Deceived (14 page)

Chapter thirty-one

Jenny drove in silence. The plan they discussed was simple, but it would at least keep them busy. Maybe help, too. Molly sat quietly in the passenger seat, categorizing every weapon she’d ever had aboard her beloved
Hullabaloo
. She wished she had at least one of them now.

Parking at the end of the block of retail stores, Jenny popped open the Jeep’s back hatch and pulled out a few of her larger paintings.

Molly went in first. She was greeted by a harried Lisa, wisps of hair escaping the loose bun on the top of her golden head.

“Welcome to Blue Moon,” said Lisa, immediately walking toward her. “I meant to lock that door. I’m about to leave for a little while. Could you please come back later?” Lisa was trying to be courteous, but her agitation showed through the façade.

“Oh, dear, I really need to find a gift for my friend,” Molly improvised. “She recommended your shop, you know, and since she invited us down for the summer, I just
have
to get something for her before we show up on her doorstep. I promise I won’t take long.”

Molly moved quickly through the door and off to the side to “study” the paintings on the wall. “This is lovely! Please tell me about this one.”

Lisa’s eyes rolled, but she walked over to Molly just the same and began a discourse on the contemporary work in front of her. Mid-sentence, she stopped at the sound of the entrance bell again.

Jenny struggled to get into the door, her arms full of paintings. She gently placed the brown craft paper-wrapped treasures against the opposite wall from where Molly and Jenny were standing and called out to Lisa.

“Hello, Lisa. I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.” Jenny waved a rolling five-finger wave.

“Hey, Jenny.” Lisa excused herself from Molly and walked over to Jenny. “I’m glad to see you out and about. I was planning to call you in a few weeks. Now is not really a good time.”

Jenny ignored her wave off. “I won’t take long. I wanted to leave these with you so you could look at them when you have a chance. I hope they’re up to the standards of the other works you represent. Like this one. This is gorgeous.”

Jenny strolled along the wall to a signed and numbered Claude Howell print of one of his famous paintings and waited for Lisa to follow. The coral coloring of the blocky fishermen’s nets looked stunning against the gallery’s pale green walls.

“I am such a big fan of his. I didn’t know you had his work.”

“A few,” Lisa replied flatly as she looked around for Molly, now nowhere to be seen. “This really is
not
a good time, Jenny.”

Jenny feigned hurt. “Oh. Well, of course, I should have called first. I can see you are really busy here.” Jenny made a sweeping gesture with her hand.

“It’s not that. I was just heading out for a little while. I have an appointment.”

“Looks more like a delivery, if you ask me.” Molly stepped back into view from the gallery’s office. In one hand was a small red leather carry-on suitcase. In the other was the handle of a matching rolling suitcase.

Chapter thirty-two

Sam headed south on the beach road, then cut back to the main drag. Two stoplights ahead was a small retail strip whose largest occupant was the Blue Moon Gallery. Parked at the end of the block of pale yellow buildings was Jenny’s Jeep.

“They didn’t,” Sam said out loud as he pulled a U-turn on the street and parked behind the Jeep. Cursing himself for not having a weapon, Sam got out of the car slowly, taking in the situation.

Two large plate-glass windows facing the street revealed nothing of the gallery inside, thanks to rattan shades that were down. Sam glanced at his watch: ten-thirty. Shades should be up by now. Sam jogged to the end of the block and cut behind the strip mall. Counting the doors as he passed them, he found a deep blue one with scrollwork letters spelling out Blue Moon Gallery, a stark contrast of fancy compared to the windowless cinderblock blah of the rest of the building.

The delivery door was locked. Sam ran back to the front of the building and proceeded full force into the gallery. When his eyes adjusted to the darkened space, he found Jenny holding fast to Lisa’s arms, pinning them back by the elbows. He smiled when he saw that Molly was nose-to-nose with Lisa, drilling her with questions.

Sizing up the situation, Sam slowly turned to lock the door. He stuck his head in the gallery’s office, looking for a phone.
Chuck isn’t going to be happy about this
, Sam thought as he dialed the number. His call was cut short by Molly’s scream.

