The Village of Gerard's Cliff

by Carol Anne Vick

  Chapter XVII

  Connor had to make a decision...and make it quick. Before his talk with Jake Ayers last night, he'd been devising a plan of action, thinking he had a couple of days before implementing it. But this morning, his office told him to hang tight...not to do anything until they processed the information from Jake Ayers. The pieces were starting to fit together, but, they needed more. Then, damn it, the man goes and dies on him. The officers were pretty sure the coroner would rule his death a homicide, and now, Connor could not wait any longer. The man was a snitch. Whoever took him out knew it. And on top of that, Ayers had told Connor something unsettling, and he wasn't sure how to take it at this point. He looked at Allie - not sure at all. When he talked to Bill this morning, Connor had left out one important piece of information that Ayers had given him, and he hoped he had made the right call. He had stayed up all night making that decision.

  He saw that she seemed lost in thought in front of the fire. What a turn of events, he thought, wryly. He hadn't expected Patrick Colborne's widow to be ...well...Allie, and now that might tend to complicate things. At first, she had seemed to dislike him intensely, but that had changed, and now, it seemed they were back to square one. And with the police arriving, he couldn't blame her for that...and he knew she thought he was acting strangely last night. But he'd had good reason to act that way...then he was forced to make a gut decision before calling his office.

  "Would you like some hot coffee?" Allie suddenly interrupted his thoughts. "There's some left from this morning." She sounded almost normal...but not quite. A hint of tiredness and resignation tinged her voice.

  "Coffee sounds great. And..Allie, I need to talk to you when you come back."

  Connor heard her sigh as she walked to the kitchen. He sat back in the chair, figuring out how to tell her. How will she take it, he wondered. And would he know by her reaction if Ayers was right.

  Allie returned with the mugs of steaming coffee. As much as Connor would have loved to sit by the fire with Allie and just forget about everything, he knew this was the only time he had to tell her. He'd been taking a gamble, in his opinion, to wait this long. She placed a mug on the side table next to his chair, and sat in the chair opposite his. She sipped from the mug, cupping her hands around it, and drew her legs up under her in the plump chair. Then, she looked at him squarely, expectantly, seriously. He was sure she was thinking that nothing else today could surprise her.

  Connor took a sip of coffee, then laid the mug down slowly. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, looking at her very seriously. He saw her look of puzzlement as she tilted her head, trying to figure him out.

  He took a deep breath. "Allie...I realize that I haven't told you a lot about myself." to which she raised her eyebrows and gave him a sarcastic look. "But, I want you to know that you can trust me." She lowered her head and narrowed her eyes, still watching him suspiciously. He looked into her eyes, unwavering. He could look her in the eyes now. "Let me explain why I'm here. I had to..."

  The front door crashed inward, sending glass and wood splinters flying into the parlor in all directions. Allie screamed. The mug and hot coffee sailed toward the fireplace as she instinctively threw her arms up to shield herself. Connor jumped up from his chair, only to helplessly watch as two men, each holding a .38 Colt walked quickly through the gaping doorway and into the room.

  "Just stay where you are...don't even think about moving," a raspy voice instructed them. The larger of the two men, dressed in a black jacket and black jeans, waved his gun towards Connor.

  "You can sit down now." The man turned to his partner, and said, "Yeah...that's the one from the bar." They both stood together, halfway between the open front door and the fireplace, their guns trained on Connor and Allie. Frigid, damp air blew in from the outside into the once warm and cozy room.

  Connor shifted his eyes to check on Allie. She sat stiffly upright, feet on the floor, with both hands grasping the ends of the armrests. Her eyes, wide with horror, focused sideways on the gunmen. She must have sensed his look, as she shifted her gaze forward to him, and for an instant, their eyes connected with the enormity of what they faced together. Nodding almost imperceptibly, he tried to reassure her with his eyes. She blinked a couple of times, then turned her eyes once again to the two men, who seemed to be quietly making some sort of decision about how to proceed. The shorter man, dressed in a black jacket and blue jeans, walked over to Connor, told him to stand, and frisked him while the other man kept his gun pointed in Connor's direction, all the while keeping an eye on Allie.

