Lucky Thirteen

by Melanie Jackson

  Chapter 7

  We drove in silence away from the beach resorts and back into the country. Simms insisted that I unbuckle my fanny pack and throw it into the backseat of his car, most likely to ensure that I was unarmed. The whole time we drove I wracked my brain for some means of getting out of the vehicle alive; or better yet, wrestling control of the vehicle from Simms and kicking him out onto the roadway. I determined that the first step in any plan I was likely to devise would have to begin with distracting my kidnapper using my renowned gift for gab.

  “Is it mere coincidence that the man behind the doping of Soft Spoken Hal, the murder of Herman Lutz, and the kidnapping of Miss Hightower is also the man responsible for stealing the financial records from the Century Ambassador Hotel?”

  “Chloe, you’ll never know how surprised I was the night I was invited by Alex to have dinner with you at the Hightower mansion,” Simms confided. “But I’m afraid you have it at least partially wrong. I have no idea where our hostess, Miss Hightower, has been squirreled away.”

  “But you admit to murdering Lutz?”

  “What does it matter? Do you really think that you’re going to get away from me to tell your story to anyone?”

  Actually, that’s exactly what I was thinking. So far during our conversation, the pistol aimed at my heart hadn’t moved one inch. I did notice that Simms was having to pay a great deal of attention to the road to maintain his excessive rate of speed. I viewed that as a possible advantage as I prepared to act. Perhaps I was suffering from a kind of insanity, but I was not feeling fear so much as growing rage.

  “So, you plan on murdering me as well?”

  “What do you think?”

  I thought that I had no choice but to act, and act now. As a particularly heavy downpour of rain all but obscured vision out the windshield, I tensed my muscles and secured my feet against the floorboards. In two quick motions, I slapped the pistol away and grabbed for the steering wheel. The pistol went off, producing a deafening roar within the confined space. I felt no immediate impact or pain so assumed the bullet had missed me. While Simms and I struggled for control of the vehicle, I felt the tires of the car leave the roadway.

  I didn’t see the accident, but I definitely felt the concussive impact as the BMW collided with some stationary object just off the road. All the loose items in the vehicle became airborne as did the bodies of Simms and myself. I collided with the airbag as it deployed, but still the impact was jarring. Simms was pinned behind the airbag that deployed out of the steering wheel which caused all the air to be expelled from his lungs. I sat in my seat for a moment gathering my senses as the airbag deflated and I felt a warm trickle of blood run down my forehead. I looked down into my lap to see that the laptop from the backseat had somehow managed to land right in my lap. Shaking my head to clear it, I grabbed for the door handle and was out of the car faster than you can say boo.

  The storm outside was now at full force. I lowered my head and ran for the trees that I could barely see through the rainfall. I assumed that if I could lose myself in the forest Simms would be unable to follow. I ran with the laptop held out in front of me to prevent the tree branches from lashing my face. All things considered, I thought I was setting a decent pace until I had to pull up short to catch my breath.

  I leaned my back against a particularly large pine tree. I could hear nothing but the raging of the wind and my ragged breaths. I peeked around the tree to see if I’d been followed. I saw nothing, but heard a pistol shot and the sound of a bullet burrowing its way into my cover. Barely having caught my breath, I began to run deeper into the forest. I ran in a straight line, opting for distance from my pursuer rather than trying to avoid further bullets launched in my direction. This time I stopped running not when I was out of breath, but when I felt nothing but air beneath the soles of my sneakers.

  I’d come across a deep ravine bisecting the woods.

  Tumbling down a steep bank of mud, I struggled for a foothold but didn’t stop my descent until I was lying face first in the raging waters of what had once no doubt been a peacefully running stream. I fought to push my face up above the waterline to catch a breath. When I rolled out of the worst of the torrent, I was surprised to find that I was still holding onto the now battered and sopping laptop. Part of me wanted to give it up as hopeless, but Alex has been able to recover information off of badly damaged computers before.

