by Bill Noel
She took another sip and shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense. I’ve had one, thirty-second conversation with the man. I don’t know anything about him other than he caters to kids, kids of all ages, who think suggestive comments on their T-shirts are cool. What makes you think it was him?”
The waitress returned and we each ordered flounder entrees and I began my convoluted story of why I thought Vick instigated the hit. Barb’s laser focus was on me the entire time, and I suspected if she had pad and pen, she would have taken notes. I was not accustomed to getting this far into a story without interruption, and began to wonder if I was so far off track it would take a search party to bring me back.
When I finished, I expected her to laugh and tell me how stupid my theory was. Instead, she looked around at the few other tables of diners and then at me. “I’m pretty certain my ex wasn’t in bed with anyone named Vick, but he could’ve changed his name. I’d met most of the people he either bribed or had taken money from. Business was never discussed in my presence, thank God. I don’t recall anyone who looked like Vick.”
“Picture him without the beard, and with more wrinkles or with his nose looking different, anything plastic surgery could change.”
She didn’t respond right away so I hoped she was trying to make those adjustments. She shook her head.
“What about his voice? That’s harder to change than hair or facial features.”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t think about it until now. I do remember thinking when I heard him in the Dog that there was something familiar about it. I didn’t give it a second thought since I could have heard it around here.”
“So it’s possible?”
She closed her eyes and gave a slight nod. “You’re saying of all the places in the world, I decided to come to the same island where one of my ex-husband’s crooked colleagues moved to hide?”
I nodded. “It’s a coincidence, but I’ve given it some thought. It’s not as big a stretch as it might seem. Most likely, your ex-husband told his buddy Russ, or whatever name he was using, about Dude and Folly Beach. I remember the first time I talked to Dude about you, he mentioned he had visited you and Karl a couple of times and how your ex told him Folly would be a good place to escape the world. Russ also told me he hadn’t had shops before moving here, but had worked for a large company in Delaware. I didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer the name of the company.”
Our food arrived yet neither of us lifted a fork.
Barb looked at the plate and back at me. “And you put all this together after a conversation with Dude?”
I smiled. “I’ve become decent at understanding Dudespeak. I didn’t think about it at the time. It wasn’t until a waitress mentioned the scars at his hairline. And, when Dude’s employee, Rocky, mentioned the killer had told him he was meeting someone at his house, I started thinking the person who hired him may be living here.”
“Whoa. Back up. What’s Rocky have to do with it?”
I realized she didn’t know about my close encounter with Rocky and proceeded to tell her about my pointed contacts with him and what he had said about killing Panella.
“Holy crap,” she said, unlawyerly. “And I moved here to get away from drama.”
I smiled. “We have our moments.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
“I’ve shared what I told you with Chief LaMond, and she’s going to talk to Detective Adair. They have the resources to follow through and will be contacting you.”
“Russ could have hired someone else to kill me,” she said, more to herself than to me.
That reminded me about something else. “True. Remember when you were worried about Sylvester Lopp? I was talking to Cal Ballew, a friend who owns Cal’s Bar. He told me Lopp sells plastic containers and had been in the bar a few times. He’d asked Cal about you and Cal figured out Lopp had wanted to ask you out. Cal said Lopp was shy and that was why he had been in your store several times without saying anything.”
Barb smiled. “Sy, that’s what he likes to be called, came in yesterday afternoon. He bought three more books, stuttered a couple of times, and asked me if I was seeing anyone.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” She chuckled. “I started to tell him it was none of his business, then didn’t want to appear rude. I said no. He began sounding like Dude when he strung enough words together for me to figure out he was asking me to a movie. I had the feeling that if he wore a hat, he would have held it over his heart, got on his knees, before asking. He was so sweet.”
“I’m glad he talked to you. Don’t think you have to worry about him—being a hit man anyway.”
She hesitated, twisted her napkin, and took a bite of fish. “Yeah, it’s not him. Umm, Chris, I’m scared.”
“I know.” I put my hand on hers. She didn’t pull away. “The police are good. They’ll get it figured out now that they know how it could be tied to your past.”
I wish I had as much confidence in the police as I told Barb. She shook her head like a dog shaking water off its back and started talking about how pleased she was with business and how much she was looking forward to the vacation season. We shared avoidance as a defense mechanism. I wondered what she had said to Sy’s date request, and wondered why I had wondered.
We declined dessert and Barb said she’d had a long day and needed to get home. She halfheartedly fought for the check, but gave in and let me pay. We left the restaurant and I offered to walk her to her condo. She said it wasn’t necessary, but protested less than she had about the check. Her condo was on the top floor of the four-story complex so I punched the button on the elevator. There were a handful of vehicles in the lot; a few permanent residents were the only people in the large building. As we waited for the elevator, it felt like we were in a wind tunnel as the icy ocean breeze whipped through. Barb leaned close to me until we got on the elevator and I pushed the fourth-floor button.
The elevator opened at the exterior walkway to her condo, when the night went all to hell.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Barb gave a high-pitched shriek and I took a quick step back, neither overreactions to the black, compact, SIG Sauer, semi-automatic pistol with a color-coordinated seven-inch silencer pointed at us.
