The Mournful Teddy (19 page)

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of a long time ago—I was talking with the auctioneer’s gofer. He told me he went over to the Ewell house when Thayer FTA’d with the Mourning Bear.”

“FTA’d?”

“Failed To Appear. He told Ewell’s live-in nurse what happened, so the Land Baroness of Massanutten County must know by now.”

“So, why hasn’t he been reported missing?”

“People as powerful as Liz Ewell are seldom stupid.

She has to know that Thayer was a crook. Maybe it’s part of the family gene pool. Anyway, we can presume she’s well enough connected to also know about the felony arrest warrant.”

Tina nodded. “And she was hoping to find him and get the Mourning Bear back without involving the law.”

“Which brings us to what happened to the bear?

Did—”

Trent’s voice blurted from the police radio. “Mike Two to Mike Seven, what’s your location?”

“God, that’s me.” Tina picked up the microphone.

“Mike Seven to Mike Two, I’m on Thermopylae Road at Powell Gap Road.”

“Rendezvous ASAP at that old abandoned gas station on thirty-three just east of Elkton.”

“Ten-four, on my way.” Tina slipped the microphone back into its holder and glanced back to give me a mildly panicked look. “What do we do now?”

“For starters, don’t panic. Isn’t that the old stone gas station right there next to the highway?”

“Yes.”

“Then it doesn’t impress me as the sort of place he’d tell you to meet if he knew I was with you.”

“You’re right. He’d want to meet someplace where there were no witnesses.”

“So go ahead and make the rendezvous.”

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John J. Lamb

“But you can’t stay there in the backseat.”

“I know, so we have two options: You can either drop me off here and come back later to get me or we can pretend I’m a teenager trying to slip into a drive-in movie without paying.”

“You mean ride in the trunk?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done it in my law enforcement career.”

“You’re sure? What about the exhaust fumes?” Tina slowed the patrol car and pulled over to the side of the road.

“I won’t be exposed to them for long and they can’t smell any worse than your backseat. Were
any
of your prisoners potty trained?”

Tina stopped the car and pressed the dashboard button to open the trunk. We both got out of the car and went back to the open trunk. She shoved a cardboard box full of road flares and a first-aid kit in an olive-drab metal ammo box to the side to make room for me. Then she held my cane and the knapsack as I clumsily clambered into the trunk. Once inside, I curled my body into a fetal position. It wasn’t going to be very comfortable, but I figured I could tolerate it for a little while—not that I had any real choice in the matter.

Tina handed me my cane and knapsack and looked down at me pityingly. “Boy, I’ll bet you wish you’d never gotten involved in this.”

“Nope, I’m still having fun, but that could change dramatically if Trent finds me.”

“Fun?”

“Fun. If you’re lucky, that’s what police work is. There were days when I was having such a good time I should have been paying the city to be out there.” My voice grew momentarily somber. “Take if from me: Forced early retirement sucks big time. Now, please shut the trunk and let’s go before I get
really
maudlin.”

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Tina pushed the trunk lid closed and I heard her get back into the car. It’s a good thing I don’t suffer from claustrophobia, because the trunk was absolutely light-less and as cramped as the section of hell reserved for telemarketers. I felt the cruiser pull back onto the road and I rolled over onto my back and tried to relax. After a couple of minutes, the car came to a stop and then turned left. The cruiser sped up and I knew we were on U.S.

Route 33 headed downhill.

Maybe a minute or so later, Tina shouted, “We’re here!”

The car slowed and made a left turn and I heard the crackle of gravel beneath me. Then came a more terrifying sound: My wireless telephone began to play the Rondo from Mozart’s
Eine Kleine Nachtmusik
, signaling that I had a new voice mail message—no doubt the call from Sergei to advise me that Trent had left the Sheriff’s Office. I banged my elbow against the wheel well as I rammed my hand into my pocket to get the phone. Fumbling with the device in the darkness, I managed to deactivate it just as Tina shut the engine off.

Tina didn’t get out of the car and that meant the cruisers were probably parked with the drivers’ windows facing each other so that they could talk without getting out of their units. I lay there quietly and was a little astonished at how easy it was to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Tina said, “Yes, Sergeant?”

