by Gary Land
Then Otto raised the gun, but not at Noly. At Catherine. He was going to shoot.
Noly fired once, and the “Otto-mobile King” was dead.
#
A taxi pulled to the curb in front of Mountain Meadows. Collins watched as a tall, lean man opened the back door and climbed out. The man carried a folded garment bag. He reached in to the passenger window and handed the driver some money.
Collins turned his car off.
“Come on, Johnson--that’s him. Let’s go.”
“Hold it,” Johnson said, pulling on Collins arm. “Finish the story.”
Collins sighed. “By the time I got there, everyone’s dead--except for Noly, the cook, and the girl. Noly wasn’t much better off. He was shot three times, including once in the head.” Collins pointed to his left forehead to emphasize the point. “He must have moved in the last second, because the bullet cracked his skull, but bounced off into the wall behind him. It was bad enough though--he was in a coma for three months.”
“But, who shot him--the girl?”
Collins nodded. “When I got there she was sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth, hitting her head on the wall. She was covered in blood.”
“Where is she now?”
“A mental hospital in California. Legally insane.”
They both got out of the car, and started across the street. The heat was already baking the asphalt making it seem even hotter than it was.
Collins looked at Johnson as he said, “By the way, don’t call him Noly.”
They stepped onto the curb, and walked towards Boots. He saw them coming, put his bag down, and met them half way.
“Hey Collins--kind of early for you, isn’t it?”
Collins smiled. “Noly, this is Detective Eric Johnson, my partner.”
Noly put his hand out to shake, and Johnson involuntarily took a half step back. He recovered, put his hand out and they shook.
“Johnson, don’t worry, I won’t bite.”
Johnson looked at Noly Boots and was glad this wasn’t some bad guy he had to take down. Even with backup, he didn’t think he could do it.
Noly caught Johnson looking at his scar. To Collins, he said, “You told him the story, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess I did. Listen, we’ve got a situation with one of your tenants.”
“A situation? I don’t do situations anymore.”
Noly turned and went back to his bag. He picked it up and walked through the gate. Collins and Johnson followed him in. The kids splashing around in the pool all yelled out a greeting in unison, “Hi, Noly.” Noly smiled and waved back.
“How come the kids get to call him ‘Noly’?” Johnson asked looking put out.
Collins trailed after Noly as he walked to the back of the complex to building five. Noly pulled out a key and entered unit 501. He flipped the controls to put the air conditioner on and threw his bag on the couch. He had converted the dining room into an office with desk, computer, printer, and a copier machine sitting on an old credenza. Collins followed him inside, while Johnson stood just inside the door.
“Do you know who Joey Trainor is?” Collins asked.
Noly paused for a moment before answering, “He’s not a tenant of mine.”
Before Collins could respond, an older woman pushed her way past Detective Johnson, even though she was no more than half his size, and said, “Mr. Noly, Mr. Noly, you are back already.” She handed a large box to him. “Here is box for you.”
“Thanks--you’re the best, Mrs. H. Boys, this is Mrs. Hernandez.” He sat down at his desk, pulled a small knife from his pocket, and started cutting the tape on the box. “She takes care of the place for me when I’m gone.”
“You have problem with police, Mr. Noly?”
He smiled. Even Mrs. H can spot a cop a mile away. “No, they were just leaving.”
“OK then--you come over later, I make some flan just for you.”
“Mmm, love that flan,” said Noly as he gave her a big smile.
She ran out of the apartment giggling.
“Noly! This is serious. How about Sarah Benson--she’s a tenant here, right?
The smile left Noly’s face in an instant, and he stood up so fast that Johnson’s hand instinctively slipped under his jacket.
“What’s wrong with Sarah...Ms. Benson?” Noly asked.
“She’s missing. So is her daughter.”
“Kacy?” Noly felt ill.
Collins saw the look of concern on Noly’s face. “Yeah. Guess you know them.”
