The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse: Books 1-3 (The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse Box Sets)

by Nic Saint

  “Dumb-ass. Dumb-ass. DUMB-ASS!”

  Johnny stared at the bird stupidly. He was a mountain of a man, but an intellectual midget. “Hey, Jer. I think he’s looking at me.”

  “Dumb-ass. Dumb-ass. Dumb ass.”

  “Yeah, I think he is,” groaned Jerry, his scrawny colleague. His face was as pale and gaunt as Johnny’s was plump and rosy.

  At least they had this one consolation: Moe was a real keen judge of character. From the first moment they’d captured the bird, he’d had their number. They were indeed dumb-asses to think they could pull this off.

  Ever since they’d snatched the mayor’s parrot Jerry Vale had regretted the rash act. They’d worked as muscle for Chazz Falcone for a number of years, but had recently fallen on hard times when that real estate tycoon decided to clean up his act, and no longer wished to be associated with New York’s underbelly.

  He and his long-time partner Johnny Carew suddenly found themselves scrambling to make a living, and had decided to make use of this irrational affection some people held for their pets.

  It had been a stroke of genius. They had cut a wide swath through Manhattan’s pampered pets, abducting them from their ultra-rich owners, then ‘finding’ them and returning them for a handsome fee. Then, greedy as they essentially were, they decided to start demanding ransom in exchange for the return of the furry dears. And Mayor MacDonald’s Moe was only the latest on their long list of victims.

  Pity the bird was such a pain in the neck. Jerry really couldn’t wait for the mayor to pay up so they could return the annoying little beast.

  “Dumb-ass! Dumb-ass! Dumb-ass!”

  “Will you shut up?!” Jerry screamed, removing his glasses.

  Moe cocked his head, as if contemplating the question, then cackled loudly, and scratched, “No dice, four-eyes!”

  Chapter 21

  “Let’s have a closer look,” Rick suggested.

  “What, now?”

  “Of course now. When were you thinking to do this? We need to get to the bottom of this thing as soon as possible.”

  “Well, all right,” Felicity relented. She’d already had the distinct impression she wasn’t going to get a lot of sleep when this drama had begun to unfold, and now she was sure she wouldn’t catch a wink. With a sigh, she hopped out of bed, and started pulling on her jeans. “I think we need to start at the beginning.”

  “I think so, too,” Rick said seriously. “I suggest we drive out to—”

  “Town Hall and take things from there.”

  Rick eyed her stupidly. “Town Hall? I was going to say the power plant.”

  She frowned. “Do you think that’s where the kidnappers took Moe?”

  Rick groaned. “Oh, God. You’re not still thinking about that stupid parrot, are you?”

  “You promised we would find him and return him to the mayor.”

  “Well, yes, of course. But first things first. We need to save Happy Bays from nuclear disaster. We need to take pictures of those cracks.”

  She eyed him for a moment, thinking things through. “You know what? You’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right.”

  “So why don’t we split up? Alice and I will go after Moe, while you take pictures of your cracks.” She lifted her shoulders. “That way we kill two parrots with one, um, whatever.”

  “Kill two birds with one stone?”

  “Something like that.”

  He pondered this. “Mh. I guess it makes sense. Although to be honest I would feel a lot safer with some backup. I mean, we’re talking about breaking into a highly secure site.”

  “Why don’t you take Virgil? I’ll bet he’s up for the job.”

  Rick let out a strangled sound. “Virgil?”

  “He is a policeman. And they do train for this kind of stuff.”

  “Honey, Virgil is not exactly a Navy SEAL. I don’t think he knows the first thing about breaking into a secure compound.”

  “Well, neither do you,” she pointed out.

  Rick didn’t seem mollified, but for lack of an alternative finally agreed. “Oh, all right. Virgil it is. But I doubt he’ll be happy about this.”

  Rick’s premonition about Virgil’s unwillingness to break into the power plant was right on the money. After they’d enlisted Alice and had arrived at the Scattering residence, Virgil expressed his reluctance with some vehemence. “Never! I’m a police officer. Do you really expect me to break into the power plant? Are you out of your mind?”