Sam dashed back to the main gallery to see a slick-looking blond man holding Molly in a headlock pose, a gun to her temple.

“One step closer and she’s a goner.” The sick smile on Molly’s tormentor’s face made Sam wince. Sam watched as the man hugged Molly tighter.

“Pity, really. She’s my type, I hear tell.”

Sam quickly played out scenarios in his mind. He looked to Jenny, who searched his eyes for direction. Sam nodded, and Jenny released Lisa.

“That’s enough, Tripp. Let’s get going.” Lisa rubbed her arms, sore from Jenny’s grasp. She moved toward the suitcases scattered in the gallery. “I’ve had enough of this town anyway.”

Sam hedged. “Let me get this straight: you’d rather spend time with your brother Tripp than sell lovely pieces of art here in Carolina Beach? This is your brother, Tripp, right? What about your children? And Chuck? You think he’s stupid or something?”

“Now that you mention it, yes. Of course, I’ll miss the boys, but they can take care of themselves these days. But Chuck, well, he was just a means to an end. This end.” She held up the smaller suitcase.

Sam didn’t miss a beat. “And the chief…was he a means to an end, too?”

Lisa stopped and stared at Sam. “Leave Dan out of this.”

“Let me help you with that….” Sam started to lift the larger suitcase, but Tripp trained his gun on Sam.

“Don’t move!” Tripp was agitated.

“Just helping the little lady, Tripp.”

Tripp’s smile widened. “She’s no lady. She’s my sister. Half-sister, to be exact. I’ve always wanted to say that.”

Sam went with it. “Half-sister. On your father’s side?”

“Sure. Dear ol’ Dad was a busy guy in his youth. Now enough of this chit chat. Into the office.” Tripp gestured with his gun. “This one,” he said, his grip tightening around Molly, “she stays with me.”

“Tripp, you are
not
going to do that here. Somebody might hear you. Let’s take them somewhere else to do this.”

Sam stalled. “Look, man, at least let the ladies go.”

“Sure. I’ll let this one go…with me.”

Molly grunted as Tripp’s arm tightened around her neck again.

“You must have it in for her family.” Sam didn’t move.

“Family?”

“Her brother. You wasted him on his boat.”

“I waste lots of brothers. It’s a matter of usefulness. When they are no longer useful….” Tripp shrugged.

Sam watched the blood race back into Molly’s face as she wrenched herself to the right of Tripp, her hands both clawing at his arm. Tripp ignored her fingernails digging deep into his tanned flesh.

“Um, I like the way that feels, honey,” Tripp goaded Molly. “You and me…we’re going to have us some fun real soon. Why don’t you save it until we’re alone? You still have a use as far as I’m concerned,” he cooed. “Unlike this place here, see. It’s no longer useful.” Tripp was clearly enjoying himself, pointing around the gallery like Vanna White presenting a winning phrase. “Now if you would be so kind as to move it, we’ll get this over with. I have other things to attend to today.”

Sam moved back a step into the office doorway, watching Lisa as she walked casually around her desk and reached to unlock the back door. Sam turned as if to help her again with her bags, his action being enough to divert Tripp’s attention away from Jenny.

Amidst Tripp’s shout of orders for Sam to put the bags down, Jenny lifted a cantaloupe-sized amethyst geode from a cream-colored pedestal standing in front of the Claude Howell and hurled it at Tripp. Her toss fell short, but it brought a shout from Lisa that momentarily distracted him.

In an instant, Molly leaned all of her weight forward onto Tripp’s arms and mule-kicked him in the groin with her heel. Tripp squatted forward, his hands covering his privates, trying to regain his balance. Molly didn’t give him a chance. She kicked him in the left kidney, bringing him to the ground as he reached for his lower back. Molly snatched the gun away and pressed it hard to Tripp’s temple.

Slowly cocking back the safety, Molly put her finger on the trigger. “For my brother.”

“Don’t, Molly!” Sam yelled.

