[Sign Behind the Crime 01.0] Gemini

by Ronnie Allen

  She looked around the bedroom, toward her California King bed with the princess-looking canopy and little girl bedding. She inhaled deeply, knowing right at this moment that now was the last time she would have the serenity of these surroundings. She was now on the run for however long she could manage to fight death. A moment of sadness overpowered her. It was short lived as she shook her body violently to bring her back to reality. She smiled. Everything was expendable--expensive, but replaceable.

  She darted out the door, grabbing a small suitcase and a box that held a knitted sweater, from on top of the bed.

  ***

  Clancy stumbled into his disheveled apartment, more disoriented than ever. He would scream at the top of his lungs if he wouldn’t alert anyone, and he didn’t need that now. “I’ve got to find her! I’ll get her!” Getting a serrated butcher knife with rats’ blood on it, he concealed it in his jacket lining. “My van! My van! I’ll get her and chop her into pieces like those measly rats!” He wobbled to the door. “She’s going to the airport. I’ll get her at the airport.” He realized he carried a knife and wouldn’t get through. Reluctantly, he pulled the knife out of his jacket and tossed it onto the floor.

  ***

  The Manhattan North, ESU team, Sergeants Shipman, Maxwell, Kramer, and Browne, in full protective gear that they had worn in the hostage situation almost three weeks earlier, checked out the door to Barbara’s apartment for booby traps. Sal watched their every move. The bomb squad used heat-monitoring devices around the perimeter of the door to detect any sensors that might be around the lock. When they deemed it to be safe, the officer moved out of the way to let the sergeant unlock the door. He did so very slowly, with a device monitoring any strange, minute sound that indicated a danger. To their relief there was none.

  A bomb-squad officer carefully opened the door, checking for any wiring across the room that could trigger an explosion or electricity. None. The bomb squad entered first then the ESU, checking each room. It was all business for them, not even absorbing the surroundings. All was clear. Everything was in its place. They leaned against the walls, not protruding into the doorways. Doorways would not be safe.

  Then Sal, Tony, and John entered the magical fantasy land of Barbara’s life.

  Sal heard fairy music in his imagination. He stared in awe at the vibrant mix of pastel colors, alternating with bolder pinks and blues throughout the furnishings, walls, and art, creating a magical kingdom fit for royalty. Sal’s senses overwhelmed him in this childlike fantasy world.

  He spun around as if something tugged at him. His movements seemed involuntary as he absorbed each color, each picture on the walls. Having a daughter fostered his understanding when he observed Gina at home playing in fantasy, making her dolls come alive. This room was all lifelike. It was a castle built for his precious Gina. He smiled when he envisioned his thirteen-year-old daughter, with long flowing dark brown hair and eyes, basking on Barbara’s throne--the huge Queen Victoria armchair in the hallway. It was bedecked with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, running as studs along its arms and perimeter. A long pink-lace gown, her favorite color, enveloped Gina. He imagined her beckoning to him, her daddy, and he saw himself kneeling at her feet, presenting her with whatever she asked for, as he always did.

  ***

  Tony and John let Sal daydream. John was too preoccupied to care. He noticed there was not one masculine touch anywhere. This woman never had a man step into this place. She probably never had a real relationship in her entire life. It was the exact opposite of what would indicate that a violent, sick, perverted, murderous woman lived here. It was her fantasy world. Her calm world. The world of her missing childhood.

  The ruby-and-emerald treasure box on the table drew John toward it. After putting on gloves, he lifted the separate lid to reveal the .38s. “Expensive bullet case.”

  “Is it real?” Tony asked.

  John picked it up and examined it with a jeweler’s eye. “Yeah, Tony, it’s definitely real. I’d love this for Vicki. Oh, man, Vicki, haven’t thought about her in two hours. I gotta call her. I’m getting her back. Just a few more days.”

  His phone rang. Sal re-entered reality at the ring but John remained with a blank gaze. “John. John.”

