Murder by Chance (Betty Chance Mystery) (20 page)

The Baffler’s motor coach careened down the icy highway as the Take A Chance tour bus followed in a high-speed pursuit.

“That blouse cost me twenty-seven dollars!” Tillie yelled at Rose, who still hung partially out of the window as Ogawa drove. For a change, Ogawa was acting his age, his real age. The man had to be in his early sixties, not eighties like he claimed.

“I wanted to make a point,” Rose answered, pulling herself back inside the bus.

“What point? That you don’t appreciate fine fashion?” Tillie growled.

Rose snarled back. “That the next thing I toss out on the highway will be you, if you don’t shut up.”

Tillie bit down on her own lip to stop from saying what she wanted to say. Instead, she counted slowly to ten before she spoke out loud. “They’re going to catch you.”

“No, they won’t!” Rose retorted. “Don’t you think we know what we’re doing? We’ve rehearsed our getaway a dozen times.”

“This isn’t penitentiary theatre, Rose. The sheriff won’t be shooting blanks. His bullets are going to be real.”

“So are ours,” Rose replied in a practiced monotone.

“Hey, what happened to your accent?” Tillie asked.

“I’m speaking with an American accent. Notice how my words sound as if they’re coming out of my nose instead of my throat? I’ve perfected the annoying, twangy sound you Americans are so fond of.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Tillie huffed as the bus slowed momentarily and curved to the right. Tillie could see that Ogawa was entering the freeway ramp, heading north. She said, “I gotta ask you, how did you open the door to the secret room? I thought the only way inside was through the luggage compartment.”

“You stupid American. My Ogawa can open anything, and he can shut anything as well. Anything, including your mouth,” Rose warned.

Tillie fidgeted uncomfortably on the couch. Her hands were bound with a silk belt from one of Boris’ robes. Her ankles were tied together as well. Rose had forced her to take off her jacket and blouse. The jacket was still sitting on the couch. The gun Tillie had found in the secret room was still inside the jacket. Her blouse was somewhere on the road behind them. She was wearing only her spandex pants and a pink lace brassiere, her cleavage fully exposed. Tillie observed Rose was focused completely on Tillie’s breasts.

“I didn’t know you found women so attractive. Did prison do that to you? Or were you that way before?” Tillie asked.

Rose’s hateful glare intensified. “I was looking at your stupid vulture tattoo.”

“Vulture? Did you flunk your citizenship test? It’s a bald eagle Rose, our national symbol. Really, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for being so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Rose yelled. “You call me stupid, you worthless whore!”

“Who are you calling a whore? I may be easy, but I’m not for sale,” Tillie hollered back.

“Shut up!” Ogawa demanded from the front. Tillie saw his narrow eyes reflected in the rearview mirror. She watched as his eyes drifted to her chest.

“Stop ogling my boobs, you old perv!” Tillie shouted.

“Oga!” Rose screamed, placing her hands on her hips to emphasize her point. When she did, the bus listed sideways and Rose grabbed onto a cabinet door for support. Through gritted teeth she growled, “I told you if I ever caught you looking at another woman, I’d divorce you! I’m tired of you cheating on me with every slut that comes your way!”

“Hey, I’m not a slut,” Tillie said, defending herself again. But Rose’s jealous outburst made her realize Slevitch hadn’t been Rose’s husband. Ogawa, who was one-third the size of Rose, had the honor.

Tillie decided to use Rose’s jealousy to her advantage. If Rose didn’t want her husband staring at Tillie’s jiggling boobs, she might demand Tillie put her jacket back on to cover her breasts. Tillie would be that much closer to the handgun that was hidden inside the zipped pocket. Tillie’s words rolled off her tongue like honey when she asked Ogawa, “Hey, are you that famous Serbian actor Rose said she married?”

Ogawa didn’t answer her although Tillie saw a slight smile on his face reflected in the rearview mirror.

