The big circular gathering place at the end of Arcadia Park Avenue, with a bandstand and podium, was filling up fast. It was now approaching 9 o’clock and with that surging throng on the march the area had begun to thin out. Already, fewer people milled about than when we had arrived minutes earlier.
The big draw was an All Hallows’ Eve Parade down Park Avenue. Starting near the front gate, parade participants would move down the Avenue, to a round-about with Central Park in the center. The main thoroughfare near the entrance to Arcadia Park and lined with shops and eateries was, no doubt, packed with guests standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
A parade for younger children had been held at dusk. This one was for teens and adults who had received entry numbers earlier. As I knew well from having witnessed the proceedings a dozen times, it was great fun.
After the adult and teen parade there would be an awards ceremony to honor guests picked out by spectators to receive special recognition for their costumes. Crowd approval in the form of applause, hooting, and hollering, was often driven as much by the guests’ performances as by their costume. Fireworks would follow at ten.
That sequence would give us the time we needed to get this situation under control. As a bonus, there would be fewer guests who could be held as potential hostages if the thieves turned around and fled back into the park, even with Ralph’s men closing in on them.
As I stepped into the dimly lit interior of Catmmando Mountain, apprehension gripped me. I was feeling better about the decisions we had made so far, but that didn’t stop a chill of fear from slipping down my spine.
I was grateful for two things. First, that I had switched out of my red heels and into sensible shoes before leaving my house. Second, that the man who loved to see me in those red heels had a firm grip on my arm.
Chapter 9: Who’s the Hostage?
Once inside, we met up with a team of four men dressed in security outfits, complete with headgear with lights mounted on them. They also seemed to be equipped with goggles. My mouth was hanging open, and I stopped moving rather abruptly when they came into view. It felt like someone had just changed TV channels from Murder She Wrote to Mission Impossible.
“Night vision goggles,” Jack whispered. “Our S.W.A.T. guys wear them too.”
Ralph explained to the men that we suspected two armed men had entered the backstage area from the entrance opposite to the one we had just used.
“We believe we’re looking for two men wearing Catmmando Tom Trooper outfits,” he said, filling them in on what had happened in the Gallery and the backstage area. “They’re probably carrying stolen items. We don’t know how—whether in portfolio cases, attachés, or tubes. Maybe even wheeled containers. The point is they’re armed, but we’re hoping they have less ability to maneuver or react than we do. If they have weapons in hand, they won’t hesitate to use them. Obviously, we’d prefer stealth to confrontation. We have the element of surprise on our side, especially if we keep it dark in here. We can see better than they’ll be able to.”
“Speak for yourself,” I murmured as I squinted at objects around me. My night vision is not all that great—period. One of the gifts of aging. I keep waiting for that wisdom thing to kick in as compensation for other faculties that aren’t quite as sharp as they used to be. If that had already happened, I probably wouldn’t be here.
In the glow put out by low wattage footlights lining the walkway, I couldn't see much more than a couple of feet in any direction. I fought off images of Mallory's ghost and my doppelgänger leering at us.
“You two go at it,” I muttered under my breath, urging my double and Mallory to fight it out. Maybe Jack had been right to be worried. Were all those years of working in a fantasy world taking their toll? Too much catnip, indeed.
“We also have another advantage,” Dan's voice interrupted my scattered thoughts. “I have a good idea of the route they’re taking from the entrance by the Control Room to the back door out of here. If you’re willing to let me take the lead, I can put us on a path to intercept them. What happens when we meet is up to the crime fighters among us.”
“That puts you in the path of the first bullet too,” Jack said.
“I’m wearing Kevlar. An old habit I picked up working on development projects in the Middle East. This is the first time I’ve worn it in the U.S. though. Max made it very clear he doesn’t want more dead bodies. When the boss speaks, I listen.”
That Mission Impossible theme song was in my head again, mingling with snatches of Catmmando Tom’s stirring anthem.
“Body armor won’t help if they aim for his head,” Jack whispered under his breath.
