A knock came at the door. Barker stood on the porch. “I know this isn’t a good time to talk, but it’s important.”
She stepped down off the porch to the side of the house near the garage.
“I need your help. Do you know how I can reach Stace?” She remained quiet. Barker’s expression bordered on anguish as he explained, “He thinks I double-crossed him.” Then, to prove his loyalty, he told her how he’d helped Stacey get back to his place, how Officer Green’s call from Virginia had been forwarded to the captain, and how the next thing he knew he was trying to figure out a way to keep his friend from getting killed. How much did he need to tell her before she believed him?
Dianne bit her lip. Deek and Barker had been friends a long time. He’d been even closer to Deek than Stacey was—mainly because Stacey had been the newcomer on the force. She could trust Barker; his story matched Stacey’s. “I am expecting to see him again,” she finally offered.
Then she reached over and punched in the garage door code. To Barker’s surprise, as the door slowly rolled upward and the light came on, there stood Sig, wagging his tail. Although he’d struggled to his feet and his movements were slow and deliberate, he was still willing to greet a friend. And there sat Deek’s old car, too. “That sly devil,” Barker grinned. “Who in the world would’ve guessed Stace is hiding out here?”
“He’s not. He came to me after he was shot—then again after Sig was hurt.”
“If I wasn’t in charge, you could get in a lot of trouble for this,” he teased.
“If I didn’t trust you, you’d never have found out.”
“Good point.”
“Now let me tell you what little I know—so I can go to bed.” She recounted the codeine incident, about Doc Frisby and Stacey nursing broken ribs, how he’d told Deek of his suspicions about Bingham and how Deek thought it was the captain who’d shot him.
Barker glanced up into the night sky. “I suspect someone on the force is helping Bingham. Could be Olsen. He seemed eager to see Rick out of the way. I need Stace’s help. He knows more than I do. Will you tell him to call me when he comes for Sig?”
“I’ll tell him. He’ll be glad to know he can still trust you.”
“Thanks, Dianne.” He looked into her tired face. “I wish I could make Deek come back.” He reached out and hugged her—more for his own good than hers.
Dianne, the last of her tears spent long ago, groaned into his shoulder, “You take good care of Rick. He believes he’s up against something a lot bigger than the Mapleton police force.”
“He is.” Barker drew away and bent to give the police dog a reassuring pat.
Don stood outside in the darkness, gripping the bike handles, trying to decide whether or not to return to the apartment. He was, after all, dealing with a killer, one who might just be crazy enough to come after him, too. But he hated the thought of being whipped by a man half his size.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Don startled at the voice, coming from behind a tree.
It was Stacey! “I was on my way home when I saw you come flying out of there. And then I tracked you up and down the street with these.” He raised the sophisticated headgear, now in his hand.
Don took the equipment. “What are they?” he asked, slipping them over his head and toying with the dials. “They give distance, height...everything.”
“That’s not all.” Stacey reached up and adjusted the zoom lens.
“That’s incredible. Where’d you get them?”
“From someone who’s in a lot of trouble with his boss by now.” At that moment a funny thought crossed his mind. He wondered if the hog-tied man had freed himself or if he’d figured out how to phone the captain by punching up the numbers with his nose.
Stacey’s brief reverie was broken by Don telling him of Melvin’s shenanigans, in particular the cryptic “noise” that hurt his ears.
At hearing this, Stacey became concerned. “Melvin has the same high-tech equipment as Bingham. I don’t know if you should go back inside.”
“I can’t go into my own apartment?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I think your landlord may be linked to the same guy I took this thing from,” he said, indicating the headgear. “If so, neither of us is safe in there.”
“Well, let’s find out....” Don had come up with a scheme of his own.
Silently entering the apartment, Don and Stacey made ready to give Melvin the surprise of his life. Don wheeled Alan’s compressor into the furnace room, cut the end off the air hose, turned off the gas valve leading to the water heater and unscrewed the flex line to the heater. Disconnecting the quick coupler from the compressor, he inserted the gas line into the end of the rubber air hose. Two can play this game, he thought as he completed his preparations.
Stacey, meanwhile, had slipped out to the garage and found an empty paint can. Opening the lid, he dropped the pen he’d taken from Bingham’s gopher into the crusty container, replaced the lid and returned it to the shelf he’d taken it from. He then donned his headgear and waited for his cue.
Don, hearing Melvin walk across the floor above, switched on the television and raised the volume to a deafening roar. At once the reception turned to static. Don swore in mock disgust. Melvin laughed. Don went to the furnace room and began banging on pipes. Predictably, Melvin turned on his device.
