Claudia Must Die (7 page)

Boyd never directly asked Otis what happened; Otis’s face told him enough, and he didn’t see the need to force his brother to relive the events. But it was enough to make Boyd determined that he would never let anyone mess with his baby brother again.

When Boyd saw the tear in Otis’s eye earlier that day in Gordy’s Pizza, he knew what Otis was thinking about.

Then Otis told him about the messenger. He didn’t mention the thigh thing, but from Boyd’s experience with the messenger, he knew a threat was made. Boyd couldn’t fail his brother, even if he had decided—in the brief moment that he had looked into Claudia’s eyes—that she was the victim, the hunted. When he saw her, the real target, not Parker, he knew he didn’t want to kill her. Boyd had only stared into Claudia’s captivating sea-green eyes for a second, a brief second, but in that moment, it had become personal.

Yet now, he had to kill Claudia. He had vowed that day by the creek never to let anyone hurt Otis again. Pulling the trigger was the simplest way to ensure that. The easiest way out of the predicament.

To himself, Boyd also vowed that this would be their last job. He wouldn’t let them go back to delivering packages again either. Instead, he wanted to take their savings and start their own business. Never again would he be someone’s bitch. Never.

Chapter Twelve

Francis walked by the Woolf’s car on his way to pick up the pizza. He didn’t look inside, didn’t react, and didn’t show any emotion whatsoever. But he knew the boys who sat inside. He had his own man, who had tracked down the boys in Connecticut. When Francis discovered the brothers were returning to Boston, he was ready.

One of those boys shot his cousin. The other sat by and watched it happen. Both were guilty, and Francis wanted them to pay.

On his way back from Gordy’s, he spied the car once again. The younger one, Otis, looked to be asleep. The older, Boyd, who Francis assumed was the brains behind the operation, looked stoic. Neither of them looked older than twenty.

Damn
.
How am I to pull the trigger on two babies?

He’d worry about that later. For the moment, his plan concentrated on Claudia and the evil man, and then the Woolf brothers. Slipping into the side gate of Parker’s apartment complex, he saw that she had showered and finally changed out of her PJs. Francis, still couldn’t, after all these years, loaf around all day in his PJs. The military had banished that idea from his mind forever.

He preferred pressed khakis and a crisp polo shirt. In winter, he wore his black leather jacket. The line in his trousers never strayed off course. Each night, before bed, he pressed the pleat deep into the fabric of his pants. Every morning, he ironed his polo. Every two weeks, he had his ginger hair trimmed. His fingernails and toenails never looked untidy. Only Ida had ever known that Francis had a standing appointment for a manicure and pedicure.

In his car, he had a bag already packed. He planned on going solo on his road trip to Colorado; however, now that the Woolf brothers were back in town, he decided it would be best if Parker and Fritz tagged along. When he broke the news to Parker that they were going to be driving 2,000 miles, she didn’t bat an eye.

“When?” she asked, but not why.

After dinner, the three of them would hit the road.

***

Francis parked across the street from Boyd and Otis. As he loaded Parker’s suitcase into the trunk, he noticed that Otis still had his eyes closed. Was the boy feeling all right? Boyd was awake, but he didn’t pay Francis too much attention.

Parker led Fritz out of the side gate of the backyard. After settling the dog in the backseat, Parker sat shotgun.

Before Francis had the chance to turn the key, the backdoor opened, and Claudia hopped in right next to Fritz. The shepherd started to growl, but Francis kept his cool and quieted him.

No one spoke. Parker looked too stunned to even breathe.

Finally, Francis asked, “Parker, where’s your gun?”

“In my suitcase,” Parker replied, calmly.

Francis drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel, trying to maintain his cool. “Why is it in your suitcase?”

“You told me to pack it.” Parker shrugged.

“I asked if you were packing. I didn’t mean you should
literally
pack it.” Francis stared in the rearview mirror, watching Claudia’s every move.

“Pop the trunk. I’ll get it.” Parker started to climb out of the car, but Francis pulled her back in by her leather belt.

Francis cleared his throat and rubbed his chin, thinking hard. “Listen, Claudia.” He quieted any argument with his raised palm. “Yes, I know your name. I’m not sure what you’re doing, but I don’t want any trouble.”

