Murder Miscalculated (21 page)

“So where is it?” I asked Metcalf in a loud voice. “Where’s the data card?”

He reached into an inside pocket and brought out a tiny square of plastic. He held it up for us to see.

“Here it is, Mr. Smith. Satisfied?”

I turned to face Cochran. “How about it, Cochran? It that the data card that is chock full of data and details about Wolfe’s operation? Enough information to put him away for good?”

“That’s what it’s supposed to contain. We’ll have to dump its contents back at the office and then consult with the finance and legal experts. It’ll probably take days or weeks to fully understand how Wolfe’s operations work.”

“Yeah, right,” I answered. “In the meantime Metcalf, here, gets full immunity from prosecution for any and all crimes he may have committed.”

Metcalf, finally showing interest in our conversation, got to his feet.

Cochran spread his hands. “That’s the way it works, Kid. He’s giving us the information we need to extradite Wolfe and shut down his operations. That card and his testimony will make the indictments ironclad. Talbot may have died trying to get there, but we are going to make certain Wolfe goes down.”

I shook my head. “Cochran, don’t you realize that Metcalf was only playing Talbot? Just like he’s playing you now?”

Joey chose that moment to emerge from the room, carrying a tumbler with amber liquid.

A thin voice cut through the air. “Very good, Mr. Smith.”

Metcalf stood facing us, holding a pistol. He pointed it at Cochran. “Please, Agent Cochran, don’t make any sudden movements.” He licked his lips. “I have to give this some thought.”

Cochran stood stock still with his arms at his side. Lynn stepped close to me and took hold of my arm. Joey put the drink down on a small table near the door.

There weren’t too many ways this could turn out, and pretty much all of them were bad. The pistol he had used to kill Newcomb was tantalizingly close to us. Maybe Cochran could make use of it if he had a chance. I made an effort at distracting Metcalf.

“Since your pistol is on the table, I’m assuming that’s Newcomb’s gun. You took it and put it into your pocket before you let Cochran in.” Metcalf nodded, obviously not much distracted.

I continued. “Newcomb didn’t come here to kill you. He came here to report to you, didn’t he?”

Metcalf smiled. “Why would he do that, Mister Smith?”

“Because he’s been working for you all along. You’re the one who hired him to kill the currier and to kill Talbot.”

Cochran started to object, but I continued my explanation before he could speak. “Metcalf needed to kill Zager because he was the only one who knew that Wolfe never gave him the memory card to begin with. There never was a memory card filled with information. That card he showed us is just a dummy. It’s probably got stuff on it but nothing of any value, right?”

“Very good, Mr. Smith, very good,” said Metcalf. “Do go on.”

I did. “Don’t you see, Cochran? This whole thing was nothing but a scam by Metcalf to obtain immunity. He had no intention of giving evidence against Wolfe.”

A second flash of inspiration hit me. I turned back to Metcalf. “John Wolfe is dead, isn’t he? You’ve been running his operation.”

“What are you talking about?” Cochran asked.

I looked at the lawyer. “Do you want to tell him, or should I?”

An annoyed look crossed his face. “I suppose I should. Mr. Smith is correct, Agent Cochran. John Wolfe died over a year ago. No,” he said. “I didn’t kill him, though in hindsight I could have. He died of a heart attack. I was there when it happened. I was the only one there, and I realized that he was even more useful to me dead than alive. That’s when I contacted Talbot about providing evidence in return for immunity and protection.”

“Protection from a dead man,” Lynn said.

“That’s right, my dear. And now I’m afraid it’s time to bring this little charade to an end.”

Joey spoke up from behind me. “You mean you hired the bastard who killed the guy I was supposed to be protecting?”

A peeved look came to Metcalf’s face. “Does it really matter? I’ll just need to rearrange the story a little. Newcomb here,” he nodded toward the body of the hit man, “shot and killed the four of you, I heard the shots, came out on the patio and shot him.”

Lynn held my arm tighter.

Cochran spoke. “You don’t have to do it this way.”

Metcalf shook his head. “Sorry, Agent Cochran. The only question now is who goes first.”

There was a growl behind me. “You gonna shoot Lynn?”

Joey pushed past me. With one movement he swept up the bag of golf clubs and held it front of him in both hands. He walked fast, almost at a run, toward Metcalf.