Her next words tumbled out in an exaggerated breathless tone. “I think I could be an actress. Some people think I look like an older shorter Marilyn Monroe,” she said, inhaling rapidly, her breasts moving up and down like a pair of ripe cantaloupes in a runaway supermarket cart.

Ogawa didn’t respond, but Rose did manage to kick her in the shin. “Stop flirting with my husband, you slut,” Rose yelled.

“Ouch,” Tillie yelled back before adding, “What husband? You just said you were going to divorce him.”

“I am,” Rose shot back, giving Ogawa the evil eye. “He’s dead to me now. But that doesn’t mean you’re still not a slut.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m the slut who broke up your marriage,” Tillie snarled.

Tillie said ouch again as Rose kicked her once more.

Tillie needed to get at the gun. If flirting with Ogawa could give her the opportunity, she’d go for it. Or perhaps she could figure another way to get loose. However, she also didn’t want Rose to pick up her jacket. The extra weight alone could tip Rose off that something was in the pocket that shouldn’t be.

“You look a lot younger than the eighty-eight years you claimed to be,” Tillie cooed to Ogawa. “What are you, in your sixties, like Rose?”

Rose responded in a snit. “I’m only fifty-four! And, I’m constantly told I could pass for thirty-four.”

“By who? The little voices inside your head?” Tillie asked.

Rose pulled her foot back in full attack mode, but Ogawa hollered, “Rose, stop kicking the hostage.”

Hostage?
Tillie wondered. That’s what she was to them? She thought she was only an intruder they’d discovered standing inside their secret room.

Tillie muttered, “Thank you, Mr. Ogawa.” After a brief pause, she added, “I was being honest when I said you had me and everyone else fooled. Until I saw you with your shoulders straight and your old man shuffle gone, I had no idea. Even your voice sounds different. Before that, I would have sworn you were an octogenarian. I’ve got to say, you’re one great actor.”

“Thank you,” he answered, pushing the accelerator down even further.

Good
, Tillie thought,
the little man’s ego is bigger than his brain
. Tillie knew she could work with that. If nothing else, she could keep the two of them playing
good kidnapper—bad kidnapper
for a while, to keep them distracted.

Tillie continued talking. “If you think you can hold me for a huge ransom, you can’t. I’d bring in a hundred dollars, tops. My friends aren’t rich and my family wouldn’t pay a dime to get me back. In fact, they’d pay you to keep me.”

Rose responded in a condescending tone. “We don’t need money. We’ll use you to negotiate with the police.”

“You think they’re going to make a deal so I can be let go? The sheriff thinks I’m worthless. Want to know what he said to me? It’s something even
you
could understand, Rose. Once a con, always a con.”

Ogawa interrupted, “Boris just sped by. Hang out the window Rose, and see if anyone else is following us besides the tour bus. That’s as far as I can see.”

Rose lowered the window again and hoisted her large body halfway through the window.

Tillie said, “If you open your mouth and pant, you’ll look just like a Saint Bernard.”

Rose leaned back inside and slapped Tillie then leaned out the window again.

Tillie bent forward and said, “Listen, Ogawa, like I said, the sheriff hates me. I’m positive he’ll try to convince a jury that I’m part of your gang.”

“What gang?” Ogawa said. “We don’t have a gang. We’re a family.”

Tillie said, “Well, you’re not exactly the Brady Bunch.”

Ogawa retorted, “We do what we need to do to survive.”

“Me too, and I’ll do whatever it takes, not to go back to prison again,” Tillie said. She felt ashamed that what she was could well be true.

“Humph,” came the reply from Rose, her upper body still dangling in the frigid air.

Tillie wondered if she leaned hard enough to the left, if she could knock Rose completely out the window. As soon as Tillie edged close to her, Rose pulled back inside.

Rose announced, “There’s a bunch of red lights flashing a few miles behind us.”

“Damn,” Ogawa said, “Rose check the map in the glove box. See if you can find an alternate route.”

