by L C Hayden
Fortunately for Bronson, Jacob’s Pizza House was less than a fifteen minute drive from Penn Woods College. He arrived only five minutes late.
The place swarmed with people, old, young, and in-between. They laughed and chattered, but the volume of the noise never reached the roar level. The pictures on the wall depicted the hot actors, actresses, and singers of yesteryear. In the background, the jukebox spit out one Oldie-But-Goodie tune after another.
After checking the place and not finding Cannady, Bronson settled in a booth tucked away toward the back that still had a clear view of the main door. He amused himself by reading the Interesting Facts about the movie stars tucked under the glass that covered the table. Now and then, he’d glance up.
A man threw him mental darts for apparently taking up a booth and not eating. The clock on the wall showed 7:24. Might as well order. He had to eat anyway.
Six minutes later his pizza arrived but still no Cannady. Bronson checked his cell. No messages. He bit into the first slice.
His taste buds screamed in delight. Glad he chose the large even though he knew he couldn’t eat it all. He poured himself another cup of coffee. Plenty of sugar. Plenty of milk. Carol would never know.
He finished his first slice, worked on the second. Was it too late to order a side salad? That was healthy. Carol would like that. He was contemplating the idea when a frazzled-looking woman stepped in. Bronson signaled Cannady over.
“I’m sorry I’m so late.” She slid in the seat facing him, trying to catch her breath as though she had run from the parking lot inside. She looked around, making sure they were alone.
Bronson indicated the pizza. “I didn’t know what kind you like. I ordered pepperoni. I read somewhere it is the most requested ingredient.”
“My favorite.”
So they had something in common. “Dig in.”
She ordered a beer and helped herself to a slice. She gobbled it in four large bites. “Sorry. I haven’t eaten all day,” she mumbled around a mouthful.
“Have some more. We can always order another.”
She grabbed another slice, no hesitation. She wiped her mouth. “Something’s going on at headquarters.”
“Yeah?”
“We’ve been ordered to cease all investigation involving your sister’s death. As far as the department is concerned, a lover’s quarrel ended Lorraine’s life.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“Quite the contrary. I’m sure Mario Serafin pulled the trigger.”
Bronson set his slice of pizza down. “If he did, then who killed him and why?”
“The who: Devono. They why: revenge. Lorraine was his territory.” Her eyes slipped away from Bronson’s. “Sorry.”
Bronson swallowed hard. He pushed the pizza away. “But now you’re wonderin’ if maybe Serafin didn’t pull the trigger.”
“Let’s just say that there’s something big going on.”
“Meanin’?”
“For years now, the law hasn’t been able to touch Devono. Anything came up involving him, it was hands off. An unwritten understanding existed between Devono and the men he controlled. We, as well as the Pittsburgh Police Department, left him alone and he in turn didn’t do anything that would call attention to himself. But now we’re talking murder and still we’re ordered to leave it alone.” She paused long enough to bite into her pizza. She took a large swig of her beer. “Serafin wasn’t exactly squeaky clean himself. He gets killed, the world’s a better place. I could live with that.”
“But?”
“But no one should be above the law. Besides, long before you came to me, I followed up on the painting angle. Because I’ve had to sneak around, I hadn’t gotten as far as you. But your story makes sense. Goes along with what I’ve learned.”
“Knowing this, you still feel Serafin is responsible for my sister’s death.”
“All evidence points to him.”
“Includin’ the rifle you all found under his bed.”
Cannady frowned.
Bronson helped himself to another slice of pizza. “That’s mighty stupid, don’t you think? Puttin’ the murder weapon under the bed. Serafin must have been very stupid.”
“He wasn’t.”
“That’s exactly my point.”
Cannady leaned forward. “Could be like you suspect. Lorraine got a whiff of the art theft and that is what got her killed. Someone broke into Serafin’s house and planted the weapon to frame him.”
“That someone is Lorraine’s real killer.” Bronson stirred his coffee and focused on the half-empty cup. There really wasn’t anything to stir, but still he stirred. “Lorraine called me several times, you know. Wanted to tell me somethin’. Wouldn’t do it over the phone. She sounded very apprehensive, but I assumed that was because of our estranged relationship. By the time I arrived, it was too late.”
Cannady reached for his hand and squeezed it.
Don’t leave me.
“We’ll get the bastard who did this.” She looked into his eyes.
He found kindness there. He nodded.
She removed her hand. “Pursue all leads. I will cover for you as much as I can. Just don’t come to the office or expect me to officially support you.”
“Do you have a Pittsburgh police contact? Someone who is somewhat of a renegade like you?”
Cannady’s eyes widened. “If I’m a renegade, what does that make you?”
A poster of James Dean stared at Bronson from the wall above him. “A rebel without a cause?”
Cannady smiled. “I had a feeling you were going to ask me for a Pittsburgh Police Department contact. Here’s his name and cell number. I’ve already cleared it with him. His name is Joe Randig.” She retrieved the paper from her pants pocket and handed it to Bronson. “What I want you to remember is that both Joe and I want to keep our jobs and especially our lives. We won’t openly support you or help you. But both of us will do everything possible to help you bring Lorraine justice.” She wiped her hands with a napkin. “Basically what I’m saying is that you’re on your own. Now go out there and get them. We’re rooting for you.”
