by Jason Winn
Contessa ended the call. She then dialed Louis Preen, letting him know where the Rose Widow’s warehouse was and that she would be there tomorrow night.
“How the hell do you know that?”
“One of her people recently defected. He’s been very helpful.”
And, is now compressed in a car, off to a steel recycling plant in China. So long, Cedric. Sometimes the old gangster ways were best.
“I’ll be there,” said Preen. He could barely contain himself, which excited Contessa. The fool would stumble right into Hector and his men, it would be dark and they’d kill each other across the street from the most heavily guarded property in the world. That spun Contessa up even more—maybe the White House police would trot over to finish the job.
“How many men does she have?” asked Preen.
“I’m not entirely certain. Maybe five to ten. Who’s to say? I would bring hardware.”
“Oh, for sure.”
What an idiot.
“There’s one more, little tidbit I need you to do in exchange for the warehouse address. I’ve learned the identity of one of the Rose Widow’s couriers, a Mr. O’Neal. He’s one of her last.”
“Done. Send me his address.”
“I understand he’s scheduled to leave town tomorrow morning on a business trip. You should try and take care of him as soon as possible. And in five days I will have the Rose Widow’s recipe. You want a piece of the action?”
“Yes. Yes, please.”
“Then you take care of these two things, and I’ll see to it you’re part of the new organization.”
Contessa ended the call.
Hector and the young Preen would run into each other and hopefully kill one another. Maybe even some of Madison’s people would get caught in the crossfire.
“That was masterful, Mama,” said Corrado. “But, one question. If Madison is dead, how will you get her recipe?”
“Simple, son. We will bring her little helper, Sarah, here and motivate her. The Bulldogs will see to that.”
Chapter 77
“It was that gosh darn Preen kid,” said Woody O’Neal. He was panting. “I saw him, the rascal. I’m sure he doesn’t think I did, but his car is noteworthy—powder blue Escalade.”
“Wait. Hold on. Saw him do what?” asked Madison. Woody was the last courier she had left. All the others from the dinner were dead. She couldn’t lose him. He was the last connection to the bulk of her customers. The thought was a gut punch.
“I was going to my car and he drove past me, shooting with some sort of machine gun. That’s what happened, a bloody drive-by, I think they call it.”
“Jesus, did he hit you?”
“No, apparently he’s got abysmal aim. But the front of my house is shot up, for goodness’ sake. The cops are over here, asking a bunch of questions. This sort of thing doesn’t happen in my neighborhood, you understand? The press is likely to show up and my neighbors are gonna start suspecting things. If the Rotary Club finds out, I’m through over there. I’m going to have to move, I think. Oh, God the kids will never forgive me. Aw, this is terrible. Thank god for my other businesses. Deal with this, or I’m hitting the road. You hear me, Madison? Fix it. Or, I’m gone.”
“Wait. What businesses?”
“Real estate. I do have other things, aside from hawking Moonmilk for the likes of you.”
“Oh?”
“Look, you gotta take care of this kid. I’m lucky no one else was home. I thought Preen wasn’t going to be a problem. You’ve said over and over, you were going to take care of protecting us. Remember?”
“Yes.” Madison’s mind scrambled. Her thoughts jumbled together and it was difficult to sort one from the other.
“Well I’m not feeling it. And another thing, how the devil did he know I was at this house this morning? That’s a little suspicious, don’t you think? Somebody, maybe, dropped a dime?”
Madison started to answer but Woody cut her off. “Look, I got to go, Mosby. I’ll catch you later.”
For the next five minutes, Madison seethed in the study. She took a big belt of her scotch and poured herself another from the decanter. That glass went down faster than the first. The volcanic rage built inside until it exploded out. She sprang to her feet and hurled the empty tumbler out the study and into the main hallway. The glass slammed into a picture and shattered into a thousand jagged crystal shards. The picture bounced off the wall and fell to the floor.