As Rose searched the glove box for the map, Tillie butted in. “Rose will take too long to find it. Let me help. I’ve been driving these roads for years. I know them backwards and forwards.”

Tillie wasn’t exactly telling the truth. She’d never been farther north than Moose Bay. When Ogawa didn’t respond, she continued, “Plus, you’re only driving sixty. I can drive faster, no problem. I’m a professional bus driver.”

Rose spat in her face and asked, “Why should we trust you?”

Tillie shook her head, trying to shake off the spittle from her cheek. “Because I’m inside the same speeding death ship you are. If your husband’s going to kill us all, I’m part of the us that will be killed.”

“My husband is an excellent driver!” Rose blurted out. “Everyone in our family is, especially Boris.”

Ah ha! Tillie thought. If Rose and Ogawa were married, Boris was probably their son. The two showgirls might even be their daughters. Boris and the women shared ebony-colored hair and razor sharp cheekbones. Their almond shaped eyes hinted of an oriental nighttime visitor to some ancestor, generations ago.

But who the heck were Farsi and Slevitch? If they
were
family, why were they disposed of as easily as used Kleenex during flu season?

Tillie continued, “I can tell Ogawa’s a good driver, but not in this case. Maneuvering a vehicle of this size at this speed takes practice. Let me help. Besides, I need a job. There’s no way in hell anyone else will hire me after a body was found stabbed to death in a bus that I left unlocked.”

“It didn’t matter if it was locked or unlocked,” Rose scoffed. “Oga went through the skylight.”

Tillie should have felt relief on hearing that Ogawa didn’t enter bus through doors she forgotten to lock. She would have thanked him if she wasn’t screaming, “Watch out!”

Ogawa steered the bus to the left, missing by mere inches the car parked along the edge of the highway. The man chatting on his cell phone hadn’t even noticed he was a millisecond away from becoming road kill.

Gripping the wheel tightly, Ogawa asked, “Are you sure you can grab the wheel safely and take over without tipping us over?”

“No problem. I’ve done it before,” Tillie lied.

Tillie saw Ogawa staring into the side rearview mirror. She could hear the sirens gaining on them. She knew the Take A Chance bus was close behind, although she had no idea who was driving. She prayed silently it wasn’t Betty. Her friend could probably run into three cars, a truck and a goat while sitting at a stop sign.

“Untie her, Rose,” Ogawa demanded.

Rose growled at him. “Are you sure?”

“Do it,” he insisted.

With her nostrils flared, Rose reached down and untied Tillie’s hands. Tillie rubbed her wrists for a few seconds before bending over and untying her ankles.

“Stand up,” Rose demanded.

Tillie immediately lifted herself up and reached for her jacket.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rose snapped.

“I don’t want you or your hubby staring at my tits,” Tillie explained.

Ogawa demanded, “Let her put it on Rose. It’ll draw less attention from truck drivers that pass.”

Rose mumbled a few Serbian words while Tillie quickly grabbed her jacket and zipped it up. She could feel the pistol rubbing against her side. With any luck, she’d be able to grab the gun as she drove.

“Get in front,” Rose yelled, and pushed her toward the seated Ogawa.

Tillie watched Ogawa deftly push his seat backwards, while maintaining control of the bus. Keeping one foot on the gas, he partially stood up and yelled, “Slide!”

She understood what to do. She slid underneath Ogawa, as he lifted his lean torso up and away from the seat. He continued to hold onto the steering wheel. As soon as Tillie’s rear hit the seat she grabbed the wheel. Ogawa quickly let go, and Tillie placed her foot on the gas pedal. In a matter of seconds the two had exchanged places.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Ogawa demanded.

Tillie understood he was concerned she’d choose to slam on the brakes or crash the bus on purpose, hoping she’d live, even if no one else did.

“I won’t,” she lied, just as she felt the cylinder of a handgun press into her temple.

