The Landlord by Ken Merrell - HTML preview

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FORTY-FOUR

T

he view from the third-floor corner office in the new County Building was small-town spectacular. “Technically, Officer Stacey, the money deposited into your account is yours,” White explained as he sat at his desk overlooking the well-kept grounds. “If we had any way to prove it had been used as drug money, it would belong to your department. My suggestion would be to use it to replace the car you dunked in the river. And maybe set some aside for new tires and to pay for cleaning up the mess you left in Bingham’s office. That would be a nice gesture.”

“White, you’ve got a deal. I think the Lexus will make a nice undercover vehicle, don’t you?” Both men agreed.
The room became silent. “The coroner found traces of brine shrimp in Will Vaughan’s lungs,” White informed Stacey. “Probably from an aquarium. Our men couldn’t find him last night. We could have saved his life, you know.”
“From what I’ve seen, it was only barely worth saving.”
White grinned. “The funny part is, Don didn’t know a thing—he was only bluffing when he went chest-to-chest with Loran.”
“That bluff worked like a charm. We need to nail Loran—if we can prove he’s our killer.”
White gave a thoughtful grunt. “We need a sample of water from the aquarium in Rider’s office. I know your womanizing skills are a tad rusty, but see if you can get Monica to help you with that....We’ll be releasing the bodies of Jau Fei and Leah for burial in a couple of days. Oh, one more thing: I’m recommending you to the city as the new detective, and your commanding officer Lieutenant Barker to be the new Chief of Police. It’s time to bury the old tradition of the council filling that spot.”
“Debbie says Barker’s recovering. I need to drop by and see him before the day’s over.”
“Who do you think should fill the council seat?”
Stacey thought about the question. “I have the perfect person in mind. I’ll let you know.”

Cecily waited for Don to finish the heavy load of orders. He was late again. She found her thoughts constantly returning to him.

Don had already suffered more than his share of trials. But just that day she’d learned of some great news. Hardly able to contain herself, she decided to walk down to the powder shed and see how her blue-collar guy was doing. As she drew near the shed, Don was on his way out. When he turned, a big grin spread across his face. The place where he wore his mask was about the only spot on him that was clean. It didn’t matter to her. She jumped into his arms, her feet swinging off the ground, and gave him a smack on the mouth. “Guess what!” she bubbled. “Ralph decided to hire someone new for the powder shed. He wants to put you full-time in sales. He said you’ve paid your dues—shown true grit, pun intended!” She kissed him again.

“Great! Hey, you’re getting all dirty.”
“I don’t care,” she kissed him over and over again. “Now let’s get Christina to her appointment.”

Stacey stepped off the elevator onto the second floor of the medical center’s west wing. Barker, feeling much better, had been moved to his own room. He poked his head inside. Debbie turned as she fussed over her husband. “Rick, come in! We’ve been talking about you.”

“What’d I do, now?” Stacey joked, limping over to the bed. He’d learned to get along without the crutch, but hadn’t removed the brace from his leg. Though painful to walk, he needed to be at his best for a possible date that night.

Stacey brought Barker up to date, including Mr. White’s recommendation that he be the new Chief and the planned undercover sting.

“You remember the discussion we had the other night before all the fireworks began?” Barker asked.
Stacey clicked his tongue. “Nope. What discussion?”
“The one about lining you up with Debbie’s sister Tess.”
“Oh, yeah. You going to hold me to that? It was spoken under duress you know,” he said, trying to weasel his way out.
“If you want, you can meet her first. She just finished college and is back here living with Debbie’s folks. She’ll finish her student teaching next month. Debbie can invite her over to see me the day after tomorrow. You come over after work—see what happens.”
Debbie broke in. “Why don’t you come by at, say, six?”
“Okay.” He’d tried to step lightly around the topic, but friendship had gotten the best of him. He’d do it; maybe then they’d quit bugging him. He wondered what this unmarried schoolmarm looked like. Debbie was attractive, nice smile. She wasn’t exactly his type, but her sister couldn’t be all that bad.
Stacey glanced at his watch. “I’ve gotta run. The tailor said my suit should be finished by now.” He left the room and waited at the elevator. The door opened and, deep in thought—and forgetting his etiquette—he barged in, tripping a young woman in the process. “I’m so sorry,” Stacey said as he helped her up.
“Oh no, I should have been watching where I was going,” she apologized, pulling a rich crop of brown hair back from her beautiful face just as the elevator doors closed.

