Tag Archives: L C

Chapter Sixty–One: Sic ‘Em

17 May

Now you know one reason my daughter's picture is here. But wait, there is more.

Now you know one reason my daughter’s picture is here. But wait, there is more.

So, did you guess? My Mom and my Grand Pop wanted the perfect name for the bad girl in this story. So they picked one of my nick-names, Peaches.  Oh, yes. I have other nick-names, but one will do for now.

So, did you guess? My Mom and my Grand Pop wanted the perfect name for the bad girl in this story. So they picked one of my nick-names, Peaches.
Oh, yes. I have other nick-names, but one will do for now.

 

 

Collar’s bellow brought everyone and everything to a quick stop filled with silence.

“MORgan. DEla VERa.”

Nothing moved. Every eye in the room fixed on Collars. Including Morgan and Delavera.

Collars held a piece of paper out to his side at arm’s length as though it were a starting flag to be waved.

“Your murder suspect rented a car this morning. Find the car. And her. And try not to blow it this time.”

The only sound in the room was Morgan and Delavera putting things down, getting up, and moving to the door of the squad room, pas Collars. Morgan grabbed the paper out of Collars hand, as rudely as he dared. Delavera blew Collars a squared lipped kiss as she passed.

As the door closed behind them they could hear Collars bellow, “Get back to work.”

Morgan read the paper and passed it to Delavera. She waited until she was in the car before reading it. She wrinkled her brow. “How does he expect us to find her?”

“I don’t think he does. I think he wants us to fail.”

“But you don’t think we will. Why?”

“I know something either Collars does not know, or thinks I won’t know.”

“Which is?”

“Watch,” Morgan said with a smile as they pulled into the car lot.

The man came out of the small building. He managed to look like exactly what he was. A used car salesman who not only sold used cars but rented them.

“What can I do for the city’s finest?” the used car salesman asked.

“You can point them out to us,” replied Morgan, “So we can arrest them. We hate competition.”

The man laughed. The laugh appeared to be genuine and not simply a salesman’s ploy. Either he was a better actor than average or he had a real sense of humor.

“You rented a car to a Miss Davenport this morning?”

“Sure did. Only business I’ve had all day.”

“Can we see your paper work? Was she alone?”

“She wanted me to think she was.”

“Okay. So what happened?”

“I don’t have a lot to do but stare out the window all day until somebody shows up. I see this man and woman walk up to the corner,” he pointed to the corner he was referring to. “At first I thought it was a working girl and her pimp but when they talked it looked more like she was in command. “He stayed at the corner and she came on in alone.”

“When she left did she pick him up?”

“Can’t swear to it. He stayed over there and watched until she got in the car she rented, the cheapest one I had. Then he turned and walked that way, out of sight. She looked class but he looked like a druggie coming down after a high. What I could see of him from here.”

“Could you identify him if you see him again.”

“Possible. Lot of that kind around here though. I’d give it a try.”

“We need to find the car. And her.”

“Like I said, she went that way.”

“Give us the GPS on it.”

“How would you know if I got a GPS on it? I don’t exactly hang a sign out saying so.”

“Because you are not stupid. You are in a low rent business that caters to low rent people. Even if your customer is Mr. Honest more cars are stolen in this area of town than anywhere else in the county. So show me where the car is right now.”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t noise it around. A lot of my customers would be spooked if they thought I knew where they were and could guess what they might be doing.”

“I promise you. If I tell anybody my partner will shoot me for you on sight.”

Delavera nodded and patted her holster meaningfully.

© 2015 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Sixty: The College.

26 Apr
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

L C felt extremely self conscious wearing a “wire.” It consisted of a simple thing thin as a pen, half as long as a cigarette, attached by a tiny alligator clip to the spacer between her bra cups. Her aunt Sapphire, who prided herself on her ability as a seamstress would have recognized the “spacer” as a part called the center gore. L C like most women who wore bras but did not sew them, never thought about the part. It was just there. Concealing the tiny bump between her thirty-six “C” cups presented no problem.

She remembered feeling picked on about her breast size because some told her she was too big while others teased her she was too small. Until she learned in fact the current average bra size in the United States today was the size she wore. Somehow that made her feel patriotic.

So far everything had worked out smoothly. She had a credit card for emergencies, and this was an emergency, so she was able to rent a car.

She and Lonnie, known to her as Wilbur, had picked through Cody’s cache of electronic stuff until they came up with a couple of small devices that would record a remote conversation on a flash drive. They also found several flash drives. Together they believed they were set.

The only problem was confronting the killer, and L C was positive she knew where the killer would be and when they would be there. It was also a layout L C was familiar with. Where she would have the upper hand.

Lonnie parked where he could keep a close watch on everything that happened in the huge parking lot. It meant parking further away than most people would want to walk, but exercise came easily to L C She enjoyed stretching her lithe body.
They scanned the incoming cars with binoculars. L C had to admit, Cody was prepared for anything. A real CIA agent would have no doubt been proud of him.

“I still find this one hard to believe,” Lonnie, aka Wilbur, said. “Of all the people, who would have thought.”

“Works out pretty simple,” L C said getting out of the car.

“Where are you going?”

“Be sharp, Wilbur. The guest of honor has arrived.”

L C strode quickly and purposefully across the across the campus parking lot. For a quick second she wondered why the killer had parked in the remotest, most secluded parking spot possible. She dismissed the thought without examining it further. After all the location suited her own purposes perfectly. It was unlikely anyone would interrupt them here.

She was by the car’s rear bumper before the occupant was fully out. Her voice was pleasant. “Fancy meeting you here.” The woman getting out of the car turned to face L C, who smiled, “Peaches Pardot, I believe.”

Back in the rented car Lonnie began to feel himself sweating already. He wished he had stopped off to get a fix before doing this. He shook the device and held it up to his ear to make sure it was working. Yep, he could hear everything.