“Hey, if that guy wants to play the hero, let him,” Ralph whispered back. He then spoke to the whole group.
“Okay, enough discussion. Let’s get moving. Will someone give Dan a pair of those goggles please?” Magically, a set appeared.
“Silence from here on out. If you see something, Dan, please alert us with a raised hand. The rest of us will follow single file. Keep your eyes on the person in front of you.”
“Like this,” Dan said in a low voice as he held up one hand when stepping to the front of the line.
With the help of dimly glowing footlights, I could make out the path. I also could see Jack, who had stepped in front of me. Behind me was the last person in our parade, the only other woman at the party, one of Ralph’s security team members
We set out, moving at a quick pace. Soon we were winding our way through twisty corridors wide enough in most places that we could have walked four abreast. An incline took us to higher levels as we moved deeper into Catmmando Mountain. Although I couldn’t see them, I could feel the rumble of the cars on the rails as they swooped past us.
Every so often, above the music we could hear the shrieks and laughter of riders that accompanied their action adventure experience. Despite the merriment going on all around us, I did not feel like laughing. I consider myself in pretty good shape, but the pace and angle of ascent were pushing me.
After fifteen minutes of aerobics, Dan raised his hand. Not as a signal to stop, but to indicate we were turning left. Soon we were no longer climbing. Instead we were moving along on a level parallel to the height we had reached. Minutes later, another signal led us to a ramp going down and through more twists and turns. Dan had picked up the pace. We were all moving even faster than we had at the start. A few minutes later, he signaled for a third time and we came to an abrupt stop in a tunnel-like space.
This area opened to a large loading dock with doors like those customarily seen in the receiving area of a big box store or a warehouse.
We had arrived at the back door. And what a big one it was. A semi-truck could back up to unload its cargo. Next to the large opening was a smaller, normal-sized entry door. A set of metal stairs disappeared through what must be a gap in the floor.
Was that the underground route to the sewer system? I didn’t want to disturb the silence to ask.
The illumination from the footlights along our pathway ended.
In darkness, we took a couple more steps and left the corridor behind. Now we entered an enormous room. I could make out yet another circular tunnel opposite of where we stood.
This tunnel was equipped with the same ghostly footlights that had lined the pathway we had just left. There were security lights situated at intervals around the room we had entered. They provided better illumination. There were also windows near the ceiling. These would have let in sunlight during the day, but given the late hour, they could only add a soft glow from the full moon. Silvery moonlight pooled in the center of the cavernous room.
At least I could more clearly see my surroundings.
It was much quieter where we stood, far from the ride and the crowds. I couldn’t even hear music anymore. But the silence did not last long. The sound of hurried footsteps came our way. Whoever was coming made no effort at stealth.
Ralph motioned for two of his guys to take up positions oppo
site us on either side of that hallway. They did as he asked and disappeared into the darkness, concealing themselves in the shadows. I suddenly felt exposed and looked for shelter. The female security person motioned for me to follow as she crouched behind an enormous oblong metal box with slats. I guessed that it housed fans or a hydraulic pump or an oversized piece of equipment.
Jack slipped in beside me.
Ralph, Dan, and the security guys vanished as they sought cover.
Trampling feet kept coming. Peering between slats, I could see a flashlight’s beam bouncing along the corridor. My heart thumped. Another beam joined the first. Suddenly, half a dozen men burst from the tunnel into the open area. All were dressed in the same Tom-Trooper uniforms, so it was nearly impossible to tell the hostages from the hostage-takers. The entire group froze when Ralph called out, “Stop right there. Drop your weapons and the flashlights.”
A gunshot rang out in response to Ralph’s demand.
“Make a move and we start killing hostages,” an angry voice shouted. “We’re all walking together to that exit door. If you stay put, nobody gets hurt. We’ll go out that side door, and then we’ll let our hostages go.”
