Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 01 - A Deadly Change of Course--Plan B (5 page)

Chapter Five

I
secured the two cases closed with some duct tape I managed to scrounge from my tool kit.  I had come to believe you could fix almost anything if you had enough duct tape, electrical ties, bungee cords, and Super Glue.  My number-one priority would be to get that money to a secure place.  I rented a large safe-deposit box at my bank and tucked it away for safe keeping.  I wanted to know more about the gun before I made any plans for it.

My friend Joe ran a pawn shop in town.  He had sort of taken me under his wing and made it a point to watch out for me.  When I first came to San Diego, I had been cheated by some pretty unscrupulous dealers.  They convinced me the items I had to sell were basically worthless and offered to take them off my hands for next to nothing
—
just to save me a trip to the dump.  Then one day I met a man in the Grille who was wearing one of the unique watches I had practically given away to a pawn broker.  He was only too happy to brag about the newly purchased item on his wrist
—
bought for a mere six
hundred dollars.  He swore it was worth twice that much, but he was such a great wheeler-dealer, he talked the shop owner down to his price. 

Jason
had
introduced me to Joe.  He cringed at some of my horror stories.  The actions of his low-life peers appalled him.  Joe was always honest with me.  Sometimes he’d let me sell things on consignment.  He had gotten me some very good prices for many of the items I’d picked up.  He knew
a lot of people—
people who dealt in all sorts of things.  I knew if he couldn’t tell me anything about the gun, he would know someone who could.

“Hey, Joe.
  How’s business?” I asked as I stepped into his shop.

“
Devonie
.
  Good to see you,” he said as he gave me a big bear hug and a kiss on the cheek.  “Business is good.  In fact, I just sold that ruby and diamond ring you brought in here last month.  I have a check for you in my office.”

“Great.  How’s Sarah doing?” I asked.

“She’s fine.  She’s on some new health-craze kick now. 
Gonna
sell vitamins and minerals or something.  All I know is, it’s
gonna
cost me a fortune to get her started.  I’m
gonna
have to expand my business just to support hers.”

“Vitamins and minerals?
  Why don’t you have her send me a
brochure.
  I’ll be her first customer.”

“Sure thing, Dev.
  What’s in the case?” Joe asked, pointing to my very nice brief case, strapped with six feet of duct tape.

“It’s something I picked up at that self-storage auction yesterday.  It kind of threw me for a loop.  Do you know anything about guns?”

“Guns?
  I know a little.  I know I can’t sell them.  I don’t have a license.”

“I’m not interested in selling it, at least not yet.  I just want to find out more about this particular one,” I said as I peeled off the duct tape.

A customer came in the door to look around.
I quickly
taped the case closed
again
.  “Can I show this to you in your office?” I asked, uneasy about letting any strangers know what I had.

“Sure.  I’ll get Margo to watch the counter.  Go on back.  I’ll be right there.”

I held the case under my arm and made my way back to Joe’s office.  I sat the case on his desk and peeled the tape off again.  After a few minutes, Joe came through the door. 

“Let’s take a look at what you’ve got here,” he said as I lifted the lid.  Joe’s eyes widened and he took a full step back. 
“Oh my.
  You weren’t kidding.  That’s some gun.”

“Can you tell me anything about it?”

Joe picked up the weapon and checked to be sure it wasn’t loaded.  “You know, this looks like a serious set up here
—
I mean with the scope and the silencer and all.  I have a friend who knows everything there is to know about this sort of thing.  I could call and ask him to come take a look.  Would that be okay?”

“Do you know him very well?  I’d like to keep this as quiet as I can.  I’m a little nervous about having it.”

“You can trust Tony.  He and I go way back.  We were in the war together
—
he saved my skin more than once.”

“Okay.  Let’s give him a call.  I’m really curious about this thing.” 

Tony Marino
—
a tall, slender man with salt and pepper hair and a
meticulously groomed mustache—
arrived shortly after Joe called him.  He wore a very expensive Italian suit and the sharpest shoes I’d ever seen, at least on a man.  I admired his taste in clothes.

