twenty-eight
“Fish die belly-up and rise to the surface, it is their way of falling.”
—Andre Gide
Rounding the bend, they had a full view of the barn and the house. A U.S. Mail truck was parked in front of the barn. People, maybe twenty or more, were milling between the barn and the house. Several cars were parked in the circle drive that fronted the barn and beyond the cars stood a number of bikes, maybe ten or more, chrome glinting in the late morning sun.
As they got closer, two more motorcycles pulled into the drive. Obviously the roadblocks were not yet in place. No sign of Mark’s black pickup. Osborne’s heart lifted. But he couldn’t see around to the front of the house so he couldn’t be sure.
“Walk up on shore right there,” said Duffy, directing the three of them to the far right edge of the property. No one would be able to see them from the front of the house. “Then up to the clearing, then over to the back door.”
It was the same clearing where the RV and the shiny white boat with its black-and-yellow stripes had been parked.
“Patty Boy, here we come,” said Ray.
“Patty Boy and Dickie are long gone, wise ass.”
“How’s that? We’re buddies from way back. Same grade school. I’ve been looking forward to this.” Ray made it sound like Patty Boy would be equally thrilled.
They were crossing the clearing toward the house now.
“The boys got a phone call the other day, had to rush off on a business trip.”
“Is that why they’re shutting down shop here?” said Lew. “And you stayed behind because you thought you had a guaranteed win of the top purse in the bass tournament?”
Duffy’s silence answered her question.
“Just how deep are you in to Patty Boy?” Lew kept her voice soft and low, soothing. “Look, I know the man’s a loan shark and I know you’ve got gambling debts. He has to be strangling you, Bruce.”
Duffy’s eyes remained grim and unflinching as they approached the stairs leading up to the back door. He paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead with one hand. “He’s got me for two point three mil—not counting today’s interest. And I’m not his biggest customer.” He gave a hoarse laugh. “You better believe I wanted that million-dollar purse—if I could’ve picked my own guys, I’d have had it, too.”
“Bruce, the Feds are in on this—we could work a deal.”
“Open that door, old man, real slow.” Osborne did as he was told.
“A deal? Yeah, right. You know damn well I’d die in prison. And Patty Boy’s pals would make it real unpleasant. Don’t talk to me about deals. I got deals up the wazoo.”
“Witness protection,” said Lew. “Works for some people.”
“Not me, woman. The only thing I know how to do is fish. You think it’d take Patty Boy long to find me? I don’t.”
Duffy had started up the stairs behind Lew when he stumbled but quickly caught himself. Osborne had thought it was the weight of the water when they were wading that caused the man to move so slowly, so out of sync. Now he wasn’t so sure.
The back door led directly into a big kitchen. The house had to be at least sixty years old. The kitchen sure looked it. The walls were a dingy institution green with matching grease-stained linoleum on the floor. A rusty porcelain sink off to the left was piled high with dirty dishes. A window over the sink was shoved open to expose a ripped screen where dozens of flies banged off the screen and the smudged windowpane.
Between the sink and an ancient, formerly white refrigerator was a plastic trash can heaped with crushed beer cans, pizza crusts, and watermelon rinds. It dawned on Osborne that that was why the RV had been parked in the clearing. He bet anything Patty Boy had been living in splendor, leaving his minions to make do with the crud.
Duffy motioned for them to stand back against a cupboard off to the right of a small square table, painted white, that took up the center of the room. On the table was a paper plate full of crumbs, a banana peel, and a rectangular metal box with its lid down. Before Osborne could take his place beside Lew and Ray, the door to an outer room swung open.
“Paulie, you made it. Why’d you come in the back way? Wha—?”
Cheryl stood in the doorway. Her smile disappeared at the sight of the gun in Duffy’s hand. “Put that damn thing down, you. This is my friend. I’ve got something for him out in the barn.” She held the door open behind her.
“D-a-a-d?” an uncertain voice came from the other room. Through the open door, Osborne could see people, most of them in leathers, lined up in front of a card table. They included Erin and Mark, who were now walking toward the kitchen.