“...You’re in a safe place. Your father is sitting next to you, holding your hand. Christina, you can wake up any time you want.” Doctor Wendy’s soft, composed voice wafted into the girl’s subconscious mind. “I want you to go back to the night you were chased through the woods.” Christina’s eyes moved rapidly beneath her eyelids, her breathing rapid and shallow. “You’re on the roof now, with your rope secured.” Don could feel Christina’s nails dig into the fleshy part of his hand. “You’re leaning back, ready to fall.” The young body gave a jolt at the suggestion; it began to shake.

Tears rolled down Cecily’s cheeks as she listened to Christina relate the terrible experience. She marveled at the courage the girl had shown. Don’s body, too, was tense with the extremes of hate for Christina’s attacker and love for his innocent daughter.

“Tell me what happened next, Christina,” Doctor Wendy urged.

Christina’s breathing became even more rapid.
“I see him hanging over the edge of the roof...He grabs me...my
shirt’s pulled partway up....I let go of the rope with my good hand
and scratch at his eyes. They’re...looking at me through the mask.”
Christina clenched her teeth as she spoke, her lips still moving but
her jaw drawn tight. “I hate those eyes...they’re cold, black...like death.
I dig in with my fingernails....Then he screams and pulls away...lets
go of my shirt.”
Christina opened her hand. A sliver of blood began seeping from
one of the marks left by her fingernails as they sunk into her father’s
skin.
“The mask comes off in my hand...I start to fall. I can see him...the
moon is behind his head.” She screamed and opened her eyes....

Melvin’s attorney arrived for a special appointment with Judge Demick. The two spoke casually about dropping charges against his client. “I’m confident the DNA test results will exonerate Melvin. Furthermore, you’ll find a very generous donation made to a trust fund for the families of those girls murdered by his late wife. Here’s the information you can release at a press conference. It will help polish your image; make it better than it was before this whole thing began.”

Demick opened the document and began to read. “What about the rumors of chemical agents in our town?”

“I don’t know anything about that, Your Honor.” The attorney gathered his things to leave. “And by the way, the funds are also there to make sure that the relatives of Melvin Briggs get a proper burial. May we never cross paths again.”

The tailor had done a fine job. Stacey could be on the cover of GQ. And, if he walked slowly, he could stride with hardly a limp, although the new leather boots squeaked when he walked.

Next Stacey drove to the jeweler’s shop. The Rolex watch and diamond rings felt hideously unnatural, but they sure looked fine. A heavy gold chain around his neck seemed a bit much, but the jeweler assured him it worked well with the suit. In his pocket he’d already placed a thousand dollars, which he now folded into a gold money clip with the initials R.B. embossed in diamonds. He decided to wait at his parents’ home for the call. With Loran out of town, he knew Monica would be out on the town.

“What did you see?” Doctor Wendy asked. Christina gazed around as if she’d just come out of hibernation.
“It was a woman!!” she said between gasps for air.” I could see her long dark hair. It was flapping around as I was falling. The eyes belonged to a woman!” Christina bowed her head and began to cry. “Melvin went to jail twice—and it wasn’t even him!”
Don reached over and took her in his arms. This time he was giving comfort instead of receiving it. “It’s okay, Christina. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Careful not to let Sig leave dog hair on the new suit, Stacey awaited the call. Sig seemed to understand, pouting for only a moment before returning to his bed. Rifling through his father’s closet and picking out a few of his nicer shirts and pants, he then drove to the fourstar Excelsior Hotel in downtown Provo and reserved the presidential suite on the 14th floor.

