Harry Bronson Box Set

by L C Hayden

  “Okay, guys,” Bronson said. “We’re wired and ready to head in. Hope you read us loud and clear.”

  Linda smiled. The guys wouldn’t be anywhere around. By now they should have landed at the small airport at the city’s outskirts. From there, they were to set up surveillance around Uncle Phillip’s house, except they would be setting up at the opposite end of town. Once, alone with Schwein, she had given him the wrong address. She knew it wouldn’t take long for them to figure out what she’d done, but maybe by then she’d have the game in her possession and be heading back to the research lab to return it to its rightful owners.

  * * * * *

  The Lake City home turned out to be located, just as Uncle Phillip had said, right across the Mississippi River, not far from the plaque that identified this as the place where Ralph Samuelson invented waterskiing. The house itself must have been constructed in the early 1920s, making it one of the newer homes in the neighborhood. In spite of its age, the place smelled new. The highly polished wood floors brought out the glimmer of the freshly painted egg-colored walls.

  Uncle Phillip greeted them out in the driveway and escorted them in. Bronson had expected to see boxes stacked everywhere, but instead he saw a neat, fully furnished home. “I’d rather pay extra and have all the comforts when I walk in. I had a professional designer pick the furniture and equip the house with all it needs, right down to the silverware and pots and pans,” Uncle Phillip said. He was tall and distinguished-looking, with impeccable silver hair. He handed each of them a cool glass of wine. Bronson would have preferred coffee.

  They sat in the living room near an oversized window that overlooked Lake Pepin. Bronson periodically glanced out, watching each passing car, each pedestrian.

  Linda finished her wine quickly and said, “Uncle Phillip, I’m really anxious to look at that game. Would you mind?”

  Uncle Phillip frowned and stood up. He set his own glass down. “Very well, dear. I had hoped we could chat a little first. With the string of recent tragedies, I wanted to make sure you’re doing well.”

  “I’ve learned that when death intervenes, you have to keep going.” Linda looked around. “Where’s the game?”

  “Upstairs, close to the computer. Ready to play it?”

  “You want me to play it now?”

  “Sure, that way we can print out the formula. The guys at the pharmacy aren’t interested in the game, after all.” He winked. “Besides, I’m really curious as to what Mitch created.” He pointed to the stairs. “Shall we?”

  Bronson and Linda followed him.

  The upstairs landing opened onto a foyer large enough to accommodate a sizeable computer desk and several bookcases. Uncle Phillip pointed to the two closed doors. “Those are bedrooms. Linda, I put you in this one.” He pointed to the right. “It’s more feminine. Detective Bronson, this one will be yours.” He pointed to the other door. “Are you sure you don’t want to take the time to settle in first?”

  Linda shook her head. “I’m really anxious.”

  “I can tell.” Uncle Phillip turned on the computer. While he waited for it to boot up, he removed a Thomas Kincaid painting and revealed a safe. He opened it and retrieved the game. He closed the safe door, returned the picture to the wall, and handed the game to his niece. “I believe this is what you’re looking for.”

  Bronson immediately recognized the drawing on the box as the one Manuel had described to him. Linda looked at him and he nodded.

  She opened the box and took out the disk. “Let’s see what this is all about.”

  sixty

  A handsome couple, holding hands, strolled down a street. A gang member stepped out from a building, another from behind a car. Two more came from the alley, more from behind them. Still more approached them from the front.

  The couple turned around. They were surrounded. They stood back-to-back, ready to fight. One hoodlum produced a chain and swung it wildly. Another had a knife, others guns. Without any weapons, the couple seemed doomed, but the handsome hero didn’t appear alarmed. He turned to his wife and said, “Tell me where you want to go and I’ll whisk you away. We could even celebrate our first wedding anniversary there.”

  A tear glistened in Linda’s eye. She and Mitch had gone to Disneyland, acted like kids, acted like lovers. She typed Disneyland.

  The couple found themselves in a different neighborhood. Their previous success had earned them a small knife. A dog growled . . .