“How
ya
doing, Tony?”
Joe said as he held out a hand to his friend.

“What’s this handshake business?” Tony asked as he wrapped his arms around Joe and hugged him.  “I’m just dandy
—
you old codger.  When are you and Sarah going to invite me over for dinner?  It’s been too long since we’ve gotten together and told all those exaggerated war stories.”  Tony grinned at me.  “Every time we tell them, they get more exciting and death-defying.”

“How about Saturday night?
  I’m sure Sarah has something she’ll want to show you,” Joe said, giving me a wink.  “Tony.  I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.  This is Miss
Devonie
Lace.”

“Tony held out his hand. 
“Very pleased to meet you, Miss Lace.”
 

“Same here,” I said. 

“Joe.  You never told me you had such beautiful young women friends.  Will
Devonie
be joining us for dinner on Saturday?”

“Now, you just watch your step, Tony. 
Devonie
is young enough to be your granddaughter,” Joe warned his friend.

Even though Joe was right, it was still nice to get such a compliment.  I smiled and graciously accepted his charming comment. 

“Actually, Tony, we have some serious business here.  We need your expert opinion on something.  Take a look at this,” Joe said as he opened the case.

Tony’s
demeanor changed in an instant as he inspected the gun.  “This is a nine millimeter
Spectre
, very lethal weapon.  Is this yours,
Devonie
?” he asked.

I nodded.  “I seemed to have acquired it quite by accident.  I would like to know a little more about it
—
if you think you can help me.”

Tony inspected each piece carefully.  He was quiet for a long time.  Then he looked at me and asked, “Does anyone else know you have this?”

“No.  Just you and Joe,” I answered.

“May I ask how you came to acquire it?”

I didn’t know this man well enough to trust him, even though Joe did.  I wondered how much I should tell him.  “It’s not important how I got it.  Is it?”

“Miss Lace.  This is a nine millimeter
Spectre
, equipped with a nine inch barrel for superior accuracy.  It’s an extremely lethal weapon.  It’s the same kind the Italian Police Special Operations Unit uses.”

Then he picked up the scope and turned it in his hands a couple of times.  “This is a laser sighting scope.  It shoots a laser beam at your target and tells you exactly
where your bullet will hit
—
and I mean exactly.  And finally, this is a silencer
—
an EM-F2 if I’m not mistaken
—
designed to make the firing as quiet as possible.”

Tony gave me a very serious look, as if he were a doctor telling me I had stage four
cancer
.  “In my opinion, the only kind of people who would use a setup like this would be hired killers.  Those
kind
of people don’t generally leave their tools of the trade lying around for just anyone to pick up.  I would guess that somewhere, someone is looking for this.  The kind of people I’m talking about would stop at nothing to get back something they’ve lost.  Do you understand what I’m telling you, Miss Lace?”

I swallowed hard and nodded.  I knew exactly what he was talking about.  “I think I’ll just put this thing in a safe place for now and not tell anyone about it.  I’m sure I can trust the two of you to keep my secret until I decide what to do with it?”

“Of course you can trust me,” Joe said.

“That’s a wise decision,
Devonie
.  I could probably find a buyer for it, if you were so inclined.  I mean, if you want to get if off your hands,” Tony offered.

“I’ll keep that in mind, but for the moment, I would prefer we keep this just between the three of us.”

I closed the case and tried to
retape
it, but the tape had lost is stick.  “Joe, have you got some more tape?”

“I think so.  Let me take a look in the supply closet,” he said as he left the room.

“I could teach you how to pick those locks
—
so you don’t have to destroy perfectly good brief cases,” Tony said, his voice cracking with laughter.

“I just might take you up on that, Mr. Marino.  The very next time I need to pick a lock, I’ll give you a call.”

Tony pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to me.  “I certainly hope you will.  It would be my pleasure to assist you.”

Just then, Joe came back with a roll of tape.  “Here you go,” he said as he handed it to me.