The sharp pain instantly drove Don to his knees. Stacey could feel the effects all the way from the garage. Don, his equilibrium shot, reached out to turn a knob on the compressor, sending a small amount of gas through the rubber hose to the line leading to the pipe duct above. After enough gas had leaked into the ducts to give off a deceptively strong gas odor, Don turned off the valve and took the hose from the line. Again he banged on the pipes.
When he reckoned he’d gotten Melvin’s attention, he plugged the air hose back into the compressor, this time sending air whistling through the hose—and echoing throughout the house. His inside mission accomplished, he ran outside, slamming the door behind him. Up the steps he bounded, two at a time, and crouched outside Melvin’s back door, cigarette lighter in hand.
It took 20 seconds for the smell of gas to reach Melvin’s nose, one second for its meaning to register on his face, and no more than five to sprint for the door and throw it open. Just as he began to jump off the step, Don reached out and caught hold of his ankle. Melvin tumbled halfway down the stairs before Don hauled him to his feet, flicked his lighter to life and stuck the flame in his face.
“I think I’ll light your pants on fire and toss you back inside!”Melvin, who removed protective earphones from his head, remained remarkably calm. Don, baffled by his poise, picked him up and steer-wrestled him out to the front yard—a part of the plan to allow Stacey access to Melvin’s open apartment.
Melvin found himself face to face with his enraged tenant. The front of his shirt bunched up in Don’s brawny paw, the flame still held aloft in the other hand. “Maybe we should call a truce.”
Don was stunned by the statement. His eyes stared past the flickering flame to meet those of his tormentor. Deep within those eyes, Don could see something good, a light he’d never seen before.
Don released his thumb from the lighter, snuffing out the flame. “What do you have in mind?”
“It’s like this,” said Melvin, raising a finger in a professorial manner. “I’ll stay out of your way, if you let me live in peace. You’ll never hear or see me, I won’t talk to you or your daughter and I’ll give you back your deposit—and give you ten days to find a new place to stay.”
Don’s heart slightly softened. Then, returning to his senses, he growled, “I don’t think so! How can I trust a word you say?” Still gripping the smaller man’s shirt, Don felt a chain knotted up amongst the cloth. “What’s this?” he asked, pulling it out. It was a medallion of some sort, its face having been cut in half.
“A purple heart.”
“Right—and I’m Colin Powell!” Don smirked.
“It’s the truth,” Melvin said. “Earned it in Nam. I was a communications officer—set up surveillance to spy on the enemy. I was caught behind enemy lines and got shot in the butt. Wasn’t much of a wound, but the bullet had some kind of chemical on it. Almost killed me. Instead they cut out a good chunk of my rear end.” He reached down and pressed against the left side of his rump. His hand tweaked at a spot where flesh should have been. “It’s affected the rest of my health, too. People sometimes think I’m crazy.”
“Sounds about right,” Don laughed, loosening his grip. “Why’s the heart cut in half?”
“Well, when my daughter was eight her mother kept threatening she was going to take her back to Nam. Leah—that’s my daughter— and I were really close, as close as you are to your daughter. She was always worried it might come true, and so was I. Her mother was starting to get weird. Well, one day, to comfort Leah, I cut the heart down the middle and put a chain on each half. She made me promise her that if we ever were separated, I would find her and bring her home. Now...I haven’t seen her in almost five years. Her mother claims she’s safe...”
While all this was going on out front, Stacey had seized the opportunity to enter the upstairs apartment. Struggling to keep his balance from the awful noise, he slipped on the headgear and stared in awe at the vast array of computers and components. He recognized the zip and jazz disks which lined the shelves, row upon row. Most of it was for surveillance. A small, partially disassembled mechanical device sat on a desk next to one of the keyboards. He guessed it was the rat Don had told him about. He dropped a few of the disks in his pocket and initiated a quick walk-through of the dark house.
In a small room in back, Stacey found several rows of exotic plants, well-groomed and meticulously arranged on shelves against the outside wall. Below the open window, the wall itself was dirty and worn and the window sill scuffed and damaged—as if someone had regularly climbed in and out of it. A bamboo mat lay in the center of the floor. A plastic cup sat on the shelf with the plants, probably used for watering. Picking it up, careful not to leave any prints of his own, he placed it in his jacket pocket.
The adjoining bedroom was normal-looking, with the bed in disarray. His search complete, he stepped out of the house and back into the garage.
“You don’t know where your daughter is?” Don asked. “If I knew that, I’d have her here with me.”
Don felt an odd kinship with this man, yet he wasn’t about to let
him renege on his deal. “I’ll hold onto the medal until I get my deposit back and we part ways.”
“I won’t take it off until I find her.”
