Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery

by Harry James Krebs

  “Thanks, Sergeant, I appreciate that.” I said. “Listen, there’s a possibility Plum may show up here … or at the cemetery.”

  “That’s why we’re here. So you and your family will be safe. Also, we’ve got video recording devices in four locations inside to capture the service and all those who attend from various angles. The same thing’s being done at the cemetery.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.” I walked back to Maggie and the girls. Patty and her husband Bruce had arrived and were already inside. We joined them and went through the customary hugging ritual.

  When I started to hug Patty, she whispered, “Get away from me.”

  Bruce followed as I turned and walked slowly away. “I’m sorry, Ben. She’s really upset.”

  I nodded. “She has every right to be.” We shook hands, and he returned to his wife. He was a good, honest man. Even though Patty hated me, I was glad she had Bruce in her life. She would need him now more than ever.

  The door opened, and Lieutenant Netter and Detective Cox entered the church.

  I joined them in the entryway. “Thanks for the added security,” I said.

  “They’re probably not needed, but it’s best to play it safe,” Cox said.

  Netter grinned and said, “I have a feeling Mr. Plum’s not feeling very well this morning.”

  “So how’d the meeting go?” I asked.

  He slipped a stick of gum in his mouth. “Just peachy,” he said, “if you don’t mind gettin’ your ass chewed on by Mayor Richards. He said I let Plum slip through my fingers, and if it happens again, it’ll be my job.”

  “Jeez, I’m sorry,” I said. “You okay?”

  Netter laughed. “If he thinks someone else can do better, he can take my badge and stick it sideways up his fat ass! Ignorant motherfucker!” He regained his composure. “Anyway, I didn’t get the worst of it. Chief Grissom from Apex got an earful for pulling the detail and not providing me with adequate backup.”

  “At least you got a new assistant,” Cox said. “Here she comes now.”

  A beautiful blonde woman in a nicely fitted police uniform was coming up the walk. “Wow,” I said. “That’s your assistant?”

  Netter grunted. “Yeah. Officer Lisa Stanton, just out of the academy.”

  “She’s a looker,” I said. “Maybe there’s a romance in the Lieutenant’s future.”

  Cox laughed. “I don’t think so. I overheard her tell the Lieutenant how happy she was to be working with him because he reminded her of her grandfather, who was a good man.”

  “Yeah,” Netter said. “That’s bad enough, but now I have to watch my damn language.” He remembered where he was and glanced around to see if anyone had heard him.

  Cox pointed his chin toward the door. “Here comes your granddaughter. I tell ya what, John. Me and the boys have this covered. Why don’t you take the afternoon off and take her to the zoo?” Cox laughed hysterically.

  Netter glared and whispered as loud as he could. “Hey! Fuck you! It’s not funny.”

  Officer Stanton joined the three of us. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Netter snapped. He pointed toward me. “This is Benjamin Tucker, the author.” He pointed to Cox with his thumb. “You already know this asshole.”

  I shook her small hand, and Cox said, “Ben, the SBI guys have checked out the Brackus Security employees and they’re all okay … a couple of old marijuana charges … that’s about it.”

  “Thanks, Frank.”

  It was nearing time for the service to begin, so I joined my family, and we entered the sanctuary. We sat on the side opposite of Patty and Bruce with Maggie and me on the ends and our daughters sitting next to us in the middle. Julie was holding Amanda Jane’s hand. My daughter matter-of-factly informed me that her mother would be buried complete. I said nothing, but assumed that meant Huffman had finished his examination of the head, and it was now included in the casket with the rest of the remains.

  The service lasted about an hour and fifteen minutes. Most of that time, Amanda Jane was turned slightly with her head on my shoulder, crying softly. I choked up several times, and couldn’t shake the empty feeling you get in your stomach when someone you know dies unexpectedly.

  The event brought back memories—memories of Christine. Today was my birthday, which meant it was also the seventeenth anniversary of her murder. First Christine and now Jennifer. My birthday had become synonymous with violence and personal tragedy. I looked over at Maggie, and she smiled gently at me and reached over and squeezed my hand. Her eyes were damp, and I could see her love for me in them.

