“I’m not working alone.”
As soon as he spoke these words, the door to the bathroom opened and the slimiest looking goon I’d ever seen stepped out into the motel room. He was wearing a dark pinstriped suit and patent leather shoes with white tops that made it look like he had on spats. His shirt was black and his tie wide and red. He was wearing a black fedora pulled down to shade his mustachioed and goateed face. He was chewing gum, loudly. Worst of all, he carried a 9mm Berretta in his right hand.
“Who are you?” I asked in surprise.
“Call me Matt Black,” the man replied in a heavy Boston accent.
“You mean like the color?” I chided.
“With two Ts in Matt, smart ass,” Mr. Black replied, but pronounced it smought ass.
“And what do you have planned, Mr. Black?”
“Tonight’s dinner goes off as planned only you’ll be bringing a guest. And you won’t be out of my sight until that check is in my hand.”
I breathed a heavy sigh of anxiety because, so far, nothing had gone as planned this day. It must be some of that famous luck of the Irish that brought on the potato famine and British occupation.
Chapter 6
We rode to Rodolfo’s Restaurante Italiano in Mr. Black’s chauffeur-driven Cadillac. Rodolfo’s was new but had already established itself as the most fashionable restaurant in town serving some of the finest food in the pacific northwest. Naturally, it was the location chosen in which to wine and dine our visiting dignitary. We rode in silence, the Berretta that remained planted in Mr. Black’s hand looming large as the fourth member of our party. After we pulled to the curb, the chauffeur opened the back door and Mr. Black slid out of the car directly behind me. I assumed that he hid the Berretta in his pocket but that his finger was still on the trigger and the barrel pointed at my spine. I moved cautiously.
Almost immediately upon exiting the vehicle, Officer Dale Gordon was upon me.
“Boston, I’m glad you finally showed up,” he said, grabbing me by the arm. He had slicked back his green hair and looked terrible. I was glad to see him anyway. “The Chief wants you in the Officer Bill suit during the festivities. Come with me.”
“Hey, wait just one second,” Mr. Black protested.
Ignoring Mr. Black, Gordon dragged me toward the backdoor of the restaurant. I looked back to see Mr. Black confused over what to do. Ultimately, he stepped off to the left and disappeared into the crowd. McConnell stood in place for a moment, probably considering making a run for it, before he turned and followed Mr. Black. I tried to get Gordon’s attention as he dragged me.
“Gordon, you’ve got to stop and listen. Things have gotten dicey. The man who brought me here tonight has a gun. He’s after the money.”
“Yeah sure, Boston. Whatever you say. Just as long as you show up on time in the Officer Bill getup. All I know is I’m not getting my butt chewed off by the Chief again today.”
I needed to talk to the Chief. Or anyone who wasn’t Gordon.
I allowed Gordon to pull me through a side door and into a back hallway of the restaurant where the recently new and improved Officer Bill costume laid waiting for me. This time the papier-mâché head had red hair and there was a giant felt shamrock on the lapel. It wasn’t an improvement. I was about to rebel against donning the ridiculous outfit when I realized that it may actually function as a disguise allowing me to search the reception hall for Mr. Black. I began pulling on the baggy pants of the outfit and strapping on the oversized felt shoes while Gordon fidgeted impatiently.
“Gordon, I can handle putting on the outfit on my own. What I need you to do is go find the Chief and bring him back here. I have important news that he’ll want to hear.”
“You promise you won’t go anywhere without me?” Gordon challenged.
“I swear. Now, go get the Chief.”
I continued to pull on the costume while Gordon left on my assigned errand. When I made it to the gigantic head, I discovered that it needed to be attached to the uniform shirt meaning that I would require assistance to fasten it correctly. Fortunately, Gordon showed up with the Chief in tow at the crucial moment in my costuming.
“Chief, I’m glad you’re here. I’m afraid that I have some bad news.”
“Well, hurry it up, Boston. Gilhoolie just arrived and I’m expected to be mingling.”
“There’s an armed man somewhere out there in the crowd. He’s after the endowment that my father had planned on paying to Mayor Gilhoolie. He’s after the check.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” the Chief countered. “The check isn’t real. No one can cash the thing.”
“He doesn’t seem to know that.”
“Wonderful,” the Chief concluded. “What does this clown look like?”
“He looks like your classic goon— dark pinstriped suit, mustache and goatee.”
“Right. I’ll keep my eye out. Do you have any other bad news to relate?”
“Oh, there is one other thing. Gilhoolie is a fraud and a con man.”
The Chief put his hand to his face to wipe away the frown that was threatening to distort his features.
“Anything else?
“No. I think that’s enough bad news for one afternoon.”
“More than enough,” the Chief agreed before turning away to return to the reception.
“Gordon, help me fasten this head to the uniform.”