“I thought you were never going to leave,” said the raspy voice of Russell Vick as he nodded across the street toward Loggerhead’s. “You’re going to give me the death of a cold waiting out here.” He smirked.
I didn’t see any humor, nor did I see anyone else on the windswept walkway.
“I notice you’re shivering, my dear. Shall we go in your condo?” He waved the pistol toward the door.
It took Barb three tries before her hand was steady enough to open the lock. Russ stood far enough away so I couldn’t reach the gun. Still no one appeared on the walkway, and from the few cars in the lot, I doubted anyone was nearby.
Once inside, Russ ushered us down the corridor to the living area. The door closed on its own. He waved the pistol for Barb and me to stand close together and he leaned on the granite counter separating the kitchen from where we were standing.
“Mrs. Deanelli, you’ve caused me many sleepless nights.” Russ faced Barb yet pointed the gun at me. “I spent most everything I had getting work done on my face, growing this miserable beard, changing my name, and moving to this, as your idiotic brother Dude, says, ‘Hidin’ spot from el mundo,’ to get away from your husband, and the feds.” He pounded his fist on the granite counter. “Then you show up.”
I didn’t doubt his intentions. Barb and I would never leave here alive unless I found a way to get to the gun. To do that, I had to buy time.
I said, “So you hired someone to solve your problem, and made sure you were out of town when he was supposed to kill Barb.”
Russ grinned. “Vegas is nice this time of year. Who would’ve thought you’d shoot the guy. Thanks a hell of a lot, Landrum?”
I caught a glimpse of Barb’s head jerk tow
ard me.
“You figured I shot Panella and took your money. You broke in my house to find it. Nice touch, leaving the note to throw me off from thinking you were looking for money.”
He glared at me. “I’m not rich. It took all I had to remodel my body and get the stinking T-shirt shops. Panella took forty grand from me. I gave it to him the day I left for Vegas and two days before he was supposed to earn it.” He waved the gun toward Barb, but I was still too far away to do anything. “I heard the cops didn’t find my money on the body, in his car, or his hotel. You’ve got it.”
Here’s a way to buy more time. “Panella had no use for it.”
Barb continued to stare at me.
“Where is it?” Russ asked.
“Sorry. Don’t see an upside of telling you.”
“Your call.” He pointed the weapon at Barb.
I had to think quickly if we had any chance of leaving here alive. “Shoot her and kiss your money good-bye.”
“Where is it?”
“If I told you, you’d still never find it.”
“Try me.”
“Have you heard the stories about pirates burying treasure on Folly?”
Russ nodded.
“People have looked for it for decades. No one’s found it.”
“You buried my money?”
I nodded. Now what?
He looked at Barb, back at me, and pointed the gun toward the hall to the door. “Why would you bury it? That doesn’t make sense.”
“I didn’t until you broke in the first time.” I remembered the recliner was the only thing that hadn’t been disturbed. “I had it with a stack of magazines under my recliner.”
“Shit. You’re kidding.”
I grinned and hoped to keep him talking. “It was still there after the first break in, so I figured whoever broke in might try again.”
“So you buried it?”
“Yep.”
He glanced at the floor and gave a slight nod before returning his stare at me. “Then let’s dig it up.” He motioned us to the door.
Yes. A glimmer of hope. I still didn’t know how I was going to get his weapon.
Barb opened the door and Russ lowered his gun hand so no one would see him holding us at gunpoint. It wasn’t necessary since there was no sign of life outside and the temperature was still dropping. I couldn’t imagine anyone being nearby.
Russ stopped Barb. “Don’t try anything stupid.”
She turned toward the elevator with me close behind.
“No!” screamed a voice behind Russ. Then someone rammed the gunman in the back.
Russ stumbled forward. He regained his balance and twisted around and fired two shots at the person who’d shoved him. The silenced weapon wasn’t much louder than the swirling wind. Russ turned back to Barb and me.
At first, I was too stunned to move, but knew this may be my only time to take the offensive. I shoved Barb in the open elevator and swung around to knock the pistol away.
Russ was quicker. I deflected the gun as Russ pulled the trigger. I barely heard it go off, but did hear the distinct ping of a bullet penetrating the metal elevator door. Russ, who was a few inches taller and outweighed me by fifty pounds, lumbered into me. I wasn’t in great shape, but better shape than Russ. I knocked him sideways toward the edge of the walkway. His back hit the top of the railing. The gun flipped over the side.
Russ lunged for the weapon, missed, and glanced over the railing as the weapon hit the pavement. He looked at me. The distraction had given me enough time to swing at his head. He was moving toward me as my fist connected with his nose, increasing the impact of the blow. I’d never hit anyone in the face, and was jarred with the understanding why boxers wore gloves. Pain radiated from my hand up my arm to my shoulder and it felt like the fillings in my teeth had been shaken loose.
Russ fared worse. He staggered sideways and hit the railing with all his weight. His feet left the deck. His body’s momentum catapulted him halfway over the side.
I grabbed his coat with one hand and his belt with the other and pulled with all my decreasing strength. He was seconds from falling four stories to the concrete parking lot.
