Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery (8 page)

“There you are,” she said, and looked at me. “What do you think of his outfit? Reverend Walters was selling them at church last Sunday.” She giggled.

“I always wondered if Oscar was religious,” I said. “Now I have my answer. But please … no tutus. Even a dog has some dignity.”

She smiled and picked him up. “It’s time for dinner. Roberta said five minutes.”

They left, and I was right behind them. It was Wednesday night and that meant Roberta’s Mexican fare. Tonight it was chicken mole, chile rellenos stuffed with asadero cheese, homemade refried beans, spanish rice, and two of her special salsas. The green tomatillo salsa was my favorite; the red, which was Julie’s favorite, would remove paint from furniture. Roberta made her own tortillas with an authentic tortilla press handed down from her mother, and she served a heaping platter of soft, warm flour and corn tortillas. And did I say kick-butt guacamole?

I gave Nora my usual hug and peck on the cheek. She wore a pale yellow pantsuit and soft black leather ballet slippers bedecked with jewels. A sapphire pendant and matching earrings completed the ensemble. I tickled Julie as I passed and claimed my customary spot at the table.

Maggie was working late again, so it was just the four of us. After Nora said grace, Roberta filled my plate first with a mountain of food. I could hardly stand it as I waited politely while she served the others and took her place.

Oscar, who had finished his own dinner, came over and sat at Roberta’s feet. She pointed her finger at him. “
Diablo
!” she said, and then she smiled and gave him a piece of chicken.

“Grandma, you didn’t have to say grace,” Julie giggled. “We could have just let Oscar bark for Jesus.” She mischievously looked at me and asked, “And did you bark to Jesus today, Ben?”

Everyone enjoyed a good laugh at my expense, and I had to laugh myself.

When we were finished and stuffed, I looked at Roberta. “That was probably the best meal I’ve ever had. You’ll go down in history as the world’s greatest cook.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ben,” she said. “I’m very happy that you enjoyed it.”

I had been expecting her to blast me with some insult, so her cheerful response caught me off guard. Even Julie was speechless.

It was cold out when I returned to the guesthouse. I could see my breath, and there was a light drizzle in the air, so I kicked the thermostat up a degree to take the chill off.

As I resumed organizing the cemetery photos, the door opened and Maggie waltzed in, beaming from ear to ear.

“Hey, Maggs. What’s up with the big ol’ smile?”

“We are finished with the taxes.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Thank you, Lord!” We high-fived, and she came around behind my chair and wrapped her arms around my neck. She smelled divine, and I breathed her in.

“I forgot to tell you, the annual Museum of Art fundraiser is next Thursday evening,” she said. “It’s black tie.” She looked at my jeans and grimaced. “What the hell are you wearing?” she asked.

I looked down at myself. “Just jeans and a T-shirt. Why?”

“Stand up and turn around.” I did what I was told.

“Where did you get those jeans?” she asked. “We don’t carry that brand, and they don’t fit you right.”

“I got them at Walmart. They were only fourteen bucks.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake, Ben! You must have twenty pairs of new jeans in your closet—all upscale brands that we carry. I’m the company CEO. Can you at least wear clothes we sell in our stores … please?”

“No one will see me,” I said. “Besides, I’m not an upscale kind of a guy.”

Maggie cocked her head and glared at me.

“I’ll change right now.”

CHAPTER 12

Thursday morning, I downloaded the video file of the Knudsen memorial service from my video camera to my computer. I also copied the file to two flash drives for Lainie and Netter.

Marcus Bradley called just as I finished and told me he had made a tee reservation for the two of us at Highlands Country Club on Saturday, April 20, nine days from now. I reluctantly accepted the invitation.

Frankly, I had no interest in playing golf, but I had agreed halfheartedly to give it a chance when I met with him last November. It had been at our second meeting, and I had hoped he’d forgotten. No such luck.

I thought back on that strange conversation. Marcus had requested that I stop by his office for the second time, but this time it was just the two of us.

When I’d been shown in, he’d stood and greeted me. “Ben, thank you for taking the time to meet with me. Please sit down and make yourself comfortable.” He’d gestured toward a burgundy leather tufted chair in front of his desk.