“You’ll never make it,” Jack hollered. “We’ve got you surrounded inside and out. In about two minutes, thanks to that gunshot, a small army is going to storm this place. They’re likely to shoot anything that moves. Your best bet is to throw down your weapons, ditch the flashlights, and hit the floor.” My jaw clinched at the prospect of hostages being shot if those fool thieves decided to shoot it out with the S.W.A.T. team. I felt sure that gunshot just overrode Jack’s warning to wait for word from him.
The second Jack finished speaking, the enormous doors began to creak. As they began to ascend, I heard what must have been the sound of guns or flashlights dropping to the ground. Once the door rose half a foot from the floor, the room was flooded with beams of red laser light, seeking out targets. All six men dove for the floor as bright lights sprang to life overhead.
“Hands behind your head,” Jack called out, as he, Ralph, and the security team moved to surround the men on the floor. As armed men came through the open door, Jack hollered, “Beardsley, we’ve got this.”
“Stand down,” a deep voice shouted. The men who had just stampeded into the room shouldered their weapons. Jack gawked at Tom-Troopers sprawled on the ground.
“Let’s get this over with. Georgie, can you come here, please?”
“Yes.” I joined the group standing in the middle of the brightly lit room.
“Which ones are the bad guys?” Jack asked.
I scanned the bodies sprawled on the ground. They all wore corporate Tom-Trooper outfits, but it was evident to me which two were fakes.
“That one with the scabbard on the wrong side. His blade’s missing. He’s not even wearing the Cat’s-Eye Warrior insignia ring. Neither is that one with the boot laces all twisted, his outfit is way too big, and…”
Jack reached out and clasped the hand I was using to point out violations of the Tom-Trooper Cat's-eye Warrior dress code. He winked at me and gave my hand a squeeze before letting it go.
“Cuff them,” Jack said.
Beardsley’s men went into action and grabbed the two men I had pointed out.
“Let’s help these guys get off the floor.” Jack leaned over and offered a hand to one of the remaining prone figures. Ralph and his men helped the rest of the Cat's-Eye Warriors get on their feet.
“Take their statements will you? And then send these hostages home unless you all need something more from them.”
Two uniformed police officers stepped forward to help.
“Who’s minding the store?” Dan asked one of the hostages.
“The rest of the crew is still on duty. We take shift breaks in a rec area near the Control Room. That's what we were doing when those two creeps came into the room waving guns at us. At first, we laughed, thinking it was a prank or a drill. Then one of them punched me in the gut. It stunned me, but it hardly hurt. After that, we did as they told us.”
“Are you sure all of you are okay? Did you bring EMTs with you?” Jack asked Beardsley.
“Yes, sir.” The big man used a mic and his message brought EMTs running into the room. Beardsley pointed them toward the young man who’d been punched.
“The others must be wondering where we are by now,” another of the Cat’s-Eye Warriors added.
“I can take care of that,” Ralph said. “I'll get hold of Yvette Mendoza. We'll see what she can do about closing a bit early—as soon as those already waiting in line get their turn on the Conquest. She can get instructions to the rest of your crew and make sure they know you're all okay.”
With that, I finally allowed myself to relax for the first time since this all began. Then it dawned on me. “Jack, where’s the loot?”
Before he could say a word, my phone rang.
Chapter 10: Matt Damon?
It was after ten o’clock when my phone buzzed, and Carol’s face slid into view once again on the screen. Guilt washed over me. The poor woman had been working like a dog to track down Damon.
“I should have called you,” I said. “We’ve caught the culprits in Arcadia Park.”
“That’s a huge relief. Maybe it doesn’t matter now, but I found Damon.”
“Are you kidding? Does he work for us, after all?”
“No, but he did for a while. I thought I recognized him, even in that icky photo you sent me. The name sounded vaguely familiar too. I tried searching our databases using different spellings of Damon as a first and last name with no luck. Then I started wondering how a cute, young guy who works for us in the park could get into so much trouble around here. A light bulb went on, and I went back to my Cruella de Vil file. Sure enough, that’s where I had seen him before. He was one of Mallory’s ‘boy toys,’ Georgie.”