  Several times during the service, Patty broke down and sobbed uncontrollably. I felt bad for her and hoped the two of us could someday mend our relationship for the sake of Amanda Jane. But the foolish incident between Patty and me on Tuesday morning probably made that highly unlikely.

  The sky was sunny when we arrived at Resurrection Cemetery in Cary shortly after noon. Netter had insisted that I drive between him and his plainclothes officers to provide a maximum level of safety for my family. He was taking no chances, even though he believed that Plum was taking the morning off— like an animal licking its wounds after a fight. What could have happened in Plum’s life that could have driven him to do the terrible things he’d done. It almost made me feel sorry for him. Almost.

  A news team was at the cemetery in full force but left us alone until the end of the final prayer. They waited to descend on us until we were walking back to the car. They acted like they really cared, but they were shallow and transparent. It was obvious that they really only wanted footage of my daughter crying. Disgusting. But Netter’s officers did their jobs well and kept the vultures at bay until we left.

  We went directly to the Cary Plaza Hotel where Patty had organized a reception for Jennifer’s family and friends. It was simple but lovely. There were trays of cucumber, roast beef, and ham and cheese finger sandwiches, and bowls of fruit salad. Patty had arranged for a beautiful, large crystal bowl to be filled with pimento cheese and surrounded by all kinds of crackers. Pimento cheese was one of Jennifer’s favorite things in the world. It was a touching thing only a loving, heartsick sister would think to do. There were lemon bars, small tarts and cookies, and beautiful silver urns of rich dark coffee. At either end of the buffet table, Patty had placed two huge crystal vases filled with dozens of coral-colored roses, something else Jennifer loved.

  I corralled Bruce and offered to pick up the tab for the buffet. He thanked me for the offer and said he would talk it over with Patty when she was in a better frame of mind.

  “Hey, Ben,” he said. “Do you like baseball?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I used to play in high school.” The last day I played was the day of Christine’s murder.

  “Why don’t you and I take the girls sometime this summer and catch a Bulls game?”

  “Sounds great,” I said. “You’ve got the heavy schedule, though, so you pick the date and let me know. The beer’s on me.”

  Amanda Jane and Julie were huddled together talking, and I saw my daughter smile briefly at something Julie said. I hoped with all my heart that Amanda Jane would find comfort in her counseling sessions and that she would learn to cope with this tremendous loss. It tore me up that she was not allowed to live with me for now, and I vowed to resolve the situation as soon as I could. First, I would have to get Plum—dead or alive.

  We left the reception and swung by the estate to drop off Maggie. She and Nora had beauty shop appointments. Tonight was the annual Museum of Art fundraiser, and the two of them would be strutting their stuff in exquisite gowns and copious amounts of bling. It was expected. I, on the other hand, would prefer we all went out for pizza and beer.

  It was almost three thirty when we arrived back at Patty and Bruce’s house. They had not returned yet. Julie and I went inside with Amanda Jane, and we went upstairs to see her room. It was a warm and cozy teenage girl’s room, done up in yellow and white. Patty had given m
y daughter a perfect place to retreat, but it made my heart ache again to know I couldn’t give that to her right now. She opened her chest of drawers and pulled out a card and small present and handed them to me.

  “Happy birthday, Daddy.”

  “Thanks, sweetheart. You didn’t have to get me anything.” I smiled at her. “But since you did … should I open it now?”

  She beamed and nodded.

  It was a navy blue tie with tiny yellow dots on it. “Just what I wanted,” I said. I opened the card and read, “To the greatest dad in the world on his birthday.” On the front was a photo of a Shar-Pei dog. It read, “Smile if You’re Old and Wrinkly.” I scowled at her, and she and Julie giggled.

  When Patty and Bruce returned, I thought it was best for Julie and me to leave. Family members were starting to pull up as we drove off.