“I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot a few weeks ago, and I can only imagine what you must think of me.”

“Frankly,” I’d said, looking him in the eye, “I think you’re a pompous ass.”

Marcus had smiled. “Maybe so,” he’d said. “Maybe so. But I’m the kind of person who will admit to making a mistake, and I made a mistake about you. It’s been a long time since I’ve met an honest man, and I didn’t recognize it when one was standing in front of me. Please accept my sincere apology.”

Marcus had stood and extended his hand. After we’d shook hands, he walked over to an antique Chinese black lacquered armoire in the corner. He came back with two glasses and a bottle of scotch.

“You look like a scotch man to me, Ben. Am I right?”

“Absolutely. You’re growing on me, Marcus.”

He poured three fingers worth in each glass and handed one to me. He raised his glass. “To a long and prosperous partnership … and to Margaret.”

We toasted.

“I hope you realize I was just attempting to look out for Margaret,” he said.

“I know that.”

“The truth is, Ben, you and I are going to have to work together a lot. The whole Marshak enterprise is a very complex financial situation, and there are constant legal issues that arise. You may not be aware of it now, but you’ll soon find out, and some of them will involve you.

“There is extreme wealth and power here. And where there’s wealth and power, there are enemies that want to take it away.”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Just keep your guard up because you’ll be a part of this enterprise soon, and the leeches will come out and want to suck on the Marshak teat.”

“I’ve already seen it,” I said. “With my ex-wife, Jennifer. She’s got it in her head that I’ll be able to fork over a few hundred grand when I marry Maggie.”

“Exactly. Luckily, she has no legal claim.” Marcus paused and read my face. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

“I do. I’d prefer it if Maggie and I had a prenuptial agreement. I really want nothing she’s got, and I’d feel better if it was in writing.”

Marcus shook his head and smiled. “I suggested that to Margaret last month and got nowhere. She wants you to be an equal partner. And I must say, having learned what kind of a man you are, I now agree.”

He finished off his scotch. “Which brings me to the real reason I asked you down to see me: as an equal partner there are certain perks that come with the territory.” He opened a desk drawer, pulled out an envelope, and dumped the contents on his desk.

“Here is your membership card to the Highlands Country Club. You won’t need it after they know who you are. They have a championship golf course designed by Jack Nicklaus, and all the usual elite country club trappings. It’s the most exclusive club in the Triangle, and I think you’ll really enjoy it.” He grinned and added, “Your future mother-in-law is there all the time.”

I reluctantly took the card. “Thanks, but the last thing I wanna do is rub elbows with a bunch of stuck-up golfin’ assholes.” I no sooner got the words out of my mouth than I noticed the four golf trophies on the bookcase behind him. “Sorry. Sometimes I suffer from foot-in-mouth disease.”

 Marcus laughed, “Have you ever played golf,” he asked.

“No.”

“Well, don’t give the sport a bad rap until you’ve tried it. Tell you what, next spring let’s you and I go out together and kill us some snakes. What do ya say?”

I thought about it, and decided to give it a try. “All right, but if you turn me into an asshole, I’m not going to be happy.”

He laughed again and pointed to my glass.

“Refill?”

“No. Thanks,” I said.

“Here’s your credit card,” Marcus said. “It has a hundred thousand dollar limit. There will also be ten thousand dollars in spending money put into your personal bank account each month.” He handed me a bank signature card and an ATM card. “You’ll need to sign that signature card and drop it off at the bank. You’ll also need to set up your ATM pin number.”

“Ten thousand dollars … every month? What the hell am I going to do with it?”

Marcus smiled. “And the final piece of business is this: Margaret has tasked me with acquiring your wedding gift.”

I looked at him, astonished. “You’re going to buy my wedding gift? How romantic.”

“I know. Margaret is a very busy woman, but she wants to give you something special. I have explicit orders to get you something ‘profound’.”

“How profound?” I asked.

“Very profound—as in,
money is no object
kind of profound.” He leaned back in his chair, and looked at me. “So what’ll it be … a race car? An airplane?”

