Russian River Rat

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Russian River Rat Page 20

by Abramson, Mark


  “This place is gonna blow sky high, Musgrove. I’ve planted enough dynamite and poured enough gasoline that they’re gonna see this place blow for miles around. It’ll be the best blow job you ever had—better than from your little waiter boyfriend down in Frisco—the one that wrapped your truck around a redwood tree. Pity. That was meant for you, too, you know.” He stood across the desk from Kent now, holding the gun in his hand again and waving it back and forth as he talked and more of the mail slid onto the floor.

  Jen silently appeared in the doorway, and Kent held his breath. Her bad mood was back now, Christmas or no Christmas. She’d been working too hard. Her hormones were way out of whack, and it had nothing to do with Christmas. Tim’s crazy-sounding aunt on the phone had been right all along, and Jen recognized this guy, too. He was the one who had stopped in here looking for Nick that day when he’d taken off and gone running around the wine country with Tim. That was weeks ago, but Jen remembered the deathly pale skin, the beady eyes and the bad tattoos.

  Jen was pissed off. She picked up a heavy spade from the rack, didn’t make a sound, just lifted it high in the air and pictured the sign that said Test Your Strength on the midway at the Santa Rosa fair. She and Sherry had spent the better part of an afternoon there last summer, long before they broke up. Jen even won her a big stuffed bear throwing baseballs at bowling pins. Jen was sure she was strong enough to make the bell ring right now by bringing the sledge hammer down hard on top of this damned fool’s bony head.

  BAM!

  The man slumped to the floor, and Jen started to reach for the gun but she smelled that odor again. Gunpowder and gasoline, only stronger now. Jen wondered how Tim’s aunt had known to call when she did.

  Cheap tattoos were like the ones Jen had seen on prisoners on TV. And what did she mean on the phone about Tim’s dreams? At least the tattooed man’s beady eyes were closed now, and he didn’t look so tough curled up in a ball on the floor of the office, surrounded by envelopes of every shape and size. Jen hated men like him, little sneaky ones that always had something to prove. She wanted to kick him with her boot, just to see if he moved, but that smell overpowered everything now. She could almost hear a fuse sputtering nearby. It was time to get the hell out of there! Jen went to work on Kent’s bonds with a pair of garden shears.

  Nick waited at the red light and rubbed his eyes. He did feel guilty. It was clear now that the truck “accident” was meant for him, not Tim. And so was his cousin Nate’s murder. He might as well call it that, even though the authorities didn’t. They still listed it as an accidental drowning, like so many others in the Russian River over the years. Nate knew better than to dive off a bridge into shallow water, but the body had been cremated, so it was too late to prove anything. When Nick pointed out that Nathan Musgrove was on the narcotics squad of the NOPD, the local authorities were even more determined that his death—even if it wasn’t an accident—was somehow outside of their jurisdiction. They had enough trouble dealing with the marijuana farmers in their own backyards. With proof of the disabled brakes on Nick’s truck they would have to listen now.

  Nick just couldn’t understand why. He knew that each of these fates—or something worse—was intended for him, but he wasn’t aware of having any enemies. Or did someone just want him out of the way?

  Nick felt guilty about his employees, too. It was time to advertise for seasonal help. He usually hired a couple of college kids part-time to do odd jobs and deliveries during the holidays. He would need them more than ever now, what with Tim in his life. Nick shuddered to think of him lying there unconscious in that hospital bed. Nick felt responsible for making sure that Tim had everything he needed from now on.

  Nick pulled Tim’s red Thunderbird into the driveway of the nursery, and saw Kent’s truck parked out front. It was almost identical to Nick’s, the one that sat in the junk yard now—totaled—right down to the nursery logo on the driver’s side door. It had commercial plates too, so Kent could park in yellow zones to make deliveries. Nick didn’t see Jen’s car, but that wasn’t unusual. She sometimes parked in back. Nick noticed one other car he didn’t recognize, probably a customer.

