Hiding Tom Hawk (23 page)

Gary had packed only one spade and a square-faced coal shovel that was almost useless. The softest dirt they could find was full of rocks. As soon as they turned over a bit of fresh soil, the mosquitoes rushed from the trees and swarmed them.

They finally agreed to bury Harvey under only a foot of dirt for tonight and return to do a better job in daylight tomorrow. Dani said that was good, because they could do a little burial ceremony then too. She had seen a number of classic movies where Bing Crosby or someone like that did nice Catholic stuff. She herself was not Roman Catholic, but she could fake it.

They’d dug down maybe two feet when the light from Gary’s Captain Marvel flashlight failed. His next strike with the spade was to Dani’s instep. She howled in pain, gasped for breath, and hissed, “Damn it, Gary, watch what you’re doing!”

“Sorry. We’ve gotta have some light here or someone will get hurt.”

“Someone
is
hurt, you miserable mercantile miscreant.” She rubbed her foot.

Tom said, “There was a flashlight in the back of the station wagon. Keep doing what you can without maiming each other and I’ll bring it back.” He left them cussing one another quietly and started back along the perfidious path. A three-quarter moon was out, plus Aunt Mildred had lights on at the back of the house, and he could see his way better. He realized that Beth had never joined them. She’d had all kinds of time to do her bear act for Mildred. What was she doing?

He went to open the tailgate of the wagon and tripped over something. Beth’s purse lay in the dirt. It couldn’t have been there when they unloaded Harv. And there was a new strong smell, a hospital smell, reminding him of a childhood tonsillectomy. “Beth,” he cried, as loudly as he could.

****

Harold pushed the Kessler’s Inn doorbell, irritated that he was nervous. There was no real danger for him. He was a couple thousand miles from Tony and no one knew he was here.

The woman who opened the door was striking, but not as young as his apprentice detective had described. Maybe Wyatt seldom wore his glasses. “Are you Miss Kessler?”

“No, I am her Executive Assistant, Decorator and Culinary Advisor, Renada Schroeder.” She smiled brightly and it made her more attractive. She was obviously German, and he admired the Germans except for them starting the occasional World War. She was craning her neck to survey the car he had rented, a long new Cadillac.

He took the moment to study her. She was a goddess, and Wyatt hadn’t even mentioned her, the fool. Speaking of fools, he said, “You have a fellow out on the lawn with a baseball bat. He stopped me in your driveway.”

“Yes. I apologize for that. A neighbor had a break-in last night and he has over-reacted. It was nothing, really. You have a beautiful automobile.”

You are also beautiful, he thought. “I like to be comfortable. I like nice things.”

“I too. How may I help you tonight?”

“I saw your inn sign at the road. Everything in town is full. I hoped you might have a room.”

“One room has today come to be free. It has not yet been redecorated, but it is pleasant. The young man who had it, in spite of many faults, was clean. Come, I show you.”

He stepped into the foyer. Now this was something. The house was an excellent example of unmodified Victorian architecture, much like his favorite vacation B&B near the Oregon border. Most of the furnishings were correctly of the period too. “This looks quite nice. Yes, please do show me the room.”

“Follow me up these stairs.”

He did, finding her equally appealing from behind. She showed him a large but poorly furnished and long-ago painted bedroom. She must have seen his disappointment, because she apologized, “Oh dear. I can tell you meant it when you said you like nice thing. This is much too pedestrian for you. In days we will have another re-decorated room available. Permit me to show you my room as an example.”

She pirouetted, took three steps and pushed open another bedroom door. She led him in and he peered around.

“This is very nice, Ms. Schroeder.” She looked even better in a bedroom. Was he sweating?

“Miss Kessler did this one and it is good work for an amateur. But let me tell you what I would do in addition.”

“Tell me.”

She did.

He said, “That’s fantastic. I can’t find a decent decorator for my vacation place. Victorian is simply unappreciated where I live. Maybe you could come and help me?”

“Perhaps I could.”

He told her that he was satisfied with Wyatt’s room after all, and held her hand overly long as he gave her the lodging money. She made no move to withdraw the hand. Back downstairs she purred, “Would you like drink, Mr…”

“Harold. That would be good. I see now that this is a truly good house.”