  Bronson’s cell went off. He looked at the caller I.D. “It’s my wife. Guess I should have called her as soon as I got here. Excuse me.” He stood up and flipped the cell open. “Hi, hon. We’re here in Lake City. Everything’s okay?”

  He paused and smiled. “Listen, hon, let me call you right back. . . . Yeah, I love you, too.” He disconnected and looked at Linda and Uncle Phillip. “That was Carol. I guess after what happened, she’s kind of concerned. Mind if I step outside and call her back? I’d like to take a closer look at the lake across the street anyway. Didn’t I see a boat ramp and kids playing in the water?”

  “That’s a daily occurrence here, weather permitting,” Uncle Phillip said. “Go ahead. Make your call and enjoy the view. I’ll stay here with Linda in case she needs anything.” He turned to his niece. “Is that okay with you?”

  Linda nodded. “Of course. Please tell Carol hi for me.”

  Bronson nodded. “Will do. You need me, call me. I have call-waiting.”

  “Don’t we all?” she said and waved goodbye.

  As soon as Bronson stepped out, he noticed the place was thriving with activity. Kids and their dogs ran up and down the sidewalks. Young and old lovers strolled hand-in-hand. Dads and moms had picnics spread out. Several teens played energetic volleyball games.

  Bronson whipped out his cell and punched in a speed-dial number. Mike answered on the first ring. “Yo, honey. I love you, too.”

  “I always suspected as much.” Bronson smiled. “You were sayin’?”

  “Before I get into that, everyone over here is pissed off at you. Bronson, what do you think you’re doing?”

  Bronson searched his mind but came up blank. “I’ve no idea what you’re talkin’ about. Care to fill me in?”

  “I’m talking about the transmitter. Why aren’t either of you wearing them?”

  “But I am—we are.” He reached under his shirt, took out the device, opened it, and realized someone had removed the battery. Linda. “Shiiit! Battery’s gone.”

  “Bronson—”

  “I swear it wasn’t me. It had to have been Linda, trying to protect her uncle.”

  “The address she gave Schwein is bogus. Where are you?”

  Bronson looked at the name of the street, gave him the correct address, and scolded himself. He should have known she’d pull a stunt like this.

  “I’ll tell them and they’ll send agents. Make sure nothing goes down before they get there. In the meantime, it looks like you’re on your own. Is everything okay?”

  “Seems to be. Linda’s still workin’ on that game. Anything else you need to tell me?”

  “I’ve been checking on McGory and Stein, but mainly on Stein.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “I think McGory is clueless, but Stein, I’m still not too sure about. I know that prior to being arrested, Marshall cleared Stein of any wrongdoing.”

  Bronson reached the edge of the lake. Children of all ages played in and out of the water. Waves lapped the beach, reminding him of the ocean. “Marshall cleared Stein? That doesn’t sound too promisin’.”

  “That’s why I decided to do my own search.”

  “And?”

  “And Stein is gone.”

  Bronson watched some kids frolicking in the water. Someone drove a red compact down the street very slowly. Bronson strained his neck to keep an eye on the car. “Gone? Where?” He pivoted, heading back toward the house.

  “I don’t know, buddy. No one seems to know. Yesterday, he walked out of
his office, didn’t tell his secretary anything, didn’t talk to his wife or kids, just disappeared. Thought maybe I’d better warn you, in case he shows up there unexpectedly.”

  Bronson watched as the driver of the red car made a U-turn and again slowly drove by Uncle Phillip’s house, staring at it. “Thanks, I’ll be on the lookout.” He hastened his pace.

  By now, the driver had parked across the street, his attention focused on the house.

  sixty-one

  As far as Bronson could tell, the driver never saw him approach. He remained sitting, staring at the house.

  Bronson had his gun, but any one of these people could become innocent victims. He paused long enough to search for a fist-sized rock. He found one with no problem. He picked it up, put it in his pocket, and approached the car from behind the passenger’s side. The open front window provided easy access to the driver. Bronson leaned against the car, looking in. “Somethin’ I can help you with?” He kept his right hand close to the rock.