“I wondered if you would find me. And if you did, where it would be.” Peaches Pardot’s voice was calm. Here deep blue eyes were amused. She wore a skirt, tight at the waist. Her bust was smaller than L C’s but her blouse created the effect of pure sexual enticement while her light jacket somehow made her look almost like a business woman. As though she were auditioning to be a model for a magazine aimed at successful sexy women.

“Wonder no more. Today is the first day to sign up for college. Your future means everything to you, so I knew where you would be. See I found you.”

“How astute of you. I’m sure you will understand if I get on about my business and don’t waste time on my father’s mistress. If you are looking for daddy dearest you will find him at home. In bed. With his wife.”

L C held the briefcase out in front of her. “Your father’s, I believe. You should recognize it.”

“You don’t say. Are you here to tell me you are going to give me a little brother or sister? Why don’t you take it to my father? I’m sure he has more use for it than I do.”

“Because of what is in it.”

“I won’t bother to ask you what that is. I bet you are going to tell me whether I want to hear or not.”

“You want to hear.”

“Then by all means don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me all the juicy details.” Peaches took a package of cigarettes out of her purse. Tapped the pack against her left palm. “I’m ready.”

“It is all the blackmail evidence. It shows that your father has been playing the cheating game for years. Before he met me and said he was Nathaniel Norman he was Michael Madrone. I’m not sure who he was before that.”

“Daddy was never very original. He started out with Adam Abernathy. You are pretty far down his list.”

“Yeah. I figured that one out already. Daddy might have been able to weather being an adulterer, but there is proof in here that mommy was not Miss Innocent either. She has been bilking the company she works for for years. What’s in here can put her in jail for a long time.”

“What can I say. The women in my family like nice things. My shoes cost more than your entire wardrobe. Too bad.”

Lonnie set the recorder down on the dash. Picked up the binoculars and looked through them. His hands began to sweat. He hated it when his hands sweated. Especially around women. Made him feel like a stupid little kid. Didn’t matter where else you sweated, you could always pretend it wasn’t happening. But your hands. How did you hide your hands?

“You don’t seem concerned your mother and father’s lives can be ruined by what is in here.”

“They lived their lives. Now it is time for me to live mine.”

“Not so sure about that.”

“Oh? And why not?”
“What’s in this briefcase shows that Peter Johnson was blackmailing your family. Seems your mommy and daddy were going to give him your college fund. Five Hundred thousand dollars. Do I have that right?”

“And all of that is in the briefcase right here?”

“That it is.”

“Doesn’t matter now does it. Mr. Johnson is dead. You know when I was a little girl I used to think of him as an uncle? Him and my dad were best friends. It never dawned on me one day the two of them would get together and try to destroy my life.”

Lonnie began to tap his feet. “God, what are they doing down there? The afternoon news? Talk. Talk. Talk. Just get to the point. Have her admit she committed murder, get back in the car and get out of here.”

“It is a wonder you didn’t kill your dad too.”

“Thought about it. So what?”

L C tapped the briefcase meaningfully. “The proof is in here. You only thought about killing your dad, but you did kill Peter Johnson. You weren’t going to let him stop you from going to college, from living the good life. So you killed him in cold blood.”

Lonnie was slapping the steering wheel with his hands and rocking back and forth now. “You’re lying. That isn’t in there. I can hear it in your voice. That Peaches slut is going to hear it too and she is going to know you are lying. She will never admit anything and this is all going to be a big waste because you don’t know how to lie. You should have had me do it. I know how to lie. Your voice is all wrong and you are going to screw it up.”

Peaches laughed. She had a charming laugh. “And all your proof is in there?” she pointed to the briefcase.”

“It is all here.” L C smiled back, just as charming, for all the world as though they were two high school girls discussing what to wear to the prom.

“Well,”said Peaches. “You are wrong.”

Lonnie groaned and banged his head against the steering wheel. “I knew it. I knew it. You blew it. You blew it. I knew it you blew it. We should have done like they do on TV. Put a bug in your ear so I could talk to you while you were talking to her so I could talk to you and talk you threw it and if you listened to me then everything would have worked out okay but you never listened to me and now everything is all screwed up.”

© 2015 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty — Nine: Chief

19 Apr

Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

Officer Morgan walked past the squad room into the bull pen past Chewy’s desk. He was early. A common occurrence for him when it was his turn to have the kids. At least they were both school age now. He did not have to worry about day care facilities. But he did have spare time between dropping them off and starting his shift. Not enough time to do anything constructive, but time. So he was early again.

Morgan was six-foot plus a pinch to grow on. Blue eyes and blond hair cut into a three-quarter inch butch. His hair was always perfectly cut, his mother saw to that. It wasn’t that he liked the cut itself. It was the fact it was convenient. He didn’t have to comb it and it was quick to wash. It had the added advantage it made him look more like a cop. Seen as he did not always act the part, he might as well do his best to look it.

Everyone in the room was busy doing something, typing, talking on the phone, talking to each other, rustling papers, cussing under their breath at computer monitors, texting, all very low-key but busy busy busy, except for one. She sat on the edge of a desk doing something intently with her nails. She looked like a teenager ready to pop bubble gum out of her mouth any second. Morgan figured she was in trouble again about something. Every partner she had complained about her.

He was picking his way across the room to his own desk, moving around people and chairs as he had almost every morning, not actively listening to what was going on until he passed close to DeVry who was saying, “Ballistics says the bullet found in the head of the prostitute matches the bullet found in the head of the horse. Fired from the same gun. At about the same distance.”

Morgan paused, wondering if he heard correctly, “The head of the horse?”
“Yeah.” DeVry looked up from his partner, a much shorter man seated in a chair. DeVry sat on the desk, causing him to tower over the other man like a giant. “You remember that horse Mr. Somebody named… Corrigan I think. Anyway you must remember. He was making a big fuss about his horse being shot in the head.”
Morgan looked down at Peters. They were both serious. “We ran ballistics on the bullet from a horse? Must be some expensive horse.”

