There Was a Crooked Man

by K. J. Larsen

  Peggy spun around and searched my face. “What did you tell her?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing.”

  She breathed again.

  “Ellie looks good,” I said. “She looks happy.”

  “She is. Bob and I are proud of her. She graduated from Northwestern in the top ten percent of her class.”

  “She always was the smartest kid in school.”

  Peggy filled two sunshine yellow mugs with coffee and put out a plate of cookies. Ginger cookies rolled in sugar.

  “Yay,” I said. “I love your ginger cookies. They were my favorite when Ellie and I were kids.”

  “I remembered. There’s a bag on the counter for you to take home.”

  The brown paper bag had a purple bow and my name in bold, black marker. Caterina.

  Peggy sipped her coffee and met my eyes. “I was expecting you.”

  “I didn’t even know I was coming until this morning.”

  “Bob said you were investigating Sammy’s kidnapping. I knew you’d figure it out.”

  “Oh.”

  “You were a clever child, Cat. Your mama used to say if you were a boy, you’d be Perry Mason or Matlock one day.”

  She’s got one foot firmly planted in the twentieth century.

  “I remember the year we had a magician here for Ellie’s birthday party. You ruined the show. You exposed his secrets and pointed out the smoke and mirrors. You hid the rabbit he was supposed to pull out of his hat.”

  “I was awful.”

  “You were the most amazing kid I knew. Except for Ellie, of course.”

  “Of course.” I smiled.

  Peggy warmed our coffees. “How long have you known?”

  “That you were driving the van that killed Daniel Baumgarten?”

  She was momentarily taken aback. I thought the unspoken secret was harsh to hear.

  “Bob and Papa were in the café across the street when your van struck Danny. They must’ve seen you flee the scene. They lied their socks off to save you. They bungled the investigation. They falsified witness statements. Maybe even eliminated a few. They reported the van was white. Not blue.

  Peggy dabbed a tear with her napkin and placed it on her lap. “I’m so sorry, Cat.”

  “It was a lot to process at first. Since we were kids, Papa and Bob were our heroes. They were unwavering in their ethics. I’ve worked through it. They had their reasons and they made the best choice they could. They would do it all again. I can respect both of them for that.”

  Peggy wrung her napkin between her fingers. “Thank you.”

  “Why?” I said.

  “Why, what?”

  “Why run away? It’s not like you. Or why not come back later and turn yourself in?”

  “I, I…” She looked cornered. She’d had years to process this. To find forgiveness and closure. And yet she appeared startled and totally unprepared to answer my question.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  “A girlfriend I went to college with was in town. We met for lunch, had a few drinks.”

  “You were drunk?”

  “I was buzzed. I left Chili Thai. I was driving north….”

  “North?”

  Peggy twisted her napkin. “Mr. Baumgarten came out of nowhere. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t see him.”

  There was the sound of a key turning a lock and the front door opened. Captain Bob’s voice boomed. “Peggy! You have some very serious Girl Scouts out here selling my favorite cookies.”

  “You’re on a diet, Bob.”

  A lemon crème donut diet, I thought to myself.

  “Better hurry, Peg, before I buy every box.”

  “Excuse me, Cat. Bob needs his Samoas. And I’d better get a Thin Mint.”

  “My fave. Thanks for talking with me. I’ll let myself out the back.”

  “You’re sure? Are we good?”

  I grabbed my bag of ginger cookies and hugged her. “Always. Welcome home, Peg.”

  She smiled. “We’ll see you Saturday on your elegant, moonlight cruise. It should be exciting.”

  “That’s what they said about the Titanic.”

  ***

  Rocco blew me off when I did my Cam the Ham rant and it irked me. He usually respects my judgment. Or at least he listens to me. But my brother had been seduced by the keeper of the man cave. And the keeper’s a jerk.

  What I needed was rock-hard evidence. A bug. And one last peek into Cam Stewart’s condo.

  I punched my brother’s number on my phone.

