Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery (26 page)

“Hi, Carlos. This is Lainie MacKenzie. She’s with the FBI.”

“No kidding. They finally caught up with ya.”

We laughed, and I ordered a bottle of the Hogue Genesis Cabernet.

When he left, Lainie said, “You seem to know these people pretty well.”

“This is my favorite haunt.”

Carlos returned with the bottle and two fresh glasses. He looked around at the packed dining rooms as he uncorked the bottle. “It’s gonna be another busy Friday night.”

“You guys might be crowded tonight,” I said, “but I think it’s really my Julie and Amanda Jane who keep this place solvent.”

“You got that right.” He grinned and said to Lainie, “His daughters can shovel it away pretty good.”

After I sampled the wine, Carlos filled both glasses, and we were ready to order.

“We’ll have a medium Chicago Deep Dish.” I looked at Lainie. “I grew up in the Chicago area, and this pizza is as authentic as you can get without Lake Michigan. Whatever you want on it, but no black olives, please.”

She looked up at Carlos. “Pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, green peppers, and onions … and can I have some black olives on the side?”

We clinked glasses when he left.

“Cheers.”

The conversation turned to Plum. “So why do you think he’s targeting me?” Lainie asked. “I don’t fit the profile.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, too. He has a fixation on me, and maybe he thinks we’re involved.”

She laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“What’s so funny about that?” I asked. “He could think that.”

“Trust me, Tucker, it’s not going to happen.”

“I’m not making a pass at you,” I said, defensively.

“Tucker, you’ve been looking me up and down since the day we first met.”

We were interrupted by a call from Netter. I excused myself and stepped outside the front door where it was quiet. After a brief conversation, I returned and sat down.

“What’s wrong?” Lainie asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing, I guess. Lisa Stanton has regained consciousness. According to Netter, she’s coherent and eating like a horse.”

Lainie watched me but said nothing, waiting for the rest.

“But,” I added, “Mayor Richards has ordered the security detail at the estate terminated, effective immediately. He said now that my family has evacuated, and there’s an FBI agent on the premises, he doesn’t see the need for the Town of Cary to continue to pick up the tab.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Not really. Richards is a prick. I’m surprised he didn’t insist on releasing my photo to the press.”

I swirled my glass and took a sip. “But enough about that asshole. So tell me, what’s the story on Lainie MacKenzie?”

She gave a brief recap of her life. She was born in Cleveland, Ohio, and had two older brothers. At age seven, her father lost his job and moved the family to Cincinnati, where he found a position with Procter & Gamble.

Lainie graduated from the University of Ohio with a major in Sociology/Criminology, and then went on to earn an advanced degree in Criminal Psychology. She had worked four years for the Hamilton County Criminal Investigation Unit when her application was accepted by the FBI. She spent twenty weeks at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia before earning her rank as Special Agent. She had now worked as an FBI field agent for five years.

Her father was proud of his daughter, but there was tension between Lainie and her mother, who felt Lainie’s FBI career would hamper her chances of snagging a rich guy and having lots of grandbabies. In that regard, Lainie’s mother was probably right.

We had finished our first glass of wine when Carlos returned with our pizza. Lainie’s eyes lit up and the ravenous look on her face told me that Bocci had once again produced their usual cheesy masterpiece.

Lainie served each of us a still-steaming slice and then asked about
my
life, which was in many ways similar to hers. I had two brothers and one sister. I was the oldest and the biggest disappointment to my father, who had spent years telling his buddies at the steel mill I was going to go to college and become an engineer. But Christine’s murder had changed everything. I was distraught and unfocused. When I chose a job working at the local newspaper, he was insulted, and he never missed a chance to tell me so. Eventually, I moved to Raleigh to take an investigative position with the Herald.

She suddenly stopped me and said, “Oh my god, Tucker, this pizza is incredible!” She wiped her mouth with her napkin and leaned back and closed her eyes in sheer pleasure. When she opened her eyes, she said, “Sorry I was having a moment. Okay, what were you saying?” What is it with women and orgasms about non-orgasmic stuff?

I continued my saga telling her about my first marriage, which produced my beautiful daughter, and about meeting Maggie and living the life I have today.