Noly pushed past both detectives and sprinted down to building two. He took the steps two at a time to the second-floor unit and pounded on number 203. He waited a few seconds, reached into his pocket to pull out his master key, opened the door, and stepped in. Noly quickly moved from room to room looking for obvious signs of foul play, but saw none. Moving more slowly now, he walked back to the kitchen and scanned the room. Something seemed odd to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Johnson waited for his partner to catch up, then they both stepped into the apartment.
“Man, I gotta lose some weight,” Collins said, breathing hard.
Noly turned quickly. “What’s going on, Jim?”
“We’ve already been in here, Noly.” Collins brushed his forehead with the back of his hand. “Didn’t find anything...why don’t you take a seat?”
“Forget it--just tell me,” Noly demanded.
Collins sat on the edge of the dining table. Johnson, trying to give his partner a chance to catch his breath, said, “Joey Trainor was killed last night. He worked at the Platinum Palace Casino as one of those computer geeks. They found him downtown, hands tied behind his back, shot in the back of the head point blank.”
“Yeah, that’s a shame--how does Sarah figure into it?” Noly asked.
Collins answered. “She’s his sister. We follow up, try to make next-of-kin notification, and we can’t find her. She works at the Casino too--a blackjack dealer, started a year ago. She left work early yesterday. No one’s seen her since, or the kid. Schools out for summer vacation so we can’t track Kacy either.”
“You talk to the other tenants--the kids?” Noly asked.
“Nothing.”
Collins looked at Johnson, and said, “Why don’t you head back to the car, I’ll just be a minute.”
Johnson nodded, and stepped outside.
Collins stood up and went into the kitchen. He turned on the cold-water faucet and let it run a while until the warm water gave way to something approximating cool. He took a paper towel, folded it over, and let it sit under the water for a second. He wrung it out and mopped his forehead. “What’s your relationship with Ms. Benson?”
Noly hesitated for a moment and said, “She’s a tenant...a friend.”
“Uh-huh. Well, listen, I’m not sure if she is involved in this, if she’s a victim, or ...”
Noly was incredulous. “Involved in what--killing her brother?”
“Robbery. The Platinum Casino just discovered that three million dollars is unaccounted for--they’re still auditing the books, trying to figure out what happened. It seems obvious that Mr. Trainor is involved somehow. The question now is what Ms. Benson knew, if anything.”
“She didn’t know anything,” Noly yelled. He took a deep breath and quieted his voice. “I’d guarantee it. This is one nice lady, Jim. And she has a great kid--her birthdays in a few days. No way Sarah would ever do anything that would risk hurting Kacy.” As if to convince himself, Noly shook his head and repeated, “No way.”
Collins walked towards the door. He turned and said, “Noly, don’t...” He laughed. “I was going to say don’t get involved, but...listen, if you think of anything that can help us, let me know. I’ll keep you informed of our progress--okay?”
“Yeah.”
After an awkward moment of silence, Collins said, “The wife keeps bugging me to ask you over again for a barbeque. I’d like that too.”
D
istractedly, Noly said, “Yeah, that would be good--say hello to Andrea.” He grimaced and rubbed at his scar.
Collins paused and held his hand on the doorknob, “How’re the headaches, Noly?”
“Still there--down to a five on the Richter scale.”
“Yeah, well, take care of yourself.”
“You too.”
When Collins had closed the door, Noly spun back into the kitchen and grabbed the grocery list off the refrigerator. He hadn’t noticed the list until Collins went back into the kitchen for the damp cloth.
Kacy collected rubber stamps. All kinds. She had a hundred or more. Animals, stars, moons, astrological signs, symbols. And at least one cowboy boot. He knew, because Kacy gave him the same cowboy boot stamp that she had. She thought it was funny given his nickname.
The grocery list was a typical list of bread, milk, and fruit--all written in pencil. At the bottom of the list was a hand-drawn picture of a fighter plane. Next to it was a stamp of the cowboy boot. Noly felt sure that Sarah or Kacy were trying to send him a message.