  “Yo, Cat!” Rocco said. “What’s up?”

  “Nothin’. Just touching base with my Bro.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “Coffee. Tea.”

  “Vodka. Don’t drive, Sis. Call if you need a ride.”

  “So…whatcha doin’?”

  “I just got off the phone. I left my wallet at Cam’s and I won’t be able to get it later. Frank said he’d pick it up for me.”

  “I can swing by for it.”

  “Not a good idea. Cam says you were following him. You had binoculars. You’re starting to creep him out.”

  “They’re really thick glasses. Cam sounds a little paranoid-schizo, if you know what I’m sayin’. Why not pick up your wallet now?”

  “Cam has an all-day golf tournament. If you gave him a chance, I think you’d like him.”

  Like that’s gonna happen. I was already running to my car.

  “Gotta go, Rocco. Hugs to Maria and the girls.”

  Traffic was light and I shot across town to the amazing man’s condo. I parked in front of a fire hydrant and propped a “Police Business” pass in the window. My brother is still looking for it.

  I knocked once and waited thirty seconds before letting myself in. This was an in and out. I counted twelve quick steps to the mantle. An abrupt spin. And….ten, eleven, twelve steps out.

  “Step back inside and shut the door.”

  The dark voice cut like a knife and sent a shiver up my spine.

  I stood in the open doorway and gauged the distance to the stairwell. I considered making a run for it. I’m fast.

  “I’ve got a gun.”

  Maybe not that fast. I spun to see if he was lying. He wasn’t.

  “Whoa!” I shielded my eyes. “Put on some clothes. A towel, anything.”

  It was the bald, beefy guy from the café. He was wet and soapy and hairy all over. He didn’t finish his shower.

  I closed the door, careful not to latch it.

  “You really should rinse off,” I said. “Soap will dry your skin.”

  “Great. A freaking comedian.”

  The revolver gestured to a chair at the bar. I sat.

  He moved across the room and dragged a long, khaki coat from the closet. He tugged it on, one arm at a time, the pistol steady and staring me down.

  “Uh oh,” I said. “Somebody’s waking up. Can you put that thing away and tie your coat, please?”

  Beefy-boy reached in his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a set of handcuffs.

  “Seriously? What kind of guy carries handcuffs in his pocket?” A pause. “Oh. Kinks and cops.”

  I didn’t like either possibility.

  He hardly spoke and I couldn’t shut up. Fear winds me up like Chatty Cathy. So does tequila.

  The side of beef walked toward me and suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

  “Give me your hands,” he said.

  I held out my wrists and he slapped on the cuffs. They tightened each time I moved my hands.

  He took a step back and lowered the revolver a moment while he tied his coat.

  “Now you just look like a flasher,” I said.

  At least he wasn’t a kink. He was probably a cop. Well t
rained and athletic. It would be hard to get away.

  He crossed to the mantle and picked up a phone. He punched in some numbers and held it to his ear.

  “Hey,” he said, “you have company. Get your ass home before I kill her.”

  There was a pause. “No. That is your job.”

  I couldn’t breathe. My heart pounded in my chest. I looked left, and then right, my frantic eyes searching for a weapon. If I was going to make a move, it would have to be now. Cam was on his way. I wouldn’t have a prayer against two.

  He paced back and forth, the phone to his ear. Their exchange became heated and he let the gun waver in his hand. The next time he walked past me I booted a hard karate kick to the back of his knee. He buckled. I kicked his hand and the gun dropped. Somehow the wine bottle was in my hands. I planted a foot on the floor and belted a very nice Chardonnay into beef boy’s groin. He groaned with pain and fury. I sprinted for the door but huge hands grabbed my foot and we were both on the floor.

  He raised himself to his knees and hunched over me. He looked terrifyingly fierce and large. His eyes were insane. He bitch-smacked my face. A fist slugged my abdomen and I exploded in pain. He got up, recovered his revolver and aimed it at my head. His hand shook with fury. He wanted to pull the trigger and he was trying not to. I stared hard into soulless eyes. I couldn’t stop him. But I wouldn’t make it easy on him, either.