  But then Marjorie directed a critical look at her one and only, and he piped down.

  “Look, this is a matter of life and death,” Rick explained. “When that plant blows, we’ll all be wishing we displayed a little more pluck.” He placed a fatherly hand on Virgil’s shoulder, which the latter immediately shrugged off. “Virgil, when this is all over you’re going to be fêted as a hero. You’re going to receive medals from the president of the United States. They’re going to write about your exploits in history books, and kids all over the country will know your name and sing your praise.”

  If the speech was intended to seduce Virgil to cross over to the dark side, it was working, for his eyes started growing a little moist. “I have to say that we do carry a huge responsibility,” he admitted.

  “This is war, Virgil,” Rick continued, and Felicity thought he’d have made an excellent speech writer if he hadn’t chosen to become a reporter. “And in war we need to step up our game. Go above and beyond the call of duty. Happy Bays needs you. The great state of New York needs you. This country needs you. Can I rely on you to join me on this critical mission?”

  Virgil’s chest expanded. “Yes, you can!” he said full of conviction.

  “That’s my boy,” said Marjorie proudly. “That’s my wonderful, heroic boy.”

  Virgil swallowed away a lump in his throat as he faced the co-author of his being. “Mom, I’m going to make you so proud. And if for some reason I don’t make it back, know this: I will always love you.”

  At these words he drew his mother into his arms for an extended hug.

  Felicity had to stifle a snicker at the sight of Virgil Scattering behaving as if he was a soldier off to battle. But Rick seemed to take the matter equally seriously.

  “Honey,” he said, turning to Felicity. “If I don’t make it back—”

  “Oh, stop this nonsense,” she groaned. “You’re going to take pictures, Rick, not fight a war. Now are we doing this or not?”

  Virgil inclined his head, wiped a tear from his face, and started out.

  “Bring my boy back to me, you hear?” Marjorie whispered to Rick.

  “I will, Mrs. Scattering,” Rick assured her. “I’ll watch over him as if he were my own flesh and blood.”

  “Oh, Christ,” Felicity muttered as she stepped from the house.

  The threesome got into the bakery van, where Alice was already waiting, and Felicity pushed the pedal to the metal, first dropping off the two would-be soldiers at the nuclear plant, before setting a course to Town Hall. And as they were driving back to town, she couldn’t help but notice how quiet her friend had been throughout. Usually the life and soul of the party, Alice was uncharacteristically maudlin.

  “Still thinking about Reece, huh?” she asked when they’d driven a couple of blocks in silence.

  Alice nodded, staring out the passenger window into the dark night.

  “Did you talk to him?”

  Alice sighed. “I did. He denies the whole thing. Says he never got back together with Dorothy.”

  “That’s crazy. Did you tell him about the email?”

  “Of course I did. He still denied it.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand, Fee. How can a man as nice and good as Reece suddenly turn into such a douchebag? Was I really so wrong about him?”

  “We all were, honey. Reece Hudson fooled us all.”

  “I guess he did,” Alice said quietly, and once again silence reigned.

  Chapter 22

 
Rick and Virgil, now dressed in black from head to toe, were crawling along the ditch that lined the perimeter of the power plant. They both sported black cargo pants, black cardigans, and black balaclavas. Virgil had never actually gone on a mission like this before, but as Rick had explained it was vital not just for the community but for the country, and he felt steeled by their clear mission parameters.

  In the distance he could see the power plant, the concrete towers rising up large, illuminated by a full moon and the powerful halogens lighting it up from below. From this distance he couldn’t see anything wrong, but then again Mabel had told them the fissures were minuscule, and could only be detected from up close.

  “Maybe we can catch them from here,” he said, gingerly eyeing the chain-link fence that prevented them from entering the compound.

  Rick sighted his camera at the towers, and zoomed in, then shook his head. “I’ve got nothing. We need to get closer.”

  Virgil swallowed as his eyes traveled up to the razor wire topping the fence. And then there was the sign that said the fence was electrically charged. Thousands of volts would shoot through their bodies if they touched it.