  “Oh.” He snapped back as his cell continued to ring. Preoccupied, he placed the jewelry box down on the table but not from where he got it. He answered the phone after its last ring. “Dr. Trenton.”

  “Steve Katz. Thirty-six million was transferred into a Swiss bank account from us.”

  “Can you stop it?”

  “It already went through. But get this. Her balance is 187 million.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Off-shore accounts aren’t as private anymore.”

  “Thanks. Sounds like she’s planning to leave the country,” John said, hanging up. “Money is in a Swiss account.”

  “Let’s go,” Sal said. “Alert airport security to be on the lookout for her and Clancy,”

  “What description should I give them?” Tony was clueless.

  “Make one up. Guys, leave everything intact. She has to think we don’t know of this place.” John darted out.

  CHAPTER 42

  John F Kennedy airport bustled with its nightly overwhelming crowds, just like any major city airport, but times ten. Barbara followed the signs to her international gate. Cautious, cognizant of the stimuli, she fixated on the security guards. More armed guards than usual put her on the defensive. Her anxiety increased. She realized she treaded on thin ice. Death or prison? She’d definitely take death. And this was the worst feeling she could have. She might not win this one. The smells from the vendors made her nauseous, especially the differently flavored coffees she loved and craved. The chocolate caramel. That one forced the acid to scorch her throat.

  The crowds lessened slightly as she headed to security for her midnight flight to freedom. The female attendant reviewed her passport and photo. It was uncanny how closely Barbara resembled the photo. Same hair, same makeup. She should, shouldn’t she? Or was it a dead give-away to have an identical likeness? Barbara noticed the attendant giving her and the photo second, third, and fourth looks.

  “Something wrong, ma’am?”

  “Did you plan on dressing today, the same as in the photo?”

  Barbara knew she had to notice her plaid mini skirt, black embroidered tights, ankle boots, and black ruffled blouse, the same blouse as in the photo. And to make it more unusual, it was the same hairstyle, with every strand in place.

  “No, I didn’t actually, but the photo is new, relatively. My passport expired and this is my first trip abroad with the new one. I’m sure you saw that.”

  Smile, smile, smile, Barbara, smile.

  “No problem, Miss Connors.” She handed her back the passport.

  Barbara deposited her bag and the box on the conveyer belt, proceeded through the metal detectors without a hitch, retrieved her belongings, and whisked off to the gate for her flight.

  ***

  Clancy meandered through the first floor of the airport, looking for Barbara. He’d created some of her disguises, but was unsure which she’d use. At least he had a hundred grand stashed. But she owed him big time.

  He mumbled out loud. “Where is that bitch? She owes me. That bitch owes me. Wait till I have my hands around her neck.” He wobbled, getting dizzy, startling those around him.

  John, Sal, Tony, and the FBI agents, they had now called in, infiltrated the main lobby. They split up. Clancy passed by a Starbucks coffee vendor and was recognized easily by John who signaled to security guards that he was their man.

  “Clancy!”

  Clancy halted in his tracks, stunned, worried, and in a frenzy. His brain pushed him into a fight or flight response. But he couldn’t move. He felt the tremors going down his left arm. He grabbed it with his right to stop the erratic movement. It wouldn’t stop. His head pounded. His eyes reddened with fear. His pupils dilated.

 
“I’m Dr. Trenton, Clancy. We need to talk to you. Stay put.”

  Clancy couldn’t breathe. He doubled over, trying to grasp onto a chair. John’s arms wound around his torso, and eased Clancy onto the floor. Clancy’s hand clutched his heart and he massaged his chest vigorously. Too late. He closed his eyes lapsing into a semi-conscious state.

  The heart attack would win. In a last ditch effort to find Barbara, John asked Clancy, “What flight is she taking?”

  “Fourteen-forty-six to...” The last four words he mumbled.

  They heard, ‘Flight 1446 to Zurich Switzerland, now boarding at gate thirty-two.’

  ***

  Barbara stood in line at the gate, showing her boarding pass to one of the three uniformed women stationed there. She checked in and took back her half of the ticket. “Ooh. Oh, my God.” She keeled over.