  He lowered the gun and sat on the stool and watched me like a lion smelling blood. I lay on the floor panting for air. I thought I should pray but I couldn’t remember the saints’ names. Or any of the prayers. I willed the gods to not let me breathe my last jagged breath in this dreaded, godforsaken man cave.

  After a while he got up and walked toward me. His face was distorted. He was still mad about the wine bottle and the balls thing.

  “Get over yourself,” I said.

  My head was throbbing. My stomach was in agony. What else can he do to me?

  A tortured sound came out of his throat and his big hairy foot punted toward my head. There was a flash of color. And then everything went black.

  I shouldn’t have asked the question.

  ***

  When I came around again, the keeper of the man cave stood over me, a curious expression on his face. I gingerly touched the lump on my head. That was going to hurt.

  “Your buddy has anger issues,” I said.

  “He’s an asshole. He left me to clean up the mess.”

  “Why are you staring at me?”

  “Deciding how to do this one. How to dispose of the body. My partner suggested a sharp saw, garbage bags, and lots of bleach.”

  “That’s just creepy. You should be getting good at this by now. Clive. Russell. Were there others?”

  “Just two. You’ll make three. They were scum. Not you. You’re”—he searched for the word—“annoying.”

  “Do you mind if I sit up?”

  He shrugged. “Be my guest.”

  I gingerly rose to my feet and moved to the stool I really wished I hadn’t left.

  There was a sound at the door. A metallic clink and Rob Baumgarten walked in. A horrified gasp escaped his lips. I was a bloody, beaten mess.

  “Cam! What the hell are you doing? Put that gun away.”

  “Never mind about that. Bring the duct tape from the toolbox in the closet. Tie her up good. She’s not going to ruin us.”

  “She can’t ruin us. We haven’t…”

  Rob stopped mid-sentence and his face went ashen. “My God. What have you done?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about. Duct tape. Now.”

  “Your pal, Cam, is a cold-blooded killer,” I said. “He killed two of the three guys he hired to fake your heist.”

  “Is that true?”

  “She’s lying.”

  Rob picked up Babe Ruth’s baseball from the mantle and examined the signature. “What will you do to her?”

  “That’s not your business.”

  “I’m not going to let you hurt her.”

  “Finally,” I said, “a voice of reason.”

  “The bitch is a pain in the ass.”

  “That’s a little harsh,” I said.

  “It’s true,” Rob said. “But she’s not gonna die. This ends here.”

  There was a loud, harsh knock and for a millisecond, Cam’s eyes shot to the door. It was all we needed.

  I lunged at Cam, knocking him off-balance and capturing his ankles with my handcuffed hands. Rob hurled the Babe Ruth baseball and whacked his wrist. Cam yelped as the revolver flew from his hand and cartwheeled under the pool table. Cam vaulted after it and a flying gold trophy conked him in the head. I jerked the 9mm from my ankle holster and aimed at Cameron Stewart’s chest.

  Cam cradled his head. “You weak, miserable fool. I should’ve taken you out long ago.”

  I held up my wrists. Rob found a small key on the counter and removed my handcuffs. I walked over to the mantle and pocketed the phone I’d planted in the tin cup. I had the hard evidence I came for.

  “You saved my life,” I said. “Tonight you made your papa proud.”

  “That’s gotta be a first,” Rob said bitterly. “Do you know what it’s like having a saint for a father?”

  “Not really. We DeLucas don’t have the saint gene.”

  There was another knock knock knock.

  “My dad worked too hard to spend much time with me. But he did everything with that worthless punk. Gawd, I hated him.”

  “Who?”

  “Felix. Did you know my father left him a trust? The punk has fancy digs. Everything handed to him. I had to scrape to keep afloat during the recession. Felix didn’t blink.”

