Dani smiled. “We’re as good as gone. Thanks for everything. We’ve got a few surprises to prepare for Tony when he gets to his brothers’ cabin.”
“Yup, you’re as crazy as pet coons, both of you, and Beth and Gary too. I’ll be here for a while if you really need something. Just don’t get seen by anybody, Rob—Tom.”
****
Harold sang tunelessly to himself as he shaved. Angelo and Marv were history and Harv must be laying low.
His trip last night to see Renada, hiding from Horst at the Matthews mansion near Calumet, had gone so well. He’d been braced for a confrontation with the dolt Robert over her, but the fellow had been at the hospital with his mother. She’d been stricken the night before right after Renada had prepared a special dinner celebrating their partnership in the planned new B&B.
Renada said Mother Matthews had mild diverticulitis that the fools at the hospital misdiagnosed as food poisoning. Fortunately Robert’s mother had already signed the necessary business documents before dinner, and Renada and Robert would be able to proceed without his mother’s involvement.
Harold had inquired politely if Mrs. Matthews was expected to recover, and Renada had doubted it. She suspected that it was a weakness in the family genes, and Robert was likely to be stricken in the future. After he had suppressed unworthy suspicions, they’d gone out for a surprisingly good dinner. Back at the Matthews house, they’d found a magnificent side bedroom with a garden view in which to complete a magical evening.
When he’d returned to the Kessler Inn well after dark, he’d briefly met his charming young landlady and her unimpressive grocer cousin, who had both seemed preoccupied. Hawk and Dani had been said to be in their rooms and he had not seen any sign of them. It had been hard to care. He had Renada.
Now a warm and golden autumnal Friday morning lay before him. He floated down the stairs to greet Beth Kessler and have a real breakfast, but a small elderly woman greeted him instead. “Morning.”
“Yeah, good morning, where’s Miss Kessler?”
“She was called away. I’m her aunt Mildred. Have a seat and I’ll bring coffee.”
“What about the other guests?”
“They ate early and went out. How do you want your eggs?”
“Over easy. Will you be here all day?”
“No, I’m here only for breakfast. Beth will telephone you later to see if you need anything.”
Odd. Then again, maybe this wasn’t so bad. As soon as this old broad left, he could go through Hawk’s and Dani’s rooms with a fine tooth comb and maybe find Tony’s tape. A local newspaper lay on the table. A bottom right column item caught his eye. “Chief denies rumor of reservation casino.”
Harold showed it to the old woman when she brought his food. “Casinos aren’t legal here, are they? I mean, they’re only legal in Nevada.”
“Uncle Sam in his infinite wisdom has apparently decided the Indians can build them anywhere they want on their tribal lands.”
“That’s nuts. How are they going to make money when most Indians are broke?”
“The casinos will be open to anybody. They could make a ton of money.”
“Unbelievable. This is just here in Michigan, right?”
“It’s the whole country as I understand it. You use catsup?”
“No. This is crazy. Business people have put millions into casinos in Nevada.”
“So I hear. By business people, you mean the Mafia, I presume?”
Harold tugged at his collar. How had it gotten so tight? “There’s no such thing as the Mafia.”
“As you say. Anyway, lots of redskins think they’re going to be driving Cadillacs like yours. Nice car, by the way. I’ve always had Chryslers. I like Cadillacs, but Chryslers go faster.” She checked her watch.
“Is that a fact?” he scoffed. “Look, I can clean up these dishes myself if you want to leave.”
“That works for me. I’m out of here.” She was in her car and on her way in minutes. He needed to call Las Vegas, talk to Stinky at the casino, and find out if his invested money, almost all of his legit money, was safe from Indian attack. The whole country was going to hell. The Democrats were running a socialist commie-loving fool for president and only Richard Nixon stood between America and ruin.
****
After the Mildred woman left it took Harold ten minutes to find where Beth Kessler hid her master key. He might have been legit for fourteen years now, but he hadn’t totally lost his touch. He searched Hawk’s room and Dani’s room thoroughly, but there was nothing. Dani might have the tape with her. Hawk might have the tape with him. They sure didn’t have it in their rooms. Would they risk hiding it somewhere else in a house that was being remodeled? He started searching the entire house, minus rooms that were under construction or empty.
