By Dog Alone: A Kelton Jager Adventure Book 2

by Charles Wendt

  Such a numbness might allow her to suffer the consequences and expose him. On the other hand, he couldn’t be so cruel and demanding while he had her trapped that she committed suicide or ran away. Both would bring an investigation pushed by an energetic family. Therefore, she must also have a light at the end of the tunnel, or have some type of hope. Holiday breaks or even graduation usually provided that. But still, he needed to be sensitive to the issue and manage it with some finesse. He might even give her the money for riding lessons.

  His burner rang, and he answered immediately.

  “My old friend. I need you to tell me how we can be of assistance,” came Marcelo Armesto’s voice.

  Time to put the girl away and get on to real life. The extortions hadn’t gone the way he’d intended and he may have overplayed his hand. Even with photos of the married chief of police being entertained by a professional guest in his hotel room at a conference in Atlanta, there were limits in what he could get away with. The town was seemingly awash in violence. People wouldn’t let these town officials stay in power without taking strong action, and such actions meant putting heat on him. Marcelo was right. It was time to talk. Face the issues, and act upon them with ruthlessness. Before things took on a life of their own and were impossible to control.

  “Fifteen minutes?” replied Johann.

  “Fifteen minutes,” confirmed Marcelo.

  Johann made good time. The meeting place was a small city park a little further down from the hospital and just before the west side bypass connection. It was on the north side of the street, assessable to the neighborhoods of smaller downtown homes endowed with children and yards too tiny for social barbeques. The park wasn’t large enough to sport a ball diamond; you had to drive out to the American Legion Hall for that. But it contained a simple playground in the middle, deserted in the heat of a Tuesday summer afternoon, and a half dozen picnic shelters. There was no risk of being overheard or snuck up upon.

  Marcelo’s men were there, fanned out to a few surrounding benches to sweat in their cheap looking suits. A maroon Chevy SUV and a black stretch Lincoln were parked near the second shelter. Johann pulled in behind them with his Ford Excursion, and immediately jumped out. A group of ducklings was loudly scolded by their mother in a nearby cattail pond.

  A handful of brown paper grocery bags on a picnic table made a superficial effort to blend in. Marcelo himself had removed his suit jacket and tie to sit on the bench, and had rolled his sleeves back to reveal his hairy arms. Before him was a sweaty brown bottle, but the peeled label made it impossible to readily identify the brand of beer. A bag of ruffle styled chips and a plastic tub of dip remained unopened.

  “Hello, Johann,” Marcelo greeted without getting up.

  “Good to see you, Marcelo. I don’t see Kenny today,” Johann replied in a quick look around.

  “He’s checking up on a few things at city hall. Can I offer you a cold beer?”

  “No, thank you,” and Johann sat down without removing his gray vest. His skinny frame tolerated the heat much better than Marcelo’s thicker figure. He noted the dark colored dampness of the lavender shirt collar.

  They stared at each other a second, and finally Marcelo rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and spoke.

  “We’ve both figured a few things out since we were young. Financially, we’ve been a success. We can have what we want, and do what we want. I’ve always respected the hunger inside of you, an appetite which rages like mine. But I want to make sure you keep some perspective. That you don’t lose sight of everything you have to lose.”

  “Did you ever marry?” asked Johann.

  “No. It would have cramped my lifestyle. But I do enjoy my pleasures. There are several regular mistresses.”

  “It was necessary for me. It was the gateway to legitimate business and access to money I’d never manage to have on my own. Now I want to free myself from those shackles.”

  Marcelo leaned back and spread his fleshly hands palm up, “And disrespect the sanctity of marriage? You can do that with a simple divorce.”

  Johann shook his head, “If I divorce now, I am out at the bank. Her family members control the board. I need a landing pad first.”

  “So that’s why the golf course project is so important to you? I never asked why you wanted to borrow Kenny to hire someone to represent yourself to yourself, but knew it would be clever. That’s why I never asked.”

  “The city council chairmanship isn’t good enough on its own. Without a financial position to promote, the power is useless. I need the bank executive officer position, or a large profitable business like the resort. Else, I’ll just be another pathetic Justin Harper.”

  Marcelo opened a small cooler and sloshed around in watery ice to pull out a second beer, “I never thought I’d be doing marriage counseling, but wouldn’t it be easier just to have the bitch killed? You wouldn’t lose your empire in the divorce, and could continue to play without all those family dinners and that doting which doesn’t suit you.”

  Johann shook his head again, “If the old cow is gone through suspicious circumstances, I will be suspect number one. Even if their considerable financial resources and connections, which would have detectives and investigators crawling over three counties with microscopes, turned up nothing they’d never let up. My name would never be mentioned in newspapers or on television without some mention of the suspicions. That would ruin me staying local, and with Fox Ridge School, I want to stay local.

  I want political power and a financial enterprise. Even though they’ll be angry over a divorce, they won’t be able to do much to me that matters.”

  “Which takes us back to getting you a resort and elected before divorce. I guess the order doesn’t seem important to me. Having the resort allows you to run on an economic platform. Being elected allows you to push the resort project through when no one knows it’s yours. She’s too many assets to worry about alimony.”