“It is good for an amateur effort. I shall help re-work it as fast as I can.” She crossed to a wet bar and found scotch and decanted two doubles, neat.

He sat on an end of the sofa, leaving ample room for her. As he hoped, she joined him, and at the middle, not the far end. “I suppose the guests are underfoot, in your way as you decorate.”

“They annoy me at times. I endure.”

He smiled radiant thanks as he sipped the cheapest whiskey he’d tasted in a decade. “Are there many? Guests, I mean?”

“There is the owner’s cousin, displaced by a fire, the scrawny man outside, and a large woman.”

“That is all?”
No California Marine?
He hoped he sounded conversational, not disappointed.

The question seemed to annoy her. She stated firmly, “No others.”

“The large woman is a friend of yours?”

“No, she is not.” Her tone of voice implied
ridiculous question
.

“I trust the cousin was not injured in the fire.”

“No, he was not.” Her tone of voice implied
more is the pity
.

Harold risked one more foray. He waxed inventive. “I remember when a neighbor died in a fire. It was extra hard for everyone to take because he was a young veteran, and such a good-looking man.”

“Surely he was not as handsome as you, Mr. Harold.”

He knew he was fifteen years and fifty thousand hair follicles past handsome. She edged toward him, an exotic, alluring predator. My God, what a woman this was. She wasn’t just reacting to the Cadillac, the Rolex, and the heavy gold neck chain. She saw him for the complex creature he was. He took her hand. “Tell me all about yourself.”

“Oh, I cannot tell everything. I will tell enough to amuse you. I shall expect you to do the same.”

“Fair enough.”

This was going to be a good, a very good evening, whether she knew anything more about Thomas Hawk or not.

****

Tom leaned against the station wagon tailgate after finishing his tale for Mildred. He was not relaxed, but not as tense as when she had him at gunpoint after she found him there hollering for Beth. “So that’s about the whole story,” he summarized, concluding his briefing.

“Hot damn, it sure is. You know, I actually think I believe it. No one could make that up. I mean, this Tony gangster sent guys across the country after you and three of them are already dead. Beth and Gary are in this up to their eyeballs and one of these mobsters burned the store and maybe himself.”

“We’re not sure who died in the fire.”

She snorted. “It wasn’t another paper boy. Oh, sorry, you’re sensitive about that.”

“Mildred, I smelled ether at this car. We really need to get the others and find Beth.”

“Oh, shoot, yes. Let’s go.
Where
do we go?”

Gary and Dani appeared. Gary said, “Uh-oh. Hi there, Aunt Mildred.”

“Don’t ‘hi’ me, Tom has told me what you’re up to. You can’t stay out of trouble for a day, can you?”

Tom interrupted. “Guys, Beth is missing; maybe given ether and taken. Have you seen her?”

“Not since we left the car fifteen minutes ago,” Dani said. She was limping. “What happened?”

“Mildred caught her at the garbage. Beth agreed to explain to her at the house after she went back to the car for her purse, this purse.” He held it up, acid boiling in his stomach.

“Are you sure about the ether? Maybe the bear got her,” cried Gary.

Tom shook his head. “He’s as dead as Harvey out there. Mildred’s neighbor popped him months ago.”

Mildred looked peeved. “You boys have lost Lizzie. You can’t do anything right.” She turned her wrath on Dani. “Hey, you’re the big girl from the alley Friday. You’ve fallen into terrible company, young lady.”

“You don’t know what bad company is until you meet the guys who are after us. Call me Dani.”

“Danny—you have a boy’s name. It figures. All of you come to the house and we’ll get some flashlights to find Beth. Wipe your feet when you come in, Gary.”

“I’m not five years old.”

“No. You were more reliable then.”

An hour of searching for Beth yielded nothing. Gathered in the house they fought panic. Dani broke the silence. “Horst may have her. He kidnaps people. He took Tom.”

“Is Horst the snot-nose kid with the overpowered gold car or the chubby Commie spy?” asked Mildred, who didn’t have her playbook fully memorized yet.

“The fat Commie. Wyatt has the Firebird,” explained Tom. “But it’s more likely Wyatt has her. Damn it. Look at what I’ve done. I swore I wouldn’t let something like this happen to her.”

