officers are on call. You and I, however, are scheduled to fly out from the Sky Harbor Heliport in a few minutes. I have permission for you to join me to speed access to Gloria’s house and be able to identify Freddy. I have a rental car waiting for us at the Sedona airport too.”

  I wasn’t surprised that Mountain had arranged everything so quickly. He was a very competent man in every department, and I do mean every department. I smiled up at him. He smiled back down at me. Then his eyes shifted downward even further to my super-tight, too-short jeans. His smile widened even more.

  “Let’s go, Sammy,” he said with a sultry hitch in his voice.

  My man I thought.

  Well, someday maybe, if I ever settle down and stop having so much fun I amended on the run, as we both bolted out through the Distribution Room and jumped into the front seats of the infamous black van. Mountain revved up the engine and we shot out of the parking lot, heading for the Sky Harbor Heliport, only a few minutes away.

  Chapter Twenty Three – Flight to Sedona

  I’ve done a lot of things in my short life, but flying in a helicopter from Phoenix to Sedona to try to save someone’s life had not been one of them. As we zoomed across the city northward, I felt enthralled and queasy at the same time. As dire as the situation might be for Gloria, I couldn’t help enjoying myself as we soared along. What a view! Low pollution levels on a Saturday enabled us to see for miles and miles.

  The city of Phoenix developed in a rambling sprawl. I call it a city of breadth, not depth, literally and figuratively. The exact opposite of New York City. From above, Phoenix looks like an egg plopped into a frying pan that spread too quickly and chaotically to the edges and no longer looks like an egg. Only the streets look orderly, since Phoenix is a younger city, as cities go, and the streets and avenues have all been laid out in a logical grid—quite impressive from our eagle’s view as we whooshed along toward Sedona, one of the most beautiful towns in the world.

  As we flew, I tried Gloria’s phone every few minutes or so. Nothing, nada, zilch. I would have enjoyed the hour-long flight more if I hadn’t been so worried about Gloria, my new found mentor and friend, not to mention the signer of Geo’s and my checks—should she stay alive long enough to sign them. My gut ached in worry for her, not just from my rib injuries and the queasiness of the flight as we pressed onward.

  Near the end of the long hour, the striking red cliffs of Sedona burst into view below us. We swept over the town of Oak Creek, followed swiftly by the river known as Oak Creek that meanders through the valley of Sedona. Then we ascended full-throttle up, up, up toward the plateau where Sedona Airport perches like a two-hundred and twenty acre breadboard at the top of the world. An amazing sight. I’d looked it up on my cell phone as we flew. I’d also looked up the fastest way to get from the airport to Gloria’s house. MapQuest said we could get there in thirteen minutes, quicker if we sped.

  We hovered above the airport waiting for approval to land. A Cessna sailed off the end of the runway into flight over a sheer drop off into the valleys below. Once that plane left the airfield, we were granted permission to descend. As we lowered onto the small, upraised helipad, I took a final 360 degrees scan of the red rocks and cliffs thrusting up all around the airport for as far as I could see. A beautiful, clear, glorious day, unless you happened to be Gloria. Time was of the essence.

  Mountain and I ripped off our he
adsets, handed them to the pilot, and ducked out of the helicopter while the blades still whipped above us. At a dead run, we sprinted across two airstrips, looking both ways so as not to get hit by small planes, then we burst into the flight control office, where they seemed to be expecting us because just as soon as Mountain showed his badge, the man behind the desk flipped the keys to him and Mountain and I dashed back out the door toward a shiny, brand new silver Camaro. Well, hot shit! We’re going to clip across town in style, I thought as Mountain beeped open the doors and we both slid onto doe-soft grey leather seats. Mountain revved up the motor, swung a donut as we headed out, and we raced down Airport Road while I tried Gloria’s cell again. Nothing, nada, zilch. Hurry!

  I’m sure Mountain broke a few laws gunning the new Camaro down Airport Road, and we didn’t have a police siren or lights to warn anyone either. At the base of the plateau, we swiveled out onto Arizona 89 heading left, at which point, Mountain was forced to slam on the brakes and ease our way into the heavy traffic piling up around the art event. I tapped my fingers on the uber-soft leather armrest as we inched along at a bumper-to-bumper pace. My only hope was that Freddy must have been slowed to a standstill by the same event.