  Over the sound of the creek I clearly heard footsteps above which prompted me to crawl through the mud and bury myself tight up against the creek’s bank.

  Almost sure that I was about to be found and murdered, I tried to slow my breathing and remain still in the hope that I wouldn’t be discovered. The feet above my head continued to crunch through leaves and branches as my pursuer searched for me. Then they sped away back into the woods. I breathed a sigh of relief and wrapped my arms tightly around my body in a futile attempt to fight off the bitter cold that was making me shiver.

  After waiting for what I took to be a sufficient period of time, I pushed myself away from the muddy bank of the creek and peeked into the woods. I saw and heard nothing to fear. It took time and effort to climb the stream bank which ate into my patience and energy reserves. It was no use trying to dry off or pulling my drenched shirt closer around my body for warmth. Instead, I trudged further into the woods as the rain continued to beat down on my head.

  Eventually I held the laptop over my head to keep the worst of the rain out of my eyes. There was no sign of Simms in the woods. For that I was grateful. Now if I could just find someplace dry and warm to hole up, preferably someplace that served a tasty cheeseburger.

  As I walked deeper into the woods, the ground became soggy and the trees gave way to cattails. There was no doubt I was lost. The further I walked the higher the water came until I found that I was wading through water up to my thighs. I was cold and too exhausted to go back and try to find a way around what had obviously now become a swamp. Eventually I pulled myself up onto dry land where I took a seat on an old log to rest.

  Fortunately, the force of the rain had begun to slacken. It was beginning to get dark. I noticed a log floating in the water toward the bank. I monitored its progress toward shore until I was distracted by a curious itching sensation near my ankle. I rolled up my pant leg to find an ugly black slug attached to my skin. It was a leech which was busily feeding on my blood. Jumping up, I pulled off my sneakers, unbuttoned my jeans, and clumsily kicked them off my legs. There were several more leeches attached to my calves and thighs. In a fit of squeamish desperation, I plucked the leeches from my body and threw them into the bushes. Blood seeped from the wounds where they’d attached themselves, but I succeeded in clearing my body of the nasty little parasites.

  Standing on the bank of the swamp in nothing but a shirt, bra, panties, and socks, I noticed that the log I’d been eyeing earlier had finally reached the shore. As I watched, the log opened its eyes. If I hadn’t started running immediately, I have no doubt that the alligator that launched itself from the swamp would have had me for dinner. With the hungry beast snapping at my heels, I hightailed it into the tall reeds.

  Fortunately, I didn’t have to push myself through the overgrown foliage for long before it cleared the weeds and I found that I’d stumbled upon a paved road. The lights of an oncoming vehicle lit the asphalt in front of me. I didn’t stop running until I was standing in the nearest lane waving my hands frantically in the air. I turned to face a massive tour bus bearing down on me. The airbrakes of the bus engaged and the break pads squealed as the vehicle came to a halt mere inches from my nose. I placed a hand on the front grill of the bus and bent forward gasping for breath. I heard the door of the bus open and footsteps on the roadway beside me.

  “Madre de Dios,” a familiar voice exclaimed.

  I looked up to see the same Cuban bus driver who had nearly run me down outside the racetrack staring at me with eyes wide and mouth agape. I smiled and then started to laugh.


  “You are one crazy woman,” the bus driver declared. “I almost killed you again.”

  “No, this time you saved my life,” I assured him.

  “What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere without any clothes on?”

  “It’s a long story. Where are you headed?”

  “The Century Ambassador Hotel on the coast.”

  “Imagine that. Mind if I hitch a ride?”

  “No, of course not. Hurry up and get inside out of the rain,” the bus driver insisted.

  The tour bus was almost full. I think the youngest of the passengers was in their late sixties. One of the elderly passengers was kind enough to lone me a large muumuu which I draped over my body in the back of the bus after slipping out of my sopping wet shirt. The heater was running full bore in the bus and its warmth felt wonderful. It wasn’t until they stopped that I noticed my teeth had been chattering. I was guided to an empty seat at the front of the bus and the bus driver brought me a blanket. While I snuggled down in my seat we pulled away to continue the drive back to the coast.