Metcalf raised the gun and shot twice, and then twice again. At least one shot went wide and a window shattered behind us. I think a couple of shots hit the bag and at least one shot hit Joey, as I saw him falter in his run. Metcalf stepped backward and kept shooting as he did, but Joey closed the gap between them quickly.

Then, before what was happening could really register with us, Joey and Metcalf were at the parapet at the building’s edge. There was no way Metcalf missed Joey with his next shot, but Joey’s momentum keep him moving, and with the bag of golf clubs like a battering ram, he ran into Metcalf. For a moment they teetered on the edge, and then Metcalf, the bag of golf clubs and Joey went over the side.

The three of us ran to where they went over and looked down. Twelve stories down, two figures lay on the street. Cars were stopping, and we could hear shouts and screams. By some small miracle, as far as I could tell, no one on the street below had been injured. Several people looked up at where we were and pointed.

“Oh, my God, Kid,” cried Lynn. “Poor Joey.”

Cochran took out his cell phone and called his office.

Lynn and I turned away from the sight below and hugged each other. I looked around at the patio. It still resembled something out of a decorator magazine with its designer patio furniture, potted plants and trees and putting green. It was picture-perfect except for Newcomb’s body and two golf clubs lying where they’d fallen from the bag as Joey rushed Metcalf.

Cochran put down his cell phone. “The police will be here in a few minutes. I’m going inside to let them in when they arrive.” He looked at Lynn and me. “You know the drill.”

I nodded. “Don’t touch anything,” I said.

He gave a rueful smile and left.

Just when we thought it was over, it wasn’t.

Three days had passed since Joey died saving us. Max was back from the hospital to spend one last night at The Book Nook before heading out to Chicago. I wondered how Candy was going to take that. She and April had remained by his hospital bedside for most of his stay there.

It was mid-afternoon, and the store was quiet with only a couple of customers browsing through the shelves. I was sitting on the floor, unpacking a box of books.

Cochran walked in, and he wasn’t alone. Special Agents Cranz and Stern were with him. The look on their faces as they came into the store gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“Hi, Kid,” said Cochran. There was trouble in his eyes. “You already know Agents Cranz and Stern.”

I nodded. This obviously wasn’t a social call.

“Is Barbara here?”

I nodded again. “Yes, she’s in the back room. Go on back. I’ll be there in a second.” I glanced over at Old Tom.

He waved from his place behind the counter.

Cochran led the other two agents into the back room.

I stood up and surveyed the store as if for the last time. One of the browsing customers had left, leaving only one man. He was an older black man, tall and wearing a dashiki. He might have been out of place at another bookstore, but here he looked at home.

I really loved The Book Nook. It had been the one constant, the one place of refuge for me that I could count on as I grew up. Lynn and I had put everything we had into it. Then there was Barbara. The store held Barbara’s soul. I couldn’t imagine her not living here just as I couldn’t imagine The Book Nook not existing.

I breathed in a lungful of air, tasting the tang of old books, wood shelves and time, and then I headed for the back room.

Barbara, Lynn and Cochran sat at the table. Agents Cranz and Stern stood behind Cochran, who looked up at me as I pushed through the beaded curtains and then continued with what he was saying. He held a piece of paper folded lengthwise. It looked familiar.

“I’m sorry, Barbara, but the bureau can’t ignore this warrant and the reason it was issued. If this warrant didn’t exist, there wouldn’t be a problem. None of us want to do this.”

Stern and Cranz nodded in agreement. Cochran handed the warrant to Agent Cranz, who put it in his coat pocket.

“But the warrant exists, and these agents have to take you into custody.” Cochran looked at me. “The store will have to be regarded as ill-gotten gains until and unless Barbara can show otherwise.”

“I don’t care about the store,” I said, “but we had a deal.” I could feel my face getting red. “I went along with what Talbot wanted. He said he wouldn’t go after Barbara if I did what he wanted, and I kept my side of the bargain.”

“But Agent Talbot is dead, and we can find nothing to confirm that,” Agent Stern replied.

“This is so unfair,” said Lynn. “We trusted Talbot, and we trusted you, Cochran.”