The two of us struggled with the massive head and eventually got it into place balanced upon my shoulders. Considering its size, the thing was actually quite light. It made me wonder whether massive costume head design had benefited over the years from the use of light weight aerospace materials. Once the head was in place, Gordon adjusted the straps and fastened the snaps that held it securely in place. Fully clothed in the uncomfortable outfit, I stepped through the door into the reception area to do my shtick while searching for Mr. Black.
I bumbled across the room shaking hands with various guests and losing Gordon in the crowd. My bumbling was only half show since I couldn’t help but bumble in the awkward getup. The people I passed were dressed in fashionable evening clothes which clashed with my Officer Bill costume. I had no success in spotting Mr. Black. I eventually found him when he placed the barrel of his automatic against my rib cage from behind.
“Try to get away again and I’ll pop you one,” he said in Officer Bill’s ear.
I barely heard the threat since my ear was buried deep inside the head. I wasn’t positive what a pop entailed, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t a good thing. I spotted the Chief across the room and began doing jumping jacks in an attempt to gain his attention. This elicited laughter from the guests nearby, but no acknowledgement from the Chief.
“Hey, stop that,” Mr. Black insisted.
I froze in place until I was guided to the corner of the room by a strong hand that grasped my arm.
“Now, what do you say we huddle here in the corner and observe the festivities?”
Actually, I stood since I had no other choice in the bulky outfit while Mr. Black huddled behind me effectively concealing his presence from those at the gathering. People continued to walk up to talk with me— I’d never realized that Officer Bill was such a beloved local figure among the adults of the town. I made no hint that I was being held prisoner since I didn’t want the situation to escalate into gunplay. In fact, it seemed to me that all I needed to do was hang tight and everything would resolve itself without any action required on my part.
Eventually, I saw my father and Mayor Gilhoolie step to a podium that had been setup at the far end of the reception area. As usual, my father began his speech by thumping the microphone to see if it was on.
Thump, thump, thump, the speakers boomed.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I’d like to thank you all for coming to this gathering in honor of our distinguished visitor from Ireland, Mayor Seamus Gilhoolie.”
This introduction elicited enthusiastic ap
plause. Apparently the earlier ceremonies were well and truly behind us and this was to be a new beginning.
“Again, I’d like to personally apologize for the earlier incidents of the day…”
Don’t go there, Dad, I nearly pleaded out loud. Fortunately my father stopped apologizing and returned to his prepared speech. Dad then explained how the two great cities of Hope Falls and Derrydown were united in some way. This had something to do with struggling in a global economy and the global nation of man. I didn’t entirely follow his logic. Finally, he made it to the presentation of the massive six foot by three foot check mounted on stiff cardboard. To my surprise, the thing certainly looked real.
“With all that I just said in mind, and I’m sure you’ll have to give it some thought, I’d now like to present the mayor of Derrydown with a check for $10,000 to show our appreciation for our fine sister city.”
Now was the time to strike if anything was going to happen. I reached a hand to feel behind me and that’s when I found that Mr. Black was missing. I edged my way toward the podium. That’s when the goon in the pinstriped suit chose to strike.
“I’ll take that,” he announced as my father was about to hand the huge check to McConnell.
Mr. Black had appeared from the audience without warning. He grabbed hold of the check and turned to run. My father struggled to keep hold of the check, even though it was worthless. Ultimately, he was pushed aside and with check in hand Mr. Black was free to run for the nearest exit.
“Stop that man, he has our check,” someone on the city council called.
“I’ll get him!” Gordon answered as he began to give chase.
“Gordon, stop!” I called without success, my voice echoing inside Officer Bill’s head. “He’s armed you fool, let him have it.”
Mr. Black managed to drag the huge check through a side exit and Gordon followed close on his heels. Since I was near the exit, I shambled as quickly as I could in pursuit. As was usually the case, I had a hard time getting the costume head through the door. Turning sideways I was barely able to exit with minimal damage to Officer Bill’s nose. I angled my tiny viewport down the alley toward Main Street and saw Mr. Black running with his cumbersome burden followed by a gasping and overweight Gordon. I shambled after them.
I can only imagine the sight we must have presented to the citizenry of Hope Falls that was out that night. First came a classic east coast goon dressed in a dark pinstriped suit running away with a six foot by three foot replica of a check in his hands. He was followed close behind by an overweight police officer with green hair. In the trailing position was Officer Bill shambling after both of them while trying not to trip over his enormous feet doing his best Keystone Cop imitation. The people still waiting outside the restaurant to get in turned and applauded as we ran by, thinking we were part of the entertainment.
When we made it to the corner, Mr. Black stopped and drew his Berretta. He pointed his weapon at us and fired two quick shots. They went wide. The man was a terrible shot while holding a six by three foot check.
“Look out, he has a gun!” Gordon bellowed as he turned to run away.
We ran back past the people waiting outside the restaurant with a shambling Officer Bill in the lead, an exhausted Officer Gordon barely able to keep up, and an east coast goon trying to run after us while balancing a huge check in one hand and a pistol in the other. The applause increased during this pass and people exited the restaurant through the front doors to see what was happening in the street.