Mildred shook her head sadly. “It’s time I call the police and report Beth missing.”

Gary grabbed her wrist. “Wait. They’ll come out here. How will you keep them away from your special basement house plants?”

Dani clapped her hands. “I knew I smelled pot in here.”

Mildred shushed her. “I forgot about that. We can handle it, though. We’ll just make clear that Beth was out of the house when she went missing and get them started looking in the woods. It
is
the only place to look. I’ll say she came out here to make soup with me, went to the herb garden and disappeared. Those cops on the night shift are nitwits who’ll believe anything I tell them.”

Gary demurred, “We can’t do it that way. We had trouble burying Harvey, you know, the body.”

“What trouble?”

“We didn’t have good shovels and he’s only down a foot or so because it’s rocky out there. You can kind of smell him.”

Mildred wheeled on her grandnephew. “We can’t get the cops here to help find Beth because you and she juiced some wop from California, and you can’t even plant him decently. You called yourself a mine owner and you didn’t have any bloody idea what the soil was like at your mine. If the police go out there to look for Beth, they’ll smell a stiff. Have I got all that right?”

“And they’ll smell your basement pot,” he shot back. “We have to dig him up and get him hidden better. Beth isn’t near here. Nobody holds a hostage out in the woods. We can report her missing but say she apparently disappeared while on her way here. But first we’ll move Harv.”

Mildred pushed fists against her forehead. “I’m so glad I didn’t have children of my own.”

Tom cleared his throat. “We have to call the B&B, tell Robert and Renada that Beth is missing, and have them call us the minute they see her.” He picked up Mildred’s phone and dialed.

Robert had not seen Beth. He complained bitterly of fatigue from the burden of guarding a fourteen-room mansion alone.

Tom asked, “Isn’t Renada helping you?”

“Hah! That woman doesn’t give a damn about me. She went out for a late hamburger with the new guest she admitted. Beth told her she could do that, handle new guests.”

“There’s a new guest? Robert, this is a terrible time to let a stranger move in.”

“Hey, Renada did it, not me. I didn’t even meet him. He has a big fancy car though, so at least I know he’s not from Selective Service or the FBI.”

“Be careful what you say to him regardless.”

“I don’t think I’ll see either of them again tonight. Are you guys coming back here?”

“Yes, in less than an hour. We’ve got something we have to do first.”

“Something is more important than finding Beth?”

“It’s more urgent. We’ll explain when we get there. Give us an hour.”

They got Harvey’s body back in the station wagon, and took him to the run-down factory where Gary made the little navy widget that enabled him to sell draft deferments to otherwise ineligible engineers and scientists. No work was scheduled there for the week, and Harvey was put to rest in the tiled ladies room. It would be easiest to clean up later. Gary employed no females, as women weren’t subject to conscription.

Back at the B&B, Robert was asleep facing the front door. He had no word of Beth. Tom had a very long night, too much of it spent close to a dirty and decaying Harvey, and he was wasted. He took a quick, hot shower, put on clean clothes and went back out to search for Beth.

****

Harold awoke at first dawn, in love. In the four-poster, Renada had shown him things he had never seen before. They had thought they’d cracked a bed board during their second romp, but it turned out to just be the grain of the wood. This European woman was amazing. Several times, Stinky had told him he needed to visit Europe, but he dreaded flying over water. He had been a fool not to go. He surveyed her gorgeous bedroom and murmured his contentment.

Renada stirred. She opened her eyes to him. “You are my raging bull.”

“My orchid of passion, come to me.”

After, spent, with the sun making its arrival undeniable, he said, “We must stay here forever.”

She pulled away from him.

“What’s wrong, what have I said?”

“I cannot stay with you. I cannot stay here at all. Today I must go away.”

‘No! Why?”

“I am in danger. An evil man from my past is in this town. I thought him dead in a fire, but no.”

Harold saw a chance for heroism. “I am here for you.”

“My Adonis, do not be offended, but you are a businessman. What do you know of assassins?”

He had met a few through Tony in his long-past life. “I know of many things. Who pursues you?”

“He is an East German agent. He seeks through harming me to punish my family who live in the West. He hates them for their vigorous defense of capitalism and the American Way.”