Rooting for me, but I’m on my own. Good thing I bought the gun. Bronson nodded.
Chapter 48
Already eight thirty-six and Bronson was barely heading home. The cloak of darkness enveloped the vistas he enjoyed during what had become a daily commute. Now the clusters of trees seemed to be nothing more than dark blurbs. He looked forward to getting to Ellen’s and relaxing.
The cell’s ring tone told Bronson Carol was calling. “Hi, honey. Everythin’ okay?”
“All’s well, but I was thinking.”
Uh, oh.
“The funeral will be in a couple of days. You’re just waiting for me to get there. Right?”
“Yeeeah.” Bronson spoke slowly, stretching out the word.
“You haven’t told the girls about their aunt. Don’t you think they have the right to know?”
Bronson had been dreading this moment. He knew it would have to come, but why now? “Thought maybe I’d tell them in person.”
“You don’t think they may want to attend the funeral?”
“I don’t think either will come. They can’t afford it, time wise or financially.”
“But at least that’s their choice.”
As always, Carol was right. “I’ll call them.”
They talked a few minutes longer before disconnecting.
Bronson called the elder of the two daughters, Little Carol, first. When he heard the phone ring, for the first time in his life, he wished she wouldn’t answer.
She did. “Daddy, hi. Good to hear from you. Are you okay? How’s mom? All’s well? How’s retirement treating you? Hope you’re not involved in another case. Are you?”
Bronson smiled. So typical of Carol. Ask a series of questions and don’t give time to answer. “Camper broke down. Mom’s with the camper, a few hours away from me. I’m in Pittsburgh.”
; “Pittsburgh? Really, Dad?” Her tone sounded guarded. “Where in Pittsburgh?”
“Actually, a little town close to Pittsburgh.”
“Whittle City?”
Had Carol told her? No, she would have mentioned it if she had. “Yes. How would you know that?”
Silence.
“Carol Babel, tell me what you know.”
“That’s serious business, Daddy, when you call me by my full name.”
“Carol Babel.”
“Okay, Daddy. Aunt Lorraine called me a few months back. She introduced herself. I wanted to tell you. I really did, but I never found the right time. You never told me about her.”
“I didn’t even tell your mother.”
“Why? What happened between you two? She wouldn’t tell me either.”
“It’s a long story better told in person. Does your sister also know?”
“No, Donna was out of town when Aunt Lorraine started calling. She plans to call her real soon. Maybe this weekend.”
Bronson let out a long sigh. “What did you two talk about?”
“She was anxious to know everything about you. I told her about you retiring and about some of the cases you’ve gotten involved in after your so-called retirement.”
That explained how Lorraine knew so much about him. “You gave her my cell number?”
“Dad, she’s your sister.”
Dad. A few seconds ago it was Daddy. “I need—”
At the same time Bronson started to speak, so did Carol. “We’re making—”
Both stopped.
“You go first,” Bronson said.
“I was going to say that we’re making plans to meet in about a month from now.”
The night grew darker, the shadows, deeper. Why did it have to come to this?
Don’t leave me.
If he hadn’t, would she still be alive now?
“Daddy, you’re not mad at me, are you?”
Daddy. She had called him Daddy. His little girl was back. How could he tell her what he had done? “No, of course not, pumpkin.” He had no idea why he called her that. She didn’t even have red hair. Golden brown highlights added softness to her mostly brown hair. “Is Jim there?”
“Oh, yes. Ever since you talked to him, he’s been treating me like a queen. Thank you for saving my marriage.”
“Don’t give me the credit. He’s the one who wanted to change.” Bronson cleared his throat. “Could you put him on speaker phone? I have something to tell you both.”
“Oh my God. Is Mom okay?”
“Yes, honey. She’s perfectly fine. Now go get Jim.”
Bronson heard her set the phone down. A few seconds later Carol came back on. “We’re both here.”
“Hello, Bronson. What’s this about?” Always the man of few words. Get down to business immediately. That was Jim.
“Daddy, you’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Bronson hesitated and wished with all his might, he didn’t have to do this. “I’m here in Whittle because Lorraine died.”
Carol gasped. “Oh my God. What happened?” Her voice broke.
“She was murdered. She died in my arms.” Tears welled in his eyes, and Bronson hated this weakness.
“Are . . . you okay, Daddy?”
Bronson swept away the tears with jerky, clumsy movements as if his hand had a mind of its own. “As well as expected. And you?”
Jim answered. “Carol was very excited about her new aunt. They would talk on the phone for hours. Carol couldn’t wait to meet her, and now . . . Mind if we call you back? I need to comfort Carol.”
“Sure. Do me a favor?”
“Name it.”
“Hold her for me.”
“I plan to.”
Bronson punched the end button. He started to call Donna but found he had neither the strength nor energy to face her now. He’d call her tomorrow.
Chapter 49
The trees’ and buildings’ muted colors created by the street lights swirled around Bronson. Every inch of him felt wretched. He stomped on the accelerator, and the car shot ahead. He dared the police, or the state troopers, or the county Mounties to catch him.
