Gone South (A Butterscotch Jones Mystery Book 3) (8 page)

“Don’t leave any fingerprints,” he added for Reese’s benefit
as the idiot was reaching for an open desk drawer
.

Though it was probably pointless,
Desoto drew his own weapon and cautiously moved f
a
rther into the apartment, glancing quickly at the kitchen and then the empty bedroom. The covers were kicked onto the floor
,
but that indicated haste and not a fight.

A breeze was blowing through the curtains covering an open window at the end of the living room.
Desoto pulled the curtains aside to reveal a fire escape leading down to the parking lot behind the complex.
He watched as a man and woman ran across the pavement and climbed into a Range Rover then sped away. There was enough light to see the halo of red caused by the woman’s long hair. Thirty seconds later, another vehicle came to life and started after the couple. The license on the
Escalade
was obscured by mud.

“Reese, Dawson, we’re done here,” Desoto barked. “Take the gun but leave the man. We’ll send it back for a ballistics check.”

“We aren’t going to arrest him?” Reese asked.

“We are Americans in Canada. We have no authority
to arrest anyone
. We are also trespassing
in a police officer’s private residence
.”

“Oh. Right.”

The three men stepped back into the hall outside the apartment.
Once there, Desoto removed a handkerchief from his pocket
,
wiped the light switch
,
and then used it to polish the doorknob.

“Dawson, I want you to get on the horn and find us a flight to McIntyre’s Gulch,” Desoto ordered
as they retreated to the elevator. He used his handkerchief to press the call button
. “It’ll have to be something small and private
—
and probably damned expe
nsive
—
but we need it now. Wake up who
m
ever you have to.”

“I already have a name
.
” Dawson was pleased with himself
.
“
There’s only one pilot who flies there regularly.”

“Is his name Jones or McIntyre?” Desoto asked.

“Yes.”

“Which?”

“Both.”

“We’re headed for hillbilly hell,” Reese muttered.

Desoto didn’t disagree, but i
t was time to meet the elusive Butterscotch Jones. That is if she lived long enough to make it back to her home.

I was having an inner debate. On the one hand, I
clearly
needed help, at least until I got to
t
he Gulch.
I had no car, no gun, and no friends to shelter me.
But on the other, I didn’t want Chuck catching any bullets meant for me. That he was there and
still
wanting to
aid
me made me grateful but also pissed me off, and though it was a waste of time, I
wished my father wasn’t so far away
so I could go back to the hospital and shoot him myself.

“So, we are sure that the intruder was after something and not there to kill
or rob
us?” Chuck said as he pulled out of the parking lot.
It was nice of him to say
“
us
”
when really the killer just wanted me.

I turned in my seat and looked out the back window. There was another car on the road but it was hanging back and in the dark I couldn’t make out what it was.
Probably I was being paranoid, but one of us needed to be.

“I think so,” I said, settling into my seat. “But I don’t know what they could want.
He didn’t tell me anything. Didn’t give me anything.
I never even touched the old
.
…”

I stopped, remembering how his
fingers
had brushed my pocket when I had jerked my own hand away.
My father had always been a master of sleight of hand, a necessary skill if you cheated at cards.

“Damn it.” I reached into my left
coat
pocket
and found something hard and rectangular
hiding among the rubber
bands
, tissue
,
and hard candy. It was
about a half inch wide and an inch and
a
half long.

“What?” Chuck asked. “Did you find something?”

I moved the plastic thing in my hand
up to the dash where it caught
the light of a passing street lamp.

“What is it?” I asked.

“A USB memory stick. For a computer.”
Chuck sounded excited.

Chuck’s portable computer had been on his desk near where I found the thug with the scar.

“I guess we know what he was looking for
on your desk
.
I wonder what’s on it.
”

“
Me too. I mean, it could be anything. By anything, I mean something really important.
So, I have a plan. I’m going to get you to Seven Forks and leave you with Anatoli, then I am taking the memory stick back to headquarters. This is probably something
vital
.
Maybe career
making.
I’ll have to think of some way to explain
how I got
it. Maybe the intruder dropped it
during the struggle
.”

That Chuck wanted to make his career came as a bit of a surprise. He had been sounding awfully disenchanted.

“Okay.
I’ll be glad to be rid of it.
”
I turned in my seat again
and looked back
. “Do you think that car is following us?”

“Yes, but it’s the main road to the highway.”

“Oh.” I tried to relax. “May I have your phone?”

Chuck pulled it out of his coat pocket and handed it over.

“I wish I’d thought to charge it,
not that there is much of a signal out here,
” he said while I dialed Big John.

