Grave Expectations on Dickens' Dune

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “ATR—do you know what Allen’s middle name was?” Neely muttered as she examined a monogram on a bag in the closet.

  “No, I don’t believe anyone’s ever mentioned it to us. That could be his initials though, couldn’t it?”

  “Yep! This old thing has seen better days.” Neely said as she struggled to drag an enormous scarred up old suitcase out of the closet and opened it. It was loaded with men’s clothing including army fatigues, boots, books, and a framed picture of a young, happy Allen with his bride, Judith. We carefully searched it, but there wasn’t anything inside that had a lock on it.

  “We should to take this stuff to Judith,” I said. “These things belong to her, not to Nick.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me about it,” Neely said.

  “Let’s put Wendy’s stuff away. Then let me help you haul that suitcase out to the living room. We’ll give the letter to Nick, and then tell him we’re taking Allen’s bag to Judith.”

  “Agreed,” Neely said. Together, we put everything back into the closet—except for Allen’s suitcase. We lugged that thing to the front door. It sure was heavy or maybe my arms hadn’t recovered from lifting that mattress and box spring. Nick and Elizabeth, cleaned up and bandaged, were eating ice cream.

  “Did you find a million dollars?” Nick asked.

  “No.” I felt disappointed since I was convinced that we’d solved the mystery of the “blood money” that Mark and Allen were fighting over.

  “I didn’t think so. Mark is off his rocker—he always has been.” Nick scowled as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

  “We did find a suitcase that belonged to Allen, and we’re going to take it with us for Judith. It should have been given to her long ago.” Nick nodded.

  “You’re right. I’m not sure how Allen’s bag got into her room. I was too scared and in too big a hurry to ask anyone about anything, so I put it all into storage.”

  “This was in Wendy’s overnight bag. It’s addressed to you.” I took the empty ice cream bowl from Nick. His hand shook as he took the letter from me. As he read it, the tears flowed.

  “It’s a confession and directions to where she and Mark Viceroy buried Allen. I swear to you that I didn’t know any of this. She was going to go to the police as soon as we got far enough away from Mark. We thought Vegas would work, and then she was arrested for a DUI. By the time she wrote this letter, she was out of jail; and she said if anything happened to her, to tell the police Mark Viceroy murdered her. He wanted her to marry him so she couldn’t testify against him in court. When she refused, he hit her and threatened to kill her, so Wendy said it was only a matter of time.”

  “I’m sorry, Nick. She was an idiot, too, wasn’t she?” Elizabeth asked. “Why didn’t she go to the police?”

  “The same reason I didn’t go—we were afraid of the police and Mark. Why would the police believe us or protect us from him?”

  “I get it.” Elizabeth stood up, a little unsteady on her feet, and pulled a throw from the back of the couch where she’d been sitting. Then, she covered Nick with it. “He’s shaking like a leaf.”

  “What’s going to happen to Elizabeth?” Nick asked sadly.

  “I guess it depends. Do you want us to have her arrested?” Midge asked.

  “For what? Being an idiot? She didn’t assault me. She can’t be much older than Wendy was when she died.”

  “She helped mess up your place,” Marty added.

  “I’m sorry, Nick. I’ll clean it up,” Elizabeth offered. “The police will want to talk to me about what happened in my hotel room, though, won’t they?”

  “Oh, yes. You should speak to a lawyer first.” I saw terror in her eyes. “Don’t worry, I heard what you said about not having any money. Let me call Judith Rogow and ask her who to call to handle your case pro bono, as in free.”

  “Thank you. Would she do that for me after what I did to her?”

  “I think so. She’s got a big heart, which is why, after all these years, she still cares so much about an ex-husband who disappeared before you were born.”

  “Elizabeth’s heart was in the right place and her head was on straight when she decided to be a nurse. If she can get out of the fix that she’s in, I think she deserves another chance—one that Wendy never had.” I nodded in response to Nick’s plea, and then called Judith.