“Nah, and nah to that too, but the guy has money and he paid for it, so we did it.” Smiling, he added, “I wonder if he loves his wife as much as he does his horse. A real cowboy, that one.”

“Morgan.” Chief of Police Collars had a voice developed to be heard, and everyone who heard it winced. “DeVry and Peters have a case to work on. Leave em alone.” Collars was a square man with a perpetually loosened tie, rolled up sleeves, buttons looking like they were threatening to pop… He looked like a man who ought to have a cigar jammed between his teeth. Perhaps he was an ex-smoker. That would explain why he was so anti-cigarette. It was often said ex-smokers were the most fanatic non-smokers.

“Yeah,” whispered DeVry, “We gotta go find out if the horse and the prostitute were working the same corner.”

“I heard that.” Bellowed Chief Collars. “Get out there and do something… You’re wasting your time sitting in here cracking stupid.” He held a piece of paper in the air. “You. Morgan. You got nothing better to do?” Collars waved the paper in Morgans face. “Here is a crank call. Some idiot’s dog won’t get off a porch.”
Morgan thought about his desk full of undone book work and the fact he wasn’t even on the clock yet and smiled ruefully.

He snatched the paper out of Collars’ hand. As he did so he realized it was an act very close to insubordination. Morgan himself could not have said if it was an act of defiance, standing up for himself, or simply allowing Collars to “get” to him.
Collars continued to bellow, “Your gold bricking partner may never get back here,”

Morgan cut him off, ”I’ll take Delavera.” Except for Morgan and Collars every eye in the place went to the Mexican girl doing her nails. She took a deep breath, which augmented her natural assets, and did nothing to distract anyone’s gaze, then she slowly, carefully, looked up at Morgan and Collars.

“You do that. You bring her back in one piece, you understand?” There was some snickering. Collars ignored it as he locked eyes with Morgan.

The stare down was an open challenge, in front of everyone, a dominant male thing. Morgan was not even tempted to stare back defiantly, a teenager’s trick used by young people who did not know how to really stand up for themselves.
Instead Morgan smiled one of those smiles he used on strange women who eyed him when he strolled into a bar when off duty and out of uniform. Maintaining the smile he strolled out of the room, not once looking back; not at Collars, not at Delavera. Morgan knew every eye and ear in the room was fixed on the exchange. This was confirmed by Collars further bellow of, “Get back to work.” and “Delavera, your partner is gone. Catch him before he leaves you.”

There was another snicker. This time a solo.

When he reached the car she was scampering up behind him.

“Puto,” she whispered under her breath.

Morgan did not acknowledge he understood. He wasn’t sure to whom she was referring, himself, Collars, or someone else. He also knew enough Spanish to be aware that, like English, what was said wasn’t always exactly what was meant.
He started the car as she swung in.

“Where are we going?” she asked. She did not “look” Mexican, she looked like she could be Mexican, and her English betrayed no accent. He thought, as he had thought before, that feature could be useful under the right circumstances.
He passed her the paper. “You tell me.”

She studied the paper; frowned. “All the way up there? Is this even in our jurisdiction?”

“Call dispatch and find out.”

Morgan had been divorced long enough that he had no immunity to her smell, which was excellent; her looks, which were way better than average; or her figure, which, if it weren’t centerfold material it would take a professional to tell the difference.

Delavera pulled out a nine-inch smart tablet and fussed with it for a few seconds. Morgan assumed she was going to use it as a map.

“Take the highway north.”

He did.

“Not sure if I should thank you for asking for me to go with you or not.”

“Probably not.”

“Okay, why?”

“Collars doesn’t like me. That’s okay, I don’t like him either. Right now he is mad at me and you have a reputation of being hard to get along with. He was going to give you to me anyway. I just saved us the embarrassment of having you dumped on me and you the embarrassment of being pushed on someone who didn’t want you.”

“Save yourself the embarrassment, you mean.”

“Have it your way.” Morgan allowed his shoulders a quick twitch that passed for a shrug. “It worked out better for both of us and took some of the wind from under his wings.”

“Why is he mad at you.” She slouched down in the passenger seat in a very uncoplike manner, sidled her eyes out the window, looking more like a teenaged brat he was detaining than a trained police officer.

“My partner had a choice. He could say I did something stupid, or he could say he did something stupid. He chose to say I did something stupid. Collars blames me for him getting hurt.”

“Which was it? Turn here.” She pointed. “Who did something stupid? You or him?”

He turned onto a side road not looking at her. His peripheral vision picking up all the information he needed. “Doesn’t matter.”

“What did you write in your report?”

“That my full attention was on the person I was arresting. I was unable to see what he did.”

There was silence while she digested the implications.

“You telling me you are always Mr. Noble?”

“Nope.”

“So why would you be noble with me? Or with him?”

Morgan smiled and looked at her, blue eyes to brown eyes,
“You haven’t pissed me off yet.”

She held his gaze. “So you think I will or you think I won’t?”

He looked back to the road. She stared at him fixedly.

“I think you’re already pissed. I think you are angry at the whole world and ready to kick out at anybody because you can’t kick whatever it is has you in its grip. Am I right.”

“So who do you think you are? The mentalist or that phony psych guy?”

“I think I’m a cop who has seen a few really pissed off people. Last girl I met acted like you are was fifteen, and her daddy decided she looked just like her mother when she was fifteen and he thought they ought to do the same things together.” He concentrated on his driving.

“So you think you are going to bring me out here and I’m going to spill my guts out to you and then what? We going to be great friends or something?” She concentrated on him.

“Nah, I’m just going to try not to piss you off any more than I have too.” He did not return her searching stare.

“Yeah. I don’t think you’re doing too well.” She turned to stare out the window.