“Well, Joe.  It appears my work here is done.  I’d better get back to the office before they all rob me blind,” Tony said as he headed for the door.  “It was very nice to meet you,
Devonie
.  Please don’t hesitate to call if you decide you want to get rid of that thing.  I’m sure I can get you a pretty penny for it.”

“Thanks, Tony.  I’ll let you know.”

Joe walked his old friend out of the shop,
then
returned to the office while I was securing the case.

“Oh
,
  I
almost forgot.  Here’s your check for the ring,” Joe said as he handed me an envelope with my name scrawled on it.  Most people wouldn’t cut a check for a consignee the very day of a sale, but Joe knew how tight finances were for me. 

“Thanks, Joe.  You’ve been a big help.”

Before I slipped the envelope and
Tony’s
business card into my purse, I took a moment to read the card: 

Anthony Marino

Importer and Exporter of Fine Goods

I wondered exactly what “Fine Goods” referred to, but decided not to pursue it just yet.  I gave Joe a hug and headed back to the Jeep.  Something told me I had a big day ahead of me.

Chapter Six

I
waved to Jason as I pulled into the parking lot in front of his shop.  He was busy helping a customer load a refrigerator into the back of a pickup.  He paused long enough to wave back to me.  Quickly, I made my way to the warehouse.  Sitting down in front of the first safe, I removed the pages of the small address book from my purse.  I tried the first combination of numbers. 
Nothing.
  I tried them a second time. 
Again
—
nothing.
  I closed my eyes and said a little prayer before I tried the next combination.  Very carefully, I turned the dial, being sure to stop exactly on the specified numbers.  I grasped the handle and pulled.  The door silently swung open.  “Thank you, God,” I said as I peered inside the dark vault.

Anxiety kept my stomach feeling a little upset.  I had visions of finding hand grenades or sticks of dynamite inside the heavy metal box.  Last night I dreamed that I opened it and found a coiled two-headed King Cobra inside.  In my dream, it chased me all
over the
warehouse—
then it chased m
e all over San Diego. 
I ran until I was waist deep in the Pacific, hoping it couldn’t swim.  It didn’t come in after me but just stayed on the beach, coiled,
waiting
for me to come out of the water.

Jason walked in, just in time to witness the opening of the safe.  “Way to go, Dev.  What’s in there?”

“I don’t know, yet.  I just got it open,” I answered.  I reached in and pulled out a box about six inches by ten inches. “What’s this?” I asked.

He took it from me and inspected it carefully.  “I don’t know?  It’s some sort of electronic device, but I don’t know what it’s for.”

There was nothing else in the safe.  “Let’s see what’s in your safe,” I said.  I worked the combination and it opened just as smoothly as the first one.  Jason couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face.  The safe was empty
—
a black hole.

“Sorry, Jason.
  At least now you have the combination.  The safe is worth something,” I consoled.

“Thanks, Dev.  You’re right.  I can sell the safe in the shop
—
or maybe I’ll keep it for myself.”

The bell rang from the shop, letting Jason know he had a customer.  “I’ll be right back.  I want to talk to you about what’s going on with this stuff you picked up yesterday,” he said as he headed for the door.

I pulled a long thin steel pin from my purse and started probing the lock on the file cabinet.  I jiggled it and wiggled it back and forth.  Finally, it clicked and the small metal button popped out, just as if I had used a key.

I pulled the drawer open.  The files were labeled by year.  They started with 1980, with the last file dated 1995.

I lifted out a thin folder from the 1980 section.  It contained a brief newspaper clipping about a federal judge who had been shot to death in his home.  The story went on to say that burglary seemed to be the motive, but there were no suspects in the case.

Each file contained similar accounts of important individuals who were killed, either by questionable means, or apparent accidents.  Most were shootings in supposed robberies, or car accidents, a couple of suspected suicides, and one drowning.