  The driver, a black-haired man sporting a scraggly beard, let out a startled gasp as he turned to look at Bronson. “Who? What?”

  “You seemed lost. I was wonderin’ if I could help you.” Bronson smiled, hoping to set him at ease. Just a friendly do-gooder trying to help out.

  “Lost? Me? Oh, no. I was—” His eyes opened wider. “I see. This is your house and you’re wondering what I’m doing.”

  “Somethin’ like that.”

  “I love this house and saw the for-sale sign. I’ve been saving money for a down payment, but now I see the sign’s gone. I thought maybe it fell down, or at least I hoped it had. I parked here to see if it looked like anyone was home. I’m really sorry, mister, and I’m sorry I missed my chance to buy it.”

  “Keep lookin’. It may come back up for sale in a couple of months. Have a good day.” He walked back to the house and let himself in. By the time he looked out the bay window, the driver had gone.

  He climbed the stairs and found Linda still engaged in the game. “How’s it going?”

  She looked up at him and he noticed she had been crying. She said, “This game has taken me through a roller coaster ride of Mitch’s and my life together, but I think I’m almost through.”

  Uncle Phillip sat next to her, keeping record of all of the procedures. He reached out and patted her hand. “You’re doing great.”

  “I bet she is.” Bronson shifted his gaze from Uncle Phillip to Linda. “I bet you could use a break just about now. Why don’t you go downstairs and fix me a nice, warm cup of coffee?”

  * * * * *

  In a way, Linda resented Uncle Phillip sitting next to her, recording all the information, some of it very private stuff. On the other hand, having him next to her helped. She hadn’t yet gotten over Mitch’s betrayal. Did he know Eric would turn against her? Had he done it on purpose? Why had he done it? All for money? These were questions no one could answer.

  She heard the downstairs door open, which meant Bronson had returned. She heard him come up the stairs. She had wanted to be finished by the time he arrived, but realized she had set an impossible deadline.

  Bronson must have read her thoughts, as he immediately suggested she take a break and fix him a cup of coffee. That wasn’t exactly on her list of things-to-do in order to relax.

  Bronson’s cell buzzed. He looked down at it, as if reading a text message, and grinned. “That’s Carol.”

  A sudden, unexpected wave of jealousy washed over Linda. Bronson had such a warm, loving relationship with his family. Hers had been reduced to a stupid computer game.

  Bronson walked over to the window behind the computer desk and looked out. “About that coffee,” he said.

  Linda’s nerves screamed with resentment. Sometimes he could be so frustrating. Yet he hadn’t really asked much of her. Just a simple cup of coffee. After all he’d done for her, surely fixing one cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt. Not meaning to, she slammed her hands on the table and pushed the chair back so she could get up.

  Uncle Phillip reached out and stopped her. His eyes pierced Bronson’s back. “How did you figure it out?” He took out a gun and pointed it at Linda’s head.

  sixty-two

  Even before Uncle Phillip asked the question, Bronson had reached inside his pants pocket. His right hand wrapped around the rock.

  Uncle Phillip said, “Put your hands up and keep them where I can see them. I know you have a gun somewhere, so keep those hands high.”

  Bronson raised them, keeping both hands closed. His right hand clutched the rock.

  “Take your gun out and drop it.”

  Bronson lowered his left hand, using exaggerated movements to make sure Phillip focused on it. He shifted his grip on the rock to get it in perfect throwing position. Then he threw it, hitting Phillip in the chest.

  Phillip heaved as the air escaped his lungs. Bronson rushed him and overpowered him. “See if you can find some rope that I can secure him with until the FBI arrives,” he told Linda. “Then you and I are going to have a long talk about what you did.”

  Linda nodded and headed downstairs.

  * * * * *

  Long after the authorities had gone, Linda and Bronson sat at the kitchen table. Linda stared at her coffee while Bronson drank his. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t think my uncle—” She paused and swallowed hard. “Anyway, I’m very sorry.”

