Web of Silence: A Ray Schiller Novel (The Ray Schiller Series Book 4)

by Marjorie Doering

  “Yeah, Joey,” Ray said, punching in Waverly’s number, “Uncle Dick.”

  He disappeared into the downstairs guestroom, out of Joey and Gail’s earshot as the call went through.

  After the third ring, he heard, “Hello?”

  “Dick…Ray.”

  “Yeah, hi, buddy.”

  The simple buddy never sounded better to Ray’s ears. The huge ‘dent’ inflicted on their relationship had been hammered out during the course of their phone conversation the night before. The tension between them was gone—nothing but a regrettable memory.

  “Dick, I wouldn’t bother you, but we’ve got something major.”

  Waverly snorted a half-laugh. “I had a feeling this was going to turn into one of our short weekends.”

  “Microscopic is more like it. Listen. Winchell’s Mustang was located. They found it parked on the street at Frank Schwartz’s address.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Hey, I’m just easing you into the rest. Ready? Our guys went to follow up on the ‘locate and contact’ orders. When no one came to the door, they checked through a window. There was blood all over the place.”

  “Schwartz’s?”

  “Winchell’s. They broke in and found his body in a hallway with a bloody golf club lying a few feet away. His head was bashed in.” Ray waited for a response and got none. “Dick?” Nothing. “Are you there? Hey, where are you, Dick?”

  Waverly’s voice came back on the line. “I’m standing smack dab in the middle of Schwartz’s sporting goods store and, Ray, we’ve got a major problem.”

  “You’re at… What are you doing there?”

  “Never mind. Send back-up. Make it a lot. Send it now.”

  Ray’s knuckles whitened around his cell phone. “What’s going on?”

  “Schwartz just came out of his office and saw me. He must’ve figured I was here to take him in. The jackass panicked, drew a gun and dragged a clerk back inside his office. We’ve got a goddamn hostage situation, Ray.”

  Before he could reply, Ray heard Waverly on the other end. “You! Get everyone out of the building. Everyone! Now! Don’t ask questions, just do it. You heard what I said. Get moving!”

  “Dick,” Ray shouted into the phone, “I’m on it. Don’t go getting yourself killed. I’m on my way.”

  Ray called it in, then bolted up the stairs, grabbed his shield, and strapped on his shoulder holster.

  Gail tossed Ray’s new jacket to him as he dashed past her with no time to offer an explanation. The urgency and his demeanor said it all.

  “Ray,” she called after him, “please, be careful.”

  40

  The scene outside F.S. Sporting Goods looked like a grand opening gone wrong. Blue and red lights flashed from squad cars and emergency vehicles. Several news teams were already on scene while the cops were doing their best to keep them, the evacuated customers and the rubberneckers back for their own safety.

  Ray got out of his car and shoved his way through the rows of on-lookers. The buzz of nervous chatter hummed through the crowd as they tried to get a better look at what was going on.

  “What’s the situation?” Ray asked the nearest officer.

  “We’ve got a stalemate. The owner is holed up in his office with a gun and a hostage. He can’t get out, and we can’t go in.”

  Ray remembered Schwartz’s office, and what he remembered wasn’t good. The office was small and windowless—one door.

  Gun drawn, he entered the building and took cover. Looking around the end of a shelving unit, he spotted other officers strategically located closer to the office. He made his way forward, and got down on one knee beside one of them.

  “How’s it going, Nicholls?” he asked.

  “Not good, Detective. I’d rather be at my kid’s soccer match.”

  “I hear ya,” Ray said. “I haven’t seen my partner yet. Where is he?”

  Nicholls ran a forearm over his brow and gave Ray a quick worried look. “He just went in.”

  “In?” Incredulous, Ray said, “Into Schwartz’s office?”

  Nicholls nodded. “Yeah… like thirty seconds ago.”

  “Holy crap,” Ray muttered. He rose in a crouch and, over the objections of two other officers, he rushed past them into the short hallway. Outside Schwartz’s office door, he raised himself up and pressed his back against the wall.