A cop car drove by, all eyes in the car fixed on it.

The cop made a right on Commonwealth Avenue and Francis sighed in relief.

He turned to face Claudia. “Will you behave, or does my stooge of a partner have to grab her gun from the trunk?”

Claudia opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She nodded instead, terrified.

“Good.” Francis rubbed the top of his head. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

Claudia shook her head slowly, mouthing, “No.”

“The woman who was killed—” Francis stopped to control the quaver in his voice. “She was my cousin.”

Claudia’s hand reached for the door handle, her first instinct to leap out of the car, but she stopped when she saw Francis shake his head.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. You see…” He turned to stare at Boyd across the street.

Boyd didn’t know who the man was, but he instantly recognized Claudia in the backseat. “What in the fuck is going on?” he exclaimed.

Otis stirred awake. “What’s wrong?” He followed Boyd’s gaze. “Oh fuck! There she is.”

Otis reached into the backseat to grab his handgun, which was hidden under a pile of clothes. Before Boyd could stop him, he was aiming the gun at Parker. Then Otis noticed Claudia in the backseat, and exclaimed, “They’re twins!”

Francis turned the key in the ignition and slammed on the gas pedal, cutting off a car, which swerved to miss him. The light on the corner of Commonwealth Avenue and Chestnut Hill was red; Francis didn’t stop. He pressed the gas pedal to the floor and careened through the light, barely missing the B-line train heading towards Boston College. He made a left onto Commonwealth Avenue, in the opposite direction to the one the cop had taken moments before.

“She’s getting away,” screamed Otis.

Boyd accelerated out into traffic, causing more mayhem. The car that swerved to miss Francis had slammed into a parked car. Boyd made a fast U-turn to follow Claudia and crew. The light was still red, and the train blocked the left side of the road.

“Fuck!” screamed Boyd and then went for it, driving down the wrong side of the road. Cars honked and swerved out of the way, including Francis, who had made a U-turn to head in the opposite direction, trying to throw off their pursuers.

Otis raised his gun again, but his brother knocked it down. In all the commotion, Boyd slammed into the curb, blowing one of his tires.

Francis waved as he steered the car onto Chestnut Hill, heading towards Brookline.

Boyd backed his car up and turned down a side street on three wheels. The brothers had to ditch the car and find a new “loaner” before the cops came. Sirens had already started to wail in the distance.

***

Francis didn’t go far. He pulled off into Applebee’s parking lot at Cleveland Circle and parked behind the building, near the dumpster. Shutting off the engine, he hit a number on speed dial on his cell. He barked a few orders and slammed the phone shut within thirty seconds.

Claudia pretended she wasn’t in the car. In her mind, she was on some beach somewhere.

Parker, the realist, couldn’t hold it in. “What are you doing? Why’d you stop?” she demanded.

Francis flipped open the console between the two front seats and pulled out a cigar. He clipped the end and lit it. “We can’t drive around in this car. I’m sure the cops are looking at footage, so they’ll know the plate numbers. Another car will be here in twenty minutes.”

“Who are you? Whitey Bulger?” Parker was too stunned to keep her mouth shut.

“So, you do know about gangsters. Then why in the hell did you pack your gun in your luggage?”

“I’m not a gangster.”

“If I gave you my gun, would you shoot her?” He nodded to Claudia.

Parker put her hand out, expecting him to oblige.

“Maybe next time you’ll keep it with you.” Francis inhaled deeply on his cigar and then blew the smoke out the window. He eyed Claudia. “Do you know those guys?”

“N-no,” she stuttered. “I didn’t know many of my…” she didn’t complete the thought.

Francis grunted. No, she probably didn’t know much of anything. “How much did you take?”

Claudia fidgeted with her purse. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“How much did you steal from your husband?” His tone implied Don’t Fuck With Me.

Claudia peered out the window and studied a sign that read: Do Not Park. Violators Will Be Towed.

She mumbled, “Over a million.”

Francis whistled. Parker turned around in her seat and stared at the woman in disbelief. Ida had been killed for a million dollars.

“And you thought you’d get away with it?” Francis kept his voice even, but the implication was there. No matter what, Claudia was a dead woman.