“Who the hell is that?” Duffy did not take his eyes off his hostages as he barked at Cheryl.
“Just somebody picking up one of my bikes. Why? Are you gonna tell me what’s going on here, shithead?”
Without letting his hand or eyes waver, Bruce Duffy kicked back hard with the heel of his right boot. He got her on the shin just below the kneecap. Cheryl crouched in pain. “Jee-zus, man, what the hell?”
“Get that girl in here.”
“What girl?”
“The one buying the goddam bike, the one that just talked to you.”
“No. That’s my bike and my money and this here’s my friend from my motorcycle class. And don’t you kick me again, you—”
Too late. Erin stood in the doorway behind Cheryl, Mark beside her.
“Dad, you found us okay…. ” Erin’s eyes traveled around the room. She saw Ray and Lew … then Bruce Duffy and his gun.
“Oh,” was all she could muster.
“Get in here and shut up,” said Duffy. He waved the gun toward the cupboard. “Over there, both of you. Cheryl, we’ll talk about it later. Wind up your business right now, we’re outta here in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes! I got half a dozen bikes getting picked up, man. That’s fifty thousand bucks. Jimmy’s got a couple more boats he needs to get paid for, too. You leave in ten minutes, you dumbshit.”
“Okay, I will. You take your goddam time, but I’m taking that truck.”
“No, you don’t. You go without us, man, and Patty
Boy’ll hear. Your ass’ll be grass and you know it. Shit, I got people waiting.” She left, slamming the door.
“Cheryl!” Duffy called after her.
“Erin, Mark, do what the man says,” said Osborne. He stepped sideways to stand next to Lew, leaving room for Erin and Mark. Ray caught his eye for an instant as he edged up to make room, almost out of Duffy’s range of vision.
Lew gave Osborne a subtle nudge with her elbow. He followed her gaze. Cheryl’s head appeared at the kitchen window. She held up a finger as if telling Osborne to wait, then she ducked and was gone.
The five of them stood silently against the cupboard. Duffy, his gun pointed and his eyes on them, flipped open the top of the rectangular box. He gave a quick glance down. It was full of cash. He flipped the lid shut. Picking up the box, he tucked it under his left arm, then waved the gun toward the door they had just come through.
“Out. Over to the barn.”
At the barn, Duffy instructed Ray to open a side door near the rear of the building. Inside was a darkened office. Another door was set into the far wall. It was made of steel and featured a deadbolt. Duffy opened the door, flipped on a light, and stepped back for them to enter.
It was a storeroom with a twelve-foot ceiling, empty except for tall racks of heavy steel shelving lining three of the four walls. The shelving units, about five feet wide each, were not attached to the walls. In sharp contrast to the kitchen, this room was pristine.
It was also, in spite of the eighty-degree temperatures outdoors, quite cool. If Osborne had to guess, this was where Patty Boy stored drugs, away from sun and heat and locked up tight.
“Whoa,” said Ray, “is this where you keep the heavy artillery?”
“Shut up,” said Duffy.
“Just thought it’d be fun to se
e that .50 caliber behemoth of yours up close and personal. A dying man’s last wish, doncha know.” Erin looked at Osborne with dread in her eyes: Wasn’t Ray pushing all the wrong buttons?
Lew saw the expression on Erin’s face. She caught Osborne’s eye. They both knew Ray was trying to buy time. If they could stall until the roadblocks, they might have a chance.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The gun you used to incinerate Steadman this morning,” said Lew. “That was an amazing shot, Bruce.”
“Steadman’s dead?”
The man looked at them, his jaw on his chest. The look in his eyes was sheer terror. His entire body started vibrating. “What makes you think I did that?”
“Your RV was parked right there,” said Lew. “We’ve got witnesses.”
Duffy shook his head like he was fighting dizziness.
“Well, if it wasn’t you, who was it?” said Lew.
Duffy opened his mouth but nothing came out. A door opened somewhere.
“All right, all right,” hollered Cheryl from the outer office. “Duffy, I got Jimmy packing up. He got rid of the boats okay—but you gotta tell me what’s going on.”