  It took five minutes to creep along two miles. By the time the sign for Dry Creek Road came into view, I’d thought about gnawing on the dashboard in fear and dread for Gloria. Dry Creek Road, a side road, was thankfully traffic-free. Mountain swung the powerful car right and we began the quick ascent toward Gloria’s home.

  The familiar streets that I’d recited to Snack on our previous visits sped by and I glanced in the picture window of the house where the parading poodle had driven Snack crazy, such a short time ago, but it was empty and blank. My ribs spiked in pain from the crushing weight they’d sustained from sumo Marissa, and my gut ached and roiled with acid my nerves were so on edge. I needed actions and answers fast or I was going to keel over.

  Finally, we reached Lizard Head Lane. I pointed to the right wordlessly. Mountain spun the wheel that way and in seconds we’d reached the end of the street where it halted abruptly at Gloria’s arching, painted and locked gate. A white Chevy Tahoe was parked right in front of it, which I figured belonged to Fake Freddy.

  We threw the doors wide on the Camaro and shimmied through the fence, heading up the gravel road at a run toward Gloria’s; my feet smarted with each impact on the hard gravel road because Trinity’s shoes were way too small and my toes balled up in the front. I couldn’t get any traction making it impossible to keep pace with Mountain as we raced up the hill. As we turned the corner in the road, her house came into view. Quiet. The front door closed. I couldn’t see anyone through the front windows.

  When we reached the front door, Mountain drew his gun and indicated with a silent head nod that I was supposed to stand aside while he opened the door. I indicated with a silent head shake that I wouldn’t follow his orders. He head nodded again. I head shook again. He pursed his lips in consternation, gave up, and turned the door knob to Gloria’s house, then resumed his double hold on the gun pointing it downward. The door swung open. Mountain raised the gun up in one swift motion into classic assault stance, scanning 180 degrees from side to side as he strode into the house. I followed in my balled up tennis shoes, scanning the outer deck for activity and conducting a rapid scan of the Great Room area to look for telltale signs of foul play. I spotted Gloria’s phone on the granite counter top. Dishes were in the sink as if Gloria had served Freddy lunch, similar to the day I visited her. I remembered that she told me she and Freddy liked to ride.

  While I’d been scanning the Great Room, Mountain had rapidly conducted a search of all the adjoining rooms and the deck. “No one here,” he concluded.

  “I think I know where they are, Mountain. Come on!” I gingerly jogged out the front door and down the path to the stables in my too tight high-top tennies. Mountain followed.

  “Sammy, be careful. You don’t know what we’ll find,” Mountain admonished as we wound down through the tall pine trees to the stable grounds. No one there either. I ran to Rainmaker’s stall. The big, palomino stallion shot his head out over the stall door to look at me rolling the whites of his eyes and shaking his head back and forth, full of energy. I ran over to check Glitter Girl’s stall. Gloria’s horse was gone. Then I ran to Golden Oldie’s stall. He was gone too.

  “I have a pretty good idea where they are, but I’m not sure how to get to it by car. I only know how to get there by horse, and we only have one horse.”

  I crouched down and began drawing in the soft dirt my best guess for Mountain to get the Camaro in the vicinity of my previous ride with Gloria.

  “You take the car. I’ll take the horse.”

  “This is crazy, Sammy, but I don’t have any better ideas,” Mountain responded.

  “Give me your gun, Mountain.”

  “Are you joking, Sammy? There is no way I’ll give my gun to you.”

  I’d figured as much. I wouldn’t have surrendered mine either in this situation.

  “Give me your Taser, then, Mountain. I’ve gotta have something to subdue Freddy with. Wonder if he has a gun?”

  I watched Mountain debate. He knew I was Taser trained. Impossible not to be in an all-cop family. My dad had prepared me to be a cop for years, but I just couldn’t face all the rigor and bureaucracy required, so I became a private investigator instead. Close enough.

  “I’ll get the horse ready while you think it over,” I said, unwilling to waste any more time when Gloria’s life might be at stake. All I could think about was that secret cliff place she’d shown me where we watched the sunset and how easy it would be for Freddy to push her off and claim an accident.

