Last Call - A Thriller (Jacqueline "Jack" Daniels Mysteries Book 10) (30 page)

Maybe Hanover really did have what it takes, and he’d kill Luther Kite even if it meant he’d be boiled in hot oil. Maybe he really did care that much about protecting his family. Lucy had seen many die, but never with anything she’d describe as bravery. Talking about something and actually doing it were two different things.

Because of this, she couldn’t trust Hanover.

Not without testing him first.

Lucy made her way to the playroom, and noted one of K’s guards was following her. Keeping his distance, but not letting her out of sight. Not entirely unexpected. K was paranoid, perhaps to the point of schizophrenia, but Lucy actually
was
plotting against him.

Still, K disappointed her. The Luther Kite of old times wouldn’t have had men spy on her. If he had doubts about Lucy he would have dealt with her face-to-face, and it would have ended with one of them dying horribly.

That’s what D would do.

The more time Lucy spent around K, the more she missed Donaldson. That man was as sick and twisted as they came, but somehow amid all the violence and mutual depravity and exchanged pain, he and Lucy had bonded.

She missed the old bastard.

But D was gone. And Lucy was stuck here, at La Juntita, to deal with K.

La Juntita. Juntita
wasn’t even a word. Lucy had looked it up, thinking it was Spanish or Latin. But it was gibberish. As nonsensical as Luther had become.

She needed out.

In the playroom, Lucy picked up the hot plate, waved at the guard, and then plugged it into the kitchen extension cord. She carried it to Hanover’s room, which had no working electrical outlets. The cord was barely long enough to reach. Lucy set it near the foot of the bed.

“Making me soup?” Hanover asked.

“Testing your commitment. I gotta be sure you’re going to be able to do go through with the plan. Repeat it back to me.”

“You take me into the torture room—”

“The playroom. We call it the playroom.”

“The playroom, and chain me to the rack, but I’ve got a key to the shackles. I uncuff myself, grab the knife that you placed behind my back, and stab Luther to death.”

“Go for the throat,” Lucy said, imagining it. “Or the eye.”

“I’ll go for the throat or the eye.”

“And then what?”

“That’s it. He’s dead.”

Yeah. That was where things got dubious. “I’m going to have to yell for the guards, or else they’ll think I was involved. They’ll come in. You’re not getting out of this alive.”

“I know.”

“Your death could be long and terrible.”

“I know.”

“You seem pretty calm about it. I’ve seen lots of people die. They usually aren’t calm.”

“I’ve been through the stages of death before,” he said. “Bargaining isn’t going to mean anything here, so I went straight to acceptance.”

“Maybe. Unless you’re working out some sort of different plan,” Lucy said. “Get you’re your hands free. Take me as a hostage. Try to escape.”

“Where could I go?”

“Survival instinct is a tough thing to squash, Mr. Hanover. I have to make sure you’re going to go through with the plan, not deviate from it.”

“How can I prove it to you?”

Lucy lifted up the hot plate, the spiral heating element glowing bright orange. “If you burn the bottoms of your feet off, you won’t be able to run away.”

I
gave Herb Benedict a hug, and for the first time since forever I felt like everything was going to turn out okay.

“You didn’t have to come,” I said.

“Yes, I did. Of course I did. Bernice will get over it. You okay?”

I pulled away, met his eyes. “This one is going to be a bad one, Herb.”

“Let me guess. Odds against us. Going up against an overwhelming evil. No chance at all we’re going to survive.”

“That’s about right.”

He winked. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

We got on the Crimebago Deux, and Herb shook Val’s hand. “Good to see you, Val. We should all get together sometime when someone’s life isn’t on the line.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Val asked.

“This is Katie Glente,” I said. She and I hadn’t shared any positive communication since she came back from the store. I asked her what was on the camera. She refused to tell me. I told her I was keeping it. She shrugged, found her ear buds where she’d left them, and tuned me out until we’d arrived at the airport.

“Ms. Glente,” Herb said, shaking her hand.

“It’s a pleasure, Lieutenant Benedict, to meet the best Homicide cop to ever work in Chicago.”

Katie shot a glance at me. My turn to act like a petulant teen who didn’t care.

“Herb!” Harry’s threw his arms open and came hurrying out of the front seat. “My God, it’s so good to see you! I think you’ve lost weight!”

Herb stared, looking astonished, as McGlade hurried right past him and threw his arms around the pig.

The pig said, “Snort.”

Harry said, “Herb Benedict, meet Herb Bacondict. I’m sure you’ll agree the resemblance is uncanny.”

“I hate to say I’ve missed you, McGlade. And I won’t, because it’s just plain untrue.”