  “How are we going to do this?” he wanted to know, hoping Rick had given the matter some thought. He knew that Felicity’s boyfriend was an ace reporter working for several internationally renowned publications, that he’d seen action in the Middle East, had traveled to the jungles of Colombia to sit down with renowned drug lords, that he’d even scaled Afghanistan mountains to chat with terrorist leaders. A fence wouldn’t hold a man like that back, he felt. For Rick this kind of thing was like a walk in the park.

  “We cut it,” was Rick’s curt response.

  Virgil pointed to the sign about the ten thousand volt punishment for anyone tampering with the fence. “In case you didn’t notice, Dawson, you can’t just cut this fence.”

  Rick briefly glanced at the sign, then shrugged. “They just put that there to scare off the kids. This fence isn’t charged.” And with these words he took a wire cutter from his backpack, and briskly approached the fence.

  “Wait! Stop!” Virgil hissed. “What the heck are you doing?”

  “Testing to see if it’s armed or not, what do you think?”

  “Christ, Rick, are you nuts? What if it is?”

  “But it isn’t!”

  “But what if it is?!” Virgil insisted. “I don’t want to be the one telling Felicity she’s a widow.”

  “We’re not married.”

  “Same difference. Think about Fee, Rick. You know she loves you.”

  Rick eyed him with tenderness. “You really think she does, huh?”

  “I know she does.”

  “She told you?”

  “She doesn’t need to tell me. I can see it in her face each time she looks at you.”

  “Aw, Virgil, that’s so sweet of you to say. You know, sometimes I think she loves me, and sometimes I don’t. Fe’s not the kind of person who expresses her feelings easily, you know.” He plunked down, and removed his balaclava. “I just wonder sometimes if it’s really me she loves, or reporter me, if you know what I mean.”

  Virgil eyed the man curiously. “I’m pretty sure she loves you, Rick. Now can you give me some idea about your plan of action?”

  “Mh? Oh, I see what you mean. Well, first we cut a hole in this fence, then we walk up to the towers, take a picture, and that’s it.”

  Virgil blinked. “That’s it, huh?”

  “Yep. Easy-peasy. Do you want to cut the hole or shall I do the honors?”

  Virgil sighed deeply, his illusions about Rick Dawson being the world’s brightest, most experienced and courageous reporter dashed in the brief space of this one conversation. In a hollow voice, he said, “By all means be my guest, Rick. Cut away.”

  He watched as Rick reached out a tentative hand, then held out a finger, the same way ET once did, and lightly tapped the fence.

  Nothing happened, and Rick grinned like a kid in a candy store. “See?!” he cried. “I was right.” Promptly he put the bolt cutter against the fence. There was a loud hissing sound, a shower of sparks, and Rick Dawson was catapulted back about ten feet.

  “Rick!” Virgil cried, running over to his fallen comrade. He was appalled to find the man’s face as black as the sweater he was wearing, his eyes wide and unblinking. Smoke was rising from his stricken form, and his hair stood on end, just the way you sometimes see in the movies.

  He knelt down, and placed a finger on his neck to feel for a pulse. After a few breathless moments he was glad to discover that what he had assumed was the corpse of Rick Dawson was in fact still very much alive.

  “Rick!” he cried again, shaking the man. “Rick, answer me—” He held up two fingers in front of his glassy eyes. “How many fingers?”

  There was a gulp as Rick tested his vocal chords, then he croaked, “Ten!”

  Chapter 23

  Felicity stopped the van right outside Town Hall. This was where it had all begun, and this was where they would pick up the trail of the sneak thieves who’d gone off with Moe. She eyed the nondescript squat building for a moment, wondering what she remembered from the many times she’d visited Mabel. Was there an alarm? She didn’t think so. In fact none of the public buildings in Happy Bays were armed or otherwise protected against burglars or thieves, the small community luckily not counting too many criminal elements amongst its population.

  “Why are we back here?” Alice asked, as if awakening from a stupor.

  “We’re trying to find Moe, remember?”