  “You are one crazy lady,” the bus driver called back to me, shaking his head as he drove.

  I may very well have been a crazy lady, but I was also a mad lady who was determined to exact my revenge upon the criminals who had ruined my vacation. I had a plan and was fully determined to solve this case by the end of the night. All I needed was a little help from my suspects and their criminal friends.

  Chapter 8

  I was sitting in the great room in the Hightower mansion on an antique Queen Anne sofa with Alex by my side. It was almost midnight. Earlier in the evening I’d spent almost two hours on the phone with Detective Phillips before I was able to convince him to organize this gathering. During our conversation, I’d told him everything I knew related to the horse doping, murder, and kidnapping cases, followed by what I suspected, and concluding with an explanation of what I had planned for the evening. He didn’t sound thrilled with what I suggested but agreed to play along in the hope of bringing all three cases to a quick conclusion.

  The only invitees currently in attendance were Hillary, Missy, and Sissy Hightower, and Hillary’s lawyer, David Samuels. In addition, Charles stood at attention near the doorway. While Missy and Sissy sat, Hillary paced back and forth in front of the fireplace smoking an evil-smelling pipe. Detective Phillips stood at the head of the room watching the rest of us. No one spoke. This all changed when Angus Harrigan burst into the room followed by his son and an escorting police officer.

  “What’s the meaning of getting me out of bed to come here at this hour?” Harrigan demanded.

  “Thank you, Collins,” Detective Phillips said to the officer who’d brought Harrigan. At the same time he ignored the angry Scotsman. “You may wait outside the room until you’re needed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The police officer left the room and closed the French doors behind him. Harrigan continued to huff and puff, waiting for answers. Wayne Harrigan remained in the entryway exchanging longing glances with Sissy.

  “Please have a seat, Mr. Harrigan. All will be explained in due time.”

  “It had better,” Harrigan said, storming across the room and throwing himself into a leather-bound chair.

  Wayne Harrigan took a seat beside Sissy and slipped her hand into his. They exchanged worried smiles, then turned their attention back to the detective.

  The stage was set. The curtain had been raised. The play was about to begin.

  “I’d like to begin by explaining why I’ve asked you here tonight,” the detective said. “As you all know, the racehorse Soft Spoken Hal was disqualified from a crucial race two days ago at Rancho Downs Park because the horse’s urine was found to have been doped. Later that same day, Miss Elizabeth Hightower, the owner of the ejected horse, was reported missing. She hasn’t been seen since. The next day, yesterday, Jeffrey Dietz, the head trainer at the Hightower Horse Breeding and Training Facility, was found murdered in the Hightower stables.”

  “Yes, yes, we know all of this,” Hillary interrupted. “But what does any of this have to do with us?”

  “Perhaps it’s time that I turn the floor over to Ms. Boston and have her explain.”

  I rose to stand before my audience as Detective Phillips stepped aside. He shot me one of those I hope you know what you’re doing looks. I hoped I knew what I was doing too, but at the same time I was confident that these cases were now in the bag. I cleared my throat and started to speak.

  “All of you are here because you’re related in one way or another with these crimes,” I began.

  “I say!” Hillary exclaimed.

  “I resent that, little lassie,” Harrigan bellowed.

  “If you’ll allow me to explain, I assure you that all will become clear.”

  My audience murmured amongst themselves and squirmed in their seats, but they remained silent while directing their attention my way. I began to lay out the cases.

  “Two nights ago, the head trainer for the Hightower facility, a man you know as Jerry Dietz but whose real name is Herman Lutz, together with his partner Jose, conspired to dope Soft Spoken Hal with a dangerous stimulant. Their purpose was not to enhance the horse’s performance in the upcoming race, but rather to get the horse disqualified from the race. They succeeded in their goal. But they did not act alone. They were paid for their services by someone in this room.”

  “Now how can you possibly know that?” Hillary exclaimed.