  A couple of hours later, we dragged ourselves back to the resort. While Elizabeth tried to clean up some of the mess, the four of us put Nick’s bed back together. Then we helped clean up most of the mess Mark and Elizabeth had created. Nick called a locksmith to repair the door and reinforce it. Judith was moved to tears when I told her we’d found some of Allen’s belongings and a written confession from Wendy. She planned to come by our suite the next morning to pick up the suitcase and a copy of the letter Wendy had left for Nick years and years ago.

  Before we left, a lawyer had arrived to speak to Elizabeth. She agreed to meet with the police if she could stay at Nick’s place to make sure he was going to be okay. It wasn’t until the police showed up that we left. Neely and I talked Marty and Midge into coming up to our suite for an early dinner and a soak in the hot tub to soothe our sore muscles.

  “Gift card!” Neely said. “New bathing suits are on the house.” They wearily agreed as we got into the elevator.

  Even the best-laid schemes of mice and men often go awry. That’s not a Dickens quote, but it should have been.

  17 The Rules of Vengeance

  “Vengeance and retribution require a long time; it is the rule.” ~ A Tale of Two Cities

  ∞

  As soon as we put the keycard in the lock, the door to our suite opened. Once I got over my surprise at seeing Charly standing there, I knew by the look on her face that we were in trouble. When Mark Viceroy jerked her out of the way and directed us all into the room using his gun as an invitation, I began to look for a way to escape. We clearly had him outnumbered. Joe and Carl were sitting on the couch like two kids who’d been sent to the principal’s office.

  “We had him under surveillance, but as soon as he finished his dialysis, he sneaked up on us from behind.”

  “I spotted these two dummies on my way in, and my plan was to lose them when I left the clinic. Unfortunately, one of you yahoos told the police where I was going to be this afternoon. Fortunately for me, they weren’t any better at stakeouts than these two. I’m not sure what I would have done if you guys hadn’t been sitting there with the motor running in my getaway car.” Then he closed the door behind us.

  “Sit down and get comfy. We’re going to have a little chat, and when it gets dark, one of you is going to order the valet to bring around a car. Then we’re going to go to Santa Barbara General Hospital to pick up a package that someone was supposed to deliver to me earlier today.”

  I was about to tell him that wouldn’t be necessary, but I had a small task to complete first. No way would I give him the key that Wendy had left, but I figured I could switch it with a key that I’d taken from the suitcase that belonged to Allen Rogow.

  “I don’t want to cause you any problems, but I need to use the bathroom before it’s too late.” I was wired and jittery, so it was easy to do the little “gotta-go” dance. He nodded toward the bathroom I was supposed to use.

  “Pull anything, and the dog gets it,” Domino, who had been remarkably well-behaved, growled.

  “It’s okay, Domino. Momma will be right back. Go get your treats!” She didn’t budge, and the poor little thing hadn’t had much to eat since this morning. I gave up and slipped into the bathroom, switched the keys on the chain that Wendy had left with Leonard for safekeeping, flushed the toilet and then ran the water.

  “That’s a relief!” I said and then sat down. I looked at Midge as I spoke. “Midge, he can’t possibly be talking about the package the kooky nurse left behind, can he?” I winked, and a light bulb must have gone off as a glint appeared in Midge’s eyes.

  “I doubt it. Wha
t are the odds that he’s after her, too?”

  “You aren’t talking about Elizabeth Stockton, are you?” Mark asked.

  “As a matter of fact, we are. Does Elizabeth Stockton owe you money?” I asked. His eyes narrowed as he spoke again.

  “Who are you people?”

  “Grand Old Lady Detectives,” Charly said and held out a business card that he took. Then, Midge picked up the conversation as if we’d rehearsed this entire scene.

  “That young woman has run up bills all over the area. The police are after her for passing bad checks, but we’d like to get our client’s property back without bringing in the law. She seems to have helped herself to something of great value for which the provenance isn’t well-established.”

  “That’s pricy stolen goods to you, pal,” Joe said. Confusion reigned as a dozen expressions flitted through Mark’s eyes and across his face. I didn’t want to lose sight of the fact that this was a man who could beat people to a pulp, but he appeared lost. Then a shrewd look returned to his face.

