by E B Corbin
The man tried to rise but Henry dug the cane’s tip into a spot between the discs. He cried out in pain and collapsed back to the ground. He remained still, probably realizing Henry could, indeed, crush his spine. A group of spectators surrounded them, forgetting about the shuttle.
Henry heard one woman cry out, “He’s going to kill him!” and another voice added, “Someone has to stop this.”
“Stay back!” Henry pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. He only managed to punch a nine, before a disturbance in the crowd drew his attention, He spotted Mark Matthews emerging from the crowd of onlookers, followed by two uniforms.
The detective’s gaze took in Henry’s cane before they settled on the man on the ground. The detective grinned. “My, my. Little Eddie, long time no see.”
The man he addressed as Little Eddie turned his head enough to spit at the cop’s shoes. “Fuck you.”
“Now, now. Let’s watch the language,” Matthews said. “Women and children can hear you.”
“You know this guy?” Henry poked him in the back one more time as one of the uniforms grabbed his arms and cuffed him.
“He was my first bust when I first joined the force. Tried to rob a little old lady tending to a community garden in Colonel Summers Park. He’s a real slimeball and not too bright. He never noticed the five other people in the park. One of them happened to be a high school football coach who tackled him as he tried to run away.” Matthews chuckled. “Broke the slimeball’s arm, if I remember correctly.”
Eddie mumbled something under his breath.
“You never learn, do you?” Matthews tapped him in the side with his foot.
“Police brutality!” Eddie screamed.
Matthews turned to the crowd of onlookers. “Anyone here want to back up his claim?”
A lot of head shaking and murmurs as the bystanders retreated. Henry heard one guy mutter, “I didn’t see anything. Let’s get out of here” before he took his wife’s arm and led her away.
“He has a friend, big guy, who chased Sam into the woods.” Henry pointed in the direction he had last seen his boss.
“Six foot six, all muscles?” Matthews asked.
“Yeah, Sam said he looks like the Incredible Hulk.”
Matthews nodded. “That’s Big John, a known associate of Eddie’s.”
The detective stooped down close to Eddie’s ear. “What were you and Big John doing here?”
“Nothin’. We wasn’t doing’ nothin’. Just came to see this here Jap garden.” Eddie turned his head away. “You can’t arrest me for doing nothin’.”
Matthews stood and ran his fingers through his hair as he scanned the area. “Where’s Big John?”
“Dunno. Probably ran away from this crazy guy.” Eddie dipped his head in Henry’s direction.
“These the two who’ve been following you?” Matthews asked Henry.
Henry nodded. “They’ve already snatched Sam twice. We’ll press charges for that.”
“Okay.” Matthews turned to one of the uniformed officers. “Take this scumbag to the car.”
“I’ve got to get to the road at the bottom of the hill. I told Sam I’d pick her up there.”
“It’s a long trail. She won’t be there for at least another ten minutes,” Matthews said.
“She’s running.”
“Munroe’s on his way and we have another unit standing by. I’ll have them start at the top and scour the woods in case Big John caught up with her.”
The buzzing in Henry’s head nearly drowned out the detective’s words. He knew they didn’t have time to waste. “She runs pretty fast.”
✽ ✽ ✽
And Sam was running full out, doing her best to keep ahead of the lumbering giant. She could hear him crashing through the trees behind her. It sounded as if he were getting closer but she didn’t know if it was her imagination or real growing danger.
She put on more speed. It was difficult to run down the steep hillside and keep her balance. She bumped into a few tree trunks, brushed pine branches away from her eyes, but managed to keep moving until she tripped over a fallen branch hidden underneath a bed of pine needles.
She windmilled her arms, trying to keep on her feet but her momentum was too great and she tumbled, head first to the ground. Her arms flung out to break her fall, sending a jolt all the way to her shoulders. But she still rolled several feet down the hill. Twigs and tiny new growth from the redwoods scratched at her hands and face. Her mouth filled with pine needles, causing her to choke as she attempted to spit them out.
Finally, she crashed into the trunk of a giant redwood with enough force to knock her breath out. She groaned at the impact and remained resting against the tree for a few seconds until she heard thrashing and pounding footsteps. She tried to rise, holding on to the rough bark like a bear climbing a tree. When she was upright, a stabbing pain shot through her rib cage and she hunched over, her hands on her knees to alleviate the spasm.
Just as she did, a shot rang out, muffled by the pine boughs. She felt a burning in her upper right arm and looked to see a hole ripped through her suede jacket. Adrenaline, coupled with an intense desire to get away from the goon chasing her, gave her the strength to duck around the pine branches and continue to half-run, half-limp forward.
She heard heavy breathing behind her—too close—and tried to pick up speed. But her aching body would not cooperate. She found herself stumbling downhill, her vision beginning to blur from the pain that came with each step. Without warning, two strong arms wrapped around her, sending a fiery burst through her injured ribs.
“Gotcha, you bitch!” Big John whispered in her ear. His body odor, sweat mixed with garlic and something else rank, made her gag.