As I read the accounts, my stomach began to feel a little queasy.  I could sense small beads of sweat forming on my forehead and upper lip.  I patted my face dry with a tissue and read the last file.  There was something different about this one.  It wasn’t about a single individual being killed.  This article described an airliner crash that happened a year ago
—
on a flight returning to Los Angeles from Mexico.  The plane had somehow gotten off course and flew into the side of a mountain.  Everyone on board was killed.  A thorough investigation performed by the FAA and the National Transportation Safety B
oard turned up nothing—
at least nothing as far as a bomb or mechanical malfunction.  Eventually, the authorities determined pilot erro
r to be the cause of the crash
and the case was closed.  Also in the file, I found the passenger list for flight 9602.  There were two names
highlighted in yellow. 
David Powers and Michael Norris.
  Who were they? 

I’d figured out that Robert
Kephart
was some sort of hired assassin, and I’d just stumbled upon a recording of his achievements.  Apparently, he’d been in business since 1980 and performed anywhere from one to four of those “services” a year.  David Powers and Michael Norris must have been his last assignment.  Why would he kill all those people on the plane if he was just after those two?  It didn’t make any sense—unless he had no moral compass, which of course, he wouldn’t, being a hired assassin.  I put the files back into the cabinet and locked it, then picked up the electronic box and stowed it under my arm.  Joe could probably help me identify it.

As I passed through the shop, I waved to Jason, who was busy helping a customer.  “I’ve got to go, Jason.  I’ll call you later.”

“Wait a minute, Dev.  I want to talk to you.”  He turned and excused himself from his customer.

“I can’t talk now.  I’ll call you later.”

“
Devonie
, wait.  Is everything all right?”

“I don’t know, Jason.  I’ll call you when I know more,” I called back as I hurried out of the shop.

I laid the box on the seat next to me and started the Jeep, then drove a short distance to a small public park that was usually pretty quiet.  After parking just in front of a payphone situated near the corner of the block, I removed the pages of Robert
Kephart’s
phone book from my purse and made the call.

The phone rang many times before anyone answered.  I wasn’t sure what the time difference between San Diego and Geneva was, but I got a bit of a clue when she answered.  A woman’s raspy voice, barely audible, spoke into the receiver.  I had obviously
woke
her up.  “Hello,” she repeated, trying to project a little more volume.

“Is this Kerstin
Weibel
?” I asked.

“Yes.  This is Kerstin.  Who am I speaking with?” the woman whispered.

“Do you know Robert
Kephart
?”

There was a long silence.  Finally, she spoke.  “Who is this?  How do you know Robert?” she demanded.  Her voice echoed louder with each word spoken.

“I don’t know him, but I think I’ve found something that belongs to him.  Do you know how I can reach him?” I asked.

Again, she was silent.  “Miss
Weibel
?  Are you there?” I asked.

“Yes.  I am here.  What is it you’ve found?” she responded, finally.

“
I’d rather not say until I can speak with Mr.
Kephart
.  Is he there?” I asked.

“No.  He is not here.  I don’t think you really want to have any contact with him.  Won’t you please tell me what this is about?  You may be in danger.”

“What kind of danger?” I asked.

“Tell me what it is you’ve found.  For all I know, you may have just located his lost dry cleaning claim ticket, and I have startled you for nothing.”

“No.  It’s definitely not his laundry.  Let’s just say I stumbled on some equipment he had in storage.  This stuff I found would hint that Mr.
Kephart
is no angel.”

“I see,” she replied.  “I have a pretty good idea what it is you’ve found.  You’re right.  Robert’s no angel.  He’s extremely dangerous.  If anyone in his circle finds out you
have
his belongings, you’re in serious danger.”

“Who are these people in his ‘circle’?” I asked.

“They are all very bad people.  Listen.  What did you say your name was, again?”

“I didn’t,” I replied.

“You can trust no one.  People you think you can trust will turn out to be your worst enemy.  Believe me, I know.  I’ve spent the last year on the run, hiding from these people.  I’ve found only one person I can trust to keep me safe, and that’s me.  I can help you, too, if you’ll let me.”