  Marcelo raised the bottle and took a swig while Johann nodded, “Exactly. But where both issues connect is Justin Harper. I win if he votes correctly to get me the resort, allowing me to have a popular base, and win the election when I’m ready to devote time to it. Or he dies, I campaign in the chaos, and get the project approved. Either way, I can leave my wife and have money and power.”

  “Then I will go see Justin Harper,” Marcelo smiled. “Kenny is checking up on his schedule. Just sit tight, and I’ll take care of it. But know that right after, we’re leaving town. We can’t hide here and there’s been too much excitement lately. I will always help you, my friend, and I look forward to doing business together. Especially laundering, once the resort gets underway; I need that. But I can’t do anymore, right here, right now after we deal with Mr. Harper.”

  “You’re a good friend, Marcelo. I should go,” he said rising from the picnic bench. “And I do look forward to further business, too.”

  The old friends shook hands, and then Johann climbed back into his Ford and drove away.

  Marcelo exhaled, and ripped the plastic security seal off of the dip. It was runny with the mounting heat, but the salty chips with the beer tasted good. He wished he had some meat. The humidity and surrounding green grass made him yearn for the smell of charcoal. Too bad no one had thought to take care of that. He sat a couple of minutes to compose his thoughts.

  Certainly, this wasn’t the quick and easy extortion he’d been led to believe. He thought Johann should have known better, but he should have known better than to blindly do Johann favors for old time sake. He trusted his old friend. The issue was one of competence. These weren’t simple college schemes anymore; the playing field was bigger and more complicated. Law enforcement consisted of organized crime task forces and not specialists in under aged drinking and breaking up loud parties. He’d spent too much time in the bank and not enough on the street anymore. It was unfortunate. Next time, he’d be more careful in making commitments.

  While enamored with the money la
undering he could do with a resort at his disposal, that was a long shot possibility which hadn’t yet run its course. The short-term looked bleak. He’d already lost Bruno. The town couldn’t tolerate threats to its primary pillars of the hunt and the school. The city supervisor was probably gearing up for a response akin to martial law even if Johann had the police chief by the balls. There might be state police involvement. This would be a problem as they’d carelessly left a lot of evidence about. If his men started to lose confidence in him, and some of the younger guys hadn’t been with him long enough to establish a loyalty, things could fall apart. Marcelo needed a payoff of some sort.

  Keeping the relationship with Johann was valuable. Westburg would be a good territory to add to his operations without the heat of being in the district. That meant killing Justin Harper. McFife needed to be disposed of too. He’d been bribed, but he was neither loyal nor useful. Johann was fooling himself if he thought he could keep McFife in check over the long term. Better to do it now.

  Then there were the Harper women. He’d never liked redheads much, with all their freckles and pale skin, but then he’d never had one either. Not a true one anyway. Clearly his boys seemed excited about the possibilities. And teens, young flesh more easily coerced, always had value to men in certain lines of work. He’d use the mother to satisfy his boys, and then dispose of her in case she knew things that might haunt them later. The girl they’d kidnap and sell at a premium. It wasn’t solving the money laundering backlog, but it was the best prize he was going to get given the circumstances.

  He raised his right arm without standing up and twirled his index finger.

  In a few seconds, Diego had his four henchmen lined up along the edge of the picnic shelter trying to stand respectfully, but shuffling their feet some. His driver, Esteban, stood stoically behind him. Marcelo hated to repeat himself, so he liked to talk to everyone at once. It also made everyone feel included and on the team, which helped with their loyalty. It also meant he kept a lot of important details to himself.

  “It’s simple. Justin Harper didn’t vote for the project. Normally we would try and bribe him. I’ve talked with Mr. Grunfeld and an incentive is just not going to work. Harper is an honest man day to day.

  I also don’t think we have time to scare him into it either. It’s a small town and we need to get out of it before the heat comes on us.

  So, we’re going to kill Justin Harper and give his replacement the chance to vote the right way. You can enjoy his wife before we kill her too. There’s a good chance he’s told her things so we want her out of the way. We have time for all of you who want to take a turn.”

  Jhon bumped shoulders with Andres and then they smirked at each other.

  “Do you two have something you want to add?” glared Marcelo.

  Jhon shrugged while Anders nodded and spoke up, “The daughter looks like a lot more fun, and…”

  Marcelo snarled, “We’ll take his daughter to get paid. I’m thinking sheik type of paid. She’ll fetch a nice sum, especially if she’s not all broken up. Club girls are worth pennies in comparison so get it all out on the wife. You’ll all get a cut of the profit.

  Their farmhouse is remote, no one to hear even if you scream at the top of your lungs. Figure we hit them around eleven tonight. Dad and girl should both be in bed. We’ll finish him, then tie her up. The wife will come home from the hospital after midnight and we’ll be waiting. Driving back to the district will only take a few hours. We want to leave by four thirty in the morning. Gives you boys plenty of time with her, and we’re still gone while it’s dark so rising farmers aren’t an issue as witnesses. We can then blend into the district’s morning commute traffic.

  Questions?”

  No one did.