“So tell Collars I’m an asshole. He will probably give you a commendation. Give him reason to fire me. Tell him I was looking at your butt when you got in. Then tell him I tried to look down your cleavage. He will give you a promotion.”

“My shirt is buttoned up.”

“Good liar never spoils a story with facts.”

“So what is with you? The girls say you are a single father”

“Yep.” He sucked in his lower lip.

“So you looking for a mother or a mistress or what?” Her attention was turned back to him, studying him.

“Just looking not to do something stupid again.” He kept his eyes to the road, not even catching her in his peripheral vision.

Delavera rolled down her window.

“So what did you do stupid the first time?” She was staring out the window again, hands palmed together in her lap.

“Wish I knew. Somewhere along the line I decided to be a cop and she decided to be a drug addict. Now the poor kids spend half their time with cops and the other half the time with people who think cops are the bad guys.”

“Ouch.”

They rode in silence.

“You aren’t mad as hell?”

He thought before he replied carefully, “I honestly don’t know how to feel.”

“I’d know how to feel. I’d be pissed.”

“So I don’t know my own mind.”

“Yeah, well I’m still married.”

“Doesn’t sound like a reason to be angry to me.”

“Yeah. Right. I’m married to a worthless gringo who has blue eyes like you. He has never worked a day in his life and all he does is criticize me.”

“What is to criticize?” Morgan looked at her carefully, “It sure doesn’t show from here.”

“He is sick of Mexican food. Wants me to cook more American. I told him I work all day. Why don’t you cook some ‘American food’, I’ll come home and eat it. One day I cooked some ‘All American food’ and he got mad ‘cuz I had tortillas on the table. I forgot the bread.”

“Buy him a hamburger on the way home tonight. That’s American.”

“Turn here, on that dirt road.” Morgan figured they were close. She was now sitting up straight in her seat.

Morgan had to slow down to negotiate the ruts and rocks.

“Maybe you two just married the wrong people. Maybe you should call it quits.”

“He is a racist pig. But he kept it to himself until I was pregnant with my fourth baby. Then every time he gets mad he calls me a Mexican and my kids Mexicans. Then I try to teach the kids Spanish and he gets mad ‘cuz he doesn’t want them talking that stuff.’”

“I know a lot of people speak Spanish and not all of them are Mexican.”

“When I first met him he had me teaching him Spanish. I thought ‘How cute he wants to learn my language’. As soon as we were married he quit.”

“Too bad.”

“Too bad I married him. He is such a racist pig I should have cheated on him. I should have brought him home a nice fat little black baby.”

They rounded the corner. Two men stood by the side of a cabin, next to the steps. One was smoking, the other stood hunched, and there was a large dog, its tongue lolling, sitting on the porch staring at the door as though waiting for its owner let it in.

Morgan winked at Delavera, “At least we have settled one thing.”

“Whats that?”

“You have reason to be pissed off at the world.”

“Nah. Just you gringos.”

“Time go get out and be professional. We will try to pretend we don’t notice they are gringos.” The two men were obviously hunters. Their rifles were leaned up against the porch, within sight but well out of reach.

Morgan noticed that she almost smiled as she swung herself out the door of the squad car.

“What is going on?” Morgan asked the men.

The man in the heavy brown vest used his cigarette to indicate the slightly younger, slightly thinner, man.“ He can tell you. He thinks his damn dog is Lassie or Rin Tin Tin or something.”

The other man, smiled engagingly, “Not Lassie. He is a boy. His name is Harry.”

“Yeah, Harry. Know why he named the dog Harry? Because my name is Tom, his name is Dick,” he stressed the other man’s name, “and my sister married him for crying out loud.”

“So what is wrong with Tom, Dick, and Harry?” asked Dick.

“What is with the dog?” asked Morgan.

“Does he bite?” Asked Delavera.

“Nope.” Dick answered her.

“Stupid dog won’t get off the porch. We are supposed to be up here hunting, not dog sitting. Anyway numb nuts here thinks his dog has psychic powers or something and is wasting our day because the fool dog won’t get off the porch.”

“That your car?” Morgan indicated the SUV parked a few foot away.

“Nah. Probably the guy owns the cabin.”

Delavera petted and talked to the dog, calling him Harry, and knocked loudly on the door saying, “This is the police. Open the door please.” There was no reply from within.

“So how did you two get here? Why are you here?” asked Morgan.

“Followed this stupid dog my brother-in-law thinks is a canine genius. We came in one of the other roads, hadn’t even intended to come this way. Now we’ve wasted half the morning over nothing. I swear the only reason I tolerate him is because of my sister.”

Dick winked. It was unclear who, if anyone, he was winking at. “The only reason he tolerates me is because his sister and his wife are best friends. They are like sisters and he is afraid my wife thinks more of his wife than she does of him.”

“No puedo entender porque eso seria.” Delavera told the dog in a tender voice.

Even without a basic understanding of what she said Morgan could have detected the sarcasm in her voice.

“What did she say?” asked the smoker.

“I told him he is a very good doggie.” She stood up, went to the window to look in. Harry followed her.

“We already did that,” Said the smoker again, taking a last drag off his cigarette, he spit in the palm of his left hand and then put the bright red butt out in it. He had followed Delavera and was within a foot of her, yet he was unaware of the fleeting look of disgust on her face. Like Morgan she had excellent peripheral vision and did not need to look directly at him to see what he was doing.

Morgan had two reactions to this, one was disgust, the other slight admiration for the practicality of a woodsman or hunter making sure his cigarette did not start a fire in the woods. He was also aware Delavera would have no such qualms. She would be disgusted, period.

When Tom reached into his pocket Delavera stepped back from the window, placing herself to his side. Had he pulled a gun he would have quickly found himself face down on the ground with his gun and hand behind his back. It was not a gun. It was a small plastic container. He put his cigarette butt in it. As he did so he jabbed his chin in Delavera’s direction. “Tell her it is rude to talk that gibberish in front of people who don’t understand it.”