“How can you help me?” I asked.

“I can hide you, for a time.  Most importantly, I can give you names and show you pictures of the people you need to fear the most
—
the ones who will stop at nothing to get to you
—
and what you have.”

A chill ran up my spine.  I quickly scanned the area around the phone booth to see who might be watching me.  There was an older man walking his dog through the park, but he paid no attention to me.

“I have to think about this, Kerstin.  If I find I need your help, can I reach you at this number?”

“Most any time
—
but during the waking hours would be preferable.”

“I’m sorry for waking you,” I said. 

A young man on a bicycle peddled up to my Jeep and stopped.  I scrutinized his every move.

“I’ve got to go now.  I’ll be in touch.”  I hung up the phone and scurried back to the Jeep.  The boy peddled away as soon as he noticed me coming.  I folded the pages in the address book and slipped it into my jeans pocket.

I got in the Jeep and drove back to Joe’s shop.  I wanted to see if he could help me identify the box I found in the safe.  When I got there, I was shocked to see police cars blocking the front of the shop and yellow tape strung up all along the store front.  After parking as close as I could, I jogged across the street.  Sarah was outside, sobbing as she talked to one of the policemen. 

I caught the attention of one of the detectives, Jeffrey
McNight
,
according to his badge.  “Excuse me.  I’m a friend of Joe and Sarah.  What’s happened?”

“Your name?” he asked as he took a small notebook and pencil from his pocket.

“
Devonie
Lace.  I do business with Joe here in the shop.  Is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry.  Joe Barnes was killed in what appears to be an attempted robbery,” he said.

My jaw dropped.  I staggered back against the police car, bracing myself so my knees wouldn’t give out.  Joe couldn’t be dead.  I must still be dreaming that crazy dream about the snakes.  I felt a little dizzy and the smell of exhaust from passing cars made me feel nauseous.

“Are you okay,
m
iss
?” he asked as he took my arm and helped me to a bench.

“When did this happen?  I was just here, talking to Joe this morning.  Everything was fine when I left.”

“We arrived twenty minutes ago.  The call came in about five minutes before that.  Can I ask what your business with Mr. Barnes was about?”

I didn’t hear his question.  A myriad of voices were harping at me in my head.  I pictured a thousand scenarios of what might have happened to Joe, sure that I must somehow be responsible for his death.  “I’m sorry.  What did you say?” I asked.

“What was your business with Mr. Barnes this morning?” he repeated.

“He sold a ring for me.  I came by to pick up the check.”

“I see.  Did you notice anyone or anything unusual when you left?” he asked
as he scribbled i
n his notebook.

“No.  I don’t recall anything out of the ordinary.”  I tried to remember if there were any customers in the shop when I left.

“What time was it when you left here?”

“I think it was about ten forty-five, maybe eleven o’clock.  I’m not exactly sure.”

Detective
McNight
noted what I told him.  “Mrs. Lace
—
”

“Miss,” I replied.

“Miss Lace.  Is there a number where we can reach you in case we have any more questions?”

“Yes.  Of course,” I said, and gave him my number.

Then he handed me a card with his name and number on it.  “If you think of anything that might be of relevance, please call me.”

“I will,” I said as I took the card and placed it in my purse.

I walked over to Sarah and put my arm around her shoulders.  “I’m so sorry, Sarah.  I just can’t believe this has happened.”

“Oh,
Devonie
,” she sobbed.

“If you need anything, just let me know.  I have lots of free time, and I can help you make arrangements, or contact relatives
—
whatever you need.  Okay?”

“Thank you.  I appreciate that,” she said, then blew her nose into an already overextended tissue.  I reached into my purse and took out a small pack of Kleenex.

“
Here.
”  I handed them to her.  “Did they take anything from the store?”

“No.  Margo was in the back, writing up the bank deposit slip when she heard a shot.  She ran out to see what it was, and found Joe lying on the floor behind the
counter.  Whoever did it must’
ve gotten scared and ran, because Margo said the place was empty.”