  The front door opened, and Kent and Jen bounded down the steps. She screamed, “Nick, turn around! Don’t stop!” She yanked open the door of Tim’s convertible, pulled the passenger seat down and climbed in the back all in one swift motion. Kent got in front, still rubbing his wrists to get the sensation back in them.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “Just get back up on the main road as fast as you can!” Kent yelled as the first explosion rocked the ground beneath them like an earthquake. The cloudy sky above the farthest greenhouse, the one where Jenny had been working, lit up with balls of fire, huge chunks of greenery and broken glass.

  Jenny said, “It was that creepy guy! I recognized him from when he came here looking for you, but you were with Tim. Remember that day you guys were touring the wineries? He came here looking for you, and I told him to ask around at the Rainbow Cattle Company. He must have found your cousin there instead.” She pulled her cell phone out of the breast pocket of her bib overalls and punched in 9-1-1.

  “So he killed Nate, thinking he was me?” Nick asked, although he already knew. “Then he nearly killed Tim, and now he was coming after me again?”

  Three more explosions came in rapid-fire succession from back to front, blowing the walls and windows out of each greenhouse and then the front of the building, the office and the retail store. Nick, Kent and Jen sat in Tim’s car and watched from the frontage road as Nick’s business and all of their jobs flew apart in smoke and flame and bits of debris. Jen sighed and sat back in the car, “Tim’s Aunt Ruth called, Nick. She said you should give her a call as soon as you get a chance.”

  The sky was full of balls of fire as chunks of greenery and shards of broken clay and glass tumbled down through the smoke all around them. Something landed on the hood of Tim’s car with a thud and bounced off. Jen saw it and shivered—part of a tattooed forearm, charred and bloody. “Nick, let’s get out of here!”

  Nick had seen it, too. He stepped on the gas, and they headed for higher ground as the sirens of fire trucks grew louder and closer.

  Chapter 27

  It was a rainy December Saturday when Sam took Ruth and his granddaughter Sarah to the Opera House for a matinee performance of San Francisco Ballet’s Nutcracker. The three of them had an entire private box in the dress circle. It was just like Sam to be so extravagant, Ruth thought. She hated to see the spare seats go to waste and would have run outside and dragged some people in off the sidewalk to join them, but there wasn’t time. Instead, she took off her coat and made sure that little Sarah could see. The overture was about to begin.

  “I haven’t seen The Nutcracker in years,” Ruth said. “I think the last time must have been when the kids were little. I remember taking Tim and my daughter Dianne to Northrup Auditorium to see Loyce Houlton’s dance troupe. Dianne was bored to tears, but Tim loved it. Oh, this is so exciting, Sam!”

  Ruth delved into her copy of the program as the last members of the audience filled in the orchestra seats below them.

  “Look, Sam, it says the very first production of The Nutcracker in the United States was done right here in San Francisco in 1944 on a budget of $1,000. Did you know that it started here in San Francisco?”

  Sam loved to see Ruth’s childlike enthusiasm when she was excited about something. “Yes, dear, I believe I read that someplace, but I’ll bet Sarah didn’t. That was long before you were born. That was even before I was born. Did you know that, honey?”

  His granddaughter looked up at Sam and smiled, but just then the house lights began to dim. Sarah said, “Grandpa, it’s starting. Ask me later, okay?”

  The three of them were transported to a land of lush music, lithe, athletic dancers in tights and tutus and sugarplum fairies, and they were nowhere near Castro Street.

  Afterward, they drove back to the nei
ghborhood to drop off Sarah on Hancock. Ruth was still bubbling with enthusiasm. “I loved the music and the costumes, especially Madame Bonbonniere. She reminded me of some of the drag queens I’ve seen on Castro Street, and I think the Rat King was my favorite. Wasn’t that fun, Sarah?” But the little girl in the back seat was sound asleep.

  After Ruth and Sam placed their orders at Farallon, he told her more about his business, and she told him more about her life. Sam talked about his travels—business trips to Europe several times a year—as if it were a confession he needed to make. It was, in a way. He seemed to be asking for her permission and at the same time getting a sense of whether she might like to come along.