Harry pointed a finger in Herb’s face. “Don’t eat my pig. But if you’re hungry—and seriously, when aren’t you?—there is a fridge full of churros.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“I don’t like to be teased about churros, McGlade. They’re one of my three favorite Mexican donuts, along with buñuelos and sopapillas.”

“Check for yourself, oh weighty connoisseur of carbohydrates.”

Herb opened the refrigerator.

I’ve never seen anyone’s eyes get that big.

There was a soft squealing sound, and honestly I wasn’t sure which Herb made it.

Both Herbs began working their way through the fried Mexican treats, and Katie went back to her music. Harry drove to the hotel, where we picked up Chandler, Fleming, and Tequila. McGlade offered to get the ramp, but Tequila was able to lift Fleming, and her chair, up into the motorhome with a quick, clean jerk.

Val offered Fleming and Tequila cordial greetings, but became several degrees cooler when it came to Chandler.

“Val,” Chandler said. “Been a while. How’s work?”

“Steady.”

“How’s Lund?”

“Great. We’re living together. Engaged.”

“He’s a good man,” Chandler said. “He deserves you.”

“Thanks. How’s your work? Still killing people for money?”

Chandler shrugged. “Sometimes I do it for free.”

“Tell me if they start wrestling,” Harry called back from the cockpit. “That would be hot.”

Tequila stepped between them, offering his hand to Herb. “I didn’t recognize you at first.”

Herb shook it. “I put on a few since we’ve last met.”

“A few?” snorted Harry. “You’re twice the man you once were. It’s like you went back in time and ate your younger self.”

“You haven’t changed at all,” Herb said, ignoring Harry.

Tequila shrugged. “Grayer. Older. Slower.”

“He hasn’t slowed down one bit,” Fleming said. “And why is there a hog in the RV?”

“That’s Herb,” Harry said. “He’s Jack’s old partner.”

Herb patted Herb on the head. “Harry is desperate for attention. Look at me, everyone! I bought another really stupid pet!”

“Herb Bacondict is not stupid,” McGlade said. “I taught him to fetch. And I’m teaching him to roll over. You’re just jealous because he looks better in a tie than you do.”

Not sure how I missed it, but the pig was, indeed, wearing a man’s tie.

And, awful as it sounded, he did look pretty good in it.

“As amusing as all of this is,” Fleming said, “We’ve got a nine hour drive to La Juntita, and we still need to meet Heath for supplies. If we want to get there predawn, before the guests arrive and the gladiator games begin, we need to leave right now.”

“So you guys figured out a plan?” I asked.

Fleming nodded. “Not a good plan. But if it works… it’ll be a real blast.”

Y
ou want me to put my foot on that,” Phin said, staring at the glowing burner on the floor next to the bed. “On purpose.”

“It will prove your commitment. And it will ensure you don’t try to run off.”

Phin hadn’t intended to run off. He’d already come to terms with the fact that he was never leaving this place. If Lucy gave him a chance to get rid of Luther Kite, he was willing to take it, even if he died.

Though the maggot debridement was working well, and his fever was almost gone because Lucy had hooked up an IV full of antibiotics at his insistence, Phin wasn’t keen on touching his bare foot to a hot plate.

“For how long?” he asked.

“Ten seconds.”

Phin didn’t think he’d be able to do it.

“Think of your wife and son,” Lucy said. “Or would you prefer I tell Luther about them?”

He realized he’d trapped himself. Luther had probably never heard of Katie Glente. Then Lucy would realize he lied. And this crazy woman’s anger would result in a lot worse than a burned foot.

I can do this.

I’ve dealt with worse.

This is for Jack and Sam.

Just a bit more pain, then I can do what I came here to do.

Phineas held his breath—

—swung his foot off the bed—

—stretched for the hot plate—

—and was too far away.

“Is that as far as you can go?” Lucy asked. She lifted the plate up, getting it close enough for Phin to feel the heat.

The cord stretched, and it got closer…

And closer…

And then it went slack.

The hot surface bounced off of Phin’s foot for a microsecond, then Lucy dropped the burner to the floor.

“Shit,” she said. “Extension cord pulled out.”

“Uncuff my hands,” Phin suggested. “Then I can move closer.”

“You’re a funny one. I’ll go find another cord.”

“I’ll be here. Hurry back.”

As soon as she left, Phin began to twist and pull on his shackles, determined to get the hell out of there before that little psycho returned, even if he had to yank off his hands to do so.

F
irst, it was sweltering under the wind deflector.

Then, when the RV hit the highway, the sound was deafening.

Then, when the sun went down, it was freezing.

Mexico was awful.

But his suffering, all of it, was worthwhile if it meant he could be with his Lucy again.