Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 03 - When the Carny Comes to Town (25 page)

“Do you have the article with the photo?” Harry asked.

I went upstairs and we all studied it when I came back down.

“Well,” Morehouse said, “Now we know how well the kidnapper knows this house and town.  I don’t like it.”

Harry shook his head.  “I never would have guessed.  The white hair, the glasses.”

“And he’s a lot thinner, too,” Morehouse said.

“No beard,” I said.  My brain was in overdrive.  Marcus Hardy.  I wasn’t sure whether to be more or less scared.  He had always seemed to like Aunt Madge a lot. 
Can a kidnapper kill someone they know?  Is it easier or harder?

The room around me intruded into my thoughts.  “Yeah,” Morehouse was hollering into his phone.  “I’m sure.” He paused.  “Who the hell else would have been sitting at her table?  Those weren’t latent…Hey, Jolie.”

I looked up.

“How often would you say your aunt wipes down the kitchen table?”

“At least once a day, if she’s here,” I said. 
She’s not here now.
  I looked toward the table.  I had tried to get all the fingerprint goo off when the officer left. 
Dust my ass
.  It’s like sticky jam from two days ago.

Harry kept telling me this would all work out, but I finally tuned in more to Morehouse.  “I know Tortino, I know.  Yeah, but it shouldn’t be marked cars…Yes, ten years more than me.  OK, call me back ASAP.”

He walked toward Harry and me.  “Shouldn’t you stay out of sight?” I asked.

“We’re dealing with a meatball here, not a professional kidnapper,” Morehouse said.  When I started to speak he said, “I’ll go back there in a minute.  The thinking is to put out Hardy’s, Masterson’s description, get all hands on deck and start checking motels and anyplace…”

“But they’ll see you,” I said, panic gripping me.

“He said…” Harry began.

Morehouse waved us quiet.  “Tortino’s organizing it so everyone is in plain clothes.  The FBI just got to the station.  They got a lot of ideas.”

He kept talking, but all I could hear was a voice in my head saying no police, no police, no police.

I glanced toward the area where Morehouse had been sitting.  “I’m hungry,” I said.  “Can I make you guys a sandwich?”

They both stared at me.  “Come on, we ate hours ago.  Unless you had donuts,” I said to Morehouse.

Morehouse glared at me.  “Don’t be a damn smart ass.”

“I could use one, thanks,” Harry said.  He was looking at me as if he wondered if I’d finally lost it.

I walked to the fridge.  Aunt Madge doesn’t keep many cold cuts but there was leftover meatloaf from yesterday.  Quickly I got out the bread and made two sandwiches.  “Milk or coffee?” I asked.  My mind was in overdrive.

“Milk.” They both said.

I started to carry the sandwiches to them and remembered one was supposed to be for me, so I separated one onto two plates.  “Come to the table,” I said.  “The dogs’ll be all over you if you sit over there.”  I set the plates on the table and poured three glasses of milk.

“Thanks,” Morehouse said as they sat.  His phone buzzed again and he answered it as he took a bite.

I looked at Harry.  “I’m going to use Aunt Madge’s bathroom.”

I walked through the living room and into the hallway and picked up the small case and carried it into Aunt Madge’s bedroom.  I was out the window before any sane person would have had time to flush the toilet.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MOREHOUSE HAD SAID THE police were about to have officers everywhere.  I hoped that they weren’t on the way to the Cozy Corner just yet.  I couldn’t take my car, the keys were in the house with my purse.  I had the money and my phone, and that was all I needed.  There was no way I was going to let a bunch of cops get Aunt Madge killed.

I ran down Seashore away from the boardwalk.  I’d gone about half a block when a car twenty or thirty feet ahead of me flashed its lights.  I slowed.  “Damn it all,” I said.

A low voice called out, “Yo, Jolie.”

“Scoobie!”  I ran toward the car and as I did saw him lean into the back seat to open that door for me.

I slid in.

“For Pete’s sake, lie down,” George said.  He made a U-turn and continued in the direction I’d been running.  “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know yet,” I said.

Scoobie turned to look down at me.  “Can you be a little more specific?”

The car slowed and turned a corner, and then pulled into a more well-lit area.  “Where are we going?” I asked, realizing I had just repeated George’s question.

“Into the
Ocean Alley Press
parking lot.  That’s where anyone would expect to see my car.”

“Very smart,” Scoobie said, as George turned off the car.

It was so quiet I could hear a mosquito buzzing against the back window.

“Now what?” George asked.  “Did they find her?”

“She called,” I said.

“Thank God,” Scoobie said, and turned to look in the back seat.

“Stay facing front,” George ordered.

“It’s Marcus Hardy,” I said.

“What?  Marcus the boring writer?” Scoobie asked.

“I met him in Java Jolt,” George said.  “He’s a cream puff.”

“Except it’s not Marcus.  His name is Alexander Masterson.”

“Have you taken some sort of tranquilizer?” Scoobie asked.

“Shit,” George said.  “Fun Boy.”

“What are you talking about?” Scoobie asked.

George told him that Masterson had been arrested with Penny but had only done 30 days in jail.  “They probably ran a bunch of scams together.  And Penny had the money somehow,” George finished.

Silence for ten seconds.  I breathed slowly, telling myself to stay calm.

“She’s dead for going on two months, and my mother is still screwing up everybody’s lives.” Scoobie said.

“How do you know Marcus is Masterson?” George asked.  “How could he alter his appearance that much?”

“He visited earlier today.  Fingerprints.  And short, white hair and eyebrows.  Clean shaven.  He’s lost weight…”

“I get it, I get it,” George said.  “Glasses, too.”

“They wanted, he wanted the case Penny left in the room,” I said, feeling myself starting to shake.

