Death in Nostalgia City

by Mark S. Bacon

  Max explained he agreed to Bedrosian’s last offer simply to stop the violence, and that he never intended to go through with it. Kate had proven to him that Bedrosian was behind the sabotage, and Max was certain Lyle and Kate had nothing to do with Kovak’s murder, except being in the wrong place. Vincent seemed interested in the evidence and listened closely, taking notes as Kate played portions of Lyle’s interview with Renke. Arrest warrants for Bedrosian and Renke, he said, would be issued and would be enforced today in Massachusetts. Phoenix police would pick up Art Jones for questioning, pending charges. They’d also issue an alert for Ned Havlicek. Vincent would do what he could to see that charges against Lyle and Jennifer Norris, aka Kate Sorensen, were dropped.

  As the meeting concluded, Lyle asked Vincent if he was free to go, provided he promised to cooperate fully in the investigation and hearings that would result. Vincent was sanguine, but Wisniewski balked.

  “If he’s still wanted on a warrant, we can’t just let him walk out of here,” the sheriff said. “There’s credible evidence that he’s, well, let’s say unpredictable.”

  Vincent persuaded the sheriff to let Lyle go back to his home--with a sheriff’s deputy watching him--until the charges were dropped. Waterman agreed to stay in Polk--with the sheriff’s protection.

  After the meeting, Lyle wandered out of the San Navarro County Building and squinted into the setting sun. He didn’t feel the heat as much as the light. The night before he hadn’t slept much at Marko’s and had driven to NC early that morning. Now he was eager to go home, make a meal for himself, and sleep in his own bed. As he wandered out to his car, he loosened his tie and fumbled for his keys. Kate had driven to the prosecutor’s office with him. She was a few steps behind, talking with Undersheriff Martinez.

  “So none of your men is going to arrest us, right?” Kate asked.

  “Not today. But Lyle will have one of my men watching him.”

  “You saw the evidence. You know Lyle is innocent.”

  “Maybe, but you guys are lucky. You should be in jail. But the county attorney’s an elected office. I’m sure Vincent is aware how important NC--and Maxwell--are to the county’s economy.”

  “Regardless,” Kate said, “the important thing now is to get Bedrosian and Renke put away.”

  “They’ll have to find Renke first,” Lyle said. “Maybe he’s hiding out in Cape Cod now.

  “He’s better off back there,” Martinez said. “Massachusetts doesn’t have the death penalty.”

  “You didn’t find anything wrong with the train?” Kate asked.

  “We checked the engines and the tracks--with the help of your unhelpful security people--and didn’t find anything. Your steam engine seems to have a technical problem, but no sabotage.”

  “So we’ll be ready for the opening tomorrow,” she said.

  Lyle opened his car door. “Right now, I want dinner and a good night’s sleep.”

  ***

  “Why didn’t you tell Vincent who you think’s been tipping off Bedrosian and helping Renke?” Kate said when they were on the road back to NC.

  “’Cause I’m not sure. Maybe Vincent knows.”

  “Or thinks he does.”

  “I’m going to nose around before the festivities tomorrow. Who knows, I may grab the right person.”

  “Can I help?”

  “I thought you had your hands full.”

  “I do. It starts tomorrow. I expect the media will be lining up.”

  “From all over the country, didn’t you say?”

  “Yup. And hell, I don’t even know if our locomotive is going to be working.”

  “You sound just like Max.”

  “Thanks for the compliment. But he hired me to pump up publicity and that’s what I’m doing. Now that FedPat is out of the way--almost--it’s up to me to get money flowing through the gates.”

  Neither of them said anything for a few miles. Lyle watched the sheriff’s car following them.

  “Want me to drop you off at your apartment?”

  “No,” Kate said. “The NC employee entrance. I want to hit the office for an hour or--”

  “Several?”

  “Stuff to be done.”