“I don’t fly.”

“You could learn.”

I shook my head. “No. That’s not for me.”

“How ‘bout a yacht? You could berth it at Nags Head or on Hatteras Island by Larkspur.”

“Larkspur?”

Marcus was enjoying this. “Yes, Larkspur. That’s the name of the beach house on Hatteras Island owned by the Marshak family. It’s right on the ocean—fantastic place. You should try to get Margaret to take some time off and go there. Like on a honeymoon maybe?

“Anyway, about the wedding gift,” he said. “What’s it gonna be?”

I hated talking about money and material things. “Marcus, I really don’t want anything. I’m just happy that Maggie has agreed to be my wife.”

But he wouldn’t give up. “C’mon, there must be something … something you’ve always wanted but couldn’t have.” He watched me as my wheels turned. “Aha! You’ve thought of something. I can see it on your face. What is it?”

“Actually, Marcus, I’ve always wanted one of those little wiener dogs.” Marcus put his elbows on the edge of his desk, and put his face in his hands.

Three days later, the Jaguar was delivered—with a fancy set of golf clubs in the trunk. The week after, Maggie, Julie, and I went to the animal shelter and adopted Oscar. It was the first thing we’d done together as a family.

CHAPTER 13

I spent the afternoon reviewing the crime scene photos I’d taken at the Clancy house. I magnified them and studied each one, room by room, but saw nothing that provided any clue as to how Jack Plum gained access to the residence if he’d not been let in.

After examining them several times, I walked outside around the pool to give my eyes a rest. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something—some little detail that looked insignificant but held the key to the puzzle. The shimmering clear turquoise water in the pool hypnotized me as I racked my brain trying to figure out how Plum got in. I went back inside and reviewed the photos one more time. Still nothing.

It was almost five thirty when I turned off my computer. Tonight was my turn to man the tip hotline, and I needed to get ready. I changed my clothes, making certain they were all from Marshak’s. I didn’t want to hear about
that
again.

After stopping at McDonalds for a quick bite to eat, I arrived at the Cary Police Department at six fifteen, well ahead of my shift, which started at seven o’clock.

The police dispatch supervisor gave me a tip hotline 101 tutorial as she instructed me on the specifics of the system. All tips were entered into a database on a computer dedicated to the tip hotline. The username was
0497362
, which was the case number assigned by Cary Police. The password was
justice4u
, all lower case.

The database automatically filled in the date and time of the call, and then the system prompted the operator for the caller’s name and call back number. Often a caller would request to remain anonymous, so there was a box that could be checked to bypass the prompt for the caller’s information. The operator would enter a detailed description of the tip and finish by ranking the tip’s importance. The importance rankings were numeric—one through five. They were purely subjective, with one being the highest level of importance, and five being the lowest. A guide sheet with examples was provided to assist the operator in assigning rankings.

I put on the headset and a few seconds later, I was on line. The supervisor sat next to me during the first few calls to make sure I didn’t screw things up. She told me I could also flag the 911 dispatcher if I got into trouble. The majority of the activity on the tip hotline occurred between the hours of six and eight, so I started receiving calls almost immediately. I pressed the answer button.

“Crime tip hotline,” I said.

“Hi, is this the tip line?” It was an older female voice.

“Yes ma’am, it is. I need to tell you that this call is being recorded. How can I help you?”

“I believe my neighbor across the street may be the Headless Corpse Killer—the guy the police now refer to as Jack Plum.”

“And why do you think that, ma’am?” I asked. I typed as she talked.

“It’s the way he looks at you,” she said. “Sometimes, you can just tell he wants to cut your head off.” I wiped my hand across my face.

“Have you seen him do anything or say anything that pertains specifically to the recent killings?”

“No. It’s just a feeling I have, and I felt it was my duty to report it before he killed anyone else. Anyway, his name is Leonard Ackerman.” She spelled it for me. “And he lives at 317 Mill Pond Drive here in Cary.”

“Would you like to leave your name and a contact number so we can get back to you?” She hung up.