  Diego spoke up, “Okay boys, get in the Chevy for the ride back to the hotel. Want you prepared for an all-nighter. We’ll get a good meal this evening before resting some more back at the rooms. Remember that when we get back to the district there’s going to be some catching up to do from our vacation.”

  Esteban hit the remote starter for the Lincoln to get the air conditioning going. Marcelo nodded at Diego, and his men shuffled into the SUV. Three of them had to pile in on the backseat, since they’d left the Toyota Camry back at the Hunt Lodge Hotel.

  He watched them go before rising, and Esteban opened the backdoor for him. Marcelo had time to check a few papers while Esteban gathered the picnic, and soon they were off to catch up with Kenny Martin.

  CHAPTER—22

  Holly Healy walked from the showers in the main school building’s partial basement floor. The architect had wanted to greet visitors up front with an ornate sweeping staircase, presenting the doors of learning on an imposing and stately pedestal. This meant there was space below the first floor, and not having the light and airiness of a modern classroom, was utilized as locker-rooms. Going out the heavy metal door required climbing a flight of narrow concrete steps surrounded by a well of cinderblocks to get up to grade.

  She actually like that. Not the dank locker-room or the stupid school itself providing a home for girls exiled away from their family. She liked the psychological impact of the main entryway through the building’s design. It was a way to communicate, to express one’s self to a wide audience for decades, without anyone being able to interrupt. That was pretty cool. Too bad she’d never get to design a school or other building. She was probably too stupid.

  Holly wasn’t hungry after practice, so she headed back to the house instead of the dining hall. Kate had let her know the Kelton tutor guy was coming back and she was welcome to sit in. She thought she’d give it a try, even though she was nervous about it. What if he thought she was stupid? Would the rider girls accept a hockey player? The anxiety of wondering how she fit into the group made her realize she’d been lonely.

  Then there was Mrs. Grant. Kelton wasn’t supposed to be on campus. But no one liked tattletales and he wasn’t doing anything bad. Calling the matron would just make them hate her more when she already had no friends.

  Holly hoped she would have hit it off better with someone on the hockey team, but they all had a fellow player in one house or floor section or another. Mrs. Grant had said she didn’t want cliques at their school so had mixed everyone in regard to activities. None of the musicians got to live together, or the drama club, or the astronomers. Every year, those member lists were used to stir the student body. But there were too many hockey players and equestrians to make it work. She just had bad luck not landing with anyone else and couldn’t seem to make new friends as intended.

  Pulling out her phone from the back pocket of her jean shorts, she called her mom.

  After six rings, her mom’s voice answered, “Holly, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, really. I just didn’t know if you could come and visit this weekend?”

  She was still warm from practice despite the shower, and her cotton shirt clung to her back in the evening humidity.

  “Holly, you know I can’t do that. Your brother and sister have soccer games and then there’s church on Sunday. We’ll try and come by as the new semester starts. That way we won’t disrupt your studies.”

  “But that’s a couple months away, Mom.”

  “I know Sweetie, but the time will pass. Now I have to go, Honey. The ladies are over for bridge and it’s my play. I love you,” she said as Holly’s phone gave her the call ended message.

  She felt her eyes well up, and Holly didn’t want the other girls to see her this way and think she was a basket case. She wanted to slip into the house unseen, and thought she’d have a chance as she approached. Only Elizabeth’s and Vicky’s cars were parked alongside, meaning Abriella wouldn’t be loitering downstairs and the common room was dark behind the backdoor window. But then she saw an upstairs light come on and then off again. Someone was in the house and going downstairs. She grabbed her bike from the back porch instead.

  A few quick pumps of the pedals and she was into the
solace of the fixture and could wear circles into the Hunt’s parking lot once again until she got herself together. Or until the angry clouds gathering finally let go with a series of typical summer night thunderstorms.

  Abriella Harper felt the heavy suspension of the old police cruiser sway as she turned off of Full Cry Road into Fox Ridge School. But the old workhorse had new tires, and gripped the pavement without skidding as the teenage driver made haste to the house. With faculty parking lots empty, she didn’t bother to take the longer correct direction around the perimeter road, instead avoiding the speedbumps and making the most direct approach to the backdoor as she could. If she’d been driving her mom’s Bronco, she may not have even bothered with the asphalt, jumping the curve without regard to the landscaping for a true bee-line.

  There wasn’t quite enough space to comfortably park between the red Mini-Cooper or the black Mercedes, especially when traveling at speed, so she opted merely to pull off the road into the drive like one pulls over on the shoulder, blocking both cars in. She ran up to the back door and went inside.

  “Vicky!” she cried out.

  “She’s still at the barn,” shouted down Elizabeth from the top of the stairs. “Ginger was pretty lathered so she’s giving him a bath. I’m just cleaning up and will be right down.”

  Kate came in from the front porch that faced the hockey field with an empty soda can, and greeted Abriella with, “We really shouldn’t be having Kelton over anymore. Mrs. Grant made it quite clear it’s against the rules. But I already invited Holly. I’m not sure of what to do.”

  The back doorknob turned and Vicky came in still wearing breeches and half chaps, “Hey, anyone want pizza tonight?”

  “Only if its vegan,” replied Kate.