Tillie was impressed. Not only was Ogawa a great actor, he was also a master pickpocket.

Betty clicked on the windshield wipers, causing Tillie’s shirt to fly into the air. It landed in a snow-covered meridian strip on the highway. She was terrified of the driving conditions but grateful the road was recently plowed. From her viewpoint, the entire planet looked as if it were sculpted from snow and ice.

Betty’s foot continued to press heavily on the gas pedal as she struggled with shifting.
Clutch up … gas pedal down … clutch up
, she kept repeating to herself over and over. It was the only thing she remembered from Driver’s Ed forty years earlier. That, and if the engine sounded like it was about to break in two from grinding, something needed to be done immediately—like shifting, clutching, braking, and mumbling seventeen Hail Marys.

Lori asked, “Do you think we should slow down to let the cops pass?”

“I’m afraid if I slow down, I’ll kill the engine. If they want to pass us, they will.” She hoped it were that easy. “Reach into my purse,” she instructed. “Grab my iPod and plug it into the speaker. Play anything. It’ll help me focus better on my driving.”

A blaring film score would be better to listen to than police sirens. Plus, the powerful, emotional music would reinforce her feelings of being a warrior woman.

Lori did as requested, and as the music started, Betty shouted, “Not that one! Any album but that one! John William’s poignant score to
Schindler’s List
was not what Betty needed to hear at the moment. She already had enough to cry about, without listening to that.

Lori clicked on the
Raiders of the Lost Ark
.

“Perfect!” Betty said. Indiana Jones to the rescue. The first few notes immediately made her feel like she was destined to be Tillie’s heroine after all.

Lori lowered the volume and said, “I have to ask you a question.”

The bus hit another patch of ice and began to slide into the next lane. Betty hung onto the wheel with all of her strength. She managed to maneuver the bus back into the proper lane.

When she caught her breath Betty answered, “Sure.”

Lori’s voice sounded angry. “What were you and Tillie thinking? Why were you playing cops and robbers at your age?”

Betty didn’t take offense. She knew Lori had a right to be mad at her for doing something so idiotic. “I told you, we were looking for evidence.”

“Didn’t it cross your mind how dangerous that was? If I did anything like that, you’d skin me alive,” Lori protested.

Feeling chagrined, Betty explained, “We weren’t going in completely blindsided. We had a plan.”

“Oh, a plan?” Lori answered sarcastically. “Well, that’s good to know. How’s that plan working for you?”

“Not so great,” Betty answered, her eyes focused on the speeding fourteen-ton vehicle in front of her that held her friend captive.

“So, did you find anything in your quest?” Lori asked.

“Like I said before, counterfeiting equipment, plastic strips that can trick a slot machine into paying out. That sort of thing.”

“Anything else?”

Betty waited before she answered. It would be painful to tell her niece the truth, but she couldn’t lie to her anymore. “A handgun.”

“Handgun! Was it loaded?”

“Probably.”

“Where is it?”

“We’re chasing it.”

**

“It’s hard to concentrate with you holding a nine-millimeter to the side of my head,” Tillie said as pleasantly as she could. Now was not the time to tick Ogawa off, not with a Glock in his hand.

“Funny, you didn’t think it would be hard to concentrate when this little goodie was nestled in your pocket,” Ogawa reminded her.

While keeping her eyes on the road for patches of ice, passing cars, possible stray wildlife like deer or moose, Tillie said, “I gotta say, you’re one hell of a thief, Ogawa. I didn’t feel a thing when you lifted the gun from me.”

Rose piped in from behind. “My Oga can do anything. He’s a magician, a singer, a contortionist, a ...”

“Contortionist?” Tillie interrupted.

Rose puffed up and folded her arms in triumph. “See Oga, I told you she was stupid. She doesn’t even know what that is.”

Tillie knew what the word meant. It just surprised her she hadn’t thought of it before. A contortionist, especially one as small as Ogawa, could have squeezed his upper torso through the tiny skylight and surprise Farsi with a knife in his back.

