5 - Choker: Ike Schwartz Mystery 5 (21 page)

Chapter 40

“A picture? Listen, Charlie, I told you I was done with this project. You asked me to find a plane. I found it. You wanted to know how it ended its flight in the Chesapeake Bay, I found that out, too. I am done, Charlie. What part of
no
don’t you understand?”

“Ike, the technicians in the lab were able to restore a bad picture on the cell phone’s SIM card. It’s amazing what those little phone cameras can capture.”

“Hurrah for Japanese technology. I should care about this, how?”

“The picture, Ike, is of a ship close to shore, and it’s off-loading a Sunburn missile.”

Ike swallowed. This was serious. “So, I was right, you do have a problem. You have a big problem. Operative word is,
you
. Now I intend to rejoin the party.”

“Don’t hang up on me. We need to talk.”

“I’m done, Charlie. Good luck and goodbye.” Ike powered down and snapped the phone closed. He stood a moment staring out into the dark, questioning his refusal to help Charlie. No, no, no. Enough is enough. He refused to shoulder any guilt over this. He didn’t owe anybody anything. He re-entered the chattering throng of academics and snagged another drink from a passing tray. It wasn’t gin but it would do. He made his way to his father and Dillon.

“What are you two plotting? It had better not have anything to do with me.”

“What makes you think we were talking about you?” his father asked. “See that, Armand, the boy is all about hisself.”

“I know you, old man. You are up to something.” Ike retrieved a handkerchief and blew his nose.

“Why do you have to go and be so difficult all the time, Ike?” his father said. “Me and Armand, here, have been doing some figuring, is all. We calculated that if you’d get an early start next spring, we could get you into the Commonwealth’s Attorney General’s—”

“You remember what happened the last time you plotted my future?”

“Shoot, you’re all grown up now. You ain’t going to run away from home. Jest listen for a minute.”

“Not tonight, Pop, I’m only interested in enjoying this very fine party, having some time with Ruth, and continuing my vacation at the beach.”

“Now, that’s another thing. You ain’t hardly ever to home anymore. You aren’t planning on missing Yom Kippur, too?”

“What? What did you say?”

“I said, are you planning on missing Yom Kippur? I know your momma’s not around, but we were always together for the high holy days, at least when you weren’t gallivanting around the world.”

“When?”

“When what? When you was gallivanting? Well—”

“No. no, when is Yom Kippur?”

“Wednesday, of course.”

“In five days?”

“Unless the government introduced a new day of the week and I didn’t hear about it, yep.”

“Oh, my God. Excuse me, I have to make a call.”

“Kids now-a-days, always glued to them mobile phones. You got one of them doodads, Armand?”

Ike didn’t linger to hear Dillon’s answer. He exited the room and stood outside on the wide veranda that surrounded the house on three sides. Its wisteria had long since lost its purple blossoms and its leaves had turned a golden brown. He opened the phone and powered up. The face read One Missed Call. He ignored it and speed dialed Charlie.

“Ike why did you turn off the phone, I wasn’t finished.”

“Never mind that. Five days, Charlie. You guys have five days to find those missiles.”

“What do you mean, we have five days. What’s the big deal about five?”

“Yom Kippur. It comes on the ninth day of Tishrei. That’s always in late September or early October. We forgot about Yom Kippur.”

“You would know that.”

“No, that’s the point. I don’t know that. My father would know that. I missed it.”

“Okay, you’re haphazard in your faith. What of it?”

“The war, Charlie. They’re going to launch those damned missiles on the anniversary of the Yom Kippur war. Don’t you see?”

The line fell silent. Then Ike heard Charlie’s voice, slightly muffled, speaking to someone at the other end. He heard his name, Yom Kippur, and five days. Ike figured he’d gotten through. He turned the phone over and had his finger on the power button when Charlie came back on the line.

“You have to come in, Ike.”

“No way. It’s your hot potato.”

“Wait, hold on a minute. Don’t hang up…okay…here’s the director.”

Ike had never had a conversation with the Almighty, and didn’t expect he ever would, but he was sure that if he did, He’d sound like the director of the CIA.

“Ike, you need to come in.”

“Director, absolutely not. I told Charlie no, and I’m telling you the same. This is way out of my league.”

“You don’t get to choose, son. I’ll draft you if I must.”

“With all due respect, Director, you can’t. More importantly, you don’t have to. You have assets all over the place. Flood the Eastern Shore with them, find the damned things, and call me when you’re done.”

“Ike, please listen to me. It’s not a question of assets. You’re right. I can call on as many people as necessary. I can borrow from the FBI, the Army, you name it. But you said it.”

“I said what?”

“You said we have five days…don’t interrupt. I think you’re right and I haven’t the luxury of time to get anyone else up to speed on this. And flooding the Eastern Shore is not an option. If they get even a sniff we’re on to them, you can bet they won’t wait five days. You were on the spot. You did the ground work. You must run with this.”