Sam struggled to get away, ignoring the pain and wiggling her shoulders back and forth in an attempt to break his hold as he lifted her off the ground. With her arms pinned to her sides, her legs were all she could use. She swung her feet at his shins, kicking with all she had. He grunted when her boot made contact, but didn’t loosen his grip. The shock went up her leg—she might have been kicking at a giant rock.
But she swung again as soon as she regained feeling in her legs. The giant whipped around and started up the hill, ignoring her swipes at his shins. His grip never loosened. Heavy panting sounded in her ears, giving her the determination to keep struggling.
Then she heard a whizzing sound and felt a jolt. Her captor grunted, his arms slackened and he fell forward, taking her with him. His body lay on top of her motionless, crushing her into the bed of pine needles.
With all the weight pressing down on her, she could barely catch her breath. Between her aching ribs and the burning in her upper arm, she couldn’t twist to knock him off without waves of pain. She rested her head in the pine needles and closed her eyes.
She didn’t know how long she lay taking tiny breaths. She felt as if a load of bricks had collapsed on her back. Since she couldn’t lift the load, she tried to wiggle out from under with no success until she felt the weight shift. Little by little the pressure on her lungs lessened. She could breathe.
“My god, Sam! Are you all right?”
She recognized Henry and wondered how he managed to maneuver through the woods with his cane. She couldn’t speak but nodded her head slightly, trying to keep the pine needles out of her nose and mouth.
“Over here!” Henry called behind him.
She heard more footsteps crashing through the forest and tried to lift her head to see. She dropped it immediately back to the pillow of pine needles when the pain shot through her system.
She knew the voice issuing orders but was too focused on trying to breathe without pain to grasp what he was saying. The last words she heard before she drifted off seemed unreal.
“Is that a tomahawk sticking out of his back?”
Epilogue
The emergency room doctor agreed she didn’t need stitches, but insisted she keep a sling on her right arm to alleviate pressure and
keep the wound from reopening. Her ribs were bruised, but not broken. She was released with instructions to take it easy for a few days and change the dressing on her arm every forty-eight hours.
She found Henry in the waiting area, but to her relief, saw no sign of either detective. She was in no mood to deal with them. When she’d started on her mission, she had no idea it would turn out to be so complicated. Dangerous, she expected because of her father’s determination to get his money back. But lying to the police, solving a murder disguised as a mercy killing, and finding dead bodies were more than she’d anticipated.
These things were not on her radar when she left the FBI, where she spent all her time in a cubicle in front of a computer. Somehow, it only strengthened her resolve to continue as she followed Henry to the parking lot.
Henry’s gaze caught a green taxi idling across the street. The driver’s door was open and a Native American leaned against the roof, his long hair blowing in the breeze. White Cloud nodded once to Henry, then slipped into the cab and drove away.
Sam collapsed into the passenger side of the SUV, grateful to escape from the events of the day. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest for the trip back to the hotel.
They left their rented vehicle with a valet and entered the lobby looking like two wounded warriors as the front desk clerks did double takes at their appearance. Henry tensed as the familiar buzzing began when they arrived. He scanned the lobby while guiding Sam to one of two elevator banks.
Only a few hotel residents lingered in the comfy chairs. Two elderly women sat near the fireplace in the corner, dressed in fur jackets with diamonds sparkling from their fingers. They stared at Henry and Sam with mouths agape. In a wingback chair near the front, a man dressed in a dark business suit looked through them and glanced at his watch showing obvious signs of exasperation.
Another man sat against the wall, a newspaper spread open, hiding his face. He wore a tan jacket over a plaid shirt and his scuffed shoes looked out of place in the midst of the other elegant guests. Henry zeroed in on him as the buzzing grew louder in his head.
While they waited for an elevator to arrive, Henry kept his head down but his eyes peeled. From this angle, he could see a familiar face behind the newspaper, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen the man before. The man dropped the paper on the chair, stood, and started in their direction. Henry’s buzzing reached a crescendo as he recognized the construction foreman he’d confronted in their apartment. What was the man doing here?
On high alert, Henry was about to tell Sam they should detour into one of the three hotel restaurants when Detective Matthews pushed through the front entrance. He spotted Henry and Sam and held up his hand for them to wait.
The construction foreman was about halfway across the lobby seating area when Matthews entered. In one smooth motion, he did a one-eighty and headed for the door. As soon as the glass closed behind him, the buzzing eased in Henry’s head.
Sam noted Henry’s distraction while they waited for Matthews to catch up. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh, nothing. I thought I recognized somebody.”
“Who?”
“Nobody important. He’s gone now.”
Matthews overheard Henry’s last remark and looked around the lobby. “Who’s gone?”
Henry let out a long breath. “Nobody. It’s nothing.”
“You talking about the man in the tan jacket and plaid shirt who couldn’t get out fast enough when he saw me?” Matthews asked.
“Yeah. You know him?”
“Nope. Never saw him before, but he looked as if he were headed in your direction until I came in.” Matthews’s eyes held a question.
“He’s the construction foreman from the Ladd Building. I found him in our apartment the other day.”