  “There’s a guard in the building. Lock your office door anyway, just to be safe.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They drove in silence again for the next few miles. Before she got out of the car, Kate leaned over and kissed Lyle on the mouth.

  ***

  When Lyle turned the corner of his street and his condo came into sight, he looked at it with relief and sadness. He thought of his father, but the thought now rested a little more comfortably in the back of his mind. As he pulled up to the front of his home, the sheriff’s patrol car pulled in behind him. Lyle got out and walked back to talk to the uniformed young man.

  “This is crappy duty, deputy. I used to have to do some of this when I was at the Phoenix PD.”

  “It’s not so bad. Don’t mind night duty.” The deputy pointed to the back of Lyle’s rental car. “Those look like bullet holes.”

  “How am I going to explain it to Avis?”

  The deputy grinned.

  “Can I make you some coffee?” Lyle said.

  “No thanks.” The deputy held up a thermos. “Good evening, Mr. Deming.”

  Lyle wandered around his condo. Everything looked the same. He rummaged in the kitchen and determined that his 9 mm was still there. He set it on the counter. He didn’t need it, but he felt better with it handy. He assumed his revolver was still safe in the bedroom closet.

  He stripped off his suit and pulled on worn jeans, a polo shirt, and a pair of athletic shoes. He sat in front of the TV for a while, clicking the remote. Nothing caught his attention. He was tired but still keyed up. He found a beer in the fridge and sipped it while he cooked dinner.

  Later, he was still too wound up to sleep. He lay down on his bed for a moment to relax. He knew he should take a shower before he turned in. He picked up a novel he had started weeks before.

  ***

  An hour later, something woke him. He hated falling asleep with his shoes on. It was uncomfortable. He opened his eyes wide then froze. A voice said something. A voice close by.

  “Kitchen light’s on. Maybe he’s awake.”

  “Shut up. If he was, he’d be out here already. Shhh.”

  The voices came from the family room. The noise that woke Lyle must have been his patio door being jimmied. He rolled onto the floor putting his bed between him and the door to the bedroom. He crouched just below his window. Why did he leave the semi-automatic in the kitchen? The revolver was many steps away in the bottom of the closet. Did he have time to grab it?

  Chapter 68

  Kate couldn’t reach Herb Herndon or anyone at the railroad operations office on the phone, so she decided to walk down and see for herself. The train station was only a few blocks away. Centerville was quiet. When evening came, most visitors wound up at the Fun Zone.

  Kate could see the railroad station’s glow from a block away. Spotlights flooded the building with white light. Casino Route Grand Opening signs fluttered in the breeze. Kate entered the barn-like waiting room. Rows of empty chairs and benches awaited the crowds that would come with the sun. A door leading to the operations office stood open, and Kate saw someone she thought she recognized. When she walked the length of the station, she knew who it was.

  “Drenda, what are you doing here this late?”

  “Just wanted to double check that old Engine 43 was ready to roll.”

  “All great minds,” Kate said. “That’s what I was doing.”

  “Herb says they’ll start getting steam up about 6 a.m. All’s set to go.”

  “Then I can go home.”

  Kate, six-two-and-one-half, and Drenda, five-one, wandered slowly down the aisle of the vacant waiting room.

  “We get through tomorrow, and I think I can relax for the first time in weeks,” Kate said. “I’ve been through some
tough times with Max but nothing like this.”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not supposed to,” Drenda said, “but are you and Lyle Deming safe now? I mean, they know you didn’t have anything to do with that murder in Boston, right?”

  “Yes. And I hope the whole thing is over.”

  “That will make working here easier--and safer.”

  “We still don’t know who ratted us out though.”

  “Ratted you out?”

  “That night I called you. Right after the murder. When we hid in that place in Cape Cod? They found us the next morning.”

  “The police?”

  “No, the guys who’ve been wrecking the park.”

  “Who could have told them?”

