They reached the football field with its separate in and out roads straddling the ticket and concession booth. Gary started a parade lap around the track that circled the field. Wyatt had stopped tapping his bumper, probably because the kid behind him in the ’61 Ford convertible had decided that was great fun, and he was banging merrily into the back of the Firebird. As they reached the south goalpost Gary floored the Thunderbird and raced in a great arc near the outer fence toward the exit road.
Beth yelled, “Where the hell are you going? The exit is straight ahead.”
“Yes it is. Now watch Wyatt drive straight toward it to cut us off and go into that low area where the storm drain always plugs up.”
Wyatt took the direct route. The Firebird sent up a rooster tail of dark water, slowed, and mired itself in mud. Gary cut around the far side of the ticket and concession building, and turned to Beth with a broad grin of satisfaction. It turned to shock when he looked ahead again. He was still doing ten miles per hour when he t-boned the police cruiser that blocked the exit.
****
Beth squirmed under Detective William Clubb’s penetrating stare. He pushed his eyeglasses up on his nose for the fifth time. He simply had no bridge, nothing of any fleshy substance for the two little pads to sink into. Beth thought the flat honker kept him from being an appealing man. It also softened a face that would better serve a law officer if it looked harder. She had to admit it looked hard enough now as it rotated away from her and tried to bore a hole in Gary Grant. Beth prayed Gary would refrain from calling him Billy.
Her cousin was seated beside her in the hot seats of the New Range police interview room, recently and incongruously painted an excessively cheerful yellow color. Outside all was gloom though, the clouds now massive and low-hanging.
Clubb challenged Gary, “So you were just getting into the spirit of the football game and an impromptu parade when you remembered leaving a hot plate on at your room in Beth’s place?”
“Right.”
“You panicked and headed cross-country to the gatehouse at the football field and didn’t even see Officer Jarvi’s patrol car almost until you hit it?”
“I’m so embarrassed. I was distracted. You know what big football fans Beth and I both are.”
“I know both your names are coming up around here way too often lately.” Clubb turned to Sam Jarvi standing behind Beth. “You can take Miss Kessler out now, Sam.”
Clubb addressed Beth as she rose from her chair. “We’re done with you for now. I need to know if you leave town. And I mean if you leave New Range at all. I want to know if you go to Houghton to buy drapery material, got it?”
“Sure, Will.”
“I don’t know how many times you’re going to let this lamebrain cousin get you in trouble, but—aw, hell, Sam, get her out of here.” Gary stirred in his chair. “You, sit! We’re not done.”
Sam Jarvi escorted Beth into the hall, where he was quickly accosted by the department secretary who said, “Sam, I need that signature right now.”
“One minute, Beth, and I’ll get you on your way. Wait here,” Sam instructed her, and he followed the woman to the lobby. Beth sidled back along the wall to near the door of the interview room. Will was having great difficulty not yelling at Gary, so she could hear quite well.
“And you had no idea we were looking for you regarding the death of a West German policeman in the fire at your store?”
“It’s all a total shock to me, Will. We’ve been awfully busy remodeling the B&B.”
“And you don’t know where you got this—coincidentally West German—gun we found you in illegal possession of when you smashed our cruiser?”
“I think I remember winning it in a poker game from a German student now.”
“Yeah, right. Shoot. I forgot to do the Miranda thing. It’s been, what, six years now, and I’m still always forgetting that.”
“Is that really necessary?” pleaded Gary in a high, quavering voice.
“Oh yeah. You’re going to be here a while this time. We’re going to talk about all your business enterprises this time, not just the grocery store. I got to start this tape recorder. Here we go. This here is an interview with Mr. Gary Grant of New Range, relative to the death of conspiracy suspect Detective Horst Wolf and other matters. Mr. Grant, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights?”
“I guess. You really want to talk about
all
my business enterprises?”
“That’s what I said. I’ve been waiting to do it for a long time. I want to cover draft deferments, employee records, including early scheduling permits at Tech, your pizza business, and more. So, do you want an attorney?”
“Maybe I’d better call Barry Lehto down in Chassell.”
“Lehto? I’d heard he was disbarred. There’s the phone. Do you need a telephone directory?”
“No, I know his number.”