  “Why were you following me?”

  “Because we saw Elizabeth Stockton get into a pickup truck with you earlier today. We figured you could take us to the location of the, um, missing item.”

  “What was the hooey about did I know the kooky nurse if you already saw her with me?” He was lost again. As he stood there, bumfuzzled, I noticed that he was inches from the ottoman that he must have been sitting on before we arrived.

  “Let’s just say it was a test of sorts. His body language looked okay to me, didn’t it to you, Neely?”

  “Oh, yes, and there was no indication that he was lying—I was tracking his eye movements very carefully.”

  “Where is it?” I asked.

  “What?” He asked, with some irritation.

  “How about we make a swap. I hand over the package Elizabeth Stockton promised to give you, and you tell us where she’s taken the silver-rimmed, turn of the century biscotti crystal bowl that once belonged to Her Highness Princess Wilhelmina De Borgia?” His eyes were almost twitching, now, as I described a large fruit bowl sitting on the counter at Nick’s house next to a box of biscotti. All of it was gibberish, but I was trying to keep him off kilter, waiting for a moment to strike.

  To be honest, if he hadn’t been holding that gun, I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to do what I did next. He had to be worse off than Nick was. From all we’d learned about Mark Viceroy, he was one of the more despicable people I’d ever run into—since yesterday anyway. Still, I didn’t want to kill him.

  “As a gesture of goodwill, I’m going to let you examine the package we picked up while we were in Santa Barbara yesterday.” I stood and reached into my bag.

  “Slow down. Don’t make me shoot you.”

  And bring twenty people down on your fool head, I thought.

  “Trust me, I don’t need a gun to put you down any time I want.” Before he could even try to figure out that one, I slid my purse off my shoulder and opened it wide so he could see the envelope. Then, we got the knock on the door I’d been waiting for. I had no idea it would take so long. When Mark Viceroy aimed that gun at the door instead of one of us, I lunged. Domino did, too. I slung my bag and hit him with it like it was the biggest kubotan ever made! Domino rabbit-punched him in the gut, and he fell backward, tumbling end over end after he tripped over the ottoman. The gun flew, of course, and Joe scrambled to get it.

  “Ah, another day, another gun. An Angel’s work is never done!”

  “The words of a true poet,” Carl said.

  There was another knock on the door. Charly opened it and a big guy in a sharp-looking suit followed a hotel staff member as he rolled the luggage cart into the room with Allen Rogow’s suitcase on it. Ricardo Cantinela was right behind him.

  “Cara Mia,” he said. “May I give you a hand?” When I’d slammed my bag into Mark, and he’d fallen backward, I was propelled forward and landed with an oomph, face first, on the ottoman. It was softer than I’d imagined, and for a few seconds, I was tempted to stay there. As a result, I was still trying to push myself up when our visitors barged in, and the new disturbance began.

  “No, thank you. I’m up!” I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My hair was standing up on end. Wouldn’t you know it, Hank waltzed in. He motioned to a uniformed officer with him to get Mark.

  “Cuff him, and read him his rights,” Hank said.

  “We have a few questions for him first,” Ricardo Cantinela argued.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to get in line,” Hank replied. “I’ve got top jurisdiction right now because he’s wanted in Santa Barbara County for the murder of Wendy Ballard, as an accessory after the fact in the murder of Allen Rogow, and a dozen other charges.”

  “And so, we will wait.” Ricardo apologized for the intrusion and excused himself. Before he left, he took my hand and kissed it in Continental fashion.

  “Until we meet again, Miriam Webster. It’s a relief to know you weren’t mixed up with a man like Mark Viceroy. We’ve had our eyes on him for a very long time. You had me worried when you and your friends began to seek him out and then dragged an old suitcase that we’d also been looking for from a house so soon after Mark Viceroy left it. Forgive me, please, for my suspicions. I hope the note I sent with the candy and flowers makes up for it.” Then he was gone.