Matthews stared through the glass doors as if he were trying to locate the man. “That’s funny. I interviewed the foreman yesterday trying to catch up on the murder. The man was African American.”
Henry’s eyes widened. “Shit. Then who’s that guy?”
“Not the foreman,” Matthews said.
“Doesn’t matter. He’s gone now.” Without giving away his secret early-warning system, Henry could think of no reason to share his anxiety. He was saved by the ding of the elevator arriving.
“I take it you came here for a reason.” Sam stepped into the elevator and held the door open.
“Munroe’s not happy you sneaked out without talking to us,” the detective said.
“I didn’t sneak out. I was discharged. You weren’t around. How was I to know you wanted to speak to me?”
Matthews held up both hands. “Hey, I’m just following orders. I told Munroe I’d get your statement since he was tied up dealing with what Little Eddie told us. This has turned into a real pickle.”
“Pickle?” Sam said.
“I was trying to be polite. It’s a shitstorm, to tell the truth.”
“What happened?” Henry asked as the elevator stopped at their floor.
“I’ll explain inside,” Matthews told him. He gestured for Sam to precede him down the hall.
When they entered the suite, the detective whistled. “Some digs you got here. I can see why you moved.”
“We moved to get away from those two goons following us,” Sam said.
“Yeah, well, that didn’t work out, did it?” Matthews sauntered through the main room, taking in the plush surroundings. “Why don’t we all sit down and get this over with. I need to take your statement about today, but I thought it would help me catch up if we started with when you arrived in Portland.”
Sam blew out a disgusted breath. “Really?”
Matthews turned from inspecting a generic hotel painting. “Really. I found out a few things about Sam Turner that Munroe doesn’t know yet. I thought I’d let you explain them to me before I filled in my partner.”
“Jesus.” Sam blew out a breath as she sank into an upholstered chair next to the glass dining table, taking care not to jostle her arm. “What do you think you know?”
“About Barry Gentile, for one thing.”
“Shit. Did the FBI tell you about him?”
“Actually, no. Google told me.”
Sam’s mouth turned down into a wry grin. “You can run, but you can’t hide from Google.”
“I read in one of those gossip rags where your father put a hit out on whoever stole his money.”
“Then you know why I used a false identity.”
“Why didn’t you explain this to Munroe?” Matthews remained standing with his back against the bookshelves.
“I didn’t need the Portland police making inquiries about my father. I’ve been trying to keep my location unknown.”
Matthews rubbed the back of his neck. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this. If Jim finds out he’ll have my head.”
“Tell me what?” Sam sat up straight, her eyes drilled into the detective.
“Little Eddie’s been singing like a canary. He doesn’t know a lot of details, claims this gig was Big John’s idea. Seems like there’s a site on the dark web with your name on it. Doesn’t mention your father, though. There’s a $100,000 reward for anyone who can make you talk.” Matthews paused to scratch his nose. “What I can’t figure out is how your father has access to the site if he’s in prison.”
“My father’s assistant, Jules Stein, is the one searching for the money. It’s his fault I found it. He doesn’t want anything happening to me until he gets the cash back.”
“So this is all about the money.” Matthews said.
“Isn’t it always?” Sam sat back and rested her left elbow on the table. “This Little Eddie person . . . does Munroe believe him?”
“He wants to. Besides explaining why they were after you, Eddie kind of let the cat out of the bag when he mentioned that they were in Mrs. Magruder’s apartment looking for you.”
Henry spoke for the first time. “The police chief’s widow? They killed her?”
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“Well, Eddie’s claiming it was Big John who did the deed. She woke up and started screaming when she found them in her apartment. Nobody heard her ’cause the rest of the floor was empty but she saw their faces and Big John panicked. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen and shut her up for good.”
Sam shook her head. “What a mess. We weren’t even in town that night.”
“They didn’t know that. According to their dark web contact, you were supposed to arrive that day.”
Sam smiled. “Mother Nature put a kink in our plans—thunderstorms.”
“At least it gave us probable cause to search Big John’s house to see if there’s anything that can back up Eddie’s word. If we find something, it will take a lot of pressure off Jim.”
“What are the chances of that?” Henry said.
“Even if we don’t, we talked to an assistant DA who thinks they’d be willing to file charges on Little Eddie’s word if we can find a camera that caught them outside the building. I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Everyone’s anxious to get that murder off the books.”
“So we’ve helped solve three murders,” Henry said. “I’d think Munroe would be pleased.”
Matthews grunted. “Yeah, well, he’s still hung up on who threw that tomahawk.”
“Why on earth should he care?” Sam nearly shrieked. “That man was trying to kidnap me.”
“And it’s not like the tomahawk killed him,” Henry added. He had hoped the detective would give up on uncovering the tomahawk owner. White Cloud didn’t need the hassle. And he was positive the Native American did the deed while protecting Sam. No way would Henry let the taxi driver take a fall for assault. “What does it matter?’
Half of the detective’s mouth turned down. “It doesn’t to me. But Big John will probably lose the use of his right arm.”
“And that matters?” Sam was just as determined as Henry to keep White Cloud’s involvement out of it.