We finished off the pizza but were too stuffed to indulge in the cheesecake, which was so disgustingly delicious it should be illegal. Probably for the best. Lainie would definitely have had another “moment.”

CHAPTER 35

After paying the bill, we rolled ourselves out to the Jag. It was five minutes past nine o’clock.

“Sorry, but we fooled around in there too long, and now it’s too late to go to the mall and get you something to sleep in,” I said.

“That’s all right. I don’t do pajamas anyway. I can sleep in an old T-shirt and shorts if you have some.”

We got to the estate shortly before nine thirty. I pulled directly into the guesthouse garage, and Lainie got out with her Glock in her hand. When I opened the connecting door, she said, “You wait here. I’ll go in and make sure the area hasn’t been compromised.”

“Compromised?” I said. “I’d just make sure nobody broke in.”

She narrowed her eyes at me and slowly walked in. Oscar let loose a piercing bark, and Lainie jumped back with her hand to her throat.

“Thanks. You could’ve warned me about that.”

I grinned as I pulled Lainie’s bag and a large duffle from the trunk. We walked in, and after turning on all the lights, we met in the living area.

She had done a walk-thru and put her weapon down. “This place is kind of small. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay in the main house?”

“Positive,” I said. “It’s just too big. Somebody could be in that house and on us before we even knew what happened. The guesthouse is small, but it’s easier to defend.”

“But all these windows—”

“Yep,” I nodded, “a lot of windows, but Plum’s not going to shoot you through a window. He wants to take your head … while you’re still alive. And for that he’s got to come inside.

“No, we’ll be safer out here,” I said. “Besides, we have goodies.”

I knelt down and unzipped the large duffel bag I’d brought in and began removing things one by one. “One pair of night vision goggles,” I said, “with infrared sensitivity.” I set them on the floor. “One Kevlar vest. You’re more than welcome to use it, but it probably won’t fit right because it doesn’t have room for your … uh … anyway, it’s made for a man.”

I slid the shotgun out of the bag. “Remington 870 12 Gauge, eighteen inch long barrel, four rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber.” I examined the weapon. “Yep, nothin’ like a shotgun for close range defense.” I continued pulling out items: four boxes of Federal 12 gauge #00 Buck shotshells, 1210 feet per second, nine pellets per shell; forty rounds of Winchester .44 special caliber silver tipped hollow points; two .44 caliber speed loaders for an N-frame Smith & Wesson revolver; a Sig Sauer Model P556 SWAT tactical semi-automatic pistol with a thirty shot magazine and flash suppressor, chambered in 5.56mm NATO; two spare thirty shot magazines; three hundred rounds of Winchester 5.56mm NATO ammunition with 55 grain full metal jacket bullets; and three boxes of Raisinets.

I looked up at Lainie. “What do ya think?”

She stared wide-eyed and said nothing for a moment. Then, “Give me the shotgun, the shells, and one box of Raisinets.” We both laughed.

Oscar followed me as I left to find something for Lainie to sleep in. A few minutes later, we returned with a pair of grey pull-on athletic shorts and a T-shirt.

“Hope you don’t mind the Chicago Bulls,” I said.

“That’ll be fine.”

I pointed to the shotgun. “You want me to load that for you?”

“I know how to load a shotgun, funny man.” She opened the box of shotshells and inserted four of them into the magazine. “But I’m not putting one in the chamber. That’s a little reckless for me.” She took the gun with her, walked into Amanda Jane’s bedroom, and closed the door. A few minutes later, she was back with her hair down and wearing the clothes I’d given her.

“Not too bad,” she said, “but the shorts are pretty big. I have the drawstring pulled tight, but I look like a balloon butt.”

I laughed and had to agree. “There are extra blankets in the closet if you need them.”

“Thanks, Ben … for caring.” She turned toward the bedroom. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to call it a night.”

I smiled at her. “I don’t mind. Get some rest. Oscar and I are going to stay up for a while.” As she walked away, I added, “If you want anything to eat or drink later, there’s plenty of stuff in the refrigerator. And if that’s not good enough, we can armor up and go raid the big house.” I put the night vision goggles on my head and got a smile out of her. “Now git!”