Then Mitch’s call came. “Looks like it’s time, big guy. Your hunch was right on the money. Her girlfriend just picked her up. My guess is they’re headed to Lamar’s. It sure would look good if you walked in at the same time.”

Sitting on the bed, Christina talked and—for a change—Danny listened. Kate had suggested that the best way to help his cousin was to listen and empathize with her. Together they laughed as Christina recounted all the scary, sad and silly things that had occurred over the past weeks. It was a mix of elation and sorrow. She cried as she told him how much she wished she could get her mother back— not married to her dad, but free of the bad habits that made her so selfish and angry all the time. Danny listened on into the night. Alan resisted the urge to shoo them into bed. They both needed to start the healing process.

Monday night was ladies’ night at the club. Although he never went there off duty, Stacey knew the place well.
Lamar’s was only two blocks from the hotel. He pulled up in front. Mitch told him the girls had just swung into the lot at the rear. He watched as they rounded the curve by the front door. Then he stepped out and handed the bouncer a twenty to park the car, flashing his wad of bills.
The guy just looked at Stacey, clearly confused. “We don’t park cars.” Stacey pulled another twenty from the stack as the girls looked on. The bouncer shrugged, “Guess I could make an exception tonight.”
Stacey stepped aside. “After you two fine lookin’ ladies,” he said in a Texas drawl, tipping his cowboy hat. The two women looked him up and down like a slab of meat. Monica’s friend poked her in the ribs as they entered. From behind, Stacey reciprocated, twice giving the tantalizing ladies the once-over. This is going to be quite an assignment, he thought, following them to the bar.
Mitch strolled into the club a few minutes behind Stacey, who was already engaged in conversation with Monica and her friend. Probably six or eight feds, trying to pass themselves off as cowboys, circled the room. Monica seemed oblivious to the ruse. “So where are you from, cowboy?” she asked.
“The big state of Texas.” This was going to be too easy. He glanced around the place again, noticing he was the envy of every guy in the room. The two most attractive women in the bar were already jockeying for his attention.
“The initials R.B. must stand for an important name,” Monica said, having paid close attention to the money clip.
“Rick Bennett.” He offered her his hand. “I think I may have overdressed for the occasion,” he said. She ogled the rock in his ring, then slowly shook his strong hand. She was dressed in a tight pair of jeans– like most everyone else in the joint—a blouse—which seemed more buttoned down than up—and a shiny pair of boots.
She looked him over again. “I think you look just fine. My name’s Monica and this is my friend Pamela. Buy you a drink, Rick?” That was the signal for Pamela to get lost. After all, she was the one who’d insisted Monica get out to see what else might be available—if, that is, she really intended to be gone when Loran returned.
“Honey, I’ll let you buy me a soda. I’ve got an important meeting set up for tomorrow. My broker tells me these Mormons don’t take too good to drinking. I’ve got to be at my best if I’m gonna buy the biggest chain of gas stations in the state now, don’t I? Why don’t I buy you a drink or two. Might help loosen things up a bit?” The music started. Pamela leaned over to them, nearly falling out of her blouse. “I think three’s a crowd. Besides, I came to dance.” She wasn’t ten steps away when another cowboy approached her. She moved to the floor with him to strut her stuff. Stacey and Monica found an empty table.
“How long you plan on being in town?” Monica asked.
“If I make the deal, I’ll be leavin’ tomorrow, after I find me a condo to buy. Then I’ll be visitin’ every now and then to keep an eye on my investment.”
To Monica it sounded perfect. This guy seemed custom-made for her—someone to take care of her financial needs yet out of the way more often than not. She could keep that condo warm and friendly for each time he returned.
“Want to dance with me, Rick?” Monica’s voice was soft and breathy.