“What’s happened to Fugarelli?” Ike felt his independence slipping away. He didn’t want to inspect the director’s analysis for fear it was correct.

“Has pneumonia or something. I think he’s losing his nerve and is coddling his retirement plan, but I could be wrong. And before you ask, I can’t spare Garland. I need him in place, and if he ran this operation, it would blow his cover.”

“What did I do to deserve this?”

“Put it down to bad Karma. I need you here in the morning at seven sharp.”

The line went silent for a moment and then Charlie came back on. “You okay, Ike?”

“I’m in Picketsville, Charlie. I had a weekend all planned. I don’t even have a car here.”

“I’ll send one.”

“No, don’t do that. I’ll tell you what, clear me to land at Fort Belvoir and have a car and driver waiting for me. I’ll fly out tomorrow morning. I’ll call you when I take off. You can figure somewhere around an hour, more or less, for me to get there, and pick me up.”

“Done.”

Ike looked at his phone. The One Missed Call winked at him. He closed it. Ruth came out onto the veranda.

“There you are. Why aren’t you schmoozing my guests?”

Ike stared off into the night.

“Hey, what’s up, Doc? You look sick. Bad booze or bad news?”

“I have a cold.” He sneezed as if to confirm it.

“Gesundheit. I know. You promised to give it to me this weekend. See the sacrifices I’m willing to make for you?”

“The weekend is off. I’m sorry. Something came up.”

“By the looks of you it’s something serious. You look terrible and it’s not just the cold, is it?”

“You should see me when I’ve had one of Flora Blevins’ pork chops. Anyway the weekend at the A-frame is out. I have to fly to DC tomorrow around six or six-thirty.”

“It’s bad serious, isn’t it.”

“Yes.”

“You want to tell momma?”

“I’d love to, but—”

“You can’t. Damn Charlie Garland anyway. I told you it would end badly.”

“Did you? I don’t remember.”

“I did. You may not have heard me, because I said it in the shower last Sunday. But I said it. Are you okay?”

“Super.”

A waiter drifted by with canapés and Ike snagged one. One bite and he was looking for a discreet place to spit it out.

“What on earth is this?”

“Agnes, my secretary—”

“Administrative assistant.”

“Give it a rest, Schwartz. She wanted to help and offered to make an hors d’oeuvre. They are her famous, you should pardon the expression, asparagus roll-ups. They’re ghastly aren’t they?”

“Better keep them away from Dillon. They could cost you some serious cash.”

“Right. So you have to go and be a hero. Okay, I know we’re agreed that you are the last Boy Scout in town, and you must go save the world from imminent destruct…” She caught sight of Ike’s expression and gasped. “It’s like that?”

“I can’t say. It’s important.”

“Woof, I am not ready for Armageddon. Are you sure? Don’t answer that. We will wind up officially nine-ish, which means everybody will be gone by ten or so. You try to be civilized to all these people. Try not to scare the pants off with dire news—”

“I only have one set of pants in mind—”

“Shut up. And then when the place quiets down, slip upstairs. I’ll join you when I can. We’ll spend some time exchanging germs and things, and I’ll drive you to your airplane in the morning. How about that?”

Ike kissed her lightly on the cheek and nodded. “Youse is a good boy, Denny.”

“What?”

“See you later.”

Chapter 41

The phone’s insistent chirping finally woke him. With just a sliver of moon to light the room, Ike could barely see and, befogged with sleep, couldn’t remember where he was either. He tried to think. Ruth huffed and pulled herself up on one elbow to squint at the luminous dial on her alarm clock. Then Ike remembered. He scrabbled to retrieve the phone.

“What time is it?” he mumbled.

“Without my glasses on, or my contacts in, I can only say with any certainty that it’s either 12:30 or 6
AM.
The hands make a straight line up and down.”

“That’s firm? No possibility of a three or a four?”

“See for yourself?” Ruth flopped back on the bed and pulled the sheets up over her head.

“Okay, I’ll settle for twelve-thirty.” Ike flipped the phone open. “Yeah, Schwartz.”

“Hi, Ike, I know it’s late and you probably have other things on your mind…” The understatement of the week “…and I hate to bother you…this is Frank down at the office.”

“What’s the problem?” It had to be a problem. Frank would not have called, otherwise.

“We did that raid I told you about, and now I have a room full of upset parents. I’m not used to this.”

“You will be. So how did it go?”

“Good, I think. One or two kids managed to slip away but we corralled about a dozen. We confiscated drugs, nearly a pound of weed, a dozen rounds of ecstasy, some prescription pills, you know, oxycodone in several brand names, a few tranquilizers, and some other stuff I haven’t identified yet. They were either having, had, or were contemplating having, a pharm party. Judging by their behavior, I’m guessing they’d already had it. Oh, and there was some stolen property.”

“What kind of property?”

“Well, the reverend insisted on riding with us, and he identified his silverware. The kids were using it in their ceremony. And there was a video camera with ‘Property of Picketsville H. S.’ engraved on it. They said they borrowed it. You know how that goes.”