  I grabbed Rainmaker’s gear, tied him in the cross-ties, and quickly saddled him up. I mounted and gave a last imploring look at Mountain who hung his head down in resignation, unfastened the Taser from his belt, and handed it up to me on Rainmaker’s back. I strapped it onto the saddle tying it with the thin leather straps that hung down by the saddle horn. Mountain was in a lose/lose situation. There was no right answer at this point.

  “I’m heading out, Mountain. Look for the huge ponderosa on the gravel road. That is if you can even find the gravel road that will take you there. After I find Gloria and Freddy, I’ll meet you at the tree or call you on my phone. Bye!” I wheeled the stallion in the direction of the trail. I’d forgotten that he loved to rear. He immediately crouched backwards on his hind legs, flipped his snow-white forelegs into the air, rearing and pawing at the sky.

  “Heigh, ho, Golden, and away,” I yelled to Mountain waving at him as I ground my heels in a swift kick into Brain Wracker’s sides. He quit his silly pawing, fell back to earth and shot forward like a piston on fire. Hot shit! Who knew what was in store, but the ride itself would be wild and fun.

  Tired of being penned up and alone, Rainmaker took off at a dead run on the soft trail dirt weaving and bobbing through the tall pines until we came out on the cliff-side trail we’d traversed at a walk before. Rainmaker didn’t even slow down. Though the trail was only about two feet wide and as I glanced down on my right, I couldn’t even see the bottom of the canyon as we galloped madly along, Rainmaker’s mane flapping in my face and the Taser bouncing dangerously on the saddle. After looking down at the Taser, I glanced up to see a rock formation jutting out in front of us on the trail. I remembered carefully negotiating it on our previous ride, but that had been tricky even at a walk. Now we were barreling down on it at a dead run. Oh, holy fuck!

  Rainmaker didn’t even slow. He just sailed over the jutting rock, no problem, but the jolting impact of his landing knocked the Taser loose. It skidded down the saddle, bounced once on the edge of the trail, and flipped up and out into the canyon. Oops! I leaned low and glanced back over my shoulder as we sped on, but it was nowhere to be seen. Oh well … nothing to do but keep riding as fast as I can.

  Rainmaker was more than thrilled to comply. We leaped up through the rocky trail t
hat led us away from the canyon following a trail I’d only seen once but that I was sure Rainmaker had travelled many times. He was so eager he seemed to be on the scent of something like a hound chasing a fox and then I remembered how Gloria said All That Glitters was coming into heat. No wonder Rainmaker was so hot to trot ‘er gallop.

  We leaped and weaved through the grassy trail until finally I spotted the gravel road Rainmaker and I had raced on before to beat both Gloria and Glitter Girl in the race. Rainmaker surged ahead. Now the pounding of his hoofs grew much louder and more distinct on the hard gravel road. He’d broken into a sweat and the top of his shoulders glistened a dark, coppery gold. No cars in sight. It would have been a beautiful day for an earth-shattering ride, if Gloria’s life wasn’t in the balance.

  I sat up in the saddle to look for the tall ponderosa that marked the turnoff for the ledge. There it was, like an ominous sentinel. Hopefully, my guess as to where Gloria and Freddy’s location proved true. Otherwise, my next move would be to let Rainmaker just have his head and see if he could track down Glitter Girl through scent alone. Who knew what a male would do to find a girl in heat? But right now, Rainmaker seemed to be on the scent of Glitter Girl already, he was so intent on pounding ahead toward the tree.

  When we arrived at the tree, I was almost thrown off to the right, Rainmaker made such a sharp left turn without losing stride as he swung around the tree’s trunk to head for the ledge trail. In a few quick leaps, he dashed across the grass and we hit the wall of mesquite brush like it wasn’t even there, scrambling through as the scratchy branches whipped me in the face.

  No way was I going to make a silent entrance on this wound-up stallion who just kept galloping through the heavy brush like he was on an open racetrack. Then, just like that, the bushes opened up and I was staring out at a sheer drop on the edge of the cliff’s side.

  “Whoa!” I yelled, tugging back on Rainmaker’s reins to keep him from flying right on through and off the cliff’s edge.