  “Something wrong, miss?”

  Barbara had spotted the FBI agents. “Ooh. My stomach, uh, I must go to the ladies’ room. My stomach. Please, I’ll be right back.”

  She darted off the line, zigzagging through the crowd into the ladies’ room across the waiting area.

  From the bathroom entry, she observed John with Tony and Sal. They showed a picture of Barbara, unrecognizable today, to the women checking everyone in.

  They requested the manifest and photos of everyone on board. That would take hours to obtain and they wouldn’t hold the plane. They hadn’t obtained a warrant, either, so scrutinizing all the people on line and in the plane wouldn’t be allowed. This would be the longest eight hours that John would ever have, waiting for the plane to land in Switzerland. He slouched in a chair, frustrated, observing the plane, easing away from the gate. A woman approached him holding a box.

  “Dr. Trenton?” He looked up. “A woman who boarded that flight asked me to give this to you.”

  He was startled. “Who?”

  “Didn’t say her name, Doctor. Had a British accent.”

  “Thanks.” He ripped off the giftwrap and opened the box. He lifted the tissue paper as he heard the plane taking off. He pulled out a jacquard sweater. The note read, Dear John, I knew you would make it to see me off. Hope this fits. You earned it. Think of me, as I’ll be on the slopes tomorrow. Love, Barbara.

  John didn’t know whether to be relieved that she was gone or aggravated they didn’t catch her. He slipped the card into his shirt pocket and tossed the sweater over his shoulder, carrying the box for evidence.

  ***

  At the Brooklyn precinct after two a.m., John, Tony, and Sal, examined a folder with further crime scene evidence from the blast in Reynolds Publishing computer room.

  “Damn! The one solid lead we had is dead.” The ringing phone disturbed their thoughts. John answered it. “Dr. Trenton.” He listened with eyes wide open. “What do you mean she wasn’t on the plane?”

  Tony and Sal put their pens down and paid attention to the call.

  “Thanks.” John hung up. “Oh, man. They checked all the passengers. Everyone accounted for except Emily Collins, a Brit. She checked in, but never got on the plane. They don’t land for another six hours or so. They’ll confiscate her luggage then. So where the hell is she?”

  ***

  Barbara exited the garage in her building and entered the elevator, not realizing the camera caught her. Denver was watching. It was his turn to be on duty tonight. He immediately called the precinct.

  “Detective Valantino.

  “Detective. Wow, three a.m. I thought I was the only one who worked these hours.”

  “No, sir. We do, more often than not. What can I do for you, Denver?”

  “You wanted me to let you know when I saw Kellie again.”

  “Yes.”

  “She just pulled into the garage. I saw it on the monitor.”

  “Denver, thank you. Do nothing else and don’t contact her.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Let’s go. She went back to her apartment. The one she doesn’t think we know about.”

  “You stay here, John,” Tony said.

  “Like hell I will, Tony. I want her alive.”

  “She’ll remain alive only if she gives us a choice. And by the time we get there she may leave.”

  “No way. I’m going. For Mrs. Bennett, I’m going.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Barbara entered her apartment and her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, as she saw that some things were out of place. The gem treasure box that contained her bullets was at the opposite end of the table. Her favorite lace pillow on the royal blue couch had been put back upside down. Gemini statues were out of order on a shelf, re-shelved in descending order rather than ascending.

  She was a stickler for detail, with a photographic memory that had served her well until she met that Doc. She fumed. She knew they’d been here. The nerve of them to violate her private space! She felt raped all over again. The feeling of restriction as she had felt when she had been held down on the bed by that seventeen-year-old boy and penetrated when she was only four, erupted through her. The panic and fear of not being in control shook her as energy drained through her, sapping her strength.

  She examined the closets in the hall. They better not have touched her imported six hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. Good. No linens or towels out of place.

  She inspected the kitchen cabinets. All looked good.