“I was talking to Harry,” she said. “I wanted him to teach me how to speak dog but he is reluctant. Perhaps you could help?” Morgan noted Delavera suddenly had an unmistakable accent. As Tom turned red, Morgan was able to understand why Delavera’s last couple of partners had wanted to strangle her. She knew where people’s short hairs were and didn’t hesitate to tug on them. He remembered his grandmother reaching around to the back of his neck when he got out of line as a kid in a public place and giving the hairs on his neck a solid yank.

“Let me get your names. Write all this down.” Morgan used his official police officer voice, brought out his notebook. While their attention was on Morgan, Delavera dropped off the end of the porch and disappeared around the side of the cabin.

“If Dicky Wicky here would teach his dog to mind we never needed to call you and waste your time or ours. We’d all be on our way. Probably have a nice big buck by now.”

 

Dick smiled. “Harry is up about something. I didn’t want to break in and I don’t want to leave someone behind who is in trouble. I hope its not too late and everything turns out okay.”“Windows open.” called Delavera from the side of the cabin. The three men went around to where she was. She had pushed the window partway open but was unable to reach further. Nor was she able to hoist herself in.

Tom frowned, “Can you just go into someone’s house like that?”

“We have cause. Car is outside, no one answers inside and you two made a report.”

“I didn’t make any report. I think it is all a waste of time.”

“Let’s hope you are right.”

“Aren’t you supposed to go through the door or something?”

“We would prefer to do minimum damage. Why break down a door or wait for a locksmith when we can climb through the window?”

“You gonna talk all the day or you gonna do the help your partner though dee window, Meester Morgan?” Her accent was becoming thicker and more fraudulent by the minute. Still it was the man who complained about her talking Spanish that immediately offered to help her through the window.

Delavera pooched her lips at him. “We are dee professional policemans all trained right. My partner he will help me. You stands over there, out of dee way.” She indicated an area well away from the men’s rifles. They complied. The bigger man sullenly, the other cheerfully.

Morgan knelt in the basic lunge position, offering his left leg as a platform while his right leg and right hand were free next to his holster. She stepped up in one quick motion and quickly put herself waist deep into the window.

She was no more inside than she was saying, “Back, back, get me down outta here.” Her accent was gone.

Morgan grabbed her by the legs, in a not altogether professional manner and got her back down on the ground. She held herself against the wall with one hand and spewed. He waited until she was done.

“We need forensics,” she said. “And you two… Don’t even think about going anywhere.”

Tom groaned as he pulled out another cigarette, shooting a glare of hatred at his brother-in-law, who beamed proudly at Harry.

 

 

© 2015 All Rights Reserved

 

Chapter Fifty — Seven: The CIA

15 Feb
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

 

 

For a long time L C had time to lay and think. She had nothing but time and discomfort. She had never heard of Cody Daggit. His listing in the newspaper was a one inch column. The information given was consistent with what would have been expected. Known druggie found dead of a drug overdose. L C had not seen it.

 
The murdered man had gotten around. The police thought he was her fiance, Nathaniel Norman. This guy, who kidnapped her, thought he was a CIA agent named Mr. Penn.

 
In the newspapers he was known as Peter Johnson.

 
It was beginning to work out in her head. Peter Johnson had hired a druggie named Cody Daggit to wire the cabin with surveillance equipment. Peter Johnson told the druggie he was a CIA operative. He also told the druggie the cabin was a safe house for the CIA.

 
That meant somewhere there were videos of L C and Nathaniel that were extremely intimate.

 
The police could not find any person named Nathaniel Norman. He did not exist. They also said Peter Johnson was the real owner of the cabin. So Peter Johnson had his own cabin wired by a druggie who was part techie geek.

 
Great.

 
Why?

 
Worse, Cody’s drugged out brother was going to wake up soon. He thought she was CIA. He thought the CIA had killed his brother. Why had he kidnapped her? What did he hope to gain? What did he plan on doing with her?

 
When Lonnie groaned into wakefulness L C was still trying to figure out how she could use any of this information to her advantage.

 
Eventually he propped her chair up so she was sitting upright in spite of the fact one of the legs was broken off. Lonnie took the gag out of her mouth. It was wet and yucky. He tossed it into a corner. He studied her carefully as though trying to make up his mind to something.

 
“I wish you wouldn’t look at me until I’ve at least brushed my hair and teeth.” L C said, as pleasantly as possible.

 
“Not very tough for a CIA agent are you?”

 
L C did not know what to answer so she said nothing. They held each others eyes. When she said nothing he nodded. “Just like Cody said about Mr. Penn. Neither confirm nor deny.”

 
He went back to the couch and sat down.

 
L C added this bit of information to the puzzle she was trying to form in her head. She was sure when she had enough pieces in enough places it would all make sense.

 
“What happened to the dog?”

 
“Left it on the front seat in the middle of an intersection. Figure someone report it. Or a cop come by. Figger the dog’s owner’ll take care of it.”

 
“What do you plan on doing with me?” For a split second Lonnie noticed she spoke clear and perfect English even though she was under duress. Everybody he knew would have said, “Whadda ya gonna do wi’ me?” It proved to him that CIA training must be pretty spectacular.

 
Lonnie thought about that for a minute. Everything had been so clear last night. Today. Well today shit was wearing off. He didn’t have the edge he needed. He wanted to go get what he needed but he didn’t want to leave this CIA agent alone for too long. No telling what resources she might have.

 
“Why the CIA kill Cody? He learn too much? Why did Mr. Penn give Cody an overdose?”

 
“CIA didn’t kill Cody.” L C Wasn’t sure why she told him that. She only knew it was the best thing to say. If this guy, Wilbur, thought she was CIA then she did not want him thinking the CIA killed his brother.

 
“Then who did?”