“I’m turning the recorder off for you to make your call, see? And now that it’s off, I want to say that everything you and Beth have told me is a colossal pile of manure. But Gary, I
will
dig my way to the bottom of it.”
Beth had heard more than enough. She went to the front and asked Sam if she could leave. She could, and, still carrying a ten-year-old crush on her, he whispered that she was in real trouble. She thanked him for that insightful revelation. Ankle newly strained and sore again, she limped to the Chamber of Commerce, hoping to find Mildred and use her telephone.
Chapter Twenty
The DC-9 was taxiing to the gate and Tom had seen no sign of Dani. He went to the pay phone and tried to call the cabin and tell them Tony’s flight was arriving, but there was no answer. Damn. They were probably out digging some pit for Tony to drive blindly into. Or at least he hoped it was something like that. His attention was drawn to a dark, stocky man heading toward the arrival gate.
It was an un-drowned, undead Marvin Sartorelli.
Either he had learned to swim, or more likely he’d found some floating object to kick his way to shore on. The odds had just changed. Tom more stumbled backward than walked back to the front door and surveyed the half-empty parking lot. There was still no sight of Dani.
Across the main terminal room, Tony and Marv were embracing each other in a formal, perfunctory fashion. Their relationship might be a little strained, but now Tony had help. He had to assume at least Marvin was armed, and if Tony had risked carrying a gun on an airplane, they both were.
Tom had been big for his age even in kindergarten. But as he followed the long Suburban with the two gangsters out of the airport in his pint-size Nash, he felt like David, not Goliath. And where on earth were Dani, Gary, and Beth? The only break he had was that it was getting so foggy that Tony and Harv probably wouldn’t notice him tracking them. Probably.
****
Beth found Mildred about to turn the key in the lock of the Chamber office. “Aunt Mildred, wait, don’t close up. I’ve got to use the telephone.”
“Again? You’re going to get me fired for sure, girl.” But she re-opened the door and settled herself at her desk to watch it as Beth dialed.
On a hunch, Beth called the hospital rather than the Matthews home, and requested Mrs. Matthews’s room. She was connected and Robert answered, “Hullo.”
“Robert, this is Beth. How is your mother?”
“Not so good. I really hoped Renada’s medicine would help. She’s such a good cook.”
“Is she there? Renada, I mean?”
“No. She’s buying new china for the bed and br…for our house here.”
“Robert, listen carefully. Horst wasn’t the East German spy. Renada is. Horst was a West German policeman who was tied up with her, and we think she killed him. Robert? Are you there?”
“Beth, I wouldn’t think you’d sink this low. I never heard you lie before. We were working things out so Renada could set things up here and still help you with your inn. After she hears this, there’ll be no way she’ll help you.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not for a moment.”
“I can prove it, just not now. Call the radio station and ask them, will you? Please, keep her away from your mother until I can get up there, maybe tonight, tomorrow for sure.”
“You need professional help, Beth. Ever since Tom Hawk showed up you’ve been losing it. Goodbye.” He was gone. Mildred opened her mouth but Beth waved her to silence and redialed the hospital. This time she asked for the administrator she knew.
“Who is calling, please?”
Beth looked at her watch. She had no time for this. She would rather save her boyfriend than a shrewish old lady. “This is Beth Kessler. My aunt is Ruth Kessler, your controller, and she will vouch for me. Listen carefully, because I can’t stay on this line. Mrs. Matthews, room 302 in your hospital, is being poisoned.
Poisoned
, do you understand? Call the New Range police station and ask about a woman named Renada Schneider if you don’t want to lose a patient and face a lawsuit.” She hung up.
Mildred said, “Wow, that was something. I was feeling bad because it’s Saturday and my soap opera won’t be on when I get home. You and Gary just keep outdoing yourselves to entertain me.”
“Yeah, I know. One more phone call.”
“What else.” Her great aunt leaned forward in her seat as though act two of a riveting play was beginning.
Beth didn’t expect anyone to pick up at the cabin, but if someone was there, they needed to know what had happened. To her surprise, Dani answered at once. “Tom?”
“No. It’s Beth, Dani.”
“Beth, where
are
you guys? Tom and I got separated. I’m all alone and it’s gotten foggy as hell here. You and Gary are supposed to be here waiting for Tony.”
