Flower Girl: A Burton Family Mystery (6 page)

"Anyway, to shorten the story, that was my introduction to Critter, the man Reddy has been tracking for the past few months," I said.

"Is he the one who shot me?" Rhyly asked with an icy tone.

"Reddy says he is; he just uses the homeless man bit as a disguise. He's a former dropout from Marine sniper training. Makes a living at contract killing for anyone who has a need, but he's expensive."

"So what's next?" Rhyly asked.

"You'll have to ask Reddy."

"Thought we'd take Critter to Skeleton Lake and introduce him to some really deep cold water. Might find out who the first shooter was and who hired him and Critter. That is, if it's okay with Craft. If not, I'll find a suitable disposal site," Reddy said in a matter-of-fact tone. Critter's eyes never left the dogs.

"Speaking of the dogs, let's walk them out behind the cargo hangar and back. They need to take a pee break," I said while cringing a bit as Rhyly gave me a big hug. I'm getting better with my no hugging phobia, at least with close friends. "Damn, it's good to see you. How are Matte and Craft and mother KC, Rogue and Wolf?"

"Matte's in DC lecturing on child slavery. She said to tell you it's urgent she talks with you about Princess Zubaida. She'll be back in town tonight. Meanwhile she sends her love," Rhyly said. "KC and the pups and Craft will join us for dinner at his home on the river. We should be there in an hour."

Reddy asked, "I don't want to keep Critter at Craft's place. Any ideas where else we might store him until we leave for the lake?"

"How about the RVPD's drunk tank?" Rhyly said. "I'll call Sgt. DeRosa."

Rhyly taxied up to the dock and we tied down the Streak in the slip next to Craft's Caravan. I soon found myself entangled with a restless gang of four dogs who were none too sure they were family. KC, matriarch of the Bear clan, kept a discreet distance ready to referee when called on.

A scruffy looking figure emerged slowly from the Porter, not sure whether to run or jump in the river and risk swimming for it, even with his hands handcuffed.

"I do believe they'd make a great fur coat," Critter said with a feeble chuckle. As if in response, KC sashayed over and gave him a thorough inspection, so intimidating that Critter peed in his pants when the big dog growled before returning to her role as a protective barrier between the stranger and Craft.

"This here is Critter Purcell," Reddy said. "I'll tell you about him as soon as we get settled in and have a pot of that favorite tea of yours, if you please. You've converted Shannon and me to hojicha."

Reddy removed the handcuffs so Critter could change his pants in the shed. Meanwhile, Reddy informed Craft that he has been trying to break "Critter" with a few months of kindness torture.

Critter isn't used to being treated humanely, much less respected for his sniper skills and ability to disguise and hide in the midst of any scene. Shannon and I plied him with kindness and sympathetic understanding for a few weeks after we captured him. It was hi-tech torture to a dude like him. He has started to look a bit more human. He even bathes once a week, cropped his beard and got a GI haircut just a couple of weeks ago, and even had his teeth cleaned. That was all around the time that I last called Craft. He finally caved and blurted out that he was hired only for the second shooting. He didn't know the name of the client and frankly he couldn't care less since he got paid half up front.

Craft asked, "Did you gather any evidence we can use to legally prosecute this bastard?"

"Now here's the evidence part," Reddy said. "The bank transfer to his account in the Cayman Islands went through and that was the only clue I needed. Critter still wants to collect the project completion bonus of £100,000, but we kept him under-wraps and persuaded him that Rhyly was under our protection. It was more than a veiled threat and he knows it."

"Not much hard evidence. Anything about who hired him?" Craft asked.

Reddy replied, "I asked Critter if he still has the deposit records from his two earlier contracts-hit attempts. Critter lives like a slob amidst dirty dishes piled in the kitchen sink and slipping over onto the counter tops, soiled clothes and piles of unwashed linens and towels strewn about the garage we found him living in. However, in stark contrast to his living quarters, he itemizes his firearms and ammo expenses, and his workshop is immaculate. His financial bookkeeping is as meticulous as the colonial Spaniards. His Cayman Island numbered bank account was only a funnel for his three numbered Swiss Bank accounts with three separate Swiss banks where he had amassed a sum of £1.8 million."