  The larger man moved closer to Allie.

  "Where is it?" and as she looked at him, totally bewildered, he added, more loudly, "...the money...you know what I'm talking about, Mrs. Colborne."

  Allie looked dumbstruck, her mouth agape...and in that instant, Connor knew that she was not the woman Jake Ayers had implicated. He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that his instincts had proven right.

  "I.....I don't know what you're talking about." She was shaking her head at the man, frantic...almost on the point of hysteria. Connor could see tears welling up in her eyes as she stared from the man to Connor to the gun, and back again to the man. The tears spilled over onto her cheeks. "What money?" she stammered. "Th...There is a little in my cash drawer. You can have that....b..but that's all I have."

  "She doesn't know," Connor told the gunman in a firm voice, still looking at Allie, willing her to be calm. Hearing that, Allie swung her head back around to him and glared at him in astonishment.

  "What is going on here?" Allie yelled at him, finding her voice, now oblivious to the danger. "What don't I know?"

  "Your late husband kept some cash that didn't belong to him," the shorter gunman sneered. "We were sent to get it."

  "Patrick?" Allie stared at the man. "What are you talking about?" She turned her accusing stare to Connor. "What are they talking about? And how do you know anything?" she repeated, her eyes gleaming with tears and fright. "Who are you?" she screamed at him.

  Connor didn't answer her.

  The two gunmen were obviously anxious to get this over with as quickly as possible. Connor watched them as they re-grouped in the middle of the parlor, guns still on Connor and Allie. Keeping his head still, he scanned the room as best he could for something to use as a weapon if he had the chance...the fireplace poker, assorted vases in various sizes. Damn...why did he leave his gun upstairs....of all times. Allie continued to stare at him, Connor noticed, and he was powerless to console her, or tell her the truth. She seemed to be calmer now, though, assessing her situation. He wasn't sure what these two men knew about him...but he was sure about one thing. They were Jake Ayer's killers, and if they killed once, they wouldn't think twice about shooting them.

  "Is there a door to the basement?" The larger man looked at Allie.

  Connor saw Allie shiver, and realized that she understood that they were the ones who tried to break in two nights earlier.

  "In the hall behind the kitchen...with the wreath on the door." she answered calmly. Connor nodded slightly and smiled at her to get her attention. As she turned to him for a second, he quickly extended his index finger to make his hand resemble a gun. She looked in his eyes, then quickly shifted her gaze to the desk. Damn...it was in the safe. He was hoping that she was carrying it with her. They hadn't frisked her for some reason. He continued to look at Allie calmly, trying to let her see she could trust him. He could tell that she, too, was eyeing the room for something to use as a weapon. He was relieved to see her so calm, but hoping that she didn't make any sudden moves.

  "Stay where you are." The larger man waved his gun at them, then turned to his partner. "I'll go down and look around. Keep your gun on them." Connor noticed that this shorter man seemed nervous. He could handle him easily if it weren't for the damn gun. They heard the door to the basement open, and then loud footsteps that gr
adually faded. Connor knew they didn't have much time. He had to think of something. He glanced at Allie, then back at the gunman.

  After several minutes had passed, Connor saw that the man was looking in the direction of the basement, trying to listen out for his partner. So far, there had been no opportunity to make a move on the gunman, and Connor knew their window of opportunity was closing fast. He wondered if the other man had discovered the boarded up, plastered wall behind the desk, and as if on cue, a loud splintering thud emanated from the basement. Startled, the gunman turned toward the sound, his gun no longer pointed at Connor and Allie.

  Connor lept out of the chair and tackled the gunman, bringing his knee down on the wrist holding the gun. He punched him in the face, and smashed his head into the floor. Allie jumped up and grabbed the pistol out of the man's limp hand, as Connor made sure he was unconscious. Hearing footsteps, Connor motioned to the front door, and they ran out into the frigid darkness.