I yelled for Barb to help but she didn’t respond. The elevator door had closed and she was probably on her way to the bottom floor. I continued to struggle to keep Russ from falling, but was failing.
I was losing my grip when Barb peeked out the elevator door and saw what was happening. She was still on the fourth floor, and moved to the other side of Russ and put her arms around his waist and pulled. He continued to flail his arms and it took several seconds for us to pull him close enough to the landing to where he wouldn’t fall. He flopped back toward me and hit the deck. I twisted his arm behind his back before he could regain his wits.
The sirens of two of Folly Beach’s patrol cars filled the air and their brakes squeeled as they skidded to a stop at the entry gate to the complex. Barb rammed her right foot on Russ’s back, and I twisted his arm so he couldn’t wiggle out of the grip.
Officer Bishop was the first cop to the fourth floor and cuffed Russ.
With Russ in restraints, I rushed to the body of the person who had saved us. I recognized the tat-covered neck, and yelled for Bishop to get help and knelt beside Rocky. He was breathing, yet struggled for each breath. Blood was pooling under his chest.
“Hurry!” I yelled.
Rocky moved his trembling hand to my leg. I moved closer. He was trying to speak.
He blinked a couple of times. “No one going to kill Dude’s sis … couldn’t leave her …”
“You saved her.”
He closed his eyes. I prayed he’d heard me.
If he had, it was the last thing he heard.
Officer Bishop, with the help of an officer I didn’t recognize, had hauled Russ to his feet and to a patrol car. Chief LaMond had arrived, along with three EMTs from Folly’s force who had made a wasted trip. The chief suggested we would be more comfortable in Barb’s condo, also knowing we didn’t need to be outside with Rocky’s body. The chief came with us, asked Barb where she kept coffee, and fixed a pot while Barb and I moved to the couch to regain our composure. Fortunate for each of us, her coffeemaker wasn’t as high-tech as the one in her office. I told the chief what had happened, including my lying about stealing the money.
Cindy took notes, then I said, “How’d your guys get here so fast?”
The chief looked back toward the door. “A retired principal and his grandkids from Kentucky were eating at Loggerheads when you got there. The guy’d been standing by the window as you came up the steps and saw, and these are his words, ‘a suspicious looking, slimy, young guy sneaking around outside.’ Said the guy was watching you and Barb. After you ate and headed over here, the retired vacationer saw the guy hiding behind a pole and was still spying on you. He figured the tattoo-covered guy was going to rob you and had the bartender call us.”
I wondered how long Rocky had been watching Barb, how long he’d been watching to protect a near stranger because she happened to be his boss’s sis. And, had given his life out of loyalty, and love for Dude.
Chapter Forty
The next hour lasted an eternity. At times, Barb’s condo and the open corridor outside were more crowded than the beach on the Fourth of July. Crime techs, cops, EMTs checking to make sure we were okay, Detective Adair, and a few others I didn’t know, came and went. Other times, Barb and I were alone and struggled with anything to say to each other.
Dude barged through the door. “Be okeydokey, sis?” he said, as he gasped for air.
Barb nodded and Dude wrapped his spindly arms around her waist.
“Praise be to Sun God.”
Dude unwrapped himself from Barb’s waist and the two of them sat on the couch.
“I’m sorry about Rocky,” I said. “He saved us.”
Dude looked at the ceiling. “Rockster now be celebrating with his personal deity. He be goodest, ornery surfer me know.”
We reached the door, she hugged me, and said, “Thank you.”
I pretended it was no big deal and told her I saved damsels in distress on a regular basis.
“Right” She shook her head and smiled.
Instead of falling into bed as soon as I stepped out of the cold, I called Charles. If he had heard what had happened from anyone else, he would be the next person in line to wring my neck, and it would be worse if I waited until tomorrow to call.
Somewhere after the fifth interruption with “you’re kidding,” third “no way,” and umpteenth “you did what?” Charles settled down and let me finish.
“See why I can’t leave you even for a few days?” he said.
“That mean you’re coming home?”
“Sweetie and I are talking about it. I told her everything Cal had said and she didn’t throw anything at me. That’s a good sign. Not sure yet. Call when you know about Rocky’s funeral.”
That sounded hopeful.
I thought I’d been asleep for only a few minutes when someone pounded on the door. Daylight leaking around my blinds indicated I was wrong about how long I’d been asleep.
“Yo, Chrisster,” Dude said as I blinked my eyes open. “Skip along with us.”
I realized the us included Barb who was standing behind Dude. Both were bundled in heavy coats, hats, and smiles, and more awake than I was.
Instead of doing what normal people would have done and asking where, what, and why, I said to give me a few minutes to get dressed.
Dude looked at my pajamas. “Be boss idea.”
Fifteen minutes later, Dude had ushered us to the end of the Folly Pier. It was cold, but last night’s brisk wind had moved elsewhere and it didn’t feel as frigid as it had been. Instead of sitting on one of the wooden benches at the end of the pier, Dude led us to the railing looking back on the Tides Hotel and Barb’s condo building.