“Renada is trying to kill Robert’s mother. We started out to stop that happening when Wyatt came after us. We crashed into a squad car and Gary is in jail.”
“Beth, everything is falling apart. We need Tom.”
“Yes. How did you and he get separated?”
“Some huge guy came after him in the airport and we had to knock him out in the bathroom. We put him in my car so I could dump him in the country. I thought he was really out cold, but he came to as I pulled him out of the car seat. I had to…
entertain
him for ten minutes. I lost enough time so I didn’t go back to the airport, but came straight here and found no one.”
“I’m sorry we weren’t there but we couldn’t let Mrs. Matthews die. I’m on my way.”
“Wait. There’s one more thing, and it’s a doozy. One of the tapes I took from Tony for my cross-country drive isn’t music. It’s his autobiography. It’s garbled, incoherent, and maudlin, but it’s graphic and it gives names. It will put him and anyone who’s left in his organization away forever. We don’t have to kill him. Hell, Tom doesn’t even have to testify. We just have to get this to the cops. So hurry. I don’t have to tell you what Tony will do if he finds me here alone.”
“Hold on.” Beth turned to her aunt. “Aunt Mildred, I need your car. I need you to go to the police station and get them to send some officers to where I’m going as soon as you can. Then I need you to call the Calumet hospital and make sure they’re guarding Mrs. Matthews.”
“Oh, well, if that’s all you need, sure.”
“Beth?” Dani implored urgently through the telephone.
“I’m leaving for the cabin now. Aunt Mildred will get some cops out there. Don’t try to be a hero. Just hide in the woods until we all come. I’m on the way.” Beth’s hand was shaking, and she fumbled replacing the telephone receiver.
“I’ll send the cavalry,” promised Mildred, rising from her chair and tossing Beth her car keys. “Go and defeat evil, girl.”
“I may be too late.”
“Nonsense, it’s just one little dago from the West Coast. You and that giant blonde girl, Dani, can handle him alone. Go easy on that ankle. Go easy on my new Chrysler.”
****
Tom followed Tony and Marv out of the airport. Visibility was terrible and he had put the top down to partly compensate as he stayed just far enough behind them to be unseen. Marv was driving slowly.
They passed the high school, where the lights trying unsuccessfully to illuminate an empty football field only attested to the fog and a delayed start of the game. After that, they had the road to themselves. Light rain was working its way toward heavy rain. He was gratified to see Marv and Tony take the turn toward the cabin. But was anyone there to “welcome” them?
He fell back some more, confident he knew where they were going. His entire attention was fixated on the back of their Suburban when a big car came from nowhere. It roared past him, cutting back into his lane scant feet in front of his bumper. A Cadillac, judging from the tall narrow taillights. Asshole. He pressed the brake pedal. Spongy. Apparently not all the lines damaged in the engine fire a week ago had been properly replaced.
In the thickening fog, a pedestrian loomed in the middle of his lane. He braked again, smashed his hand against the little horn button and pulled the diminutive parking brake handle. The sissified warning tone of the horn momentarily immobilized the trudging figure. The car slewed sideways onto the narrow shoulder and stopped so hard against the far bank that he was thrown against the steering wheel. A searing pain burned in the middle of his face. His nose was probably broken. He dug a handkerchief out of his jeans and covered his nostrils with it.
The fog-shrouded pedestrian he had nearly hit appeared and a familiar voice shouted, “Tom!”
He recognized the face of a wet and dispirited looking Wyatt Stone. Before Tom could speak, the bungling sleuth was in the car. “Golly Tom, you were the second one in ten seconds to nearly run me down.”
“Better luck next time.” Tom pressed the starter and the little engine coughed fitfully to life. A shift into reverse and they were back on the highway. He said, “I thought we had an understanding back at your campsite but you ran out on me. What the hell are you doing out here?”
“Oh, I suppose you don’t know. I was treated so badly I quit, but my client apologized to my uncle and I’m back on the case. I have to go and check out a cabin that the Sartorelli brothers rented. My car is in the mud by the football field, thanks to that jerk, Gary. I got a ride to a house a quarter mile back. Hey, what happened to your face?”