  “I don’t know. I talked to Max that night. But I don’t think he talked to anyone else. I dunno. Thankfully, we got away. They could have killed us.”

  Drenda shivered. “Thank God you’re safe.” She reached up to give Kate a hug. “I’d be lost around here now without you.”

  Kate leaned over and hugged her back. “You and I are a good team. And thanks for looking after Trixie.”

  ***

  Lyle had no doubt the voices in his family room belonged to Topaz employees or its freelancers. And he had no doubt what they were there to do.

  “I remember, there’s a bedroom here.” The hushed, gravelly voice was just around the corner.

  No time to get the gun. Lyle stood up quietly. He slid his window open then pushed hard at the base of the screen. It gave--with a scraping sound.

  “Hey,” said a voice now in the bedroom.

  By then, Lyle was out the window and running across the small yard toward his familiar jogging trail.

  He expected to hear a shot. He steeled himself for it. Instead, he only heard pounding feet and angry voices. “There he is.”

  Without a gun and outnumbered at least two to one, Lyle’s best move was to run. So he did. For what seemed like a mile, he ran, adrenaline-charged, at full speed. His would-be killers were younger than him. He could still hear their voices. They had enough strength to run and talk. Lyle kept on.

  Knowing the trail gave Lyle an advantage, but running in the moonlight was still risky. As his initial, fear-driven energy started to wane, he realized he’d have to pace himself. He didn’t consciously slow down, but found a rhythm. It kept him at least 100 yards ahead of the men behind him without draining all his reserves.

  As he started into a broad curve, soft trail dust flew up in his wake. He considered jumping off to the side and waiting to surprise his pursuers. But something made him think there were three of them. And Lyle wasn’t twenty-five anymore. But damn it, he could still run. He hated to think what must have happened to the young deputy on duty in front of his condo. That made him angry. When the trail straightened out again, Lyle could see the top of the NC Drive-In movie screen. It stood maybe another two miles ahead on the twisting trail through the sage and creosote. For a moment, he couldn’t hear anything behind him. He paused for a breath. The voices were faint but getting louder. The men swore at each other in guttural tones, reminding Lyle of a pack of dogs.

  He ran on.

  Taking a sharp turn, Lyle slipped in the dust. His right leg skidded out from under him, and he slid into a brittlebush. He got up as quickly as he could. And then he heard the shot.

  They must have missed. Lyle ran on.

  He could feel the burning patch on his leg where he scraped it falling down. And now he felt a strange pain on his left side. He put his hand to his waist. It hurt like hell. The shot had hit him after all. But it was just a graze, no more than a burn or a cut. Lyle looked at his hand as he ran. He couldn’t see much blood.

  He always thought runner’s high was a bit exaggerated. Running a few miles didn’t give him a big rush, more of a steady happiness, calming at the same time. It was a hushed assurance he was truly alive.

  This quiet confidence masked the pain in his side and helped him sail along the miles ahead. He reached the drive-in theater. With the pack well behind him now, Lyle had a few moments to think.

  No cell phone when he needed it, just like the NC years. He glanced across the lot and saw the concession stand and projection room. He could find a phone there. His pursuers would probably figure that out too. And maybe they’d come flying in, shooting. Innocent people could be killed. Along with him.

  Lyle decided to duck out of sight, wait for his attackers to pass by, and then follow them. He stood for another couple of minutes until he heard the men approach the drive-in. They climbed over the fence that Lyle had scaled. Lyle crouched beside an empty prop car, one of many sprinkled throughout the drive-in, for NC guests.

  The men were panting and swearing. Two of them bent over and braced their hands on their knees as they gulped for breath.

  “How can that son of a bitch--run like that?”

  Lyle was glad to see the punks couldn’t take the elevation. It sapped the strength of these creeps who probably hadn’t run this far in a long time. And never at 5,000 feet.