I stopped running when I saw the Chief, bearing a revolver, round the corner of the alley onto Main Street. I turned to face Mr. Black as did Gordon. Mr. Black tried for one last shot but only succeeded in dropping his gun. He turned and ran the other way.
Our next pass by the waiting crowd was met with loud cheers and hoots of laughter. Fortunately the chase soon concluded right in front of our audience when Mr. Black tripped and fell. I was too winded to have shambled a foot further. Before Mr. Black could get back up and start running again, Dale Gordon sat on him. There was no getting up for the goon while Gordon relaxed on his back and gasped for breath. Eventually the Chief caught up with us to take control of the situation.
“Gordon, get off of that man,” the Chief ordered while holstering his weapon.
“Can’t,” Gordon wheezed between heavy breaths. “Dying.”
I fully understood where Gordon was coming from. I was bent over with my hands on my knees gasping for breath. The head threatened to pull me all the way over. Eventually I caught just enough wind to speak.
“Would somebody please help me take off this stupid head?” I pleaded as more officers arrived.
With the help of Officer Bryce, straps were unbound from my body and snaps unfastened from my shirt allowing us to lift the massive head from my shoulders and lay it gently at the curb. Sweat was streaming down my face beneath the ovoid. I took a seat on the curb beside my damaged Bill head.
Gordon was eventually able to raise himself allowing Bryce to handcuff Mr. Black and lead him away spitting oaths and threats of lawsuits for police brutality. Gordon stumbled to the curb and took a seat beside me.
“Boston, why the heck were you chasing that guy in that stupid getup?” Gordon asked.
“I wasn’t chasing him. I was chasing you to let you know that guy was armed.”
“You mean you were trying to save me?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Besides, Althea would have killed me if I allowed you to get killed. I’m more afraid of Althea than I am of guns.”
“Good point,” he said in agreement.
“Are you two alright?” the Chief asked.
“I’m not suffering from anything a beer or two wouldn’t help fix,” Gordon replied.
“I’m going inside to collect Mayor Gilhoolie,” said the Chief. “Then I’ll join you at Harry’s Hofbrau. If ever a day needed to end with a drink, this is the one.”
“What do you say, Boston?” Gordon asked.
“You’re on!”
Chapter 7
“So, there was no sign of McConnell at the restaurant when you went back to arrest him?” I asked the Chief.
I was feeling a little tipsy having finished half of my green beer. I had already stuck out my tongue and discovered the tip was green
“Nope. He must have slipped out the back way while we were chasing down Mr. Black,” the Chief replied. “He won’t get far without wheels.”
“Actually, I loaned the mayor the keys to my truck while you were all out,” my father admitted.
“You did what?”
“He said there was something he had to pick up at his motel room.”
“So he now has your truck?”
“I suppose,” my father replied, nonchalantly taking a swig of his beer.
“We’ll probably find it parked at the train station in Seattle,” the Chief commented. He didn’t offer to put out an APB. Maybe he was thinking it would be best for everyone if the mayor got away.
“I’d be much obliged if you’d keep your eye out for it, Chief,” my father replied.
“And earlier this afternoon you transferred the $10,000 to McConnell’s offshore account?” I asked, downing another sip.
“That’s right,” my father confirmed.
“Even though I asked you to wait until you heard from me.”
“The city council refused to wait. They argued that an obligation was an obligation.”
“That’s just bad luck, that’s what that is,” Gordon commented.
We were all sitting at the bar at Harry’s. My father, the Chief and Gordon to my right and Alex and Blue to my left. The place was packed and noisy as a hen’s nest when the fox gets in. The green beer was flowing freely and everyone seemed happy, everyone except the six of us at the bar. Even Blue seemed a little depressed, most likely from sensing our mood.
“You know that this day probably spells the end of your ter
m as mayor,” I told my father.
“So what,” he replied. “I didn’t want to be mayor anyway.”
“You probably shouldn’t have run for the office then,” Alex replied, ever the smart-aleck.
“What about you, Chief?” I asked. “Will today’s excitement threaten your job as well?”
“Maybe,” he replied. “But then I hear the position of mayor may be opening up soon.”
My dad and the Chief shared a good chuckled over that one.
I’d like to say that I was surprised when the first dart embedded itself in the bar top between my hands, but I wasn’t. We all picked up our beers and moved out of harm’s way.
About the Author
Melanie Jackson is the author of over 50 novels. If you enjoyed this story, please visit Melanie’s author web site at www.melaniejackson.com.
eBooks by Melanie Jackson:
The Chloe Boston Mystery Series:
Moving Violation
The Pumpkin Thief
Death in a Turkey Town
Murder on Parade
Cupid’s Revenge
Viva Lost Vegas
Death of a Dumb Bunny
Red, White and a Dog Named Blue
Haunted
The Great Pumpkin Caper
Beast of a Feast
Snow Angel
Lucky Thirteen
The Sham
The Butterscotch Jones Mystery Series
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Medicine Trilogy
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