 
“The same person who killed Mr. Penn. That is his Spy Name. His cover name was Peter Johnson. Mr. Penn tried to save Cody. But he was too late.” L C could tell she had Wilbur’s interest. Her mind was working at frantic speed, hoping to say the right things. Hoping he wouldn’t get some idea in his drug induced fantasies to kill her.

 
Lonnie, who had forgotten he had pretended last night to be Wilbur Daggit, Cody’s brother, was interested. He wanted to hear more. If the CIA hadn’t whacked Cody, then there was still a chance he himself might work for them someday. Be a hero. Like Cody. But he would try to be more careful than Cody and not get killed.

 
“So who did kill Cody?”

 
“That is one of the things we have to find out.” L C didn’t care about an overdosing druggie named Cody, but she did care about finding Peter Johnson’s murderer. Anything to prove herself innocent of the crime she did not do.

 
She watched Wilbur closely as he mulled things over in his mind. He reached behind the couch. Pulled out a brief case.

 
“That’s Nathaniel’s.” L C burst out in surprise.

 
“You recognize it.”

 
“Yes.”

 
“It has some stuff in it. I think it is in code. Can you decipher it?”

 

“Can you untie me?”

 
Lonnie studied her closely.

 
“No. I want you to look at these papers. Tell me what they mean.”

 
It wasn’t easy to do. Him holding up one paper at a time was difficult to keep track of the papers she had seen before.

 
“Look, Wilbur,” she said at one point, pausing him to stop and almost correct her before he remembered. She did not know him as Lonnie. She knew him as Wilbur. “This is almost impossible. If I could at least spread them out on the floor.”

 
Something about her not knowing who he really was enabled him to release her more easily.

 
So he untied her.

 

 

 
© 2015 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty — Six: The Garage

8 Feb
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Lonnie drove the pickup without incident into town and up the alley to Cody’s old garage. He pulled L C out from the back of the pickup, chair and all. Drug her, using the back of the chair, and the two hind legs as if it were a dolly. Then the right leg broke and it keeled over, taking L C with it.

It had been a long day. Lonnie was tired. He did not want to have to move another muscle let alone carry L C.

Finally, with a sigh, he went to the other end of the chair, grabbed the two front legs, and drug her by them, the back of the chair and her head bouncing every inch of the way.

He went back out to the pickup. Got the dog out from the back. It was no longer interested in fighting with him, it just lay limp in his arms, looking painfully at him. Lonnie placed it in the front seat as gently as he could, considering how exhausted he was.

He drove the pickup to an intersection that was sporadically busy, where Lonnie knew there were no cameras to identify him, left the driver’s side door open, turned on the emergency lights, and left it in the middle of the street.

By the time he got back to the garage he fell onto the couch and quickly went to sleep.

Chapter Fifty —One: A Mouse In The House

5 Oct
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

The person in the black ninja suit sat contemplating the room, savoring the memories of their first kill. Savoring the tortures they had committed, the expressions of pain and dismay on the face of the victim. A victim the killer felt deserved every second of pain and misery they received.

This time there was a distinct thump. Not a scratch.

The ninja rose. Pulled out a thirty-eight Smith and Wesson five shot revolver. Quietly, on padded feet, the ninja went along the wall, following it until they found the handle to the closet.

Inside the closet L C did not hear a sound. She had no clue if anyone were within a thousand miles.

Quickly opened the door.

There was a strangled noise as a bundle fell out on the floor.

The ninja took out a flashlight wrapped in layers of black cheesecloth. Enough light shown for close up inspection, but was hard to see even a few feet away.

Right now it played across L C’s face.

The ninja had spent a lot of time practicing talking using all breath and no voice. A whisper, it carried no clue as to the sex or voice of the person using it. With practice a person can make the whisper carry without strain.
“And what have we here? All tied up and ready for … What are you ready for?”

L C lay on her side, tied to the chair, her face to the floor, unable to answer. Gagged and blindfolded, only aware that this could not be the person who put her in the closet in the first place.

The breathy voice continued. “I know who you are. You are the Davenport girl. The one the police say committed murder right here in this cabin.”

It was the first time L C knew where she was at. She tried to see who was in the room with her, but the darkness and the ninja suit did its job well. The complete breathyness of the voice did its job just as well. All L C could tell was there was a human being in the room with her.

The human being hauled the chair upright with no sign of gentleness. Reached over, grabbed the duct tape covering the gags in her mouth, and yanked hard. To L C it felt as though her skin was being ripped from her face. She tried to yell but gagged on the cloth that had been shoved into her mouth. Those also were pulled out without ceremony.

L C was crying and sobbing, largely incoherent.

The ninja did not hurry her. There were other things to think about. On the surface this was a pure gift. The woman accused of the murder the ninja had committed sitting here like a spitted goose just waiting to be cooked.

On the other hand who, besides the person who had committed the murder, would want to tie her up and have her at their mercy?

Who would bring her here?

Why?

Killing the Davenport woman and hiding her body would be the perfect answer. No trial, no questions, no one probing around. Everyone would believe she had skipped the country.

Except the person who put her here.

The person in the ninja suit slapped L C, hard. “Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“How did you get here?”

L C could not understand why the person was whispering. “In the trunk.”

The person in the ninja suit was certain there had been no cars in the vicinity when they entered the cabin. Nevertheless they left L C in the chair and went out the front door to look. There were no vehicles anywhere.

Once back L C had calmed down.

Remembering to speak with all breath and no voice, the person in the ninja suit asked, “Someone brought you here and just left you?”

“Yes.”

This was going to take some serious thought.

The expedient thing to do was to simply kill her and dispose of the body where it would not be found. The most pleasurable thing would be to get her somewhere where she could be tortured at leisure.

There was a problem with either plan.