“Mr. Ogawa, do you do all that weird stuff like dislocating your shoulders to fit into places?” She asked, nonchalantly.

“It’s called double-jointed, idiot!” Rose barked.

Tillie envisioned Rose’s Oga during the coffee break at Tyler Falls. The rest of her passengers were inside the truck stop. They were loading up on candy treats and tourist trinkets while Ogawa changed from acting like an old man courting death, to a world-class contortionist. As agile as he was, he easily could have climbed onto the top of the bus, and used his skills to reach into the crammed space and stab Farsi.

That part was clear to her. What she didn’t understand was why he killed Farsi, and Slevitch? Especially if they were part of a family as Ogawa claimed, and not just crooks.

Rose waved her hands frantically and pointed toward the rear of the bus. “They’re gaining on us!”

“Faster,” Ogawa demanded.

Tillie glanced quickly at the speedometer. She was already pushing seventy miles an hour in conditions that warranted forty, max. Not only was there ice and snow on the road, the gusts of wind were growing stronger causing snowflakes to frantically swirl in the air. A blizzard was forming right in front of her eyes.

“Look at that!” Rose screamed and pointed toward the other side of the highway, where two speeding highway patrol cars were coming from the other direction.

Tillie could hear their piercing blasts as their lights flashed red. At the very last instant, a patrol car swerved around a slow moving snowplow. Tillie knew there was no way the patrol cars could cross the snow covered median. But the fact they were there meant the authorities to the north knew what was going on as well. Ogawa must have realized that little bit of insight as well.

He said, “Get off at the next exit, or sooner if you can find a way to do it.”

Tillie nodded, knowing there was no way she was going to attempt to play hopscotch on a snow-covered embankment. Not yet, not while there was a chance she could still live. She also didn’t want to pull off road and drive over what looked like white, bare flat tracts of land. In the winter what looked like simple plains could be very misleading. Frozen ground wasn’t necessarily hidden beneath. Underneath the snow a half-frozen lake might be waiting. Its thick layer of ice would shatter like crystal under the weight of the bus.

“Where are we heading? Winnipeg?” Tillie asked, keeping her eyes on the road. With every hill she ascended she prayed there wasn’t a slow moving anything on the other side. Hitting a deer at the speed she was going could kill them as easily as running into a stalled semi or a parked snowplow.

“Maybe,” Ogawa answered, “maybe not.”

“We have to go there, Oga. Boris will be waiting for us,” Rose reminded him.

Tillie took the opportunity to ask, “Is Boris your son? He looks like you Rose. He’s so handsome.” Tillie knew Boris didn’t look anything like Rose. But what mother wouldn’t take that little lie to be the truth?

“I know,” Rose answered.

“And the showgirls, your daughters?” Tillie asked.

“My nieces,” Rose said her face taking on a concerned look.

Tillie jumped at the chance to chum up to Rose. “Are you worried about them? They’re so young. Are you afraid the cops grabbed them before they could get away?”

Rose shook her head. “They know what to do. I’m sure they’re safe. But, thank you for asking.”

That was the first time Rose had ever thanked Tillie for anything, or been civil to her. For a brief second, Tillie thought she might be able to wheedle herself into the family, after all. She shook her head in disgust at even entertaining the thought for a moment. Larceny may have been in her background, but murder would never be in her future.

Tillie asked coyly, “So was Farsi your brother or cousin?”

Stone cold silence was the only answer to her question. Rose just dropped her head, and Oga’s face grew sterner. Tillie continued anyway. “And Slevitch? Was he your relative, too? And are the girls ...”

“Shut up and drive,” Ogawa yelled.

Tillie bit her lip. She’d find out, soon enough, who everyone was. If she lived, that is.

The terrain was becoming hillier as they advanced farther north. With every incline she braced herself. The speedometer read seventy-one mph. For the first time in her life, she might push a bus to eighty.