“What case?” Scoobie asked.

“Your mother asked Aunt Madge if she could leave her luggage at the B&B for a couple days, and when she didn’t come back Aunt Madge packed it up.  After she died, Morehouse went through it, and one suitcase had a lot of money?”

“How come you never told me this?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“I know, I didn’t want to talk about it,” Scoobie said.

“Doesn’t matter,” George said.  “Focus on now.”

“How do we get it to him?” Scoobie asked.

“He’s supposed to call back, or have Aunt Madge call.  He said no police, but when Morehouse just found out it was him they were going to put police in civvies all over the place.  And Morehouse said the FBI had ‘ideas.’  I want to do what Marcus, Masterson, whoever says.”

“We’ll see what he says,” George said, and opened his car door.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Get a blanket out of the trunk, so nobody can see you easily.”

I heard the trunk pop and he rummaged around.

“You sure about this,” Scoobie asked, quietly.

“No.  Yes.” I paused.  “When she calls I can always change my mind.”

George got back in and tossed the blanket in the back seat.

My phone chirped.

“Aunt Madge?”

“Yes.  Jolie, he said no police.”

How could he know
?  Were they close?  I was cold all over, and I heard Scoobie take in a breath.

“I know.  I just went out your bedroom window.  I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to close it.”

“Where are you?”  Her tone was sharp.

“In a car with Scoobie.”
  I almost said George’s car.  “I have the case.  I, I called the police before I knew where you were.  But they left when I said you called me.”

There was muffled talking on her end of the line.  I sat up halfway so George and Scoobie could hear everything she said.

“You know the roadside park, just north of town?” she asked.

As in where Penny was killed?
  “Yes,” I said.  “Can I come now?”

“Twenty minutes. 
Alone
Jolie.”  She hung up.

George started the engine.  “You can drop us off half a mile before the park.”

“After,” I said, lying back down.  “Less obvious.”

WE ARGUED FOR several minutes as George sped down the highway en route to the park.  George wanted to stay in the trunk, with Scoobie in the bushes.  Scoobie wanted to drop me “anywhere” and let them “handle it,” and I wanted to throw them both in the ocean by the time we were halfway to the park.

“I drive,” I said.  “That’s all there is to it. Unless you want to drop me off and I’ll walk.”

A siren blared behind us.

“Crap,” Scoobie said. 

George pulled to the side of the road and an ambulance sped past on the opposite side of the road, likely going to the hospital. 

I let out my breath.  Not the police following us.  “I hope we don’t end up there,” I said.

“Better than the morgue,” George said.

“That’s just great, really great,” I said.

“Sorry,” he muttered.  He pulled onto a side road and let the car idle.  “Scoobie, can you walk from here?”

“No problem.”

“My trunk has one of those safety buttons, so a person can get out from it when it’s locked.  I’m going in the trunk, Jolie.”

“And pop out like a jack-in-the-box?” I asked.

“If needed,” he said.  “Me and my tire iron.”

“I’ll see you down there,” Scoobie said, and got out of the car.

George and I watched for a few seconds as Scoobie tried to use the cane in the underbrush just off the road.  He gave up and slung it over his shoulder like a soldier carried a bayonet, and walked with an awkward gait.

“He’s hurting,” I said.  “He even brought the cane.”

“He’ll be all right.  Come on, trade places.”  George popped the trunk as he got out.

I faced him for a second and looked directly in his eyes.  “Thanks.”

He gave a slight smile.  “I like Madge,” he said.

He climbed awkwardly into the trunk and shut it.  “I’m in,” he said, his voice muffled.

I got in the front seat and shut the door.  My hands were shaking so hard it was difficult to take the car out of park.  “Calm, Jolie,” I said.  I pulled down half a block until there was a driveway to turn around it, and headed back onto the highway.

I was at the small roadside area in less than a minute.  I turned off the car and headlights and sat taking it in.  While the mix of pine and leafy trees were not densely spaced, the under growth was thick.  It wasn’t really a park, just a place with a few parking spaces and two picnic tables.  There wasn’t even a trash can. 

Should I stay in the car or get out?
  I decided to get out, so they could see the case.  “Crud,” I said.  I didn’t even know how much cash was in the case, whether it would be what Marcus was expecting.  I clicked the lock and looked in.  It looked as I remembered it, lots of cash.  I shut it and stood hugging myself.

My watch said it was two minutes past time, and I shivered.  It was about sixty degrees, but that had little to do with my body temperature.  I couldn’t remember ever feeling so cold in my stomach. 

What was that?
  There was rustling in the brush behind the trees that shaded the picnic tables.  I hoped it wasn’t Scoobie making noise.

“Over here, Jolie.”  It was Aunt Madge’s voice and I turned so quickly I knocked the case off the hood of the car.

“Oh.”  I stooped to get it.

“Stay where I can see your hands,” Marcus said.

I stood slowly and faced the two of them.  Aunt Madge looked very tired, but otherwise okay.  Marcus had his left hand on her elbow and a gun in his right hand.  “Open the case,” he said softly.

I unlatched it and opened it, tilting it so he could see what was in it.

“What’s so shiny,” he asked, sharply.

“Silverware.  She stole it…” I began.

He chuckled.  “Old Penny, she never missed a trick.”  He looked at me.  “You two thought you’d steal my money, did you?”

I didn’t like his menacing tone.  “We didn’t steal it, she left it,” I said.  “How would we know it was yours?  You probably know someone killed her.”

“She was supposed to meet me to give me my half.  Stood me up.  Tried to tell me she had to rescue her stupid son.”

“Rescue?”  Aunt Madge said, quickly.

“Shut up.  Come over here, Jolie.”  He gestured with his gun.