“He deserves it!” Molly shrieked.

“But you don’t deserve the consequences,” Sam calmed. “Put down the gun, Molly.”

Molly blinked at Sam as if seeing him for the first time. “He killed my brother.” She slowly put the gun to her side, and her eyes returned to the heap of man at her feet. Molly gave him a swift kick in the side, then realigned the safety on the gun and tucked it into the back of her jeans under her sweater.

Not wanting to be left out, Jenny raced to the huddled mass while raising a tall turquoise pottery vase.

“Not the Sedberry!” Lisa screamed, her hands to her mouth in horror.

She cares more for her art than for her brother
, Sam thought.
Nice sister
. Sam ripped Lisa’s hands from her face and brought them to her back as he watched Jenny pause over Tripp. She was dripping with sweat, ready to pummel Tripp.

“Jen…” Sam called gently to her.

Frozen, Jenny didn’t answer.

“It’s over.” Sam’s voice was now just above a whisper.

Still Jenny didn’t move, the vase high over her head.

The back door flung open. Chuck Owens moved in, gun raised, with his partner Mike Smith right behind him. Chuck’s eyes were wild, but his actions were calm as he grabbed Lisa by the wrist and cuffed her.

“You have the right to remain silent…” he started slowly.

Lisa didn’t respond.

Mike cuffed the writhing Tripp and pulled him to his knees.

“Jenny, it’s over,” Sam repeated quietly.

Jenny remained poised to strike.

Sam gently brought her arms down, the smooth-sided pottery vase still in a vise grip. “He’s not worth it.”

Jenny collapsed in his arms, sobbing, still holding the heavy Ken Sedberry vase.

Molly slowly took the vase from Jenny’s grasp and put it back on its pedestal. Then she headed for the suitcases.

Molly gasped when she unzipped the larger one and opened it wide for all to see: stacks of hundreds, twenties, and tens, each stack neatly wrapped and secured by a thin blue ribbon like it was a party favor.

Chapter thirty-three

For two full minutes, Chuck and Lisa had a hateful stare down. The room was quiet, punctuated only by Jenny’s sobs.

“Car’s out back,” Mike casually said, navigating a handcuffed Tripp around the splayed suitcases toward the office.

Molly carefully zipped up the large suitcase, stood it upright, and pulled out its handle.

“Don’t touch it anymore.” Mike’s voice got everyone’s attention. “Fingerprints and all.”

“A little too late for that, Mike,” Sam called over Jenny’s shoulder, her wet face buried into his chest. “I suspect you’ll find plenty of prints, but I wouldn’t worry about Molly’s.”

Sam resumed his drawn-out shhhing to Jenny, more to soothe himself than her. Jenny’s tears matched his feelings, plus the let-down of adrenaline after the rush. The answers had come.
Well, at least some of the answers
, he thought.
The rest will come. It’s just a matter of cleaning house
.

Sam watched Chuck roughly shove Lisa toward the office door, then pick up his radio to call the guys from evidence. When they finished here, Sam knew the gallery would never look the same.

When Sam felt Jenny’s sobbing slow, he gingerly pushed her away from him so he could see her puffy red eyes. Sam knew crying was cathartic. A release like this was important to her healing; he just needed to be sure she was all right.

His arm around her shoulders, Sam steered Jenny toward the front door. Molly followed a few paces behind. “We’ll follow you back to the station,” he called out to Mike and Chuck, who were working their way out the back door of the office.

“Don’t go too far, Sam. We’ll need you to answer a few questions about this mess.” Mike’s voice was barely audible from outside the back door.

Sam hoped Jenny or Molly would feel up to driving the Jeep to Raleigh for a change of scenery, even though all the action here was over. He watched Jenny’s face to surmise whether she could drive yet. He opened the front door slowly, looking back to see whether Molly was coming. Jenny’s gasp brought his attention to the door, where he froze. Blocking the doorway was a leering Andy Keller, backed by two scuzzy men. Sam recognized one of them—Toothless, from his visit to Johnson’s Fishery.