Claudia teared up. She kept her focus on the sign outside the car window. The words started to blur together, but she was too proud to wipe the tears away.

“From what I’ve been able to gather, those guys are intent on finishing the job. Your husband has kidnapped their mother, sister, and half-wit cousin.”

Claudia dug her fingernails into her palms. “Oh God, what did I do?”

Parker snapped, “I don’t like the term half-wit.” The hurt look on her face stunned him.

Francis, taken aback, said. “Parker…‌I’m sorry.”

“People can’t help the way they are,” Parker continued, ignoring his apology.

“I wasn’t implying anything about their cousin…” He didn’t know what set her off, so he stopped.

In the backseat, Claudia rocked back and forth, ignoring Parker. It made Fritz nervous, and he whined softly.

“There could have been poison in the cookie,” said Parker.

For the first time that afternoon, Francis was shaken. Was Parker losing her mind?

“My mom wasn’t crazy. And she wasn’t a half-wit.” She glared into Francis’s eyes. “She was—” Parker couldn’t come up with what her mom was. “She was my mother.”

Francis remained silent. Claudia sensed the tension between the two and stopped rocking. Parker opened her door, climbed out, and wandered to a nearby picnic table.

Claudia sniffed. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Francis tapped his cigar on the car door. “But it has.”

The words hit Claudia like a punch to the face. “What are you going to do to me?”

“That is the question I’ve been asking myself ever since you jumped into the car.” He stubbed out his cigar.

A black sedan pulled up behind them, and Francis got out and freed Fritz from the backseat. Fritz glanced around and then ran over to Parker and sat down by her feet.

It didn’t take long for Francis to move all of the stuff to the new car. He motioned for Claudia to climb into the backseat of the sedan. After removing the license plates, the delivery guy took off in the wanted vehicle. The two men didn’t speak a word to each other.

Francis leaned in the driver’s side window. “Claudia, I’m going over there to talk to Parker. I would appreciate it if you stayed put. Promise me we won’t have any issues.”

Claudia nodded her promise.

Francis looked at Parker and Fritz, sitting together without communicating, but completely in tune with each other. He took a seat on the bench next to the student.

“Are you ready to go?” Francis asked.

“What about her?” Parker nodded in Claudia’s direction.

“I’m not sure yet.”

Parker reached over and petted Fritz’s head. “I want to sit next to Fritz.”

Francis grunted his agreement and off they went.

Chapter Thirteen

Boyd and Otis sat in a restaurant outside of Boston.

“Now what?” asked Otis.

“We have to go to Colorado.” Boyd stared out the window, avoiding the sadness in Otis’s eyes. “We don’t have much time to get them out.” He was referring to their family the evil man had kidnapped.

“Can’t we just finish the job here?” Otis stirred the melted ice cream on his pie. He didn’t have the heart to eat, but had ordered it out of habit.

“Odds are she’s gone, and we don’t have the time to track her down. We only have days to get to Colorado and save Mom, Clarice, and Dee. Besides, who knows if that asshole will actually do as he says?” Boyd ground his teeth together.

“Who in the fuck was that guy?” Otis still couldn’t believe the brief car chase. Never before had they experienced any issues with their jobs. Normally, they showed up, flipped the coin, finished the job, and then headed home to await the next assignment. It was easy. Easy as pie.

Boyd shook his head. “Don’t know. But he’s a pro. I had a bad feeling about this assignment from the beginning.” He sipped his iced tea. “We should have refused from the get-go. Never trust a man with black eyes.” He motioned to the waitress for their check. “We better get going.”

Otis shoved the plate away and stood. “I hate this job.”

Neither of them had ever said it before, but as soon as Otis did, they both realized they had hated it from the beginning. Even when they were delivering packages, they felt dirty and used. Yeah, the money was nice, but the feelings that went with it weren’t.

“Never again, Otis. Never again.” Boyd hoped that wouldn’t be because of the evil man. Once he decided to leave the business, the idea became an obsession.
Please, let us survive this.

The brothers left the restaurant.

***

Ten minutes later, Francis, Parker, and Claudia walked into the restaurant the Woolf brothers had recently vacated. Fritz sat outside, waiting for them unchained, since he would never leave his post unless instructed.