  “I’d like to produce my first witness, Mr. Jose Gonzales.”

  I stopped speaking as Jose was led into the room by Officer Collins. It had apparently taken little time for Phillips to track Jose down at the home of his brother in Miami. He’d then had the man transported directly from there to the Hightower mansion to be part of the festivities.

  “That’s him. That’s the man who paid us to dope the horse,” Jose said, pointing directly at Wayne Harrigan.

  “I object!” Wayne insisted, rising from his seat.

  “I’d like all to note that Mr. Wayne Harrigan has been identified as the man who paid Jose’s gang one hundred thousand dollars to dope Soft Spoken Hal, money which he embezzled from his father’s business.”

  “But why?” Harrigan questioned, turning to address his son. He didn’t seem especially surprised.

  Wayne looked like he might continue to argue against the accusation, but ultimately dropped his gaze to the floor and fell back into his seat.

  “I wanted to manage the Hightower ranch. You told me that after you bought it I’d be your manager. I couldn’t let that horse win the race. I just couldn’t. I did it for you, Sissy.”

  But Sissy wasn’t paying attention. Instead she began crying as she rose from her seat to race from the room. Detective Phillips intervened.

  “Please, remain in your seat, young lady,” the detective insisted.

  Sissy took a different seat in the corner of the room, as far away from her estranged beau as possible. Wayne looked to her, pleadingly, but she refused to meet his eyes.

  “Wayne met with Sissy Hightower in Soft Spoken Hal’s stall the night of the doping. Later, after they parted, he was present during the doping process. He then returned to join his father at their favorite bar in town.”

  “I wanted to make sure that it was actually done,” Wayne admitted. His eyes stayed on Sissy.

  For the first time since I’d met him, I witnessed Angus Harrigan at a loss for words. I continued to lay out my case.

  “Herman and Jose were members of a ring of thieves led by a man named Gordon Simms. They were preparing to rob the Hightower estate when they were approached about the horse doping opportunity. At the same time, Gordon Simms was posing as a computer security hacker named Mark Halifax. Working for Alex, my husband, he succeeded in downloading confidential records off the Century Ambassador Hotel’s newly installed computer system. Earlier today, I was able to return those stolen records to Alex and the police.

  “Yes
terday, Mr. Simms murdered his partner, Herman Lutz, with a pitchfork in Soft Spoken Hal’s stall. He did so to prevent Mr. Lutz from going to the police, as he’d threatened to do if he didn’t receive a larger portion of the cut from the doping caper. Jose can also confirm this information.”

  Jose nodded his agreement during a pause in my testimony.

  “What about Miss Hightower?” Harrigan questioned. “What’s happened to her? Is she alright?”

  “Yes, that is the one remaining matter. If I hadn’t made the mistake of thinking the person responsible for the doping was also responsible for her disappearance, I might have found her sooner.”

  “Then you have found her!” Harrigan exploded. “But, that’s wonderful.”

  “This is all poppycock,” Hillary said. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve heard enough. I’m leaving.”

  “No, you aren’t,” Detective Phillips corrected.

  “I beg your pardon,” Hillary replied.

  “Hillary, I thought that might be your response to my announcement,” I said. “You see, I recently put together the facts that the old servant quarters of this mansion had been abandoned with word that Hillary had been having supplemental meals sent to his room. The conclusion was obvious. Detective Phillips ordered Charles to take Officer Collins on a tour of the deserted rooms earlier this evening. Guess what they found?”

  The doors to the great room opened allowing Miss Hightower to present herself. She walked slowly across the room and didn’t stop walking until she stood before her brother. She removed her glove from her right hand.

  “You miscreant!” she exclaimed as she slapped him hard across the face with her bare palm.

  “Now, now,” the detective interrupted. “We’ll have none of that.”

  The detective separated the siblings. Miss Hightower was moved to the opposite side of the room where she stood staring darts at her brother. Hillary rubbed his cheek and looked bemused. I wanted to walk over and hit him even harder.