  We were back at the estate forty-five minutes later. Julie took Oscar out, and the two of them went straight to her room to watch TV. How much TV could the little twerp watch in one day?

  I went out to get the mail. Most of it was the usual assortment of bills and junk mail, but in addition, there was a plain twelve-inch by nine-inch brown manila envelope. It was addressed to me with no return address. I took it to the guesthouse to open it.

  When I pulled out what was inside, it took my breath away. It was an eight-by-ten photograph taken last Wednesday afternoon in the parking lot of the Sacred Haven Cemetery. It showed Agent MacKenzie and me standing next to my Jaguar, looking at each other. There was a red line drawn across Lainie’s neck.

  CHAPTER 30

  I called Netter and told him about the photograph. It didn’t take long for him to piss me off.

  “I’m sure this is from Plum,” I said. “It’s a message that he intends to take out Agent MacKenzie.”

  “Really, Tucker?” Netter asked. “Ya think so? What gave you the first fuckin’ clue?”

  I shot back, “Ya know, sometimes you’re a real asshole!”

  “Sticks and stones, Tucker. I’ll send somebody over to pick it up. Don’t touch it again. I’ll also call MacKenzie and let her know she’s got a target on her back. Right now, I’m glad she’s still in DC. Kinda wish she’d stay there. She’ll be back late tonight, and I’m thinkin’ maybe she should lay low for a while … maybe skip the task force meeting tomorrow morning. But I still want to hear what she thinks of this.”

  “Tell your evidence tech I’m in the guesthouse.” I hung up.

  Officer Stanton and evidence technician Larry Corbin arrived an hour later. Netter assigned this task to Stanton to get her out of his hair for a while. They only stayed long enough to bag and tag the photograph and the envelope. Corbin also took my fingerprints, so they could be identified and isolated.

  At five fifteen, it was time to get ready for the fundraiser. I walked back to the main house and into the master bedroom. Maggie was back from her hair appointment, and she looked stunning.

  “I want to take the Bentley tonight,” she said.

  “Of course,” I replied. “We wouldn’t want to be seen in my cheap car.”

  I pulled my tuxedo out of the closet and laid it across the bed. Maggie came out of her closet holding a full-length, white silk crepe strapless gown.

  “Do you remember this?” she asked.

  “Absolutely,” I said. “Eight hundred and seventy-five dollars in the eveningwear section at Marshak’s.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “Sorry, just joking. Of course I remember it. It’s the dress you were wearing the night we met. I could never forget it.” I walked over, put my arms around her, and kissed her.

  “Good save, Ben. But you’re wrong. It cost nineteen hundred dollars.”

  I shivered.

  “I’m glad you’re wearing it again tonight,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m not wearing this. You can’t wear the same dress to the same event more than once.”

  “Silly me,” I said. “I should have bought a new tux … one that was a different shade of black.”

  “It’s not the same for men,” she replied.

  She held the dress up in front of her as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She looked at me from the mirror. “You don’t want to know what mother paid for hers.”

  “Gads,” I said. “Speaking of Nora, she’s been playing the ponies again.” I went to my closet and got the brown paper sack and handed it to Maggie. She opened it, looked inside, and turned to me astonished.

  “Eighty-seven thousand dollars,” I said. “Henry’s Lady paid eight-to-one.”

  She just stood there looking at me. Finally, she laughed and shook her head. “What am I going to do with her?” she asked.

  I put my arms around Maggie. “Love her,” I said. “For as long as you still have her.”

  “My sweet Ben. I’m afraid you’ve married into a family of kooks.”

  I watched as she returned the white gown to her closet.

  Maggie and I met at last year’s fundraiser. She had organized and hosted the event, just as she had the four years before that. It was a year after my divorce, and I was completing the final editing of my manuscript for Deception. I had no full-time job, so I worked odd jobs to pay the bills. I had taken a part-time job with Carletti Event Services in Raleigh, and we were contracted to cater the museum fundraiser event.

  The entire catering staff wore tuxedos, even the women. The men wore blue bow ties and the women wore red ones. My job was to pour wine and arrange the filled glasses on silver trays. The trays would be carried among the guests and served by one of the red ties.