“No way,” I gasped. “Maybe that explains it.” I told her how the thieves had tried to get into Catmmando Mountain using Mallory’s keycard first, and then trying with a counterfeit copy of mine.
“Not smart to use a dead woman’s keycard when they could have used yours in the first place.”
“Yeah, well if they hadn't killed him, Damon probably would have told them to use another card instead. Without him, maybe they weren't certain which card to use. We’ll know more once the police have interviewed them.”
“If they don’t clam up on you. Anyway, I found Damon in a tabloid article titled, ‘Marley World Heiress Dating Matt Damon? It’s Not What You Think.’ That story included pictures of Mallory with not one, but two young and handsome hunks at some party in the park. Damon only worked in the park for six months before Mallory had him transferred to communications as an office assistant. They looked chummy in that photo, but the thing that made him so memorable was the watch he’s wearing. It’s an expensive Swiss bauble by Baume and Mercier. Nice to be an errand boy for the princess. Or at least it was when she was still alive. Damon was terminated shortly after Mallory’s death. Something about unexcused absences in the termination notice.”
“I bet things weren’t as cushy for him after Mallory died,” I said. “As a member of her royal court she would have protected him, at least until she lost interest. He might also have had access to information above his pay grade, stuff like executive keycard codes.”
“He may have been a member of her court,” Carol agreed, “but he doesn’t strike me as the chivalrous type. In another picture at the same party, the handsome knight appears to be checking out Arielle’s sweet little smile.”
A charge passed through my body. Arielle—as in Julie Kennedy? Could she be mixed up in this? If that were true, why on earth would she have squealed on their plans to make their getaway from Catmmando Mountain?
“Is there any way to know which of our Arielles is in that photo?”
“If I could pinpoint when and where they took that picture I might be able to figure it out. All of our Arielles look so much alike, thoug
h. The only thing different about this one is a little gap in her two front teeth.”
Julie Kennedy had a tiny gap like that.
“The little wench,” I muttered with my brain still in the knights-and-ladies’ mode.
“What?” Carol asked.
“Nothing, other than a huge thank you, Carol. You might have just kept us from making a big mistake. Matt Damon may not be the only one in that photo who’s tangled up in this mess.”
“Oh no, his name isn’t Matt Damon—the ‘not what you think part of the story’ is the fact that it’s both Matt and Damon basking in the beneficent gaze of Princess Mallory. The article clarified that it’s not a date but one of the many opportunities Marvelous Marley World provides for associates to get up close and personal with upper management.”
I felt a pit open up in my stomach. “Is the other associate named Matthew Seton?”
“Why, yes. How’d you know that? Damon Saunders and Matthew Seton are in that picture together. I was going to suggest that you speak to Seton about his friend, Damon. Matt is still employed here at Marley World, but it sounds like you already know that, don’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Another chat with Matthew is an excellent idea. Jack’s more likely to do that sooner rather than later, once he gets this information. Great job. You deserve a spa day or something.”
“Ooh, a spa day. That’s the cat’s meow. A purr-fect gift from my boss at the Cat Factory. I’m thrilled at the paw-ssibility.”
Uh oh, cat puns. A sure sign that Carol was worked up and exhausted.
“We’re done here, Carol. Time for you to call it quits and get a good night’s sleep, my friend.”
“I could use a cat nap. Give it no fur-ther thought. Go spring a trap to catch those rats, Georgie.” With that, she hung up.
I relayed the new information to Jack.
That inspired us to return to Backstage Area 3 West on our way home. Could Julie have heard the conversation going on outside the women’s locker room? I remembered how muffled her voice had been when she called out to me from where she was trapped. That quick stop confirmed events could not have occurred as she described them. A confrontation with the facts ought to push Julie to open up. As we walked out Catmmando Mountain for the second time tonight, I still found it hard to believe.
Happy Homicides 4: Fall Into Crime: Includes Happy Homicides 3: Summertime Crimes Page 36