  “Felix was an abandoned baby. He deals with mental and some physical challenges. And yet, he’s fun to be around. Maybe your dad didn’t hang out with you cuz you’re a selfish jerk.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Do you know what happened to your father’s gold medallion?”

  The pain behind his eyes was raw. “I was young, and ambitious then. I was a fool.

  “You’re a damn idiot now,” Cam said.

  “My father wouldn’t finance a second shop. If dad got the insurance check, I could turn over the diamonds and jewelry to start out on my own. I didn’t intend to take the medallion. It was in the shop for a cleaning. I got greedy.”

  “Your father found where you hid the medallion.”

  Rob nodded miserably. “I don’t know how or when. He left the diamonds and jewelry and only took his medallion. He must have hated me awful.”

  I didn’t tell Rob that it was the stolen medallion that sent Danny running to his death. I figured Rob had enough guilt to reconcile. When you’re a selfish prick, it’s hard to find a path to peace.

  “Why don’t you get that duct tape?” I said.

  He fetched the duct tape from the closet and we secured Cam to a chair. Then I gave Rob a quick hug.

  “It was getting ugly in here before you came. Thank you, again, Rob. Now get outta here before the cops come.”

  Rob ran out the door and my crazy Cousin Frankie wandered in. He stared at me. And at the thoroughly duct-taped Cam. And back to me again. There was a gun in his holster. I wished mine wasn’t at my ankle.

  Cousin Frankie rushed in. “Cat! What the hell are you doing? This man is a cop. He’s one of us.”

  “He’s a cold-blooded killer. Call it in, Frankie.”

  Frankie’s eyes darted to Cam and back to me again as if deciding what to do.

  “She’s a liar,” Cam said. “She’s out of her freaking mind.”

  “She’s been hit in the head a few times,” Frankie said.

  “And you have the brain of a freakin’ flea,” I said. “Call it in.”

  My cousin reluctantly dragged out his phone.

&
nbsp; “Wait,” Cam said, “I can pay you.”

  Frankie’s eyes popped. He dropped the phone back into a pocket.

  “Seriously?” I said. “You’re going to go there?”

  “There’s diamonds, a fortune of diamonds in the tin cup on the mantle. Let me go and they’re all yours.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” I said.

  “You can have it all. Everything you always wanted,” Cam said and his voice was as smooth as a snake. “You deserve it, Frankie.”

  “You got that right,” Frankie said.

  “It’s a slippery slope,” I said. “You don’t want to end up like this guy.”

  “Filthy rich?” Frankie barked a hard laugh. “Like hell I don’t.”

  He crossed the room to the mantle and took the battered tin cup in his hands. He stuck his fingers inside. Then he tipped the cup upside down.

  “No diamonds,” he said.

  “B-b-but,” Cam sputtered. Hatred spewed from his eyes and there was venom in his voice.

  “You—you bitch! You’re not going to get away with this.”

  I leaned close and whispered in his ear.

  “I already have.”

  ***

  My stomach ached where beefy-boy slugged me. I could feel it bruising. I walked out on the balcony and hit my brother’s number on the phone.

  “Yo!” Rocco said. “What’s up?”

  I heaved a sigh. “It’s about your buddy, Cam…”

  It was a short conversation.

  “Rocco and Jackson are on their way,” I announced when I returned to the man cave.

  “Frankie,” Cam said in a snake voice, “there’s a hidden safe in the bedroom closet. Let me go and take it all.”

  Frankie’s tongue wet his lips.

  “If you even think about it,” I said, “I swear I’ll shoot you.”

  Frankie gulped a nervous laugh. “You knew I was kidding about the diamonds back there, right?”

  “You’re a piece of crap, Frankie. What did you think would happen to me after you freed that douche bag and danced away with your diamonds? You couldn’t think he’d let me go?”

  “I didn’t mean it. I swear. You’re not gonna tell the family, are you?” He swallowed hard. “Or Savino? Or Max? Or Tino?”

  Frankie slumped in a chair and buried his head in his hands. “I’m a freaking dead man.”