Webster shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. In theory, though, if you are a good executioner, how would you kill them?”
“The price is fifteen thousand dollars. I don’t do a lot of negotiating,” Manatee said.
Webster didn’t flinch. He put one hand on his pistol. He had a flat, nasal voice.
“A high price.”
“Murder doesn’t come cheap.”
“I’ve had other offers for less money,” Webster said.
Manatee gave a wry grin. “Yes, but you have to do more than shoot the man, or the man and woman, in this case. You have to do it and leave no clues, or the police come up and knock on your door. The boys in blue will have a warrant. When they put handcuffs on, you’d better have a good lawyer. Even a good lawyer won’t do you much good if the hit man sits on the witness stand and points his finger at you and says, ‘That’s the man who hired me.’ I’ve killed a number of men and have never been on a witness stand. That’s worth my fee and probably a little bit more. So I don’t negotiate. Take it or leave it.”
“So the question remains, how would you kill them and also prevent problems with people wearing badges?”
“When I heard the two names I did some checking. I’ve crossed paths with Augustine once or twice. The woman spends a lot of time at Augustine’s house. Augustine keeps in shape. Perhaps that’s why he often takes an early-morning and late-night walk. Lately, she’s been joining him. It’s a perfect time to kill both. Either with a gun or with a car. The car would have to be disposed of. Easier to shoot them. An additional touch would be to leave something on Augustine’s body. Maybe a note with just one word: Revenge. Investigators would believe someone from Augustine’s past had killed him, for unknown reasons, and the assassin had killed the woman, too. I have an associate who is also a hacker. He could hack into Augustine’s email and insert death threats and even mention an incident that occurred, say, fifteen months ago. That way, police would not connect his murder with any recent events.”
Webster took his hand from his pistol and raised it to his shirt pocket. He brought out a pack of cigarettes and stuck one in his mouth. He lit it and blew out some smoke.
“Sounds good. I like the plan,” he said.
“Five thousand upfront and ten thousand after the job is done.”
“I don’t have that much cash on me now,” Webster said.
“You should be able to get it quick enough.”
Webster nodded. “I can, but I don’t make rash decisions. I wait and consider things. That way I don’t make mistakes, and I don’t get caught. I’ll think about this. I like your plan. You’ve put some thought into this, Mr Manatee.”
“As you said, if you think first, you don’t get caught later.”
“That’s a philosophy I approve of. I will…consider your offer. Leave me your private number. If I accept I will get in touch.”
“Don’t take too long.”
“Don’t be impatient, Mr Manatee. Are there that many people in the region who want your services?”
“You’d be surprised,” Manatee said.
The next afternoon Clay sat in his office reading and watching a golf tournament. He not only had the Extra Innings Channel on his office wide-screen television, but he also subscribed to the Golf Channel, too. He sat with his feet on the desk watching Jordan Spieth make a magnificent five iron shot and bounce the ball within two feet of the cup when the phone rang.
“This is Clay Augustine, ace private investigator. How may I help you?”
“Mr Augustine, my name is John Sherman, and I very much need to talk to you about a serious matter. Will you be in this office this afternoon? I’m out of the county and will have to travel to talk to you.”
“I hope the trip will be worth it. I’ll be in the office for the entire afternoon. I have some desk work and will not be leaving until about five or six,” Clay said.
“Could you stay an extra thirty minutes? The trip will take several hours, and I won’t be able to leave for at least an hour, maybe more. But I assure you the meeting is important to me and will be profitable to you.”
“Six-thirty will be fine. You have my address?”
“Yes, you have a nice website. It has your address and pictures of where your office is.”
“The other occupants of the building will be out by the time you get here. Just come in the office where the light is.”
“I will. See you at six-thirty, maybe before,” he said as he hung up.
“Bring your friend,” Clay said. “I’ll have mine here.”
If Manatee hadn’t tipped him off, Clay might not have been suspicious of the call. But he certainly would have noticed that the caller made sure Clay would be alone when he arrived and that his appointment time would be when the building would be empty. The stranger promised that the meeting would be profitable. Certainly, that statement would help ensure that his target stuck around during the evening. But he had been so sincere I almost believed he actually needed my services, Clay thought. Almost. But he definitely believed the caller was in the service of Eric Eberdine. He decided just to tell April he’d be working late without giving her any details. She’d just worry.
Manatee came in about five-thirty, smiling.
“So you’re going to have visitors?”
“It seems so. Think we can convince them that the way of the sinner and musclemen is weary and rough?”
“Yeah, after we beat them up,” Manatee said.
“Why don’t you stay in the bathroom until our friends arrive?” Clay pointed. “It’s in the back.”
“Fine. I gotta go anyway.”
Clay wore a sports shirt, but no jacket, to assure the guests that he wasn’t armed. If Manatee was right, the two were not sent to kill, just to dislodge a few ribs and perhaps a leg or two. He leaned back and waited.
They arrived early. A few minutes after six two men walked into the office without knocking. At first glance, they looked semi-pro. Local toughs that Eberdine would hire. One looked like he was in his early thirties. He was tan with a barrel chest and wore a black T-shirt. Forearms bulged. He had spent more than a few hours in the gym. He wore black gym slacks. When he widened his lips, it wasn’t exactly a smile. Just a line of uneven teeth that needed dental work. He didn’t say hello.