  Ruth confessed more about her background, her wealthy father, Lars, and her loving but unusual mother, Lana, the psychic. When the subject of Tim’s mother, Betty—Ruth’s only sibling—came up, Ruth spoke of her in the past tense. The childhood Betty was so much nicer than the hysterical woman she grew to become.

  “Oh, yes, she’s still alive,” Ruth answered Sam when he asked the obvious question, “and I still try to reach out to her as best I can. I never forget her birthday. Birthdays were wonderful times when we were girls. I already sent her a Christmas card this year. I always do. She has a religious affliction, I guess you might call it, and it’s only made worse by her drinking.”

  “What about Tim?” Sam asked, as much to change the subject as out of concern, not for his past but for the present. “How is his recovery from the accident? Does he need anything?”

  “He’s going to be fine. He’s finally home from the hospital, and Nick is there with him. Tim’s left leg is still in a cast, and his ribs are bandaged up. He looked like a black and blue mummy, but bruises fade in time. He has a lot of healing to do, but thank God for Nick. He’s strong. Much stronger than I am. Physically, at least. Poor Nick. His business suffered devastating damage, you know.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it did. Does he plan to rebuild there?”

  “He will in time, when the insurance comes through. He told me that he hopes this is the rainiest season the Russian River has ever had. I think he was joking, but when he talked about the ashes and broken bits of glass and debris everywhere, I can imagine how he wishes it would all just get washed away down the river and out to the sea.”

  When their entrees arrived, Ruth asked, “What did you order, Sam?”

  “A steak.”

  “How unoriginal, dear, but just like a man. Let me have a taste, just a tiny bite… no, not so big.”

  Sam meant to move his fork to her plate but she guided his arm toward her mouth. “Mmmm, it’s delicious. Here, try a taste of this swordfish. I need to learn to cook seafood for you. It’s healthier than red meat. I’m pretty good with freshwater fish—perch and walleye, lake trout. It can’t be that much different. I’ll bet Arturo could teach me a few things.”

  “I’m sure I’d be happy to try anything you do for me, Ruth, in the kitchen or anywhere else.”

  Ruth winked at him and said, “Some people just have a way with fish, I think. I have a lot to learn.”

  Sam smiled and steered the conversation back to Nick’s nursery. “It’s lucky that no one was hurt.”

  “Except the perpetrator, of course. He was blown to smithereens.”

  “What will Nick’s employees do without jobs?”

  “He has his year-round clients to see to. I guess Kent can take care of most of them. Bank lobbies and tasting rooms. Nick already rented a temporary space for Jenny to work out of, filling the holiday orders. She’s also going to housesit for him while he spends most of the winter in the city to take care of Tim. That will save her some money on rent. Nick feels terribly responsible for Tim now, of course.”

  “So the man who was after Nick was killed in the explosion, but wasn’t there someone else involved? Someone else who put him up to this?” Sam asked. “Is Nick still in danger?”

  “I don’t think so. His old friend Larry down in Lompoc Prison died last week.”

  “Of natural causes?”

  “Well, he had AIDS. And Tim insists that it’s not a death sentence any more, but maybe prisoners don’t get the same care as people on the outside.”

  “I see…”

  “We’ll never know about all that goes on inside a place like that.”

  “Are you about to start campaigning for prison reform, my dear?”

  “Someone should. Those places are so overcrowded with that three-strikes law in place. They’re full of petty offenders like pot growers. It’s ridiculous. They should legalize marijuana, tax it, let everyone who was arrested on pot charges out of prison, and the state of California wouldn’t be in this terrible financial shape. They don’t have room to keep the violent criminals off our streets and think of the money it costs the taxpayers. It’s obscene.”

  “Oh-oh, here it comes.”

  “No, I’m not going to start on that crusade, Sam. I’m not looking for a new cause. It’s enough for me to worry about the people I love and care about… but another thing… it’s unbelievable to me that Larry or this Fred guy could be so vindictive as to blame their illnesses on someone who had no intention of…” Ruth drifted off and took another sip of her wine while Sam waited for her to speak her mind.