“What were you doing up in Thermopylae?” Trent’s voice was as hard as a streetwalker’s smile.

“I had a ‘livestock in the road’ call earlier today, but I had to leave to go to a crash before I found the cattle. I went back up there to make sure we still didn’t have a problem.”

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John J. Lamb

“You heard that BOL?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know whose truck that is?”

“No, sir.”

“Have you seen it?”

“No, sir.”

“For you and your kids’ sake, you’d better be telling the truth. We know you were over at the gimp’s house last night.” I felt the car jiggle slightly and there was a moment’s worth of silence. When Trent resumed speaking, his voice was panicky and stuttering. “Now, now, I didn’t mean what you think by that.”

It wasn’t difficult to figure out what happened. Tina had reacted to Trent menacing her children by pulling her pistol. My attitude on whether she should drop the hammer on the brutal sergeant was almost disturbingly equivocal. It isn’t that I countenance murder if committed by a cop, but if she killed him it would be nothing less than an act of self-defense. Furthermore, the world would be a better place without Trent in it. I waited to hear what would happen next. It seemed like a very long time, but it probably wasn’t much more than a couple of seconds.

Finally Tina spoke and her voice was as cold as a Martian winter. “You threaten my kids again and they’ll be calling you ‘Sergeant Golf Course’ because that’s how many holes you’ll have in you. Understand?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Get out of here and stay out of my sight. Run home and tell your daddy you may have frightened that San Francisco cop away from investigating that man’s murder, but I don’t scare so easy. I’m going to find that truck and when I do you know I’ll connect it to that dead man. Now, git.”

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“You’re making a damn big mistake, Barron. My daddy will have your badge.”

“Git, before I change my mind, you pathetic excuse for a man.”

The engine of Trent’s patrol car roared to life and he shot from the parking lot as if hurled from an aircraft carrier fighter jet catapult. Once he was gone, Tina started her car and drove at a more sedate pace down into the Valley. I felt the cruiser turn onto Route 340 and, after a little while, make the right turn onto Coggins Spring Road.

Then I heard gravel beneath me and the car stopped. Tina popped the trunk lid and came back to assist me from the compartment. I was home.

Gripping her hand tightly, I said, “Tina, you’re a better person than I am. If he’d threatened my kids like that I’d have dropped him like a rabid dog.”

“I still can’t believe I said it.”

“It needed to be said, but let me offer you one piece of advice: Be prepared to back those words up with actions.

Whether or not it turns out he’s good for the Thayer murder, Trent’s a vicious goon and it will drive him freaking nuts that you—a woman—showed him up. Someday he’s going to try to get even, and when it comes you’d better be prepared to kill him.”

“Or shoot him so he’ll be able to sing soprano in the church choir.”

“I like the way you think.”

I guess Ash saw me climb from the trunk because she came out of the house on the run. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” I hugged Ash. “We got the truck hidden and Tina did something very brave. She offered herself up as a decoy to Holcombe to allow us to continue the investigation.”

“How?”

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John J. Lamb

“It’s too long a story to tell right now and Tina has to get out of here.”

Tina glanced at her watch. “Yeah. I’ve got just over two hours left on what’s undoubtedly my last shift as a sheriff ’s deputy and I’m going to spend that time leading those dirt-bags on the biggest wild goose chase Massanutten County’s ever seen.”

Chapter 14

Once Tina was gone, I took Ash’s hand and we headed toward the house. She said, “So, do I want to know why you were in the trunk?”

“Tina told me she was developing a serious case of the creeps by me talking to my sock puppet and she finally insisted I ride back there.”

“Right.” Ash held the door open for me and I was lovingly body-slammed by Kitch.

“Gee, you don’t sound as if you believe that. Hi, boy.”

I scratched Kitch behind his ears as I edged my way past him into the house.

“Picked that up, huh? Did you being in the trunk have anything to do with why Sergei couldn’t get through to you on the phone to tell you about Trent leaving the station in his patrol car? He called here a little while ago.”

“And you’ve been worried ever since. Sorry, love.