My mind was on other things.
Our mayor wasn’t going to be happy about the early morning call.

“Be careful what you say,”
Chuck
reminded me.
“Others may still be listening.”

The phone only made it through half a ringtone
before it was picked up
.
It turned out that Big John was up already and waiting for me to check in.

We of
t
he Gulch have learned that television and telephones are not among the necessities of life
at least ninety-nine percent of the time
. And when you really need either, they can be had at the pub. My neighbors had been dropping in since I left, watching the news, hoping to hear nothing about an arrest at the border.
As a social service,
Big John had taken to leaving the TV on all the time and that was how my friends knew before I did that my father was dead.
The strange killing at the hospital had made the news.
There was no mention made of Chuck or me, but the coincidence was too large to ignore.

I wasn’t shocked to hear this
bulletin
relayed from the mayor
, but still it gave me a chill. Whatever my father had been doing
down in
t
he States
, it was enough to get him murdered and to send a killer across the border to chase after me.

“The Wings is here,” Big John said. “Should I send him up to Winnipeg
to collect you
?
You’d be safer here, eh?
”

It would take him about two hours to get here. If he was fueled up. If he was sober. Did we want to wait that long?
How soon would the body be discovered
—
and by whom
?

“No. We
’re in the Range
Rover. We’ll
try for Seven Forks. If he can, have
t
he Wings
meet us there
tomorrow
. Big John,” I paused
;
cell phones are not private and this being Chuck’s phone, there
truly
could be listeners. “Sasha is with you, isn’t he?”

Sasha was Big John’s son-in-law. He had also once been known as
t
he Butcher of Minsk.
I felt Chuck look my way.

“He’s here. Misha is visiting too.
Right now, Anatoli, Alex
e
i
,
and Ivan are at their cabin
at Seven Forks
. They’d be pleased if you stopped in.
I could let them know to expect you.
”

“That’
s good, and we may do that. Just be sure
Sasha and Misha
stay around
t
he Gulch
until I get back.”

“Will do. It’s like that then, is it?”
He meant organized crime as opposed to the police.

“Yeah
, different flavor but the same recipe
.
Haven’t seen any signs of other parties
following us
, but it’s early days yet.
”

Big John digested this.

“Let them come. It might be best to take care of this problem
ourselves
, eh?”

I don’t want you to
think that because many Gulcher
s don’t have flush toilets that they are godless savages
. Though there are a few who are godless and a couple who might turn savage if you emptied their stills, insulted the Manitoba Junior Hockey League
,
or threatened their neighbors.
Still, we
are a family and
look after our own.
Even if it means doing the hard things.

“
Do whatever you think best
to protect everyone
.
Give my love to
t
he Flowers and take care all of you.”

I folded the phone.
Again I checked the back window. The
sun was up enough to see that the
car behind us was a black Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows. It screamed BAD GUYS! But Chuck didn’t seem upset
by their presence
so I decided to not mention it again.

“I hate mornings that start this early. It’s never a good sign of things to come,” Chuck said suddenly.

“Especially when the first act of the day is
to
assault an intruder with a laptop.” I sighed. “We’ll feel better after coffee.”

Better but nowhere near normal.

“Is
anyplace open this early?
”

“Fortunately, yes.
And the coffee is actually good.
”

I smiled
at Chuck
and checked the back window. I was wondering if the Escalade was going to stop for coffee too.
If it did, we were going to have to test Chuck
’s
evasive driving skills. We didn’t need anyone f
o
llowing us to Seven Forks.

*  *  *

A man wearing dark clothes and latex gloves came stumbling out onto the sidewalk from the front door of the condominium complex.
He was holding both hands to his head
,
which was still bleeding from serious blunt trauma
to the face
.
His vision was a bit blurry, but he was determined to once more give chase to his quarry.

Behind his back, his squad of handpicked assassins referred to him by his old street name, Jimmy Nine Toes.
To his face they called him Mr. James.
They all agreed that he was an animal, someone to be both feared and respected.

Mr. James staggered to the curb just as the second of two black Cadillac Escalade SUVs came screeching to a halt before him.
He reached out a hand to steady himself against the side of the vehicle as the doors popped open and his men poured out to secure the scene.

“What’s the status, Mr. James?” one of his enforcers asked.

“They got away.”

“They got away?
The boss isn’t going to be happy to hear about that.”

Mr. James responded to the implied criticism with a quick backhand to the insolent man’s face.
The target of this fury almost retaliated before checking his own hand and glaring back at his boss.
People got dead when Jimmy was pissed off.