  When Maggie walked into the room, the Earth stood still. She was stunning—breathtaking. Her fitted white gown had a twist at the sweetheart neckline and draped elegantly to the floor. Her short black hair and beautiful olive-toned skin were accentuated by the color of the gown. I had no idea who she was, why she was there, or if she was married. I didn’t care.

  I grabbed one of the silver trays, wiped it off, and placed one glass of champagne on it. I then walked toward her, carrying the tray.

  My partner Leonard shouted, “Tucker! Where the hell are you going? You pour. You don’t serve!” I ignored him.

  I slowly worked my way through the crowd, never taking my eyes off Maggie. A man tried to take the glass, but I moved the tray so he couldn’t get it. When I reached her, I lowered the tray in front of her. She took the glass but didn’t look at me.

  “I’ve had some complaints about you,” I said to her.

  She slowly turned and looked at me, astonished at my brazenness. “Oh, really?” she said with chilled amusement. “How so?”

  I slowly swept my finger in front of me. “All of these people have paid good money to be here tonight and look at the amazing artwork. And every time you smile, I have to dim the lights to maintain the ambience.”

  “Really?” she said, annoyed.

  “It’s a fact,” I replied.

  “So tell me, Mr—”

  “Tucker, Benjamin Tucker. My friends call me Ben.” I extended my hand, and she shook it, hesitantly. “And you are?”

  “Margaret Marshak,” She said. “My friends call me Maggie. You may call me Ms. Marshak.”

  “Oooo.” I shivered and ran my index finger around my collar. “It suddenly got a little frosty in here.”

  Maggie raised her eyebrows. “So tell me … Ben. Does that line of yours ever get you any results?”

  I smiled. “It’s never failed me,” I said.

  “Well, Ben. I happen to know that the woman that organized this event really frowns on the help fraternizing with the guests.”

  I looked around. “Well, let her frown. She’d probably crack her face if she smiled.”

  Maggie tilted her head. “Oh, do you know her?” she asked.

  “No. But I know the type—old, fat, and ugly. And she’s one rich bitch. You’d have to be to host this shindig. She probably inherited a boatload of money … never worked a day in her life … eats bonbons al
l day long until cocktail hour at four. I’ll bet she doesn’t even care anything about the art. She only holds this fundraiser to give meaning to her useless, pathetic existence.”

  “I’m impressed,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t know her?”

  “No, but I can read people pretty well. For example, I can tell you’re different from most of these people. You’re wealthy, but you work for a living. And you’re good at what you do. You’ve got pride, class, and elegance.” I pointed with my chin. “Most of them are just … fluff. And I can tell you’re not married,” I added.

  “And you can tell that … how?”

  “You’re not wearing a ring. At an event like this, you’d be flashing a large rock. But mostly I know because if I were your husband, I’d be fending off the wolves, and you wouldn’t be here talking to me right now.”

  “So is it just me, or can you read anybody?” Maggie asked.

  “Pretty much anybody,” I said. “I have a gift.”

  I pointed to a lady to Maggie’s right. “You see that old bird with the animal around her neck?”

  Maggie looked at her and then back to me.

  “She’s obviously very wealthy,” I said. “You can tell that by the diamonds and the fur. But she hasn’t always been that way. She looks like she feels awkward here … like she’s still trying to fit with high society. The forced smile on her face tells me she’s unhappy. She doesn’t want to be here, but came for someone else, who she cares about deeply. She keeps turning her wedding ring, but there’s no man around.” I turned and looked Maggie in the eyes. “She’s a widow. She’s lost the man she loves, and now her life has very little meaning. It’s a shame because she looks like a kind, sweet woman and—”

  I stopped in mid sentence when I realized Maggie’s eyes had filled with tears.

  “That’s my mother,” she said gently.

  “Oh, god. I’m so sorry,” I said. “I’m just running off at the mouth. I don’t know what I’m talking about, just trying to impress you. It doesn’t mean anything.”