Don had to hand it to him–he was a stubborn little cuss. But he had to have some collateral, otherwise the guy was going to welsh on his promises. “We call a truce while the chain is around my neck. You’ll get it back when I have my cash, the last renter gets his money, and Christina and I walk away from here unharmed.”
Melvin reluctantly drew the chain up over his head. “Agreed.”
Don sensed that one last threat was in order. “If you don’t shut off the contraption, I’ll blow more than a whiff of gas into the place. I’ll fill it up.”
“You mean it’s not gas?”
“Just enough to get your attention. The rest is compressed air.” He gave Melvin a gentle shove, whereupon Melvin retreated to the presumed safety of his home.
They met around the corner to exchange information. After hearing what Don had learned, Stacey rattled off his findings. “He has some of the most sophisticated equipment I’ve ever seen. If he wanted to, he could probably hear what we’re saying right now.” Then, tapping his jacket pocket, he added, “I picked up a few of the older disks—ones he wouldn’t miss. Maybe I can find someone who can read them.”
“My nephew might be able to help out. He’s pretty good.”Stacey wasn’t thrilled at the idea. The last thing he wanted to do was get anyone else involved, especially a kid. But, with his options slim, he agreed. “You realize, don’t you, that the evidence we find won’t be admissible in court? As a matter of fact, everything in the apartment may be inadmissible.”
Don nodded. “I want him in jail more than anyone, but from what I hear, he may have something on Judge Demick. The rat he used in the vents is probably the same one he used to spy on women in the restroom at the county building. If he’s using it to blackmail the judge, we don’t have a chance of using anything until we expose the judge himself. Maybe we can find enough to get him thrown off the case.”
“The only thing we can hope to find on these will be old information,” Stacey countered. “We need a warrant—and a major computer expert.”
At that moment Melvin was on the phone. “Where are they?...Good. Don’t let them out of sight.” He hung up and placed a second call. “...This thing’s getting out of hand. We’ve got to wrap up and get out of town....Tomorrow night will be fine. Have you located her yet?...If you don’t find her soon, someone else’ll get hurt. She’s out of her mind.”
Two men sat across from each other, a carton of Chinese take-out on the table between them. The home was expensive, luxurious. One of the men spoke calmly to the other. “This time I plan on staying. I like it here. I’m comfortable—I make a good living. People here respect me. And I’ve been wanting to retire. So you go on alone. You’ll find everything you need in a green Pontiac parked in long-term parking, row M-1.” He slid a car key across the table. “I suggest you pull out as soon as you can. You’ve already made it more difficult to get out safely.”
“I won’t go until I’m finished with Stacey,” grumbled the other man. “If I walk away now, I’ll never get any respect again.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to retire, too. Lay on the beach. Settle down with that cute little bimbo of yours...make pretty little babies to play with.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. No kids, though.”
“Good, it’s settled then. I’ll have someone take you to the airport tonight.”
“I’ll take you up on that offer—but tomorrow, after it’s finished. If I don’t get my pen back, I’ll be hunted by half a dozen different governments. I won’t be able to find a dirty hole to hide in. Neither will you.”
“I know.”
“Is everything in order for the morning?”
“Yes.”
“I need a shower and a place to sleep.”
“You know where the guest room is. You’ll find everything you need.” The two men stood and cleared the table.
Stacey and Don stood talking several blocks from Kate’s house. “Okay, you get your nephew to take a look at the disks; I’ll work on Melvin,” said Stacey. “If my hunch is right, he’s connected to the men that are hunting me. It’ll surprise me if he doesn’t already know I’ve been snooping through his stuff. I’d suggest you avoid the place, too. Now, should we meet back here in a couple of hours?”
Both men looked at their watches. “One-thirty then,” Don confirmed as he headed out. Stacey left in the other direction to see what kind of cover the orchard might offer.
Don stopped to talk to Jake and his friends, who were playing late-night hoops in the driveway. “Did Christina tell you about the laser?” Jake asked Don excitedly.
“What laser?” He then remembered Jake babbling about some laser they could “borrow” to use in one of the many “Melvin schemes” they’d bandied about.
“The one we’ve got in the garage.” Jake scurried to the garage, opened the door and walked out carrying a yellow case. “You could shine the beam through Melvin’s windows and—”
“Sorry guys. Melvin’s out of my league—not to mention a dangerous man. We won’t be playing any more tricks on him.” Then he started off to find Danny.
“Dang!” Jake said. “It would have been a blast.”
“We better get this thing back to my dad’s business first thing in the morning,” Bryce said nervously. “I didn’t even tell him I was taking it. It cost him four thousand bucks.”