“Sarah,” Madison shouted. “Sarah.” No one answered. The only sound was that of the clock’s steady tick-tock.
She knew what she had to do. It was time to break out her new toys from the Shiloh Library and take care of that little Preen asshole. She pulled out her phone and dialed Dwayne. He was at the house an hour later, which gave them just enough time to make it before the store closed.
***
Shelby threw her empty coffee cup on the floor of her car, next to two other empties as a motorcycle rumbled up to Preen’s Floral. “Who buys flowers when riding a motorcycle?”
She had been watching the place for a few hours from across the street. She picked up her binoculars and observed the driver, a husky black man with a thick beard, covered in leather and tattoos. Behind him sat a woman with curly blonde hair. She wore a leather jacket and pinstripe jeans. From a distance she looked young and beautiful. The biker revved his engine and took off around the corner.
Maybe she’s registering for her wedding?
Shelby noted the time and description of the couple down in her notebook. The bike took off too fast for her to get the plates.
***
Madison’s heart raced and her hands shook from all the adrenaline coursing through her as she entered the Preen’s Floral Shop. She was effectively returning to the scene of one of her many crimes. But this time she didn’t exactly look like herself, in the event there were security cameras watching for a young woman with curly brown hair.
This evening, she looked like whoever was on the cover of this month’s edition of the Costco Connection. She had grabbed it from the pile of mail in the foyer, torn out the woman’s face and put it in the back pocket of her jeans.
“Is Mr. Preen in?” asked Madison. The stick of a man behind the counter didn’t at all resemble the gorilla who almost killed her months ago. He wore a name tag that read “Albert.” He wasn’t Preen, Madison thought.
“I’ll go get him, ma’am.”
“Why, thank you.” She double-checked the Sand Metal jacket was buttoned all the way up and reached into the pocket, where an untraceable, hammerless snub-nosed .38 was wrapped in Saran wrap to protect it from the jacket’s metal-destroying power. She found the hole for the trigger and waited.
There was muffled chatter coming from the back room. The same room where she’d used a Winter Rose to turn Mr. and Mrs. Preen into ash and then wash them away with the watering hose.
A smiling young man with blond hair and the build of a cage fighter emerged from the back. He wore an apron smeared with potting soil and wet streaks where he’d probably wiped his hands over and over.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said, looking Madison up and down. “And what can I do for you?” His tongue slid across his lips.
“Are you Mr. Preen?”
“That’s right. Call me Louis.”
“I have a rather large order, Louis.” She looked back into the arrangement room, behind the register. She couldn’t see the other man.
“I’m sure we can manage,” he said.
“But first I have a question.”
“Go on, shoot.”
Oh, we’ll get to that, she thought.
“Do you have any siblings?” This was something Sean and Jane could probably work out in an afternoon, but Madison felt this engagement required a more personal touch.
“Had a sister for a bit, but she crossed over ‘bout ten years ago in a boating accident. That it? Came in here to ask about family, did you?”
“And what about your parents? Are they stil
l with us?”
Louis’s smile faded and his demeanor turned dark, as if a storm cloud had suddenly covered the sun. “What do you care about my parents?”
“I guess they’ve crossed over as well?”
“I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“I’ll be on my way in a moment. Do you miss them?”
“Get out.” Louis’s hands dropped to his sides.
Madison whipped out the pistol and aimed it at Louis’s chest. “One more thing. I killed them. And when you see them in a few seconds, let them know that the Rose Widow killed you too.”
Louis’s hands flew up, holding a pistol. Madison didn’t have time to marvel at his speed. He fired and something hit her in the chest. Only it felt like a snowball. Sparks darted in all directions, like miniature fireworks. She fired.
Louis stumbled backwards. He fired again. This time, the bullet hit Madison’s shoulder. More sparks danced away from the spirit suit.
“What the hell?” Louis said through clinched teeth. His words were smothered as Madison’s pistol barked again and again.