“The parents are angry at you, or their kids?”

“A little of both. When I said drugs and stolen property, most of them settled down and started giving their children the dirty eye. A few others are talking attorneys.”

“How many others?”

“Actually, just one. Mrs. Starkey is raising bloody you-know-what.”

“Put her on.” Ike waited while Frank found and brought Barbara Starkey to the phone.

“Okay, here she is…”

“Sheriff—”

“Barbara, it’s me, Ike. What’s the deal?”

“Frank Sutherlin broke up a little get-together in the park and has all the kids confused. I mean, it was just a party, for goodness sake. I’ve spoken with Peachy, and she’s very upset. I can hardly understand her. I think it’s terrible. And Blake Fisher is going on, and on, about Satan and…well, you can imagine. It’s all wrong. They’re just some kids doing a little acting out, and your deputies come barging in like storm troopers and—”

“Whoa. Stop. Did Frank tell you about the stolen property? Your kids were using the missing silver from the church. Your church, if memory serves. That can’t be brushed off with a ‘kids acting out.’ Then there are the drugs. Peachy is more than upset. I’m willing to bet she’s stoned. I’m sorry, Barbara, but Frank is right. As for the devil business, I don’t know the ins and outs of it, but I do know that it can’t lead to any good. You mix drugs and that sort of occult foolishness and you are bound to have trouble. It may seem like nonsense to you, but it’s potentially dangerous.”

“But—”

“Look, you put childproof caps on your drugs, and safety catches on the cabinet doors when the kids were young, right? Well, this pre-emptive action by the deputies on what could be bad news is the same thing. I can give you a book or two about it if you like, but it is not something you should take lightly.”

“Oh, Ike, really.”

“No, you listen. Your daughters—”

“Only Peachy was involved.”

“Both of your daughters were involved. You need to talk to Ashley about blood. Is she around?”

“She came to the jail with us, yes. What about blood?”

“Is she sporting a bandage anywhere?”

“Now that you mention it, yes. So what?”

“You need to ask her why. If, and when, she tells you the truth, you will need to go over and apologize to Frank, and thank him for putting the kibosh on what might have turned out to be a small or big disaster down the road.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Absolutely. And I think you might think about an apology to Blake Fisher, too.”

“I’ll talk to Ashley.”

“Good. Put Frank back on.”

“…Yeah, I’m here. Ike.”

“What else can you tell me?”

“Here’s something worrisome. There was an adult out there with the kids.”

“An adult? Who?”

“New teacher at the high school named Byerson. He teaches English and coaches the drama club, as near as I can tell. He joined the faculty at the end of last year when Susan Meara took maternity leave. Then he hired on full time after she decided to be a stay-at-home mom. He nearly slipped away tonight, but Billy nabbed him back in the dark with a fourteen-year-old girl. Had her blouse off and was going for the rest when Billy spotted him.”

“Where is he now?”

“We segregated him from the kids. He’s cooling off in a cell.”

“What about the fourteen-year-old?”

“She’s bawling her eyes out and blaming her absentee dad or something.”

“Here’s what you should do. Make sure the parents know Byerson was there and suggest—no accusations mind you—just suggest, that he might have been the instigator of the whole business. Then let them pound on their kids a bit, say fifteen minutes or so, and then get their statements. You should be able to tie the whole mess up in an hour.”

“What do I do about the kids we pulled in?”

“Release them into the custody of their parents. Byerson stays in a cell. You can hold him for at least twenty-four hours. By then you’ll have had time to digest the kid’s statements and run a background check on him. You already have him on attempted statutory rape, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and probably distribution of controlled substances. That bird needs to spend some quality time with adults for a change—in the county lock-up.”

Ike hung up and searched for his handkerchief.

“You sounded like the cop I’ve come to know and admire.” Ruth said.

“Don’t get smart with me, woman, or I’ll get Charlie to release the tape from our weekend at the beach.”

“There’s no tape…is there?”

“You’ll never know.”

“I will if I ever get to look your pal in the eye. Men cannot hide things like that. If they’ve seen you naked, they never look at you the same way again.”

“You are wise beyond your years.”

“I’ve been around. What was that all about?”

“Some other time. I need sleep. Do you have anything in your medicine cabinet to make me instantly unconscious?”

“I might. I have some prescription stuff, but if you’re going to be Top Gunning tomorrow, you shouldn’t use it.”

“Top Gunning?”

“You know, like what’s-his-name, the hunky guy, who flew the jets in that movie you showed me the last time we were at your place in the mountains.”

“Flying a Cessna is along way from driving an F-14 Tomcat.”

“That’s okay, you’re my jet jockey.”

“I thought I was the honey in your Honey Bunches of Oats,”

“I like the imagery of a jet jockey better.”

“Sleep medicine?”

“I can do better than that, Schwartz. Come over here.”