Ninety frantic minutes later he had gone through the place completely. It was amazing how little dirt he found on anybody. Stuff in Beth Kessler’s room confirmed that she was near bankruptcy. Stuff in Gary Grant’s room confirmed that he had a piece of this inn and he had recently sold a piece of that piece to the great-aunt. They were all in the same leaky boat, vulnerable for him and Renada to take over on the cheap, if they wanted to expand to owning two inns.
He found a newspaper article confirming what the old woman had said about Indian casinos. This was going to be a huge problem, and he couldn’t reach Stinky. Oh, to live in the old days, when the army had whole platoons of soldiers dedicated to massacring Indians. What were his tax dollars going to, anyway?
Most importantly, he found no tape, no rambling dictation by the idiot Tony Sartorelli. Tony, a huge Marlon Brando fan, had watched
The Godfather
two more times after Harold had taken him to see it. He might have put
everything
on that tape. It went way back, back to when Harold was not the respectable businessman he had long ago become. Made public, the tape might destroy him.
He found a straw to clutch at. What if Marv recovered the tape before Hawk and Beth Kessler sent him to Davey Jones’ Locker? From everything Renada had revealed, Marv had never gotten into this house, but how would they know? There were too many questions without answers. There was that cabin the twins had rented! He needed to go out and search it.
Marv’s driving notes were garbled. He got lost, got bad instructions from a bewhiskered old fart with a singsong accent and got lost again, and finally found the place after noon. He had the sense to leave his car at the road and walk carefully down the long overgrown driveway in case. Good thing too, because he saw
four
cars parked around the cabin. Obviously, Marv’s body had been found. Obviously the cars belonged to the local authorities who were tossing the joint. Oh good gracious, if the tape was there, they would probably find it.
Harold retreated swiftly; his fists balled and his face flushed scarlet with anger. Once he had started up his car he shouted to the closed windows, “Tony, you freaking shithead. What have you done?” He didn’t owe Reverend Timmy-Bob a wooden nickel for this outburst, because Tony Sartorelli was
only
describable as a freaking shithead.
He went back to the Kessler Inn and telephoned Renada, but she was tied up with some Matthews B&B negotiations. What now? Would he have to kill Tony himself? It was one thing to hire professional help, but to do it himself? He shuddered and pain seared his gut. His ulcer was coming on strong.
****
Tom, Dani, Gary, and Beth, her ankle improved, worked feverishly all Friday afternoon preparing the cabin for Tony’s arrival. They had two guns: Mildred’s shotgun and the little pistol from Renada. Gary had taken Dani’s handgun after Tom had knocked her out with that ravioli, but it had been lost in the grocery store fire.
The cabin was stoutly built, but not easily defensible. Terrain sloped up on two sides to tree lines that could conceal a marksman. The front windows were too large and the door lock was primitive. The building did back up to a big drainage ditch to the south, pretty much eliminating that direction of attack, and there was a pretty clear line of fire in that and two other directions from the three windows. The blank north wall was a problem, so Dani cut a small gun port in it.
They had a few rounds for Renada’s pistol and many rounds for Mildred’s shotgun. Tom led the others through a brief target practice session using the shotgun. Beth, while no Marine, was a good shot. Dani did reasonably well and claimed she could be better with a pistol. Gary was likely to injure himself with a long gun and he would have the pistol Renada had given to Tom.
The complete plan had several stages. Dani and Tom would see Tony arrive at the terminal. If he was alone and unarmed, they’d try to overwhelm and capture him there, probably after he got keys to a rental car. If not, they’d telephone a warning to the cabin and follow him out of the airport in two cars, Dani’s and the little Nash. Once he made the turn into the cabin drive they would leave one car to block the road and take the other to join the battle.
The gateway in the fence was very narrow. They were confident Tony would stop before driving through it, and likely get out of his car. There, faced with Beth and Gary exiting the cabin armed with both guns, and with Tom and Dani driving up behind him he would have to surrender.