  Having quickly recovered his wind, Lyle remained silent and listened. He ducked down and looked under the car. The flickering light of the movie screen illuminated three pairs of feet a few strides away on the other side. The men were still panting hard, but they started to walk down the aisle behind the car. Lyle flattened himself in a shadow against the rear fender. One man walked by, so close that Lyle could have smelled his deodorant, if he’d been wearing any.

  “Bet he’s in the snack bar,” one of them said. “Down there.”

  “Yeah,” another said, and the three men headed off.

  Lyle followed at a safe distance. He hovered in the entrance while the men went inside.

  In just a few seconds, they were coming out again. Lyle looked around and saw another dummy car, but this one had two mannequins in the front and one in the back.

  Reaching into a spot in the car’s rear wheel well, Lyle found the hidden door release. Quickly, he jumped into the back seat. But he couldn’t get the door to catch. It stood open a few inches.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the men emerging from the snack bar ramp. In the back seat, next to Lyle, sat a female mannequin. Slowly, he slid his right arm around behind her. He moved his face close to hers.

  The men stopped outside the car.

  “He’s long gone.”

  Lyle strained to hear them through the crack in the door.

  One of the men stomped his foot into the dirt. “Now what?”

  Lyle hugged his new date and didn’t move. Someone with his back to Lyle was talking. All Lyle heard was, “Blow the train.”

  “We’ll find Deming later,” another voice said. “Let’s get the tall bitch. I know where she lives.”

  Chapter 69

  Kate got out of Drenda’s car in front of her apartment. She glanced around wondering why the sheriff hadn’t had her followed, like he did Lyle. Was she less a threat because she was a woman?

  Once inside her apartment she dropped her briefcase on the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and draped her suit coat over a chair. The building was quiet. She felt the soft rush of cool air from the air conditioning duct. She reached down to stroke her cat who appeared at her feet. She and Trixie both jumped when the phone rang.

  “Kate. Renke’s men are here,” Lyle said. “They’re coming for you. I heard them.”

  “Here? How do they know where I am?”

  “I don’t know. They shot at me.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I got away.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On a pay phone near the drive-in. I’ll be there soon. Get out of your apartment, now. I just borrowed a cab. I’ll pick you up.”

  “Should I call security downstairs?”

  “No time. Just get out. There’s an activity room at the back of your building. I’ll meet you at the rear door in five minutes. Go.”

  ***

  At the drive-in,
when Lyle had figured it was safe, he’d kissed his backseat partner, slipped out of the car, and walked to the street just in time to see an NC cab roll by. Lyle knew the driver.

  He told him it was life and death, and unceremoniously took the cab. Lyle took a back way to Kate’s apartment and arrived four minutes later.

  She wasn’t there.

  He threw the gearshift into park and got out. As he stood up, he felt a throbbing pain in his side. Blood from his bullet wound had dried to his shirt. When he moved, it pulled off the scab that had started to form. The wound looked like a singe from the shaft of a hot branding iron. He held his side as he scanned the shadowy parking lot.

  Footsteps pounded the concrete. Someone was running toward him. Lyle spun around and saw Kate, dressed in jeans, dash out the back of the building, swinging a large purse. She and Lyle jumped in the cab. Lyle pulled out.

  “They’re crazy,” Lyle said. “They’re trying to kill us.”

  “Killing us won’t get them off the hook.”

  “They obviously don’t know that. Or maybe Bedrosian put a price on our heads.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Close by. They chased me out of my condo and I ran down to the drive-in. I heard someone say they were going to blow the train.”

  “Shit.”

  Lyle turned on to the main road and headed toward Centerville. He and Kate looked forward, back, and scanned the sidewalk. Few people were out. Several times Lyle imagined he saw suspicious figures lurking, but they turned out to be tourists on a nighttime stroll. Or trees moving in the wind. Before Lyle appropriated the taxi, the cabbie had been listening to the radio, and rock music still drifted from the speakers, like the background score to a retro movie. A throaty female voice was crying out a song.