There was no car. No vehicle. Ninja like, the murderer had hiked in. There was no way to get either her living body, or her dead body, away from here easily without detection. Dragging her body across the ground would leave marks that would be almost impossible to cover over. Wouldn’t even need a forensic team to find it. A dog or a sharp detective could unravel everything.

Plus the other thing. Someone had left her and was no doubt planing on coming back.

At the minute it seemed absolutely essential to know who that someone was and why they had tied her up and left her here. The only answer the ninja could think of was “There is another serial killer running around here.” The question was would this other killer be someone who would want to work together, or someone who would be an implacable enemy.

“I have to know.”

 
© 2014 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Fifty: The Decision

7 Sep

Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

Lonnie pulled to the side of the road and waited for the cop car to catch up to him. He had a small hope it might be after someone else. It might pass him by. Leaving him shaken but still a free man.

No such luck.

Lonnie looked in his rearview mirror. The cop car pulled up behind him. The driver spoke into his radio. Sat. Waited. Did nothing.

Lonnie became more nervous by the minute. He knew the cop was waiting for backup. Somehow he had expected the cop to come up to him, tell him to get out of the car and lean up against the side of it. He expected to be frisked and put in the back of the squad car, taken down to the police station and booked.

None of that happened.

Nothing happened.

Again Lonnie looked in his rearview mirror at the cop sitting behind the wheel behind him. The cop did not move.
Lonnie began to fidget. He began to tap his finger on the steering wheel. He began to think. He began to tap his foot. He began to count the charges against him.

Car theft. He knew that. They knew that. There were drugs in the car. He knew that. They did not. But they would do a search and find them. Not as if he did anything special to hide them. Like an idiot he somehow assumed he would never get caught.

Lonnie began to rock back and forth. His eyes became fixed on the rearview mirror. On the cop sitting in the car behind him. The cop doing nothing. Nothing.

There were guns in the car. He knew that. They did not. Or did they? Was the cop behind him waiting for a damn swat team who would surround him, just waiting for him to make one single slip so they could blow him to hell?
What if the CIA was on to him? Would they use regular cops to catch him so they could take over?

Of course they would. They would stop at nothing. They killed Cody, didn’t they? They weren’t going to arrest him. They were going to kill him. And he was being stupid enough to sit here in the car and wait for them to do it.

Lonnie couldn’t take the suspense any more. He started the car. The cop in the car behind him looked up. Lonnie jammed the car into reverse. Floored the gas. The car snapped into motion with a jerk, as though it were a football being kicked toward a field goal. The tires spun. They took hold. Grabbed traction. The cop in the car behind him did not have time to start his car when the car Lonnie was driving slammed into it doing zero to sixty in one and one half seconds.

Not only did the trunk of Lonnie’s car do serious damage to the front end of the cop car, it swerved the nose of the cop car well over into the ditch on the side of the road.

Launching into drive Lonnie pressed full on the gas, tires spun and slid raising black burned rubber smoke, before shooting down the road in front of him. For the space of three miles he thought he was free. Then he heard sirens coming from in front of him.

If he were spotted they would give chase.

He had to disappear.

Lonnie aimed the car between two big trees. Killed the lights. Kept on going. The police car screamed down the road beside him. The car Lonnie was driving was scraped and scratched, but still managed to lumber out onto the road.
He no sooner did so than another cop car came toward him. This one did not have sirens wailing so he was not aware of it until it pulled around the corner towards him. The cop car shot out of a horseshoe turn. Straight passed him. As Lonnie entered the turn the cop car was spinning around to come back after him.

In panic Lonnie rounded the turn. He had to slow down. No choice. The cop would have to slow down too or go off the road.

Lonnie went back into the woods between the trees again. Remembered to douse his lights. The cop car turned on his sirens and flashed behind Lonnie. Then Lonnie lurched out onto asphalt again. Turned left.

Then he realised. He was headed back the way he had come.

By then it was too late. He was passing the car he had ruined, and another cop car beside it. They both stared at him as he passed. Soon he had sirens behind him.

Once again he made his own road into the woods. Kept going this time until he found a dirt road. It more or less paralleled the regular road, and headed him back toward the safe house.

If the CIA were after him there was only one possible out. That was to get ahold of that CIA agent and get to the bottom of this before the CIA got to him. It was a scary idea, but if he took the time he could convince himself he could do it. If he needed some fortification he had some mind sharpening drugs right on board. All he needed was a few minutes to get them inside.

He made the decision.

Now he knew what he was going to do.

That was when he heard the helicopter overhead.

 

 

(C) 2014 All Rights Reserved

 

 

 

Chapter Forty — Nine: Solitude

23 Aug

Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

 

Ever since the event. Why do I think of it as the event? Why not the day of revenge? The death? The day I found what pleasure really means? The torture. The murder. It doesn’t bother me to think of myself in those terms any more. What I am is no  longer important. What you can prove about me is all that is important. What anyone can prove about me. 

Ever since the event I have found solace, relaxation, satisfaction, and stimulation, in going back to the cabin where it happened. Sitting there, remembering every vivid detail. Maybe that old crock was right about the murderer always returning to the scene of the crime. I certainly did. Sometimes I embellished my imaginings with things I could have done but did not do. That is okay. It was my first time. Couldn’t think of everything. Next time. Next time I will remember them all. 

Tonight there was a mouse. I could hear it scratching somewhere. Wonder what it found to eat. 

Only visited the cabin at night. Didn’t want to get caught. To help I used a cheap, second hand lap top from a thrift store. It is amazing how anonymous you can be in a world without privacy. Went to the airport where thousands of people pass everyday. Ordered myself a ninja outfit using a prepaid credit card you can pick up in any store. Had it delivered to a house that was between renters. Intercept package.

Everything was wrapped in black. Only my eyes showed. In order to find me at night you would need a heat sensing device. 

Possible, but unlikely.

There was that rat again. Knawing on a wall or something. Over by the closet.

