I'll Protect You (Clueless Resolutions Book 1) (20 page)

A bright and sunny morning greeted the East Wayford community on the day before the Fourth of July.  The weather forecast, however, was not too promising for outdoor activities in the evening.  There was a wet and windy air mass moving northward, up the eastern seaboard.  A light drizzle was forecasted to start around sundown and turn to steady rain throughout the night and early morning.

Everyone went about their normal business around the town center during the morning.  After noon, however, when the carnival opened the gates, there was a steady hum of activity.

In a roped off, no-admittance area around the veteran’s monument with its small surrounding park, preparation for the nighttime fireworks show was underway.  That location was ground zero for launching the aerial fireworks display.

Nearby, at the police headquarters building, two TV camera trucks were parked and a reporter was taping a segment about the fireworks show that night and the holiday celebration planned for the following day. The background for the taping, however, was the police headquarters building.

Acting-Chief Salvadore was recognized driving into the parking lot and both TV crews hustled to the spot with microphones extended and camera men taping as they went.  Salvadore was not practiced in avoidance of these actions but, since his course on public appearances, he was not overly anxious to engage in an off-the-cuff interview.

Ignorance was bliss before I took that course,
he thought,
I had no idea how complicated it can be to speak publicly in an effective and informative way.

Two cruisers were blocking the rear of the driveway so he had to stop.  He was intercepted going into the buildings side entrance and, in response to shouted questions about the homicide investigation, he gave a short statement that had no new information, but was given in a cordial and professional manner.

Across the river in New Haven,
State Police Inspector Don Chace met with a legal-affairs officer from the New Haven Police Department, at the house to be used for the sting operation.  Chace explained about the sale of the property and the pending auction within three weeks if no buyer came forward.  No mention of what was planned for later that night was made, however. After the New Haven officer left, Chief Devaro drove up.  Don Chace greeted the chief with a look of concern.

“The plot thickens” he said, “now we might have to explain our lack of coordination between departments, as well as conspiracy to aid and abet prostitution outside of your jurisdiction.”

“If nothing happens it will just be missed communication”, said the chief, dismissively. “If something happens, then you’ll be the arresting officer and I’ll be an off-duty policeman who is licensed to carry firearms, just helping you out.  I’m sure Gene VanDyke, if he’s willing and able, can come up with a way to legally save our ass, if push comes to shove.”

“Let’s hope”, Chace responded.

The two police officers walked through their positions and planned actions for later that night. They would show up after dark in an unmarked car. After parking around the corner they would walk through a small area of overgrown bushes to enter through the back door, out of sight from the neighboring properties.  Due to their limited number (2), both would be positioned inside the house.  They would wait there for Carrie to show up.

Together they inspected the laundry room near the basement stairway where they would place the ‘client’ for the duration of the sting.  He would be handcuffed and, if necessary, the door would be propped shut from the outside with a chair under the door knob.

They parted ways with a fist bump and a plan for Chace to pick up the chief at home, just before sundown.

Max and Maggie were not aware of Carrie’s date for the sting that night, but Maggie knew that “Aggie” Moran had dropped off a purchase offer on the New Haven house, at the Stanley office, sometime Sunday.  It was on the floor in the entry, having been pushed through the mail slot.  Maggie saw it first thing on that morning when she opened the office to pick up any messages from Saturday or Sunday.  It was sealed but Maggie recognized what it was by the form showing the address of the property through the address opening.  A note on the back read; “Francine, I hope this works-Aggie.”

It’s
p
robably a weak, low-ball offer,
Maggie thought negatively, but realistically.  She had no faith in the sales abilities of either of Francine’s saleswomen.

When she met Max for lunch she passed the information along.  They discussed the possibility that the house might sell but Max thought that the chances were slim.  It was priced deliberately high to provide the time for use in the sting and a low offer would take days to negotiate.  The offer could be rejected and the property could be taken off the market, if necessary.  In any case, they planned to pass the information on to Chace, and to the chief.

Afternoon became evening as ominous clouds loomed over the southern horizon.  Inspector Chace had heard back from his State Police contact in Grandford that the “client”, a mid-40’s aged man from Fairlawn, Connecticut, was at home and being watched for movement. The inspector’s contact explained that he would be tailing the client’s car and would call Chace when it reached New Haven.

The inspector had put on his protective gear and strapped a white, hard-plastic neck brace around his shoulders. He dressed in a false turtle-neck collar to cover the brace from view and had an oversized sport jacket to wear over the vest. By the time he picked up the chief, he had the air conditioner in the rented car turned up on full. The chief also had full torso armor on and was carrying two bags with all of the weapons he had and a lot of ammunition for each. He had an older, half-length rain coat to conceal all that for when they reached the sting location. “It’s getting dark a little earlier than usual”, the chief commented, as they pulled out of his driveway and headed south.

Max and Maggie had eaten frozen pizzas and had a cocktail at Max’s apartment.  They had decided earlier to ride into the town center to watch the fireworks show.  As they were leaving, they noticed Mrs. Durham’s car exiting the parking area, driven by a lone driver.

“What the hell?” Max exclaimed. “She doesn’t drive much during the day and never at night”, he continued. “Could that be Bruce ‘borrowing’ her car? Maybe his truck finally shit the bed”, he guessed, using a colloquialism for dying vehicles.

“Let’s follow it”, Maggie suggested, as they drove off in her car.  “This might be an added attraction to this evening’s entertainment.”

“There will be plenty of fireworks with Mrs. Durham tomorrow if she hasn’t authorized it!” Max quipped. “Maybe we’ll finally solve the mystery of how her car got scratched up.”