This time, Louis fell through the doorway leading to the back of the store. Blood soaked his work shirt. With one good arm, he tried to pull himself into the back room. The carpet was soaked with blood now.
Madison bolted around the counter and kicked him in the stomach. “You shoot at my people and expect me to just be okay with that?”
Louis rolled over onto his back and grunted something, but Madison couldn’t make it out with the ringing in her ears. Blood poured out of his mouth. His eyes were wide and glassy.
“This is right where you parents died. So long, asshole.” Madison put the barrel of her pistol to his head and fired the revolver’s last two rounds. He went limp. The life drained from his eyes.
Her work done, she pulled the Saran wrap off the pistol and rubbed it against her jacket. It turned from a hunk of metal to sand in her fingers. She wished she had a Winter Rose to do the same to Louis, but she hadn’t thought to bring one.
At that moment, the store shuddered. Madison whirled around to see Shelby burst through the front door, pistol drawn.
“FBI, get down on the ground!”
Madison’s heart stopped.
Chapter 78
Madison’s heart started again, thankfully. She grabbed the pistol from Louis’s limp hand and brought it to bear on Shelby. Sparks flew everywhere as Shelby opened fire.
While the bullet impacts carried the force of a child hitting her, they managed to throw Madison off balance for a second. She rolled to her side, out of the doorway and got to her feet. She fired two shots into the air, hopefully enough to give Shelby pause. She broke for the back door.
This gave Shelby a clear shot at her back. Three more taps hit Madison in the back, she slammed thought the back door, and was out in the alley. Dwayne was waiting for her. Madison jumped on the bike and they were off.
Madison rubbed the pistol on her jacket and it too turned to sand. Then she undid the top button of her jacket so as not to destroy the bike.
Shit! What the hell was Shelby doing there? She just happened to be buying flowers in Arlington today? What kind of coincidence was that?
But then, a more sinister thought crossed Madison’s mind. What if Shelby was watching the Preens? But why? Maybe something to do with their business? Or...
Oh, shit. The murders. Maybe the FBI is looking into the Preens’ murder.
And Madison had just walked in there, shot their kid, in front of an agent. But that wasn’t right. Shelby didn’t do that sort of stuff, did she? She was in HR or something, not...
“Aw shit,” exclaimed Dwayne. “Cop’s on us.”
Madison looked behind them to see a single cop car chasing them with its lights on. They were on a side street, now.
“Pull over,” said Madison.
“Fuck that. I can outrun them.”
“Pull over, before the entire police department is chasing us. I got an idea.” She felt Dwayne’s shoulders sag as the bike stopped. “Just do what he says and be ready to get back on the bike.” Running was possible, but the local police would swarm them and leave them with too few options. No, she needed as few cops as possible right now. Best to accelerate the situation. Hopefully the cop would bend her over his car and while he was sitting there wondering why his cruiser was turning into sand, she and Dwayne could make a break for it.
“Get off the bike,” Madison said to Dwayne as she buttoned her jacket up again and rolled up the ends of the sleeves to her forearms. “Lie down on the street so he doesn’t have to make us move.”
“Better know what the hell you’re doing, Maddy.”
“Relax,” she reassured him, “it’s magic.”
“Show me your hands,” the cop shouted. All Madison saw was a bright searchlight and the blue flashing lights on the top of his car.
“Lie down on your stomach,” Madison told Dwayne, “and put your hands out like this. Don’t move.”
Another car screeched to a stop, next to the cop. Madison recognized it as Shelby’s sensible Honda. She bolted out of the car and over to the cop.
“Put that radio down,” said Shelby to the cop.
“What?” he asked.
“Cuff them first. I need to talk to them before anyone else gets here. Don’t’ worry, I got you covered.” Shelby pulled her pistol and aimed it at the two.
Madison’s brain started running in all directions hearing that. Where were the other cops? Why did Shelby want them all to herself?