The air in the apartment was getting hot and stuffy. Noly felt claustrophobic. He took the list, locked up, and started back towards his office. The cold air that greeted him when he walked in felt wonderful.
Noly’s scar continued to throb--that’s how the headaches usually started. Pulling a cold Corona out of the refrigerator, he took a couple of big swallows and that seemed to help the pain. The bottle was already sweating, but he placed it against his scar and let the remaining coldness leach into his skin.
Standing there, with his eyes closed, he suddenly knew what the note meant. His first “date” with Sarah and Kacy. He took them to Nellis Air Force Base to see an air show put on by the Thunderbirds. They were telling him where to look--they were asking for help.
Chapter 5
Kacy startled awake. Like a Pavlov reaction, her heart pounded in her chest, but it slowly returned to normal. She was still in the van with her mom and Jennifer. She heard the door slam and the engine kick over. The van didn’t move, but the driver raced the engine letting the RPM’s run to the redline and then fall back again. The better to scare us, Kacy thought. It had gone on like this all night. They’d drive them around in circles, park for an hour or two, open the rear doors, threaten to shoot them, and then start the process all over again. Her fear receded back into some shadowed corner of her mind, at least for now, as she realized this wasn’t the moment she would die.
Kacy wrinkled her nose in disgust. The back of the van smelled like one of those roadside bathrooms off the highway. The kind nobody wanted to use unless they were desperate. There were no seats and no windows in the van, or maybe there were windows and someone had painted them black. Kacy couldn’t really tell. The floor of the van had some sticky substance running down the center, and several discarded fast food containers.
They were moving again. Kacy sat with her back against the driver’s side wall, arms outstretched, trying to brace herself as the van made one wild turn after another. Sarah and Jennifer were similarly braced at the rear of the van. Kacy hoped they would get wherever they were going sooner than later. It had to be over ninety degrees in the van. She dripped in sweat. Looking around the van, she realized it was really just a large, metal coffin. The joints were welded tight, the only air entering, and that was not much, was what leaked through the doors.
Every now and then she’d put her ear to the wall and try to listen to the conversation taking place with what sounded like two men. She could only catch a few words at a time. She heard them mention Joey, which made her sad all over again, and she heard them mention the casino where her mom worked. After a while, she figured out that the name of the guy driving the van was Finnegan, and she thought he was the guy who threatened to kill them every time the van doors opened. Finnegan scared her. He was almost as tall as Noly, and she could tell he must be a weightlifter by the size of his biceps. But this guy was the complete opposite of Noly.
There must be a total of three men, because one of them took her mom’s car, and two of them were still in the van. She wondered where the car was now. It was either still following them, or it had already been driven to wherever it was they were headed. Of course, maybe they dumped it somewhere, or they destroyed it. Kacy’s brain kept running through possible scenarios just so she had something to do other than think about the psychos who kidnapped them.
She found it harder to breathe after awhile. Part of it was probably just panic, she thought. Kacy tried channeling Noly’s confidence into her--she would be brave and strong like he was. She knew Noly would find them and she smiled to herself because that would mean her mom and Noly would make up.
Jennifer’s hysterical cries intruded into Kacy’s thoughts.
“I told him...” Jennifer sobbed. It took her a moment to go on. “I told him we both have great jobs...make good money, we have each other.” She looked imploringly at Sarah, but Sarah wouldn’t forgive her, she wouldn’t tell her it was okay.
Jennifer whispered, “I begged him not to do it.”
Sarah just sighed. Nothing she could say would change anything, so she remained silent. Kacy pulled her shirt sleeve across her face to wipe the perspiration away.
“Joey kept saying he didn’t want to be a flunky, that it wasn’t enough money.”
Sarah finally said, “What did you do Jennifer, why are these people after you, why did they...kill Joey?”
“He...he programmed the computers to...”
Kacy saw Jennifer turn towards her a moment. She looked sad and embarrassed.