Stacey looked over at Pamela. “Honey, if you dance like she does, I don’t know who wouldn’t. I got only one little problem. I own a ranch, see. Last weekend, when I was out ropin’ with the boys, one a’ my longhorn bulls got a bit too close to my leg. Took several layers of stitches to put it back together. I came here for two things, one of ‘em I already found.”
A provocative smile crossed her lips. “And what else were you looking for?”
“I never carry any with me on my jet; airports aren’t a safe place these days. I’ll tell you what it is—after I search your body for a wire.” Monica’s smile widened. Stacey could see the wrinkles of hard living through the skillfully applied makeup.
“I think you’ve found both things you’re looking for, cowboy.” Monica reached over and put her hand on his thigh. Rick started. He hadn’t expected her to be so forward so fast.
“That’s the leg with the stitches, honey.”
“I’ll be gentle.”
Mitch called Olsen from his cell phone. He was just putting the finishing touches on the room Stacey had rented. “Looks like they’re on their way.”
“That boy didn’t waste any time.”
“From where I was sitting, it looked mutual.”
“We’re on our way out,” Olsen assured him.
This time the bouncer was more than willing to bring the car around, and again was well rewarded for his effort. Stacey drove two streets over. “I had no idea the place was so close to my hotel or I would’ve walked.”
“Nice car.”
“Just a rental,” he drawled.
Stacey tipped heavily to have his car parked. It hurt to see the cash go so easily. Monica tried to guess how much he was carrying. Loran couldn’t hold a candle to this guy. Rick had a more distinctive touch of class; he was also more of a gentleman. If she were lucky, she’d get away with a few pieces of nice jewelry from Loran. He didn’t let her close to his cash or credit cards. She was into her supplier so deep she didn’t know if he’d even talk to her. He used to do trades with her, but those days were long past.
She hadn’t taken a hit since noon, when she’d used the last of her supply. She knew a few of the boys at the bar were good for a few hits in trade for a one-night stand, but that would have been her last resort. She needed to figure out how to get this guy to shake loose a little cash—maybe wait until he was asleep, then just slip out with his cash and cards. But that’d ruin any chance for a long-term relationship. Maybe she could play “hard-to-get” and see what he might give her. But she didn’t want the main chance to blow up in her face. She was almost 30 and was losing her youthful beauty. He was young and ruggedly handsome. She hoped he wanted more than a onenight stand and a good high.
Stacey was trying to figure out how to proceed. This was the first time he’d been involved in such a bust. He knew he could get her on possession, and hoped to get a shot at her dealer. But here he was, about to give the performance of his life while a gallery of his friends looked on from the other room.
Monica didn’t waste any time helping him off with his jacket. He glanced around to see where he could give the best show. Huddled around a small black and white screen in the next room, Olsen and two other deputies were soon joined by Mitch and Mr. White. “Lucky guy to pull such an assignment,” one of the deputies whispered. “Good thing he’s not married. A man could lose his wife if she ever saw these tapes.”
Stacey needed to slow things down a bit. “You know, it may be better for the long haul if we take that hit now.” Monica eagerly agreed, and pretended to look for it in her purse.
“I must have left my stash home,” she lied. Her counterfeit pout was followed by a poorly-acted show of elation. She let out a zesty “Ahhhh!” and said, “I know a dealer who works close. I could call him and have him deliver. There’s an extra charge, but you don’t take any chances that way.”
Rick handed her his phone. “Let’s do it, honey.”
Monica dialed. “Jimmy, Monica.” Stacey turned away, a sick feeling sprouting in the pit of his stomach. “I know...I’ll take care of the entire thing tonight. Send me triple anchovies with the white sauce. I’m in room 1482 of the Excelsior. I’ll put an extra hundred in it for a rush order.” She looked at Rick for approval. He nodded.
Olsen and the other men could hardly believe what they’d just heard. Everyone bought their pizza from Jimmy. He had the best sauce, prices and service in town.