The second man had a pug nose that had been broken at least once. He wore a turtleneck and a coat. At least six-three, he was fit enough to be in a catalog for beachwear. Stomach was flat and firm. The pug nose and the large mouth gave him an ugly look, but he had narrow, intelligent eyes.
“Augustine?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Get up and walk over here.”
“Why?”
Pug nose pulled a gun from his shoulder holster.
“Because I asked you nicely,” he said.
“Technically your statement wasn’t actually nice, nor was it a request. It was more like an order, and the tone sounded rather mean.”
“Stop being a smart aleck and get over here,” he said, the tone this time sounded more like a growl.
Clay shrugged, stood up, and walked around to the front of the desk.
“Mr Eric Eberdine asked us to say hello to you and to repay you for what you did to his son.”
“His son was stalking a woman and assaulted her.”
“That is none of our affair. You know what we mean when we say ‘buckwheats'?”
Clay nodded. “Professional beating. Broken bones.” He directed his gaze to one and then to the other thug. “I guess that means you’re professionals.”
“We are.”
“Just as a matter of curiosity, how much do you charge nowadays?”
For a moment Clay thought the question would be ignored. Then T-shirt answered.
“Five thousand.”
“Wow, isn’t that high for a beating? How much do you charge to kill someone?”
“We’re not into that. We’re musclemen, nothing more. But af
ter our session, Augustine, you may wish you were dead. At least for a while before you recover.”
Clay pointed to them. “But there’s just two of you.”
“We only need two. Besides I have a gun.”
A voice came from behind Clay. “Not for long. Throw it down!”
When turtleneck started to pivot left, Manatee’s dark voice stopped him.
“Don’t!” he said. “You may be only muscle, but I have killed men. You two can be next if you like.”
Turtleneck froze.
“Listen very carefully,” Manatee said. “Very slowly take your finger off the trigger, and then slowly grab your gun by the barrel and hand it very gently to my friend Clay.”
Turtleneck did what he was told. Clay emptied it and tossed it to the back of the room.
“Actually we’re professionals too,” Manatee said. “And to show there are no hard feelings we will give you a chance to collect your money.” He placed his gun on the desk. The action surprised the two. Clay pivoted and with all his strength punched black T-shirt in the face. Had a bit of skill and a bit of luck. It was a perfect punch. T-shirt spun around as blood and skin flew through the air. Spinning he hit the wall, then staggered. His legs wobbled. He clenched his fists and brought his arms up, but there was no quickness in the moves. Blood poured down his chin. Clay feinted with his right. T-shirt dodged the fake punch but was slammed with a real one from a left fist. He wobbled even more. Clay easily avoided the counterpunch. His quick right knocked his opponent’s head back. Unsteady, the man tottered uneasily on rubber legs. With all his might, Clay delivered an airmail gut punch. His opponent groaned and fell to the floor. He wasn’t getting up anytime soon.
Clay looked to his right as Manatee hammered turtleneck with lefts and rights. When Manatee stepped away, turtleneck fell forward hitting the floor with a solid thunk.
“Well, I guess we win,” Manatee said.
“Looks like it. You know where Eberdine lives?’
“Yes.”
“Let’s load those two into a car.”
The two beefy thugs were heavy. Manatee and Clay had to haul them down the stairs and then shove them into the trunk of Manatee’s car.
“You know where Eberdine lives, you drive,” Clay said. “Don’t go over the speed limit. I don’t want to explain to a police officer why we have two unconscious men in the trunk of the car.”
“Hey, we were defending ourselves.”
“Yes, but the entire situation would take a while to explain, and I don’t want to miss dinner.”
Manatee drove across the Melvin Fletcher Bridge, named for one of the former mayors of the town. An honest one, who loved the city and the citizens. The city was fortunate to have had him for a mayor. Manatee turned right on AIA, then turned right again about seven miles later into a wealthy subdivision. The two-story seven-figure house had four columns after the five steps leading up to the front door. But Clay wasn’t there to look at the architecture. Lights reflected from several windows.
“Wonder if the guy has servants?” Manatee said.
“Maybe. We’ll find out soon. We don’t have to drag both bodies into the house, do we?”
“No, I think one should be enough. Let’s get the turtleneck. He’s not as heavy as the T-shirt guy. We’ll leave T-shirt outside.”
Clay knocked on the door while Manatee held the unconscious thug. When the door opened, they walked in, much to the surprise of the elderly balding man wearing a very nice orange polo shirt. Manatee tossed the thug into the house. The guy sprawled over an exquisite, sparkling coffee table and landed roughly on the floor.
“You Eberdine?” Clay asked.
The balding man stiffened as if a Marine Drill Sergeant had barked at him. He straightened and looked at them with utter disdain.
“I am Eric Eberdine. What is the reason for this intrusion?”
There was no English accent, but the tone was that of an English Baron confronting peasants who had spread dirt on his carpet.
“My name is Clay Augustine.”
“I’m aware of who you are. The photo on your website is a good one.”