  Ray dared to move his head beyond the edge of the doorjamb, giving him a clear view of Waverly standing in front of the desk, his gun drawn and aimed at Schwartz. Behind Waverly, a single large mirror provided Ray with his only view of the man and his hostage. Schwartz held the rightfully terrified kid pinned against him with an arm around his throat and a gun aimed at his temple.

  If only for moral support, Ray wanted Waverly to know he was just feet away.

  “Dick, are you okay?”

  From inside he heard, “Yeah. You sure took your sweet time getting here.”

  “Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Ray said.

  “Get away,” Schwartz warned him. “Stay out.”

  “Relax, Frank,” Waverly told him. “He’s not coming in. This is just between you and me. Now let the kid go.”

  “Not until you put your gun down.”

  In a cool, conversational tone, Waverly said, “You know I can’t do that.”

  “Mister, please.” The kid’s eyes couldn’t get any wider. “He’s going to kill me.”

  “Relax. He’s not gonna do anything of the kind, are you, Frank?”

  “Put your gun down or you’ll see for yourself.”

  Waverly shook his head. “Look, whatd’ya say we get reasonable here? You shoot him—I shoot you—maybe you shoot me. Where does that get us? Kind of pointless, isn’t it?”

  “I’m taking this kid and getting out of here,” Schwartz insisted.

  “Frank,” Waverly said calmly, “we’ve already gone over this. You’re right. Sooner or later you’ll get out of here. The how is up to you. We don’t want anyone to get hurt—not you, not the kid, or me either. No one. The choice is yours. I’ll tell you this much: you hurt that boy and I will kill you, I swear to God. And if I don’t, my partner will, isn’t that right, Ray?”

  “I guarantee it,” Ray shouted into the room.

  The clerk squirmed, his hand gripping the forearm Schwartz tightened around his throat. “C’mon, you guys. What’re you doing?”

  “My partner’s right,” Ray said. “Think about it, Frank. You hurt either one of them and you’re as good as dead.”

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Schwartz said. “All I want is to get out of this building, into a car, and disappear.”

  “Disappear?” Waverly laughed. “Who do you think you are—David Copperfield? Get real, Frank.” He motioned toward the desktop. “You’ve got your passport right there, and you prob’ly have a shitload of money in that briefcase next to you, but they’re not going to do you any good.” Waverly shook his head. “First of all, there’s no way you’re getting out of the country.”

  “Shut up!” Schwartz hollered.

  Still maintaining a sense of calm authority, Waverly said, “Frank, you need to think this through. Even if we let you leave with your hostage, how far do you think you’d get? We’d be watching for you at every port, bus depot, airline terminal, and border. Even if you got crazy lucky and got away, we’d track you down and drag you back here. You’d be looking over your shoulder every day, every hour, every minute. Is that what you want, Frank?”

  “It was self-defense,” Schwartz shouted. “I didn’t set out to kill Winchell. He came after me. I had to protect myself.”

  “All right,” Waverly told him. “Then let’s talk about that like civilized people. Let the boy go, set your gun down, and we’ll go to the station and talk about it. You tell us exactly what happened; we’ll listen. What we’re doing right now is a pure waste of time.”

  “I’m done talking,” Schwartz said. “I want you to get out of my way.” He
turned his head toward the door and hollered, “All of you!”

  In the mirror, Ray saw Schwartz pull his arm even more tightly around the clerk’s throat. He saw the boy’s face going pale, then his eyes start to lose focus.

  “I’m getting out of here,” Schwartz yelled, “and I’ll pull this trigger if any of you try to stop me.”

  The clerk’s body went limp and began to crumple to the floor. Schwartz struggled to keep the employee’s body upright as Ray bolted inside. A gunshot rang through the room as he and Waverly tackled Schwartz simultaneously. Officers began pouring into the room as Waverly snapped the handcuffs on Schwartz’s wrists.

  Ray lay on the floor, in pain.

  Waverly hollered, “Are you okay, buddy? Where are you hit?”

  “I’m not. I’m okay.” He sat up wincing. “I smashed my knee into the damn desk. Are you all right?”

  “Good as ever.”

  An officer knelt beside the clerk. “I don’t see any blood anywhere.”