The one with the toothless grin ducked past Andy, pushed Jenny aside, and tackled Sam, all within three lightning-quick steps.

Sam struggled underneath Toothless’ weight, searching for a place to put a foot or a finger. Toothless was fast, and he pulled several wrestling moves in rapid succession, making Sam feel like he was being tossed in a laundromat dryer. His face squashed on the polished wood floor, Sam felt wet warmth ooze from his mouth and nose. Red. In front of his face. From his own face. That made him mad.

Sam managed to cock his head around in time to see Andy’s other sidekick, Scuzzy Number Two, grab Molly and Jenny up by the arms as if they were rag dolls.

And to see Andy—leering at him.

Toothless began beating Sam. First his kidneys. Then his head. And then the lights went out for Sam.

Chapter thirty-four

When Sam came to, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be conscious. Not a place on his body felt right. Through swollen eyes, he could barely see around the gallery. He could listen, though. Listen for the floor creaking under the weight of someone. Listen for Jenny crying. Listen for Molly offering up a blessing or a curse. Sam heard nothing but the distant rushing of traffic outside the gallery’s closed front door.

He slowly rolled onto one side and assumed the fetal position. He’d been left for dead. Again.

Only this time, he knew who did it to him. He felt for keys in his pocket.

Sam slowly managed to scoot his knees under him, resting his throbbing head on the floor. Child’s pose. He fleetingly saw a memory of Frank sleeping like this, content. Safe.

Sam reached for a table leg, no doubt an art piece given its silky feel and contrasting end caps on the tapered legs. He gingerly raised himself until he was nearly upright. His hunch made him appreciate how his mother must feel as she managed around the kitchen in the early morning hours before his retired father woke up.
She has osteoporosis
, he thought.
She’s had it for years. But she’s safe
in Raleigh. Far enough away from here. Safe. It’s where Jenny and Molly should have gone. Then they’d be safe, too.

Sam shuffled slowly to the gallery’s office, peeking around the wall, separating it from the gallery space. An overturned chair, the desk, plus the usual office accouterments. No suitcases. No police. And no Tripp. No massive quantities of blood splattered all over the pale green walls, so Sam assumed everyone walked out on his own two feet. Or hers.

Lisa and Chuck had looked mad at each other during their confrontation, but Sam was getting the idea that it was all a show for his benefit. If good ol’ true blue Chuck was in on it, there wasn’t a straight brother on the force. There would be no backup, no one to help. Sam was on his own.

Sam leaned heavily on the back door leading to the alley. He couldn’t hear car engines, voices, or guns firing. Through the fish-eye peephole, he saw nothing but the backside of another building.

Slowly, Sam opened the door and looked out in both directions. Clear. Using the building’s wall for support, he crept toward the alley’s entrance. Still no cars he recognized. No guns firing at him. Surely, Toothless and Sidekick wouldn’t be so stupid to try something now in the bright light, would they?

Continuing around the building, Sam saw Lee’s Mustang still in one piece. Sam cautiously slid in, hurting with every bend and turn as he got into the bucket seat and seatbelt.

Think. Think. Jenny and Molly in one car. Chuck in another, possibly with Lisa. Mike, Andy, Tripp, and the Scuz Brothers. Jenny’s Jeep was still in front of the Mustang. Not seeing Lisa’s Ford Taurus in front of the gallery, Sam assumed it was one of the vehicles underway. It could comfortably hold four, but if Lisa wasn’t worried about comfort, maybe five. That left four people.

If Mike and Chuck came in their white Carolina Beach Police SUV, he’d look for that. The SUVs were an upgrade from the old Crown Victorias the force used to use. The small police force somehow had managed to convince the powers that be that SUVs were necessary at a beach town. Something about having to drive out on the dunes, though that rarely happened. So, no more Andy Taylor squad cars or Crown Vics.

Sam smirked at the thought of riding around with Barney Fife as he reached for the ignition. His lips were the only thing that didn’t hurt. Sam’s vision was not clear, but his focus was.