“Oh, you looked me up. I’m honored. Then you know why we’re here. My friend here is called Manatee. He’s the one who stopped Rollo from assaulting Carli Newman.”
An imperial disdain for commoners flowed out of him. But tears came to his eyes. He moved back from us. His voice was more like a hiss now.
“You destroyed Rollo. All he does is sit in a chair and stare outside. It’s difficult to get him to eat or even do simple things like walk in a garden. He…he doesn’t speak well. The words are garbled. When he hears a loud noise he jerks and yells with fear.”
Clay looked at the old man. “I guess your parenting skills weren’t all that good, Eric. I have no sympathy for you or Rollo. Men should not stalk or assault women. To be honest, he got what he deserved. It wasn’t legal, but it was justice. Get him some therapy, and he’ll be fine in a while. Not next week and maybe not next month but he will recover. Manatee could have done a great deal more damage than he did.”
“I underestimated you,” Eberdine said.
“Yes, that might have been a fatal mistake, but we’re feeling gracious this evening.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m not feeling gracious,” Manatee said.
Clay yanked a handful of Eberdine’s polo shirt and pulled him forward. His nose came within an inch of the private detective’s. Clay pointed toward turtleneck who was still unconscious on Eberdine’s expensive carpet. A thin line of blood flowed from a cut on his face.
“That’s one of your men. He wasn’t good enough to take us. No one you hire will be good enough. Now, this ends here tonight. If we have to come back, you will take the chair next to your son, and neither one of you will walk straight for a long, long time. Let me emphasize this once again. I have no sympathy for you. You raised a son who was close to becoming a predator if he hadn’t already crossed that line. But that career path has been crossed out for him. Now we end it tonight, or our next visit will not be as pleasant.”
Clay let go of him and pushed him back a few steps.
“You are always too soft,” Manatee said.
He walked briskly over and slapped Eberdine hard, backhanded him even harder. The smacks echoed through the room. The old man would have fallen, but Manatee caught him by the polo shirt and hauled him back up. He slapped the old man again, then let him fall to the carpet.
“Remember that you jackass. You try anything again, and there is no place you can run that I can’t find you. And there’s no place you can take your son that I can’t find him. You remember that, old man.”
“I think he gets the message,” Clay said.
“He’d better.”
“Come on, we need to get the other guy out of the trunk.”
They grabbed T-shirt and left him on the pavement, then drove off. It had not been a pleasurable evening. Necessary but not pleasant. Clay thought if he ever wrote an autobiography he’d probably leave this episode out.
But Carli Newman was now safe to walk the streets and laugh as she strolled down the North Carolina beaches. No shadow of terror would haunt her. Everyone deserved that, to walk without fear. That was something to hold on to.
12
The day was unusually cool for North Carolina, and very pleasant. A strong breeze blew over the ocean as waves dashed into the sand, sending sea spray onto April and Clay as they stood on the beach. The waves advanced within two feet of their shoes then stalled and slid back toward the ocean.
“So Manatee hasn’t heard anything from Webster?” April said.
“No, and it’s been three days. That’s worrisome.” Clay said.
“Darn sure is. Manatee is impressive. Don’t see why Webster wouldn’t hire him.”
“I think something must have gone wrong. Manatee told Webster he had crossed paths with me. Maybe that sent off a red flag to the man. But we’re in the same town. In our professions
, it would seem strange if we hadn’t bumped into one another from time to time. But Webster isn’t biting. Maybe he decided not to hire a hit man after all.”
April shook her head. “No, he may have decided not to hire Manatee, but he’s going to hire someone.”
“What makes you think that?”
“That’s how Mallory has disposed of people in the past, his two wives being the prime examples. He killed both and, basically, got away with it. Brittle has disappeared. I’m guessing his body will be found eventually, but who knows where. Murder is how he deals with problems. The only difference is this time Mallory and Webster wanted a hit man because you’re a private detective. I guess they figured you’d be more difficult to kill than an unarmed woman.”
“A sensible view.”
“But I think you’re right that he decided not to hire Manatee. That only means he’ll have to choose someone else. And he has to do it quickly. He thinks we’ll soon take that bank account evidence to the state attorney. Manatee gave him a good plan, but it has to be used soon.”
“That’s true,” Clay said.
“By the way, Manatee has never actually killed anyone, has he? I mean, for hire?”
“No, of course not. Not for hire. He wouldn’t do that.”
“But he plans well,” April said.
“He has any number of talents. Planning is one of them.”
“Let’s use that to our advantage and get devious.”
Clay stared at her. “Your eyes suddenly lit up, and you have a cunning smile. You also have a plan?”
“I do. Do you have bulletproof vests?”
“I have one, and I could get another.”
“Then I have a plan.”
Two days later, April and Clay walked down the road from Clay’s house toward a small county park two miles away. It was the fourth time they had made the trek. It was still unseasonably cool so no one would question the sweatshirts they wore. Early in the morning a few walkers or joggers wore such shirts without the bulletproof vests that April and Clay wore. Their guns were hidden in the pockets of the sweat pants.
A Sea Oak Mystery Boxed Set Page 10