  Still on the floor, Ray drew his leg toward his chest and rubbed his knee. “The kid passed out. Thank God for that.”

  Waverly hauled Schwartz to his feet and handed him off to the nearest officer. “Here. From me to you. Get this guy outta here.”

  He went to Ray and gave him a hand up. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine, but I think you’re out of your mind. What the hell were you doing, Dick?”

  “The situation was getting worse; I couldn’t wait for the negotiator anymore. I punted.”

  Ray slapped him on the back. “Well, it turned out okay, but you came this close to getting yourself killed.”

  “You know what they say, buddy: Close only counts in horseshoes and grenades.” Waverly winked.

  They watched the paramedics tend to the clerk. “He’s coming around,” one of them said.

  Immediately fearful, the kid opened his eyes and looked around the room. “Where is he?”

  “We got him,” Ray said. “You’re safe. You passed out for a minute, but you’re okay now. How do you feel?”

  Still shaky, he nodded his head and looked from one of them to the other. “Are you guys nuts or something?”

  “Yeah. That’s a job qualification,” Waverly told him. He patted the kid’s shoulder. “You did good, ‘Jimbo’.” Waverly turned to Ray. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Back on the sales floor, Ray limped to a stop and put his arm in front of Waverly like a railroad crossing barricade. “Hold it. You have to tell me something; it’s been driving me crazy. What the hell you were doing here when I called?”

  “Oh.” Waverly’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m glad you reminded me. Hang on a second.”

  Ray followed as Waverly went to a counter fifty feet away and picked up a small F.S. Sporting Goods bag. “I came to get this.” He handed it to Ray. “A peace offering. I felt bad about… Well, you know—what went down between us yesterday. After our talk last night, I understood where that came from, but, man…”—he motioned toward Ray’s jaw—“I thought you really had that coming.”

  “If you’d just told me—”

  “I couldn’t,” Waverly said. “I gave Phyllis my word. I’m just sorry you and Gail got sucked into this the way you did.” He looked at the bag in Ray’s hands and said, “Well, are you gonna look inside or not?”

  Ray reached in, pulled a book out and read, “Pie Iron Recipes. Darren Kirby.” He flipped through the pages. “Hey, thanks, Dick. This is the book I thought about getting the last time we were here. There are some great recipes in there.”

  “I know,” Waverly said. “I was thumbing through it before the shit hit the fan.”

  “Thanks, Dick. I appreciate it.” Ray tucked the book back inside the bag and started walking. He’d gone thirty feet before he realized Waverly hadn’t moved. “Are you coming?” he asked.

  “Ray, you go ahead, okay?”

  Waverly’s face had turned ashen.

  He walked back and put a hand on Waverly’s shoulder. He could feel him trembling. “It’s over, Dick. You want to sit down for a minute—take a few deep breaths?”

  Waverly bowed his head and closed his eyes. “I could lose her, Ray. I could lose Phyllis.”

  The sudden shift in directions took Ray by surprise. He led Waverly toward the side of the store out of the sight of prying eyes. “Listen, Dick. All any of us can do is take it one day at a time. Any given day could be our last. A car wreck. A heart attack. A bullet. Whatever. All any us can do is enjoy every day as it comes… for however long they keep coming.”

  Waverly ran a handkerchief under his nose and tucked it away. “I didn’t mean to lay that on you, Ray. Sorry. Sometimes it seems to hit me out of the blue.” He bowed his head. “I just can’t imagine being without her.”

  “Look, don’t sell Phyllis short. She’s got more spunk and sheer determination than anyone I know. That goes a long way.”

  Waverly bobbed his head. “But seeing what she’s going through…”

  “If I know her, Dick, she’s handling this whole thing a lot better than you are.”

  “You’re right, she is.” He avoided meeting Ray’s eyes for a moment. “Listen. I’ve got a confession to make. All those times I rushed us around so I could leave early, or left you to do the bulk of the crappy work… It was to look in on Phyllis to see if she needed anything. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you that way, and I’m sorry. ”

  “It’s okay,” Ray said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Forget it. But I’ll tell you something. As crazy as I am about Phyllis, I’d like to give her a good kick in the butt. I don’t suppose it occurred to her, but by swearing you to silence, she left without any support. That sucks.”