There’s no cell service up in Thermopylae, so I didn’t get 164

John J. Lamb

the call. And then, as we were coming down the mountain, Trent called Tina demanding an eighty-seven.” I used the California police radio code for a rendezvous. “Getting into the trunk was about our only option to avoid me being treated like a piñata.”

“So, does all this mean you’re going out again?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Tina bought us a couple of hours of time by convincing Trent that he’d bullied you and me into submission, which means I have to go talk to Liz Ewell and her nurse this afternoon.” I looked at my watch and propped my cane in the corner near the door. “The problem is that it’s two-thirty now. I won’t be back in time for your meeting with Cleland.”

“Honey, I’m capable of dealing with Lorraine by myself. Besides, she called and told me she was running late and that she’d be here closer to four.”

“I don’t doubt for a second that you can handle her.” I lowered myself into a kitchen chair and Kitch sat on the floor beside me, resting a drool-drenched chin on my knee.

“That’s not the point. It’s just that we’ve had such tough times over the past year, I was looking forward to seeing something nice happen to us two whole days in a row.”

“Solving this murder is far more important than whether or not I sell the design rights on a teddy bear.”

“True.”

“And if you do, you’ll make something extremely nice happen. Holcombe will be out and Tina will be elected sheriff.”

“Good point.”

“But before you go, you’d better have some lunch.”

She pulled the microwave oven door open and took out a Black Forest ham and Muenster cheese sandwich with some potato chips on a plate.

Although I didn’t have any time to waste, Ash was right. I’m not exactly hypoglycemic, but I do need to eat The Mournful Teddy

165

on a regular basis or I get a little twitchy and I couldn’t afford to be anything but completely mentally focused during the interview. This was the only shot I was going to get to talk to Ewell and her nurse.

Setting the plate before me, Ash asked, “Lemonade?”

“God, that sounds good. Thanks for having this ready.”

“My pleasure.”

She brought two icy glasses of lemonade to the table and sat down beside me. As I wolfed down lunch, I brought her up to date on everything that had transpired since I’d stolen the Chevy. Meanwhile, Kitch lay sphinx-like on the floor looking as attentive as if he were guarding a flock of sheep—animals he’s seen once and that terrify him.

He sat in slobbery anticipation of table scraps, a bad habit that I’ve encouraged, to Ash’s mild chagrin. A few months earlier, I’d waited until Ash was drinking something and soberly told her that I wanted to talk to her about how she’d spoiled the dog. The result was a classic Danny Thomas “spit take” with Ash spraying the beverage all over the kitchen counter. It was a funny moment, but also depressing, when I realized I was old enough to remember the
Danny Thomas Show
.

Anyway, when I got to the part of the story about Trent threatening Tina’s kids, Ash became thin-lipped with anger and said, “That’s despicable. Do you think he actually meant it?”

“Not that I’m trying to scare you, but there’s a good chance he did.”

“He’d hurt a child?”

“Yeah. Or Tina. Or for that matter, us. Try to look at it from Trent’s point of view.”

“I can’t. I’m not a sociopath.”

“But I’ve dealt with enough of them over the years to pretty much guess exactly what he’s thinking. If we solve 166

John J. Lamb

this case, the very best he can expect to happen is that he’ll lose his power, a reasonably well-paying job for this area, the graft, and his macho-man uniform. The worst case scenario is a murder conviction, prison—”

“Which is never a fun place for ex-cops.”

“Or maybe he’s even looking at the death penalty, depending on whether he’s convicted of first degree murder with special circs, or whatever it is they call it here in Virginia.” I put the remaining third of the sandwich down, suddenly no longer hungry. I’d scared myself, but Kitch looked very encouraged. “The bottom line is that he has nothing to lose and with those wonderful chemicals percolating in his system there’s also the potential he could go postal.”

Ash’s gaze drifted toward the window that looked out onto the driveway. “And we can’t exactly call the sheriff for protection. How about the State Police?”

“Even if anyone believed us—which they wouldn’t because we don’t have enough evidence—the local office of the State Police wouldn’t do anything today.” I broke off a tiny portion of sandwich and slipped it to Kitch.

“Why?” Ash watched me feed Kitch and gave me a look that said:
How many times have we talked about you
feeding the dog from the table?