At his mine Gary had located some old explosives sealed in the now-brittle original plastic and brought them to the cabin. He’d even found some dog-eared instructions on fusing them for remote detonation. He proposed burying these in the driveway outside the narrow gate in the fence, with wires to detonate them leading back to the cabin. They would have only to touch a couple wires together as Tony reached the gate. The explosion, if it went off, should disable Tony and his car.
“Cool,” said Dani.
Beth protested first. “No, no way. That could be murder, Gary.”
Tom didn’t like it either. “I want him alive. Just the fact that he tracked us here will be the extra proof the prosecutors might need.”
Gary yielded, but pouted for hours.
When the preparations were complete, Beth and Gary seemed so eager for the adventure that Tom wondered if they knew at all what they were getting into. Dani, by contrast, was moody and anxious. She sat in a corner Adirondack chair listening to her music tapes on her portable player, complaining that the one built into her car had better sound quality, and that half the tapes she had filched from Tony were sappy Sicilian ballads. She said Tony’s Italian ancestors weren’t from Sicily. They had come from the north of Italy near the western border, and Tony worried they might even have actually been French.
Chapter Nineteen
Harold’s Friday kept getting worse. He had finally contacted Stinky at his casino on the strip to warn of coming competition from red Indians. Stinky hadn’t heard of this, but he did tell Harold that Tony Sartorelli had been released from jail the day before. It was rumored Tony would go to Michigan to kill Hawk and anyone close to him.
That could include Harold. He had not found a place to buy a real gun, and had settled for a starter’s pistol bought at a pawn shop. It might keep the other residents of Kessler’s Inn in line, but it wouldn’t fool Tony. He would be a nervous wreck every time he had to cross a street because Tony’s favored way of dealing with opponents was to run over them in the largest vehicle available. The world was ending, and he was all alone.
Desperate, he left a groveling message on Lester’s answering machine, regretting an unhappy misunderstanding and begging Lester to contact Wyatt and get him back on the payroll. At the very least, the screwball kid might serve to take a bullet for Harold.
Then, the black clouds parted. He called Renada to find her in high spirits. She suggested he join her for an early restaurant dinner. They would celebrate his becoming a full partner in a magnificent new bed and breakfast in a soon-to-be renovated Matthews’s mansion. She had the papers prepared, signed by Robert and his mother. He needed only to bring a check. He told her he was writing it as they spoke.
He found her waiting at the table, bent, and kissed the nape of her neck. “My passion flower.”
“My beautiful brute, my magnificent new business partner.”
“I have a gift for you.” He handed her the check for his interest in their B&B.
“Hark, my Harold angel! You make my, our, great dream possible.” She kissed him fulsomely and handed him the partnership papers.
He stuffed them in his inside sport coat pocket. “How is Mrs. Matthews?”
She fingered his bank check lovingly. “The doctor tries to give her and Robert false hope. I convinced her to take some more of my special stomach medicine.”
“Will that work?”
“It always worked in Germany.”
“Is it wise to do this so soon?”
“If she were younger and stronger we could use her for a while. But she is not. With her gone, we can easily control Robert. He is a simpering coward. He sees booger-men under his bed.”
“Boogeymen.”
“You have such command of your language. Anyway, we will need him for a couple months.”
“I see him drooling over you and I go mad. I cannot wait so long.”
‘You must. I will let him hold my hand, perhaps kiss me. The evenings will be for you, my Thor.”
“My Venus!”
The waitress came and recommended whitefish. After she left, he whispered, “The radio says a fellow who died in the fire here was one of your countrymen, a Horst something.”
“I have not heard of it, of him. Don’t believe these local police, they are incompetent. You suddenly look unhappy. This should be a celebration. What is wrong?”
“I expect a former California associate of mine to come here. He can cause me a pile of trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“The fool has taped an autobiography and may have included our earlier, ah, work together. I think someone at the Kessler Inn has it. If it gets published, it’ll ruin me. I need to destroy it, or him.”
“How awful. Perhaps I can help you, my dumpling. Can we invite him to dinner?”
“No, he’s been pissed at me since I pulled out on him fourteen years ago. You wouldn’t have a gun that I can borrow?”