  “What’s in this thing?” Joe asked as he removed Allen’s suitcase from the cart. “Is it lined with lead or something?”

  “Or something,” I said as I flew into action. “False bottom.” Neely got it instantly and emptied Allen’s belongings onto the cart. She lifted a layer of fabric and cardboard like you’d find in any suitcase. Beneath it was a flat metal container that fit perfectly into the bottom of the suitcase. The tiny key I’d pulled from my purse opened it in an instant.

  “Well, how do you like that?” I asked as I stared at money—not a currency I recognized. “I leaned in for a closer look. “Whew! French francs and not Italian Lira—I was afraid this was mob money.”

  “No, that’s not what Ricardo wanted,” Charly commented. The next round of visitors didn’t even knock. The police officer who’d escorted Mark Viceroy from the room had apparently left the door unlatched.

  “U.S. Treasury. Where is it?” Charly pointed to where Neely and I were still bent over the suitcase.

  “There, Harold. Hold your horses, will you?” Then she put on latex gloves and knelt beside the suitcase. Very carefully, she lifted plastic wrapped sheets of money from the tray built into the suitcase. “Excellent counterfeits!”

  “Are those counterfeiters’ plates?” I asked when I saw what lay beneath the money

  “Yes,” Charly replied.

  “Why does anyone want them back? Are they still good?” Neely asked.

  “No, but they tell a story that can convict members of the counterfeiting syndicate who are still alive and maybe lead to a newer generation of currency counterfeiters. Ricardo’s pals would like to get their hands on this,” Charly said as she pulled out a slip of paper. “It’s the names of those who helped Allen Rogow get these plates out of the country before they could fall into the hands of the North Vietnamese. Once the operation fell apart, everyone assumed all of this had been lost. There was reason to believe that someone higher up was involved when the operation unraveled, and Allen was shot during an ambush. My guess is that Allen never knew for sure who he could trust after that with the mob also involved, and the possibility that his Army buddy had betrayed him. I’m sure he was still at a loss about what to do once he hauled this back to California with him a year later. If he’d lived a little longer, he might have figured out what to do with it.”

  “Mark must have been convinced Allen had the money, but didn’t know it was counterfeit,” I suggested.

  “That’s possible,” Harold responded. “We believe Mark Viceroy was in cahoots with a local civilian who was killed at the scene. Before he died, the gentleman said he needed money to get his
family out of Vietnam, so he was under the impression the money was the real deal. He and Mark Viceroy had been acquaintances, but the thief died before he could name others who were in on the heist. Then the bag disappeared, and the case went cold.”

  “Allen must have tried to keep Mark away from the money without giving away the details of the operation in which he’d been involved. It was an act of stupidity on Mark’s part to want to use the money since the counterfeiters were in bed with an international crime syndicate,” Charly commented.

  “Yeah, we passed Ricardo Cantinela as he was getting into the elevator. He told us he was next to speak to Mark Viceroy so we should ‘get in line.’ I’ll bet they don’t like waiting to hear what he has to say. We’d like a crack at him first, of course, now that he’s in custody. Maybe he’ll be in a talkative mood once he understands that a mob lawyer is in line to speak to him.”

  “Vengeance and retribution require a long time; it is the rule,” Midge said marveling at the desire of the mob to seek retribution toward those who betrayed them half a century ago.

  “Dickens could have claimed that the rule pertains to truth, too,” I added.

  That’s when I remembered that I hadn’t had the chance to ask Charly to explain what she and the others were doing at our resort—not that I wasn’t delighted about it. Even as the shadow of his former self, Mark might have figured out a way to exact a little more vengeance before we’d disarmed and disabled him.

  “You called me, and I called everybody,” Charly said in response to my question.

  While we were still at Nick’s house, I’d called her. As she explained it to us now, she’d been working on uncovering Allen’s backstory about the operation in Vietnam. Once I told her about that suitcase, she remembered seeing a photo in the file that fit the description I’d given her. In two minutes, she’d realized its potential value and called her friend at the Treasury Department.