“He programmed them to steal money,” Jennifer said. “He said it was the twenty-first century equivalent of skimming.”
“Jennifer, who killed Joey?”
“I...I don’t know. I went to the airport like he told me to.”
“You were meeting Joey at the airport?”
“Yes, we were going to leave...go to the Cayman Islands,” Jennifer cried.
“What? Why?”
“The money was there waiting for us. I waited over three hours for him, but he never came.” This started another bout of hysterical sobbing.
It took Sarah several minutes to calm Jennifer down enough to go on. “How did you know he was...dead?”
“I...saw the news report--on TV. They said he was killed execution style--that’s the mob! It must be Wagner. Joey owed him money.”
Sarah didn’t know what to say. This was so hard for her to reconcile with the brother she knew.
“They’re going to kill me now,” Jennifer said.
Kacy felt overwhelmed by all that had happened, and what she was hearing. She hated people who stole, but she loved Joey--he was her mom’s brother. She started crying again. She couldn’t help it.
Kacy whispered to herself, “Stop it. Noly wouldn’t cry...he’d think of some way to get out of this. WWND--What Would Noly Do?” That made her smile.
“Kacy? Are you okay?” Sarah said.
Kacy gave her mom a half-smile and shrugged her shoulders.
The van finally shrieked to a stop, the doors opened and Finnegan dragged them all outside. They had been in the van several hours, but it was still dark outside. Kacy guessed that dawn was still a couple of hours away.
She saw they were in an alley, which didn’t smell much better than the van. She turned around, and in the ambient light, saw a tall building across the street. It looked vaguely familiar. Kacy didn’t think they had come very far. As the thought occurred to her that she was still in downtown Las Vegas, a gun shot shattered the pre-dawn morning, and Kacy’s world went black.
Chapter 6
The van Leesle mansion sat on three acres of lush, manicured lawns. Jerome Glasser pulled up to the doublewide wrought-iron gate that separated the ordinary, working folks like him from the mega-rich snobs like Otto Jr. The camera above the intercom pivoted to see who dared approach the new “Otto-mobile King.” To Glasser’s surprise, the gate swung open without as much as a peep fro
m the speaker.
He drove up to the mansion and exited his blue Honda Accord. This was his working car. It was easier to tail someone in a non-descript car than one of the fancier cars or SUV’s that had become so popular with private investigators.
He’d been in the mansion before, of course, but he never got used to the breathtaking interiors. It was like walking into a five-star resort hotel. Sweeping staircase, double living room--each one larger than the average home--with marble floors, a ten-seat screening room, indoor pool, and even a combination basketball-racquetball court.
The servant that met him at the door instructed him to proceed to the kitchen where “Mr. Otto” was preparing a meal. The kitchen was just as spectacular as the rest of the house. It literally had two of everything: islands, refrigerators, ranges, and sinks. It was a finer kitchen than he had seen in most restaurants.
Otto stood at the stovetop, built-in and flush with the island countertop. Jerome didn’t know what he was making, but his technique looked impressive.
“Mr. van Leesle, I’m hear to make my report.”
“Call me Junior. I’ve decided I don’t really care for Otto any longer, or van Leesle,” he said in a bored, snobbish tone.
Jerome hesitated for a moment then said, “Yes, sir.”
“And I think I’ll call you...Glassman. Yes, that has a nice ring to it. Glassman.”
“Um, thank you, sir-–that’s a fine name to have,” Jerome said.
Junior had two sauté pans going at the same time, and was slowly pouring red wine into one of the pans. He stirred the contents very carefully, almost lovingly.
“Oh, look at you, you are going to be a lovely sauce now, aren’t you?” Junior cooed.
Jerome cleared his throat to remind Junior that he was there to report on the surveillance. Without looking at Glassman, Junior said, “Did you just clear your throat at me?”
“Um...no, sir, I-–it’s just the dry heat. My throat’s a little...dry.”