At the sound of her footsteps coming their way, something happened to Duffy’s face—like maybe he was no longer taking orders.
“None of your goddam business, Cheryl. I said we’d talk later. Now butt out.”
Cheryl stepped into the room behind Duffy.
“You butt out. This is my friend here. I left him a message this morning to come early ‘cause I got him a set of custom chrome wheels for his new bike. These two people owe me money. Now why the hell are you doing this?”
“Because he’s married to the goddam sheriff, that’s why. That one, the broad with the black hair. How much more do I have to tell you?”
“Is that true?” Cheryl’s eyes searched Osborne’s. He was very aware that she was keeping her hands behind her and staying back behind Duffy. Knowing that something about him appealed to her, he gambled.
“Not exactly. We’re not married. But I am a deputy with the Loon Lake Police,” said Osborne. “I’m not going to lie to you, Cheryl. I’ve been working undercover with Chief Ferris here.” He nodded toward Lew.
Duffy’s eyes widened as he spoke. Ray edged off to the left, slowly, slowly. He backed closer to one of the steel racks.
Osborne talked louder. “We know Patty Boy has been running Ecstasy and stolen bikes through here. We know Mr. Duffy shot and killed two men that were working for him. Then, this morning—”
“They weren’t working for him, they took orders from Patty Boy.” The derision in her voice made it clear what she thought of Duffy. “The only people giving orders around here are Patty Boy and Catherine. You ever meet Catherine? She’s married to my brother.”
Cheryl gave a slight smile of pride as if that put her higher in the organization. At that moment the cash box slid out from under Duffy’s arm. It hit the floor with a loud crash.
“Duffy, what are you doing with that?” As Cheryl stepped forward, Ray moved back another step. “You weasel—first you don’t tell me you got cops here. Now you got our money? What the hell? You planning to leave me and Jimmy holding the bag?”
“Jesus, Cheryl, I’m trying to tell you—”
At that moment the rack behind Ray began to tip. It teetered, then plunged forward. Duffy saw it coming. He twisted, stumbling back and firing as he hit the floor.
A geyser of blood shot up from below Mark’s waist. Erin screamed.
“Stop! Everyone stay right where they are.” Cheryl was on her hands and knees behind Duffy. She had her own .357 and the revolver’s barrel was angled deep into the side of Duffy’s neck.
Mark writhed. “My leg, my leg!”
“Ohmygod, he hit an artery,” said Ray, scrambling onto the floor with Mark and Erin. “Please,” Ray pleaded with Cheryl, “let me tie off the leg, please, he’ll bleed to death.” He was already ripping the belt from his pants.
“Go ahead,” said Cheryl. “Just no one get in my way or you’ll get hurt.”
Osborne dropped to his knees. Blood was everywhere. This was wrong. Mark couldn’t die. Osborne was the oldest—why couldn’t that wild bullet have hit him?
“Cheryl, stop—” Osborne heard the strangled sound of Duffy’s voice far, far away.
“Doc, here.” Lew was ripping off her waders. “Use these for pressure.”
Erin had her leather jacket folded and ready.
“Payback time,” Osborne heard Cheryl’s voice as he and Lew pushed the jacket hard against Mark’s leg, then twisted the waders tight. Only then did he look over at Cheryl. She had her head down close to Duffy’s. “What were you thinking when you busted into my room the other night?”
“Oh, for Chrissake. I had too much to drink.”
“You never asked permission, Brucie.”
“Permission? Woman, you are one well-traveled highway—”
She raised the muzzle a little higher and tipped it ever so slightly.
?lam. It wasn’t so much what the bullet did to Duffy, it was what it did to the floor behind his head.
• • •
“We’ve got to get Mark to a hospital,” said Osborne, kneeling next to his son-in-law. His vision blurred with worry: he was determined not to let the father of his grandchildren die. “He can’t lose much more blood…. ”
“Please, let these two young people out, let them get help,” said Lew, looking up at Cheryl from where she was helping Osborne keep the pressure on the wound. Their hands were slippery with blood but the spurting had stopped.