Pure Reason and I took Superman outside. “Let’s be quick and stay close to the door tonight, little guy. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. He looked up at me with big puppydog eyes as he peed on one of Hector’s prized hostas.

When we came back inside, I sat on the floor and spent the next hour loading the .44 caliber speed loaders and the three magazines for the Sig. By the time I finished, my index finger and the thumb on my right hand were sore.

Oscar had been patiently sitting next to me watching. I reached over and rassled with him for a few minutes and then picked him up, and we sat on the sofa. He went around and around in circles before he lay down next to me. Why do they do that?

Oscar suddenly tensed—he was frozen, staring into the hall. I looked in the same direction and jumped. Lainie was standing there holding the shotgun.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “Did I frighten you?”

I took a deep ragged breath. “Hell, yes! With all that red hair stickin’ out like that? It looked like a damn scarecrow walkin’ in here.”

“Very funny,” she said. “I’m having trouble getting to sleep. I keep thinking about what might have happened if you hadn’t called me when you did. Can I come out and join you guys for a while?”

I pointed to the armchair. “Sit.”

She sunk into the chair, tucked one leg under her, and set the shotgun on the floor. She squinted at Oscar, who was no longer tense, sprawled on the sofa. So much for Mister big scary watchdog. “Are his claws blue?”

I shook my head. “Don’t ask.”

“Do you have any more wine?”

“Got a shitload,” I said. “Sit tight.” I returned and handed her a glass of Cabernet. I had poured myself a glass of scotch, and we clinked glasses for the second time that night.

The last time I’d had drinks with a woman to soothe her nerves, I ended up in bed with her. At least I didn’t have to worry about that this time. There’s something about a maniacal killer wanting to rip off your head that kills the mood.

“I just keep thinking how lucky I was,” she said.

“Well, we were due for a break. It seems like he’s had luck on his side until now. Maybe the tide’s shifted in our direction.”

 “What does the F stand for in your middle initial?”

“Franklin.”

She popped her eyebrows up. “You’re kidding. Benjamin Franklin?”

“What can I say? My dad was real big on the founding fathers. My brothers’ names are Thomas Jefferson Tucker and George Washington Tucker. But my sister Alex screwed him up when she was born.”

“Don’t tell me,” Lainie said.

“Yep, my baby sister … Alexandra Hamilton Tucker … she’s a sweetheart.”

Lainie laughed. “God, if I was your mother, I would have killed him. How did you all survive childhood?”

“I’m just happy the founding fathers didn’t include Millard Fillmore.”

CHAPTER 36

It was my pounding headache that woke me up at two fifteen in the morning, the aftermath of a half bottle of wine followed later by three rather large glasses of scotch. At that moment, the thought of Plum cutting my head off didn’t seem so bad.

I sat on the edge of my bed and rubbed my temples. Suddenly I sensed something on the bed behind me and shot up. What the hell! Pale moonlight streaming through the bedroom window washed gently over Lainie’s naked body. She opened her eyes, raised her head slightly, and looked around, dazed. She sank back down on the pillow and covered her eyes with her arm.

“Aw, Christ!” she said. “I can’t believe it!”

Lainie threw back the covers, sat up, and put on the Bulls T-shirt. She sat for a minute staring into the dark. Then she stood, pulled on her shorts, and stumbled slowly toward the bedroom door.

“Lainie?”

“Not now, Tucker! In the morning.” She walked out and slammed the bedroom door. I could hear her mumbling as she walked toward Amanda Jane’s bedroom.

“I can’t believe it. I can’t fucking believe it.”

Oscar was curled up in the bedroom armchair looking up at me through sleepy eyes. “What are you lookin’ at?” I said. He didn’t reply, but I think he gave me a disparaging look. “Well, you could have stopped me.” He turned his head the other way and closed his eyes.

The events that led up to this were fuzzy. I remembered Lainie saying she was going back to bed. I got up to take her empty glass and our fingers touched. Things must have deteriorated from there. I really didn’t remember anything past that. Whatever happened to, “Trust me, Tucker, it’s not going to happen?”

There was a light tap at my door.

“Come on in,” I said softly.

The door opened slowly, and Lainie walked in. I watched her as she walked around to the other side of the bed, picked up her panties and the shotgun that were lying on the floor, and headed back to the door.