  Bronson glanced at her. He had bawled her out, and now felt bad for her. She looked so miserable.

  “That text message you got, it wasn’t from Carol, was it?”

  Bronson shook his head.

  “Who sent it?” Linda’s expression reminded him of an unwanted orphan.

  He emptied his cup and poured another. “I had asked Mike to check on the names of the main shareholders at McGory and Stein Pharmaceutical. Mike texted me that your uncle held the largest share.”

  Linda shook her head. “I heard him tell the FBI he planned to shop the formula around and sell it to the highest bidder. Why do that when he already owned most of the formula through his shares with McGory and Stein?”

  “Greed. If he sold the formula on his own, he’d get a lot more money than the shares would bring.” Bronson sipped his fresh coffee. “I’m sorry about your uncle.”

  Linda shrugged. “Seems I have a rotten family.”

  “If it helps any, your uncle asked me to tell you he never meant for you to find out that your parents and Mitch were murdered. He thought you’d be able to understand accidents much easier. Get over the shock faster.”

  “How could I not find out? Didn’t he hire Carrier to kill my parents and Mitch?”

  “Not really. He hired Carrier to force Mitch to give him the formula. When Mitch refused, he killed your parents, knowing how close your husband was to them. His logic was ‘I’ll kill everyone you love until you give me what I want.’ ”

  Linda nodded. “That’s when Mitch came up with the game thing, right?”

  “Precisely. The next time Carrier approached your husband was that day at your parents’ roof. By then, he knew Mitch had created the game and knew you could just as easily decipher it. Carrier pushed him off the roof and then called your uncle to tell him Mitch was dead. Immediately, Phillip told him his job was over. He’d decided to play the I’m-a-nice-uncle card and invite you to visit him, supposedly to comfort you while you mourned. Once you were with him, he’d find the game, you’d play it, and he’d get the formula.”

  “What went wrong?”

  “Carrier found out how much the formula was worth. He demanded half of the sale money. He took it on himself to terrorize you and lead you to Minnesota. Your uncle had no control over him.”

  Linda frowned. “He shouldn’t have gotten involved with someone like Carrier. How in the world did he even know such a man?”

  “Remember, your uncle is a computer geek. Seems he hacked into the NCIC—”

  “The what?”

  “The National Crime Info Computer. He hacked into that s
ystem, got a name of someone he could reach, and that person led him to Carrier. Your uncle’s main mistake was not realizing how dangerous Carrier was.”

  “He’s not my uncle.” Venom interwoven with contempt spat out. She shrank down in her chair. “At least not anymore. Who would have thought? My favorite uncle, my husband, conspiring. Now one’s dead and the other’s bound for death row—and my parents, both innocent victims of their greed.” Her once sparkling eyes housed a darkness and grief Bronson could barely comprehend. “I’d like to volunteer for the Witness Protection Program.” Her finger traced the rim of her coffee cup.

  Bronson almost smiled. “People don’t volunteer for that. It’s more like you’re drafted into it. Why would you want to go into Witness Protection, anyway?”

  “Everyone I’ve ever loved has betrayed me. If I went away and started all over again—a new name, a new face—maybe I’d find someone who could love me. Maybe.”

  “There’s always your grandson, Bradley.”

  “He’s a year and a half.So innocent. What does he know? Will he grow up to hate me, too?”

  “Do you ever bowl?”

  Linda looked up at Bronson, her eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

  “The sport, bowling. Ever do that?”

  She frowned. “Yeah, a couple of times. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I like bowlin’ because to me, it’s the perfect sport. It always gives its participants a second chance.” He took a sip of coffee and thought about adding a third spoonful of sugar. He decided against it. Carol wouldn’t like that. “Before Eric left, he gave me his phone number and told me to give it to you.” He handed her a folded piece of paper.

  Time ticked away while she stared at it. A small smile found its way to her lips. “Do you think Eric would like to go bowling with me?”