In New Haven, arriving at the Pickering Street house as planned, Chace parked around the corner and he and the chief walked, without lighting, through the brush to the back of the house. Once inside they closed blinds, leaving the front den window blinds slightly open to allow the light from the table lamps to make silhouettes visible from the exterior.

The chief stationed himself behind the front window in a darkened, street-side bedroom which adjoined the den. He could watch the front approach and toward the left without being seen from the street.

Chace was watching the rear yard and driveway section of the property through a window of the darkened bathroom across the hallway.  The two trained policemen, well versed in stake-outs, passed the time chatting back and forth between rooms as they waited.

At 9:10 Chace got a call from his contact that the subject was approaching the area but that he had “temporarily lost sight of the subject’s car.”  He described the SUV vehicle as beige, and gave the license plate number to Chace.

“Game time,” Chace called out to the chief, and gave him the cars description.  At 9:15 an SUV drove slowly past the house.  It turned around in a driveway down the street and came back the opposite way.

“I think we have our fish”, the chief called to Chace. “He must be pinning down the location and waiting for the appointment time.”   Just then Carrie’s Porsche came quickly down the street and pulled into the driveway, off to one side, to allow for a second car to pull in.

“Carrie’s here”, the chief called out.

“Got it”, said Chace as he came into the dimly lit living room. 

A metallic click echoed through the silent house as Carrie opened the door and closed it quickly behind her.

“Ahh!” she shrieked when she saw Chace.  Her purse slipped out of her hand and a black-finished, small-caliber automatic pistol slid out onto the floor.  At first she didn’t recognize him because of the overstuffed clothing and turtleneck.

“Shhh”, cautioned Chace, with a finger across his lips.  A look of recognition and puzzlement came over Carrie’s liberally, but exquisitely, made-up face.  Chace recognized the faint aroma of the musk perfume that he remembered from the first time he met Carrie at her apartment.

The chief came into the room and stooped to pick up the pistol.  Carrie relaxed somewhat.

“Is…is this...?” she stammered.  “Yes it is” said the chief in a hushed, but firm tone.

“Calm down now, your job is almost finished tonight.  I’ll keep this,” he said as he slipped the pistol into his back pocket.  Whispering now, the chief went on.

“Now, just like we discussed, all you have to do is wait until your client comes to the door.  You open it and step back.  Don and I are going to shut the door once he’s in, and restrain him.”  The doorbell chimed.

“Okay, go ahead”, whispered Chace, as he backed against the wall on one side while the chief tiptoed into the adjoining dining area.

Carrie opened the door and a tall, slim, red haired, youngish-looking man stood smiling at her, obviously amazed at the sight of her.

“Am I on time?” he asked quietly while showing her his driver’s license.  Carrie nodded and stepped back to let him in.

As the awe-stricken client stepped into the living room, Chace deftly swooped in behind him, pulled his right hand behind his back and pushed it upward while simultaneously slipping his other arm around the client’s neck.  He held the man off balance as he kicked his feet apart.  At the same time the chief immediately closed the door and stepped in front of the stunned man, holding his police badge ID in view as a sign of authority.

“We’re retaining you for aiding and abetting prostitution.  Do you have anything to say?” he asked in his most commanding bass voice.

The client rolled his eyes to look at Carrie, standing there in all of her beauteous glory.

“Why?” he stammered chokingly, “I….I thought”

“You thought wrong tonight, I’m sorry”, Carrie interrupted coldly, and without a trace of remorse in her voice.

The chief slipped one cuff over the free hand and, as Chace turned the disillusioned client around, the other cuff over the hand that Chace was holding behind the back.  The client was then escorted down the hallway to the laundry room. The chief sat him on a borrowed kitchen chair there.

“You cool it right here while we arrange transportation to the station”, he said to the dazed man.

As planned earlier, Chace and Carrie went into the den.  The fireworks were beginning to boom and spray from over the East Wayford center, across the river. The flashes highlighted the low cloud overcast and reflected off the shimmering river surface as a light drizzle began to sift down. Exploding from a burst of rockets, spinning flares began drifting slowly down.

On the New Haven side, outlined in the glow across the river, the outline of a dark man-like figure stood out.  Caught by surprise in the light, the figure ducked down and scurried into the overgrown brush patch near the sting location.

No one was near enough in the area to hear a guttural, growling sound emanating from the brush patch between booms from the airborne display. Muffled words through clenched teeth followed.

“She’s here…they’ve got her again….” came from the figure while peering through the darkness at the house.

The silhouettes of a man and woman could be seen in the front window, moving around each other as if in a slow dance.

“Kai-Rhee”, again, Kai-Rhee.” sprung the growled words in an oriental sounding accent.  A brilliant red flash highlighted the unmistaken frame of a man, bent over and tensed as if ready to pounce. The face could not be made out but a wide, white sash was tied around the forehead, knotted behind the head.  Again, the growling voice erupted.

“They will pay.”   “I will get them all…”

Inside the house, twenty minutes had passed since the arrival of the client.  Chace and Carrie had alternately walked around the floor and sat on the sofa in the den.

According to the script of the sting it was time now for Carrie to move to the bathroom and prepare to leave.

As she walked past the laundry room she could hear the man behind the closed door.  He was calling out that he wanted to make a phone call.  The chief left his lookout position in the darkened front bedroom and went into the laundry room.

“I’m going to tell you this once”, he said to the younger man. “If you don’t want to get gagged, you had better keep your mouth shut. You’ll have plenty of time to talk to lawyers when they take you downtown”, he said as he closed the door.

The chief then took a chair from the kitchen dinette and wedged it under the doorknob.