  “No. There’s our daughter, and I’ve talked to Gail a couple times since she found out.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s not enough. Anyhow, you’ve got me, too, now. Don’t forget it.”

  “I won’t. Thanks.” Waverly drew his shoulders back. “Okay, enough of that. It’s time to get moving,” he said as he headed toward the exit. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  41

  Long, tiring, but worthwhile hours passed. The work Ray and Waverly had put in after leaving the sporting goods store left them physically fatigued, but emotionally energized, but now the video and audio tapes were rolling and so were they.

  Frank Schwartz sat in the cramped interrogation room, looking haggard after spending only hours in a cell.

  Waverly sat leaning back in his chair, an ankle propped over his knee. “You shouldn’t have freaked out when you saw me, Frank. I only came in to make a purchase, but look what you went and did. That kid has a story that’ll last him a lifetime, but he’ll have nightmares to go with it.”

  “I panicked.”

  Ray stood and crossed his arms. “Tell us what happened with Winchell. You claim it was self-defense, but none of the evidence supports that. What was he doing there?”

  “Look,” Schwartz said, “Winchell was a criminal. He had a record. You must know that. He was aware that I keep a lot of money at my home and wanted to get his hands on it. It’s as simple as that.”

  Ray shifted his hands to his hips. “How did you find out he had a criminal record?”

  “Dave Dunn told me.”

  “That’s not the sorta thing Dunn would want spread around,” Waverly said, “not if he wants to keep his customers coming back.”

  Schwartz squirmed in his chair. “Dave didn’t come right out and tell me. I overheard Winchell say something to another mechanic. It got me wondering, so I asked Dave about it. He didn’t go into detail about Winchell’s record, but he confirmed it.”

  “Okay,” Ray said. “But knowing that, how is it you let this man—this criminal—know you keep large amounts of money at your house?”

  Schwartz twisted his interlocked fingers. “It’s not like I made an announcement. It was more like a slip of the lip, that’s all.”

  “That kinda slip leaves a skid
mark,” Waverly said. “There was no sign of forced entry at your house, so you must’ve let him in.”

  “Yes,” Schwartz admitted. “He… he said he wanted to talk to me.”

  “About?”

  “He didn’t elaborate until I’d closed the door behind him. He’d done some bodywork on my car after a minor fender bender, and I complained about his work. It turned out he was upset about it.”

  “Really? You complained?” Ray said. “I’ve seen your car. It looks great.”

  “Well… No, you see… uh… it wasn’t about the actual work itself. It was about how long it took him to get the job done.” He produced a nervous micro-smile and ran his hand over the dew of perspiration forming on his upper lip.

  “What difference would it make to you?” Waverly asked. “You had one of Dunn’s loaners the entire week you spent in Pelican Rapids.”

  “I prefer my own car.”

  “Hold it.” Ray folded his arms across his chest again. “You dropped your car off and drove their courtesy vehicle to Pelican Rapids on the same day. You’re not trying to tell us you’d have made the eight or nine-hour round trip just to pick up your car, are you?”

  Schwartz gave them a half-hearted shrug. “Why not? I was on vacation that week with all the time in the world to do whatever I wanted.”

  “You expect us to buy that?” Ray said.

  “You wanna take another whack at this, Frank?” Waverly asked. “When Winchell came to your house, it had nothing to do with your car. He came to discuss a different kind of business with you, didn’t he?”

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

  “C’mon, Frank. Let’s not play games.”

  Schwartz’s expression froze in a grimace. “I told you, Winchell showed up and demanded money. When I wouldn’t give it to him, he threatened to kill me. He came at me. I had no choice but to defend myself.”

  “There was nothing to suggest he had a weapon,” Ray said.

  “He had his hands… his fists. I had every right to defend myself.”

  “See,” Waverly said, “here’s the problem we have with that, Frank. You don’t have a mark on you to say Steve Winchell ever laid a hand on you.”