  “Well, all I mean, is that Nick is a terrific guy, and I’m so happy for Tim that they’ve found each other.” Ruth took another bite of her swordfish and smiled. “Next Sunday is the Christmas party at Arts. I can bring a guest. Will you come with me? I’ll work the bar for the brunch shift, but not in the evening. I think the party starts at five. Tim says they do it every year for the staff and the regulars. They invite their tenants on Collingwood, too. Ben and Jane will be there if they can get a sitter. Even though they’ve moved to Hancock Street, Arturo and Artie still consider them part of the family. I’m looking forward to my first Christmas party in San Francisco, but it would be so much more fun if you were there.”

  “I would love to come as your date.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “And Ruth, I need to ask you a favor in return.”

  “Anything.”

  “There’s one holiday party I go to every year, and this time I’d like you to come along as my date.”

  “I’d love to, Sam. When is it? I’ll look at my schedule.”

  “It’s on Boxing Day. They celebrate it more in England than we do here. It’s the day after Christmas, December 26th.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of Boxing Day, Sam,” Ruth was already thinking about what to wear to a party where she would meet some of Sam’s friends. “Is the party at one of your neighbors in Hillsborough?”

  “No, it’s not.” Sam took a sip of wine and kept Ruth waiting. “It’s in London. I’ve already reserved the Davies Suite at Claridge’s with a private butler.”

  “Oh, Sam…” Ruth was flabbergasted, but she was already trying to imagine how to work things out so that she could say yes.

  “We can spend Christmas Eve here, but we’d have to get a flight out on Christmas Day. It was easier when the Concorde was still flying… and so much faster. I thought we’d spend the rest of the week in London, maybe catch some shows and then go to Paris for New Year’s Eve. Or if you’d rather be traditional, we could fly back to New York for New Year’s Eve in Times Square.”

  “I’ve never been to Times Square for New Year’s Eve, Sam.”

  “It’s awfully crowded, but if that’s what you’d like—”

  “No, no, Paris is fine. The whole thing sounds fantastic, but…”

  “But what? Please don’t say no right away. Think about it. There’s plenty of time for you to decide.”

  “I’ll have to make sure that Arturo and Artie can get along without me and that Tim doesn’t need me, but it sounds wonderful, Sam. Can I let you know in a week?”

  “The sooner the better, darling.” He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. He knew Ruth well enough to know that she would have to make up her own mind. It was all up to
her now. As much as Sam wanted to give her the Christmas gift of a wonderful trip, he wouldn’t say another word about it until she did.

  Chapter 28

  On the following Sunday morning Ruth ran her finger down the open page of the reservation book. Business would be slow today, and that suited her fine. Most of the regulars must be saving themselves for the Christmas party that evening. During brunch, she and Artie kept up behind the bar with no trouble at all. They didn’t both need to be there. Ruth noticed something different about Artie this morning. He seemed… perkier than usual. He moved faster and Ruth thought… but did she dare to ask the question? “Artie, have you lost weight?”

  “Bless you, woman. Someone’s finally noticed! I’ve been dieting for weeks—starving myself—no desserts, no fried foods, hardly any bread, filling up on goddamn salads until I turn green. Even Arturo hasn’t noticed. Thank you, Ruthie.”

  “I’m sure he has.”

  “Well, he hasn’t said a word.”

  “But Arturo sees you every day. It’s harder for him to tell, but you really look terrific, Artie.”

  “You’re so sweet, Ruthie,” Artie said. “That reminds me… Scott will work the party with me tonight. We’ll close from four to five o’clock to get things set up and then let in the invited guests only. I’ve hired someone to work the door. Once everyone’s inside and has gotten a drink or two and something to eat, I need to ask a little favor from you.”

  “What is it, Artie?”

  “Well, I wondered if you’d mind jumping behind the bar again for just a little while. I’ve… um… made some plans. I have to help Arturo with something in the kitchen. It’s kind of a surprise, you see. I shouldn’t need you for more than about half an hour.”

 

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