  What were they doing here? They obviously investigated the Montgomerys. Gotta be. How else would they have found out about my castle? Only a matter of time before they find out I had someone rig that van to explode. Right onto their car. Good thing I got rid of that driver, too. One shot to the head when he showed up for his payoff. Buried that driver in the foundation of a new midtown condo. Still buried there. The condo is still up with no ground reno in sight.

  They were such creatures of habit. Right on the same street every day, picking up their precious daughter at the train station from graduate school. Jesus, twenty-eight and still picking her up. She had just achieved her doctorate for Christ’s sake. This time they just went there to calm their souls. I took their precious daughter bitch from them just a couple of days before. And they didn’t know it yet. She was nowhere to be found. No trace at her apartment, but everything was left for me to take over. Twenty-eight and still checked on her every day. Lucky for me, there was enough information for me just to slip into her shoes, quietly and unnoticed. And with no one to recognize I wasn’t the brilliant Barbara, it was a gift from the heavens. They just had to go. I couldn’t let them find out about me. Look at it this way. I saved them the grief. The agony. And now they’re together with their precious little princess in heaven. Wonder if they met yet? Twelve years? Ah, who cares? It’s not my problem. They just waited and waited and waited, hoping she’d show up. I knew she wouldn’t. She’s buried in a garbage dump on Long Island Sound. No remnants of her now. It was so perfect. Looking for my twin since I found out I had one. That PI was right on. He knew what I was up to. He knew I was up to no good. As soon as he told me about our birth mother, that she was a schizophrenic, who had given birth to us in a mental hospital, he saw the twinkle in my eye, and knew that I wouldn’t be far behind. He gave me the Montgomery’s info. He saw it coming. Took enough money from me, a hundred fifty grand, and then backed away.

  Wouldn’t turn his back on me. Think I’d pull a gun on a PI? Give me a break. He thought he got away. And then, surprise. His car went boom, along with all those small denomination bills as soon as he turned on the ignition. Yeah, he knew I was onto something. And I knew he knew.

  I was twenty-eight and ready to leave the streets. She was so eager to meet me, the stupid bitch. Right at an all-night diner in the Bronx. Like I lived in the Bronx. Yeah, right. It was so easy to get that bitch outside. So gullible. More like our schizo mother than a shrink. Tried to be so sweet. So therapeutic. What bullshit. Cried like a baby when I pulled my gun on her. It was only a twenty-two cal. Come on. It didn’t hurt that much. And I only shot her t
wice. Of course with a silencer. I’m not dumb. Oh boy, that was one of my easier kills. She held her hands up to her face, crying as my gun went pop. Wow, I can’t believe the memory is coming up now. Like I’m doing a confessional to myself. I’d better snap out of this, fast.

  She immediately dashed into her bedroom and checked her closet. Filled with designer suits and corporate clothes for work and business meetings with potential donors, everything looked status quo. She lifted about a hundred filled hangers in a few tries, dumped them onto the bed in huge piles, and then opened the trap door on the back wall of the closet, that led into the vacant apartment next door. She crept through to her neighbor’s closet and lugged out a huge, heavy chest.

  Thank God, I ended that old geezer’s life, just in time. But she sure is beginning to stink.

  Once in her own bedroom, she popped open the latch, flipped up the top, and revealed her arsenal. Everything she needed was there.

  All loaded and ready to kill.

  Now it was time. She psychically heard them in the lobby as she set a trap right on top of the ledge over the front door. She then inserted a DVD Clancy had made for her into a hidden camera in the living room wall. Barbara then raced to take her place in the bedroom.

  ***

  John tensed up outside Barbara’s apartment. Sal and Tony repeatedly adjusted the straps on their vests, even though they fit correctly. It was not what they usually wore. Not to this extent. Their already worn bodies wouldn’t take much more. Tony fidgeted. His fingers trembled holding his weapon. Not sleeping in over seventy-two hours had taken its toll on him. He needed to use his left hand to position his trigger finger properly onto the right side of the Glock. He was too ready to shoot, and he needed to control his impulses. They were vulnerable. A vulnerable cop was automatically in trouble.