As soon as she reached the next hilltop, Tillie saw the lone man in the distance. Around a mile and a half up the road a patrol car was parked horizontally across the highway. A single patrolman stood on the side of the car, aiming his pistol straight at them.

Tillie instantly analyzed the situation. There was no way she could drive around the car without putting the officer’s life in peril. The bus would certainly clip the patrol car and both the car and the man would be catapulted into eternity.

Tillie reached over to shift the gears down when Ogawa screamed, “Don’t slow down.”

She cautiously placed her foot lightly on the brake as Ogawa pushed the gun harder into her temple. He demanded, “Turn off the road.”

“Where?” Tillie asked straining to see an exit through the frosty window. “I don’t see an exit.”

Ogawa bellowed, “Turn!”

He placed his free hand on the wheel and began to steer it to the right. Tillie had to go along with his actions. If she tried to yank the wheel back to the left, they’d end up rolling over for sure. Or worse yet, Ogawa could pull the trigger, either by accident or not.

“I’ll do what you want,” she screamed.

Ogawa released his hand. Tillie could feel the hair on the nape of her neck stand in terror. She took a deep breath and, with all of her strength, turned the steering wheel one hundred and sixty degrees. The bus ran over a bump of some kind and soared in the air for a moment and then landed, continuing upright.

Without losing a beat, Tillie steered down the side of the ditch and then up the other side. As soon as she reached the top, the rear of the bus hit the embankment and fishtailed left, and then right. The bus, still going at a dangerous speed, toppled over. The last thing Tillie saw was her world turn upside down—then going blacker than she could ever have imagined.

**

Betty and Lori each let out a cry of anguish at the same moment. They’d watched in horror as Boris’ bus swerved off the road and tumbled on its side ahead of them. Betty began breaking.

“Tillie!” Betty whispered quietly. At that very moment, two patrols car sped past toward the wreckage. Severson’s car was in the lead.

Along the side of the road, the bus was lying like a gigantic, purple and white coffin on wheels. Betty could see the dents and crunches in Boris’ smiling, painted image that decorated the entire side. Both State Highway Patrol cars and the local police pulled up alongside of the accident. Policemen jumped out of their cars, pulled out their pistols and raced toward the wreckage. News trucks arrived and reporters and cameraman jumped out.

Betty continued her struggle with shifting, clutching and braking as she slowed. She managed to reach the scene without killing the engine, and pulled the bus up behind a police cruiser. As soon as she stopped, she opened the door and she and Lori rushed out.

“Tillie will be okay. I know she’ll be okay, ” Lori said as they raced along the highway’s shoulder, each of them slipping on the salt and ice as they ran.

“She has to be,” Betty answered, knowing it would be unbearable to think otherwise. When they were within a few yards of the bus, a patrolman rushed up to them, his firearm drawn.

“Stop right there!” he demanded.

Severson heard the command and turned to look. He yelled, “They’re okay. You can let them by.”

The patrolmen lowered his gun and Betty and Lori rushed over to the sheriff.

“Why are you here?” she spat out quickly as her shoes pressed into the crunch snow that surrounded her feet.

Sheriff Severson grimaced. “I was going to ask you the same thing. What the hell were the two of you thinking, trying to chase down a speeding motor coach?”

“We weren’t thinking, “ Betty admitted. “But I meant, how did you know to follow us so quickly?”

The sheriff answered disgustedly. “We were a few minutes away from apprehending Ogawa when you took off after him. We’re planning to arrest him and his gang for murder and counterfeiting, if he’s not dead that is.”

Lori asked, “You knew about the secret room?”

The sheriff looked at her confused. “Not until you just mentioned it. We found a phony bill in the one of the slot machines. It had Rose’s fingerprints all over it. Then we figured out one of the showgirls was the one who broke into the penthouse suite, trying to frame Tillie.”