I said, "He's a freak. He's meticulous yet a slob to look at. I think it's all part of his disguise. He looks like a homeless person just in case someone arrests him or comes after him or recognizes him when he's on an assignment."

Reddy added, "Essentially he has taken on the persona of a street person for the past several years. It makes him easy to overlook, sort of invisible, like a servant or slave."

Craft said, "I know what you mean. Servants are like part of the woodwork. No one looks directly at a street person; instead they quickly look away, in part, out of shame and guilt. Viet-Nam war veterans living under the causeway near the entrance to LAX International airport being a case in point."

"Basically, no one bothers these street people and that works for Critter," Reddy said. "Meanwhile, I traced two deposits back to a bank in downtown Highland Park, Illinois."

"Damn, isn't that sweet. The Greys' family bank. That can't be mere coincidence. Nonetheless, wasn't that stupid of them?" Craft replied. "Two deposits, you said. He only admitted to one shooting for which he got paid half up front."

"The two deposits make me think Critter might be playing us about the other shooter; however, then there should be three deposits. We'll get the truth out of him in the lake, I mean, at the lake," Reddy replied.

"Not stupid, careless. The acts of people who are arrogant to the point of being falsely sure they would never be discovered, or for that matter, no one would dare come after them," I said as Matte entered the room almost unnoticed, arriving for dinner. Shy and Comet milled around her and sniffed until they were satisfied she was a friendly.

Matte nodded in agreement, "Good psychological assessment, Shannon. I could use an assistant shrink."

I smiled and replied, "I'm busy at the moment, but I could be available for select projects."

"What's our next move?" Craft asked.

"I'm getting a head start on a plan as we speak. Basically, Critter is going to collect the £100,000 bonus," Reddy said. "The evidence we have isn't sufficient to take to court but at least we know whom we are dealing with."

As promised, the second Bear family get together at Skeleton Lake was a feature event of summer 2. We were again keeping the promise made when we adopted the pups the year before. This summer visit was to be only a month as we all had business to attend to in early August.

July was full of sniper training and six directions recon training, Reddy's Rules instruction, and some significant father and daughter bonding. Morning runs around the lake had to be done in shifts of KC plus two pups at a time. We actually caught some bass and trout and Reddy cooked them on the gas outdoor grill. My mouth starts to water whenever I recall the delicious odor of parmesan and butter basted trout frying. He's a damn good chef. Why am I surprised?

The summer moved along peacefully enough until during our last week at the lake. Abruptly, our idyllic summer was shattered by events that centered on our cabin guest, Critter Purcell. Reddy's and my burgeoning sense of family was interrupted and put on hold when, on a visit to Mugzy's Coffee House in Huntsville for espressos and the morning news, a startling news headline splashed across the big screen: “WWN News 28 July 2012. Saudi ambassador and Russian representative shot at G-8 sub-committee meeting.”

"Oh, no," Matte said. "Craft told me last night that there is a meeting at the Deersville Resort this morning. Craft and Laz's Uncle Sergei as well as other members of the G-8 are there discussing the increasing global panic over an oncoming Comet Swarm." The meeting was being held at the Deersville Resort because of the excellent security the year before at the G-8 summit.

The newscaster came back on screen
:  
A witness to the shootings reported that the G-8 representative from Russia, Sergei Lazerov, suddenly slumped over in his seat at the conference table, face first into his salad plate, with a crimson crease parting his black hair. A second or two later, Prince Ahmad Khamal, the Saudi representative, screamed as blood began spurting from his neck.

I was actually shaking. Another assassination, two targets this time. Was this Reddy's handiwork?

Suddenly, Reddy appeared out of nowhere, like an apparition with a huge grin on his face. "Good morning folks; thought I might find you here."