Cochran could only look down at the table while I looked at Barbara. To my surprise she smiled, and lifted her shoulders. “Life is certainly a long, strange journey, isn’t it, Kid?”

I couldn’t believe she was taking this so lightly. “Barbara, don’t you understand? There will be a trial that could drag on for over a year. We’ll lose the bookstore, and you could end up in jail.”

“Now don’t get upset.” Barbara reached up and took my hand. “You know things always work out for the best. Besides, I’ve heard that jail food has gotten a lot better since the last time I was there.”

I looked at Lynn to see if she could get through to Barbara about how serious things were. A movement behind us caused the beaded curtain to click. I turned. The older man I had seen in the bookstore had come in.

“Sir,” said Agent Cranz. “I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

The man ignored him. “Hello, Barbara,” he said softly. His voice was a deep baritone with shades of an accent.

Barbara studied his face for a few seconds, and then her eyes lit up. “Jimmie? Jimmie LeCuyer?”

The man nodded. “I got word you were in trouble, something to do with a little bank robbery a few years ago?”

Barbara jumped to her feet and went to him. She took both of his hands in hers and gazed up into his face. “Oh, it’s so good to see you,” she said. “You didn’t mind coming?”

“No,” he answered with a tender tone. “I knew it was time.”

Cochran pushed back his chair and got to his feet. He faced LeCuyer.

“Mister James LeCuyer?” he asked in a formal voice.

LeCuyer answered in kind. “I am, sir, and you are?”

Cochran brought out his identity card and opened it. “Agent Cochran of the FBI. It is my duty to arrest you in connection with the robbery of the First Federal Bank of Madison, Wisconsin, and the death of the bank guard.” Cochran went on to recite the familiar Miranda rights statement. He ended with, “Do you understand these rights as I have presented them?”

LeCuyer, still holding Barbara’s hands, nodded.

“I do,” he said, “but before we leave I’d like to say something in front of witnesses.”

Cochran signaled his agreement, and LeCuyer continued. “I’d like to say for the record that after the bombing and during the week I stayed here, Barbara Jenkins had no idea I was a wanted man, nor did she receive any of the money I may or may not have stolen from that bank.” He stared at Cochran. “I will so testify in any statement I make and at any trial that is held.” He held Cochran’s gaze. “Do we understand each other?”

Cochran looked at Cranz and Stern. They nodded. He turned back to LeCuyer. “Yes, sir, I believe we do.” Suddenly he stuck out his hand. LeCuyer appeared startled for a moment, and then he released one of his hands from Barbara’s and shook hands with Cochran.

I caught Lynn’s eye, and we both smiled. There was a reason we liked Cochran.

Agents Cranz and Stern left the store with Jimmy LeCuyer in custody. Cochran went with them as far as the front of the store. If it weren’t such a serious situation, it would have been comical as we watched the two beefy agents, Cochran and LeCuyer try to get through the beaded curtain at the same time.

Barbara was cheerful as she called goodbye to LeCuyer and promised to visit him as soon as he was booked and in jail, but as she went to the stove and put the kettle on for tea, I spotted the glint of tears in her eyes.

Cochran returned and took his seat again at the table.

We drank our tea in silence, all of us stunned by what had happened. Finally Lynn spoke up.

“Those errands you’ve been running, Barbara? And all that searching on line? You were trying to get word to James LeCuyer, weren’t you?”

Barbara nodded. “I was hoping he would give a deposition from wherever he was, clearing me of any involvement in the bank robbery.” She shook her head. “I never dreamed that he would come back in person.”

An unpleasant thought came to my mind. “Cochran, as long as that arrest warrant exists, this could come up again. Isn’t there any way we can file some kind of motion to have it rescinded?”

Cochran leaned back in his chair, a slight smile on his face. “I have an idea that that arrest warrant is never going to be seen again.”

“What do you mean?”

Cochran reached under his left shirt cuff and removed a piece of paper. It was folded lengthwise and looked very familiar. He tossed it on the table. The rest of us simply stared. Cochran’s smile grew wider.

It finally dawned on me. “You took the warrant from Cranz’s pocket when you were crowding through the door with them, didn’t you?”

Cochran’s smile was as wide as it could get. “Actually, it was Stern who had it, but yes. So tell me, did I pass the test?”