Erin had her arms around her husband’s head and shoulders. Ray was holding the belt in place. “The rest of us—”
But Cheryl was backing out of the room, the .357 pointed at them. She had scooped up Duffy’s gun and the cash box. “Paulie’s your old man?” she said to Erin.
Erin nodded.
“You’re lucky. He’s a nice man. I coulda used a father like him.”
“Cheryl, please—”
“I’m sorry, Paulie, I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I can’t let you people go. My brother works for Patty Boy, too. If we don’t get the job done, we’ll all be dead.” Then she was gone, the door slammed shut behind her. They heard the deadbolt turn.
“Don’t move, Mark. We’ve got to keep pressure on that,” said Ray, holding the belt tight. “You’re gonna be okay. We just gotta get us out of here. Doc, any ideas?”
“Look around, Doc,” said Lew. “I can manage this fine.”
Osborne stood up and looked around the room. No windows, no opening. The gunshot had splattered blood and tissue and penetrated the wood floor but there was solid dirt beneath. The locked door was the only way out.
Lew checked her watch. “The roadblocks go up in ten minutes—”
“We can’t wait for someone to get all the way out here,” said Osborne. “Who knows how long that might take. If one of us can just get out…. ”
“Listen, everybody.” Mark’s voice was tight.
“Shh, Mark, don’t talk,” said Erin.
“No, I know about this stuff and they don’t,” he managed, tipping his head toward Ray and Osborne. “It’s just Sheetrock on those walls, like maybe an inch thick. If you got something sharp, you can cut a hole easy, push back the old siding behind it. That siding’s rotten.”
“Sharp? Duffy took our pocketknives, dammit,” said Osborne.
Lew’s eyes lit on Osborne. “Erin, you take over here.” Erin moved quickly and Lew jumped to her feet.
“Doc—your fishing vest. What’ve you got in there?”
Before he could answer, she had yanked down the straps on his waders and was reaching in for the long, narrow pocket running down the front of his vest. She pulled out the silver forceps he used to remove hooks.
Pulling it apart, she ran over to the wall and tried stabbing it into the Sheetrock. It penetrated easily. She tried slicing down, but the point kep
t sticking.
“Try the clippers, Lew.” Again, she broke the tool in half.
The cutting edge of the clippers was sharp like a knife—it worked. She handed the other half to Osborne.
“Don’t worry about cutting all the way through,” said Ray. “Mark thinks all you have to do is etch in deep enough, you can push it the rest of the way.”
They worked swiftly, slicing at the Sheetrock until they had an irregular rectangle about seventeen by twelve inches. It couldn’t have taken more than three or four minutes. Meanwhile, Ray and Erin kept the tourniquet and the pressure on Mark’s leg. Outside, they could hear motorcycles leaving, one after the other. Then a brief silence followed by the sound of an engine turning over.
“That must be the mail truck,” said Ray. “Think they’ll let ‘em through the roadblock, Lew? It’s either stolen or a good fake.”
“I don’t really care,” said Lew. “I just want to get Mark here to the emergency room.”
With one pound of Osborne’s fist, the Sheetrock caved in. Behind it was a vertical panel of siding as old as the barn. He hammered at a knothole with the blunt end of the forceps until he was able to get a good grip on the panel itself. He pushed. The damn thing buckled out but it wouldn’t come loose.
“Let me try,” said Lew. Osborne stepped back. Maybe she was stronger or maybe it was because she pushed up at an angle, but the board gave. Through the opening, they could see the drive running up to the house. Except for two bikes, it was empty.
Erin looked up from where she was holding Mark.
“Dad, I know I can make it through there easy,” she said.
Osborne changed places with her.
“Erin,” said Lew, “run down that driveway—the roadblock will be right where it meets Highway C.”
Mark’s face was dead white. Ray inched the belt tighter. Lew pressed.
Osborne held him in his arms.
“You’re not alone, son,” he whispered. “Please … hold on. You’re not alone…. ”
Dead Frenzy Page 23