  “Oh, right. Moe,” Alice said feebly. It was obvious she didn’t care one hoot about the bird. “But why do you think he’s being held here?”

  “I’m pretty sure he’s not,” said Felicity, “but I thought it best to start the search at the last place he was seen. Isn’t that how the sleuthing manual points it out?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” said Alice slowly. “I’ve never read the sleuthing manual.”

  Felicity exited the van, a frown on her face. This was not the Alice she knew. Her friend was never this listless, and as she watched her slouch up to the building, she thought this breaking and entering would do her a world of good. Provide a distraction from Reece Hudson.

  She peered inside. The place was closed up for the night, but then she spirited her secret weapon from the pocket of her jeans: a key.

  “Look what I got,” she muttered excitedly.

  “What’s that?”

  “Virgil gave it to me. He’s got a key to the fire department too.”

  “That’s just great,” muttered Alice without enthusiasm.

  Tongue sticking out, she entered the key into the lock, slowly twisted, and pushed. To her pleasant surprise no alarm sounded, and she entered the building, a dispirited Alice on her heels. They walked the dark hallway in silence, as Felicity picked her way to the mayor’s office at the end. She’d brought her flashlight, and let it lead the way.

  “I still don’t understand what we’re doing here,” Alice grumbled when they arrived at a door announcing ‘Mayor MacDonald’ and Felicity opened it with a flourish.

  Entering the office she was surprised to find it hadn’t changed since the time she and Alice got their top poop scooper medals. It still smelled of pine, the wainscoting and chintz drapes still looked as if they heralded from a bygone era, and the mayor’s bust still dominated the desk. She shone her flashlight on the small table near the window where the mayor kept Moe’s cage.

  The table was empty, of course, but from the feathers decorating the floor below she could detect that the bird had been here.

  “You should have brought a loupe,” Alice commented as she watched her friend get down on all fours and inspect the floor.

  Felicity frowned when she picked up a speck of what appeared to be mud. It could, of course, also be a piece of birdseed. Feeling quite inadequate, she thought Alice’s suggestion about the loupe wasn’t such a bad idea. A real detective, she felt, should be ar
med with the tools of her trade, but all she had was the flashlight. She placed it on the floor, and slowly let her eyes roam about, systematically covering every square inch of the floor. Just the way Amelia Sachs did in the Lincoln Rhyme novels. And she’d been doing this for a few minutes when she detected a liberal dusting of finely clipped feathers, and she remembered what Mabel had told them that morning in her office. Moe had gotten a haircut. Or was it a feathercut?

  She frowned as she sifted through the multi-colored pile of clippings. What were the odds, she felt, that Moe would be groomed on the morning of his abduction? Her lips pursed, she continued her perusal of the evidence, and praised herself lucky that the cleaning lady had done such a shoddy job. She frowned when she saw a small piece of paper wedged behind the table and an old cast-iron radiator. She carefully removed it, and was surprised to discover a crumpled up article on the virtues of fasting.

  It stirred a memory, and for a few moments she sat back on her haunches, trying to capture it. Fasting? Hadn’t she recently met someone who was fasting? For one thing, it most definitely could not be the mayor, as he was an excellent trencherman and never skipped a meal.

  “Alice?”

  “Mh?”

  “Didn’t we meet someone who was on a fast not so long ago?”

  “Sure. That guy working for Rick’s dad, remember? The one who tried to steal Rick’s laptop?”

  Felicity’s face cleared. Of course. “Jerry Vale.”

  “That’s the one. Why?”

  Without a word she stood and handed Alice the article. Rick and his dad Chazz Falcone had had a falling out some years ago, which had resulted in Rick wanting to write an article about what he felt were his father’s illegal business practices. Chazz had wanted to stop Rick from publishing the article, and had sent two of his goons after him, trying to steal his laptop and destroy the article and the research. The two goons, Jerry Vale and Johnny Carew, had pretended to be NYPD detectives, and had even visited Felicity and Alice, intent on discovering Rick’s whereabouts. It was on this occasion that Jerry had intimated his wife’s desire to put him on a fast, something which Jerry had abhorred.