 

Chapter Forty — Eight: Caught

16 Aug

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

 

Lonnie figured out he needed money, a legal car he could drive, and he needed to get rid of this hot car. Not a problem. A forty-five minute drive to the chop shop and by morning he’d be all set.

He was still thirty minutes away from the chop shop when he saw the red light behind him. He was still in the same heavily wooded area. An area he would have never known existed had he not discovered the safe house used by the CIA. Now he knew the area well. He had been prowling around it since the day he discovered it.

That was when he took stock. That was when he wished he had continued to follow all of the advice Cody had given him.

That was when he wished he had applied it to this day, this trip, this car, if to no other.

Cody told him never to steal a car when he was high, stoned, or even had a drink. Right now Lonnie had enough crap in him to overdose any three people who hadn’t built up a tolerance to it.

Cody told him to never have drugs in a stolen car with him. And to search it as soon as possible. If the car had drugs in it to stash them. Right now Lonnie had enough drugs in the car to be legally called a dealer.

Cody told him never to be in a car longer than it took to get rid of it. An hour at the most. Right now Lonnie had been driving it around for almost eight hours.

Cody told him never to have a weapon of any kind in a stolen car. Not even a pocket knife. Lonnie not only had one in here he had gone back to his house to get it and had promptly forgotten it. Right now it was shoved under the armrest.

Cody told him to never commit any other crime while in a stolen car, unless it was only stolen to get him to the crime scene and away, to protect his identity. Then ditch it as quick as possible.

Did kidnapping count?

At least she wasn’t still in the trunk.

Oh, shit. His mind raced. If they caught him now he was not going to get out on bail any time soon. Oh, shit. She was all tied up like one of those rolled roasts you see in the meat section. Then she was tied to the chair and he did it all over again. Oh, shit. Then he locked her in that damn closet and all but nailed the damn thing shut. Oh, shit, shit.

She was going to die in there.

Oh, shit.

The cop car was catching up. The lights were reflecting inside the roof of the car now. He could hear the siren’s wail.
Unless he told them where she was. He would have to tell on himself. Car theft. Weapons trafficking. Drug dealing. Kidnapping. Oh, shit. Kidnapping a CIA agent. Terrorist activity. He wouldn’t even be entitled to a phone call or an attorney or any American rights.

Oh, shit.

To save her life he would have to tell. If he told he would never see daylight again the rest of his freaking worthless piece of shit life and he couldn’t even get high to ease the pain.

Oh, shit.

How had things gone so wrong so fast?

One thing was sure. He could never tell them about the woman in the closet in the cabin. If he got caught she was on her own. She was going to die in there. Die a slow death of thirst and starvation. That would have to be an awful way to die. Slow and miserable.

He was going to feel badder than hell about that.

 

Chapter Forty — Four: The Ride

7 Jun
Did you notice my daughter's picture? Yep, she is here.

Did you notice my daughter’s picture? Yep, she is here.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

Hi, I am the daughter of the author. What am I doing here? I have a place here. In fact two places. What are they? This is a mystery series. You either have to figure it out or wait until it is reveled.

 

The lawyer told L C to stay low, not attract attention, and avoid the press. She had a microwave, a TV, and a small refrigerator. Still she needed some food and something to read. It was a neighborhood where a lot of people dressed so as to be “invisible.” It was not uncommon to see people walking slouched over, wearing hoods so you had a hard time seeing their faces, shoulders and arms bowed forward so you could not tell from looking at their chest if they were male or female.

She sat in her room, with the lights out, looking out the window.

She decided she could do that. She rolled her hair up and tucked it out of sight, waited unill the sun set and the world outside was in dull quiet shadow only broken occasionally by someone yelling or honking. She missed her little dog Rocko.

The store was open after dark. It was less than a block away. It had everything she could need. Food, drinks, magazines, and a shelf of paperback books.

She went ahead and used her debit card, wondering how long her money would last. Enough to last a week, maybe.

As she left the store the only thing on her mind was getting back to the room. When she rounded the corner of the store, one step past the driveway into the parking lot, something rammed into her, driving her into the unlit parking lot.
She dropped her bag. She started to yell. A fist hit her in the stomach. She found herself bent over looking at the cement. She looked up, trying to see her assailant. Another fist hit her in the chin.

She went down.

When she came to she was being rolled into the trunk of a car, her bag of groceries being dumped on top of her. Her hands were duct taped. Her feet and legs were duct taped. A cloth something was in her mouth and duct tape applied over it as an after thought. Duct tape was wrapped around her eyes. Someone was going through her clothing picking out her cell phone, billfold, room key.

As the trunk slammed down, closing her into total blackness, she thought, “That sure as hell isn’t a reporter.”
© 2014 All Rights Reserved

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Animals, Travel, Casinos, Sports, Gift Ideas, Mental Health and So Much More!

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Thoughts

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ultimatemindsettoday

A great WordPress.com site

Don Charisma

because anything is possible with Charisma

this is... The Neighborhood

the Story within the Story

stillness of heart

MUSINGS : CRITICISM : HISTORY : PASSION

The Guilty Preacher Man

abandoned illustrations

matchtall

A tall women amazon model WordPress.com sit

Three Wise Guys

Best not to think about it

Mister G Kids

A daily comic about real stuff little kids say in school. By Matt Gajdoš

Ray Ferrer - Emotion on Canvas

** OFFICIAL Site of Artist Ray Ferrer **

The Judy-Jodie and Kelli Memorial Blog

A great WordPress.com site

A Financial Life Coach

Your Financial Life Coach

Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Dysfunctional Literacy

Just because you CAN read Moby Dick doesn't mean you should!

Top 10 of Anything and Everything

Animals, Travel, Casinos, Sports, Gift Ideas, Mental Health and So Much More!

ajrogersphilosophy

A fine WordPress.com site

Thoughts

What ever I'm thinking

CosmicMind

Dissolving Ordinary Unconsciousness

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