"Reddy!" I shouted with glee as I jumped up from the booth and hugged him. We never had called each other daddy and baby girl. I was so relieved that I totally forgot my hugging phobia and my premonition about Reddy's latest activity. When the reporter used the word sniper, I flip-flopped back to my premonition and glared at Reddy who was nonchalantly sipping an espresso with an angelic look of innocence plastered all over his face. Then I thought, Reddy doesn't miss. This can't be his work.

"Why the Russian? Why was Sergei Lazerov, Laz's uncle, a target of an assassin, or was he collateral damage? Was the Saudi representative the real target?" I rattled off these questions.

Reddy didn't hazard an answer. However, several of Mugzy's patrons did. "Damn Arab terrorists," said a stout man seated in the next booth.

"Wasn't neither. It was those pesky university environmentalists," countered one of the fishermen, and the debate was on.

When we return to Craft's cabin on the lake from Mugzy's, there is a note pinned to the screen-door. "Thanks for the free lift to Huntsville; I'll find my own way back home. Your pal, Critter"

Reddy said, "I wondered why he was being so passive and cooperative. Now we know he wanted to get here, to Huntsville, for his next contract hit assignment. I reckon we didn't break him after all. I underestimated him. He says he's headed back home. Back to Oakland is my guess. That's where he thinks the girl he kidnapped a few years back is living. Critter is not about to relinquish the girl he wants for a bride."

I think these failed assassination attempts at Deersville reinforced Reddy's decision to go off the reservation. His intent had always been that when his hi-tech sniper weapon was completed and tested, collateral damage and misses would be things of the past.

Several weeks later Reddy told me he suspected that his employer, the CIA, had sanctioned the Deersville hits. The CIA had spun the rumor that there was a spy on the G-8 subcommittee who was going to sabotage the global panic prevention co-operation efforts and turn against Craft and the rest of the G8.They narrowed the shortlist of spy candidates to two, Sergei Lazerov or Ahmad Khamal. It was a very convincing subterfuge except for Reddy knowing Sergei better than that. Nevertheless, the CIA simply attempted to take them both out. Reddy's Rule Number 1 "Never kill anyone who doesn't deserve killing" carried with it the implied meaning that there would be no collateral damage. Rule 1 had been violated and Reddy blamed the CIA.

We soon found out that Sergei was out of danger, and I was relieved that Reddy wasn't the shooter. Laz and Rhyly flew the Porter from Moosonee to Huntsville and went to the Huntsville Hospital Emergency to see Sergei. A week later, back at Moosonee, they flew back to River View. I suspect she finally had the opportunity to thank Uncle Sergei properly for the Porter.

The next morning we packed for our flight back to River View. Five large dogs, four humans, and luggage was an easy load for the Caravan.

Back home in Berkeley, Shy and Comet ran about the house and grounds making sure no one had violated their turf while they had been away at Skeleton Lake. I suspect that Reddy had already cleaned the place of spy devices. However, Angie and I didn't need to guess this time. Following the incident with the two botched assassinations at Deersville, Reddy was back on the scent of Critter Purcell.

On our flight back to Berkeley, Reddy told me he was upset that his employer, the CIA, would even consider hiring an asshole like Critter for a sanctioned hit. Hell, he was unreliable and a lousy shot, as he had just proven for the third and fourth times. His two deposits consisted of half upfront for the first shooting which failed and another upfront deposit on his promise of the second hit being the charm.

Reddy sent Sgt DeRosa at RVPD copies of the deposits with a copy of the ballistics report on the 223 rounds recovered by the OPD at Deersville Resort. The report confirmed that they matched the 223 rounds from both of Rhyly's shootings. Critter was the owner of the 223. Reddy now had evidence for what he had suspected, that Critter had only admitted to the one shooting as part of his act to get to Huntsville and to keep Reddy searching for the second shooter.

As Reddy took in the aroma of fresh brewed Kenya AA and followed the trail up the basement stairs and into the kitchen the next morning, I asked the obvious, "So, who's the second or first shooter? Were Critter and the second shooter both hired by the same punter?"

"First and foremost, the Deersville shooter is Critter, the same nut case and child kidnapper who shot Rhyly both times, and the same creep I delivered to his latest assignment site. He loves his work and at the very least he feels justified about everything he does."