By some miracle, Bronson reached Ellen’s house ticket free. He sat in the car rubbing his forehead and forcing his body to relax. He looked at his image in the side view mirror. His eyes were droopy and his complexion pale. Did he really feel as tired as he looked? He sat up straighter and practiced smiling. He looked fine.
Mike must have heard him drive up as he opened the front door even before Bronson reached the porch. “You look like hell.”
“Shiiiit.”
“Museums are that taxing?”
Bronson flashed him a fake smile, swept past him, and flopped down on the couch. He unlaced his boots and kicked them off.
“You’re a true Texan,” Ellen said.
“Meanin’?”
“You always wear boots.”
“These are special boots.”
“How’s that?”
“When I was still active, I bought a pair of boots that had a pocket on the inside of the right boot. It held a knife, the type that with a flip of a switch, opens. I got the laced up version of the boots because I get a tight fit, but at the same time, I have enough space for the knife. Ever since I purchased that first pair, all of my boots have had that pocket.”
“Where’s the knife now?”
“In the camper, along with my gun.” He sighed and looked away.
Ellen sat beside him and Mike across from them. “Tell us why you’re so sad.” Ellen squeezed Bronson’s shoulder. “Is it Lorraine?”
“That and the fact that I’ve just finished talkin’ to Little Carol. I told her about Lorraine.”
“She took it hard, I gather.” Mike sat straighter, leaning toward Bronson.
Bronson massaged his eyebrows. “Harder than I expected. She and Lorraine had apparently struck up a relationship.”
“So that’s how the kids at the school she worked at knew about you,” Mike said.
Bronson nodded. “Lorraine and Little Carol planned to meet in a month.”
“How about Donna?” Ellen asked. “Did you talk to her too?”
Bronson shook his head. “I couldn’t. Not after talkin’ to Little Carol. I’ll call Donna tomorrow.”
“She knew Lorraine too?” Ellen asked.
“Not according to Little Carol.”
Mike kicked off his shoes. “Okay, partner. I’m in for the long haul. Tell me about your day, and you can leave off the museum part.”
Ellen stood up. “If you boys are going to talk shop, I’m going to head to bed and curl up with a good book. If either of you need anything, help yourselves.”
Mike stood up and kissed her goodnight. “I’ll be in shortly.”
“I bet.” She looked at Bronson and winked.
Bronson waved goodnight and threw her a kiss.
Mike waited until Ellen had left before he sat back down. “I’m listening.”
Bronson began by telling Mike about his visit to Devono’s. He included every detail he could remember, with one exception. He failed to mention getting hold of some guns.
Bronson then told him about meeting with Dr. Rugbie and about his theory regarding forging expensive art pieces and selling them as originals. To support his hypothesis, Bronson told him about finding the two-sided portfolio.
Mike got his cell out and showed it to Bronson. “I got the pictures you sent. Couldn’t figure out what they meant.”
“Now you do.”
“Now I do.” He pocketed his cell. “Anything else?”
Bronson told him about Cannady. First her harsh treatment when he went to return Miller’s checkbook register, then her explanation and offer at dinner time.
“Amazing. You did all that, and you still had time to visit two museums.”
“I told you I would.”
“You are a man of your word.”
“One of my man
y wonderful characteristics.”
“Including modesty.”
“That, above all.” Bronson stretched out. Mike had a way of making him feel at ease. “Your turn. Tell me about your day. Skip the gooey details.”
Mike smiled. “There were plenty of those.”
“I said skip them.”
“Can’t give you the full picture unless I mention them.” Mike looked down the hallway, toward Ellen’s bedroom. “I think we have a chance. A real chance.” His eyes sparkled.
“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d get up and give you a hug.”
Mike waved his hands in front of him. “Don’t get gooey on me.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.”
“I do have other news.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Shortly after you called and told me about that P. O. Box, I told Ellen. She immediately called in a favor. We got the Special Eight O’clock Tour of County Records, and we got an answer for you.”
Bronson’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? You did that for me on your special date night?”
“All I did was drive. Ellen’s the one who insisted on calling in the favor.”
“Must have been one heck of a huge favor that person owed Ellen.”
“Ellen says they’re even now.”
“I could kiss you both.”
“You’re getting gooey again.”
“It’s my nature.”
Mike cast him a weird look. “Since when?”
“Quit stallin’. Who owns that P. O. Box address?”
“Give it one wild guess.”
Bronson audibly exhaled. “Our attorney friend, Sam Glass.”
“None other,” Mike reassured him.
Chapter 50
The legal secretary pressed the intercom button. “Mr. Glass, a Mr. Bronson and a Mr. Hoover are here to see you.”
Glass smiled. Life had reached the age of perfection. “Tell them I have a phone conference, but will see them immediately after. It shouldn’t be more than half-an-hour or so.”
The lawyer heard his secretary talking to them. A few seconds later, she spoke to him. “They’ll wait.”
Glass released the intercom button and leaned back on his leather chair, a tight grin spreading across his lips. He reached for his private line and punched number one. He heard the phone ring three times before The Raven picked up.