As she suspected, the cop cuffed Dwayne, the scary black biker, first. His second set of cuffs clasped down tight around her wrists.
“We’re good,” the cop said to Shelby.
Madison watched Shelby holster her weapon and pull out her cell phone. She turned and started walking back to her car.
Who is she calling?
Strong hands started to rummage through Madison’s pockets.
“You have anything that is going to cut me?” the cop asked the two of them.
“No, sir,” they replied in unison.
“All right, come on, get up,” said the cop. He helped the two of them to their feet and continued the pat down.
“Where’s your identification?” he asked.
The cop’s hand slipped into Madison’s back pocket and pulled out the Costco picture. There was no sensation as Madison transformed back to herself, other than pure terror. Shelby had her back to her, still talking on the phone.
“All right, turn around,” said the cop.
They did. Dwayne flashed a look that said “oh shit.” With all her strength, Madison raised her cuffed hands to the tail of her jacket. The metal disintegrated as the cop looked over to see Madison was no longer a blonde.
“The hell,” was all the stunned cop could spit out before Madison punched him square in the nose. She whacked Dwayne’s cuffs with her forearm and he was free.
The cop stumbled backwards, holding his nose. That was all Dwayne needed to see. He lunged at the cop, taking him down to the ground. Madison grabbed the pepper spray from the cop’s duty belt and ran up to Shelby, who was just now turning to see what the hell was going on.
Madison sprayed Shelby right in the face. Her sister screamed and covered her face, trying to rub away the blinding cloud.
Careful not to say anything and seeing that Dwayne had the furious cop pinned to the ground, Madison grabbed his radio and threw it down the street.
“Go, go, go,” Madison hissed.
With a quick twist, Dwayne popped the cop’s right shoulder, before jumping on the bike. The engine revved.
“What the hell was that?” Madison asked.
“His shoulder,” Dwayne said. “Can’t have him shooting at us. He’ll be fine in a few weeks.”
***
Cold milk washed over Shelby’s face. The burning had subsided and thankfully, she’d remembered her training not to wipe her eyes when the murderer sprayed her.
�
��Almost done, Agent Painter,” said a voice.
Her face burned, but at least the coughing had abated. Her tears began to clear and Shelby could make out flashing lights everywhere. An ambulance was parked a few feet away along with what looked like half of the Arlington police department.
Shit. This was about as much unwanted attention as she could have imagined.
“Where is she?” Shelby asked the officer who had poured milk over her face.
“Who?” The officer handed her a milk-soaked towel.
“The woman we had in cuffs. The one who shot Preen?”
Then he looked over to officer Summerfield, the one that had been with Shelby watching the shop. An EMT was tying a sling around his neck. The sight nauseated Shelby. She’d put him at risk.
“You Agent Painter?” asked a thick, gray-haired cop with lieutenant’s bars on his collar. His nameplate read, Lawson.
“That’s right,” she said.
“Care to tell me what all of this is about? We’ve got a body in there and an injured officer.”
“He was off-duty, when he was helping me.”
“I know. The question is, why?” Lawson’s jaw was tense and he looked ready to punch someone—the world-weary sheriff from a cowboy movie, pissed that someone would come into his town and start trouble.
Shelby didn’t care if he was pissed. She went stone-faced on him and broke out a crisp new lie. “The body, Mr. Preen, is part of an ongoing bureau investigation.”
“Uh-huh. And I suppose you’re not going to tell me anything else.”
“Correct. It’s drug related. Mr. Preen is part of a larger operation.”
“And you just happened to be here when a hit man walked in and shot him.”
It was time for this to end. Lawson apparently needed something to do, to occupy his time. “The bureau thanks you for your assistance, Lieutenant. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to take a look around inside, before your men get to work cleaning up.”
Shelby walked away from him, before he could respond. She wasn’t about to continue that tennis match anymore.