Murder is the Pits (33 page)

The starter waved the caution flag with one
hand and angrily thrust black and red flags at Demon, Thunder, and
Hell who were now pursuing each other around the infield. Obviously
intent on getting even and not the race, the mini-cars ignored the
starter and chased each other in circles until they all eventually
were bogged down in muck, the final remnants of Hurricane
Jeanne.

The race finished under the caution flag
with Chris in the lead followed by Woody and Team NASA.

Chris lapped the track one time, then pulled
in at the finish line. Timothy was waiting to unhitch her helmet. A
moment later, the top of her car popped open and Chris stood, arms
held high and bowed to the crowd. Carl and his
Star Trek
friends went into a frenzy of extraterrestrial victory cries. The
people sitting around them probably wished an alien ship would
appear and beam them up.

The announcer called a brief intermission as
Mr. Hart, the starter, and several speedway security personnel
stomped across the track for a conference with Hell, Thunder, and
the Demons. A lot of finger pointing, hand waving, and nodding
later, the track crew stalked back to the grandstands and the bag
race was announced.

Considering the bizarre shenanigans that had
just transpired, I was absolutely stunned by Ruthie’s serenity. We
took our places in the Corolla and put on our helmets. Ruthie
snapped her visor shut without hesitation. A clue I missed at the
time. Once again, Timothy hooked the Hutchins tethers to our
helmets.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the loudspeaker
blared, “proceed to the starting line.”

Good thinking, no bags until we were out of
the pits. We lined up in front of the grandstand, outside second
row. A moment later, Andrew’s assistant reached in the window and
placed a bag over Ruthie’s helmet. I didn’t detect a wince or
whimper. Something was very strange. Had Penny Sue given Ruthie a
couple of tranquilizers? Lord, I hoped not.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Ruthie flicked her wrist. “Better than
ever,” she said loudly.

Uh oh, I knew that tone. It was Millie!
Gawd, should I be happy or sad? Millie had lived a long time ago.
Could she drive? Did they even have cars in her day? The starter
shook his finger at me, and I put my hands on the outside of the
car. “Now, let’s start off slowly, going straight. Like we
practiced,” I started. “When I say—”

“Thanks, Leigh, but we’ll be fine,” Ruthie
replied.

Oh, crap
was my last thought before
the green flag came down.

Ruthie eased on the accelerator, and we were
off. The Demon car to our left was moving erratically and suddenly
went through the infield where it promptly mired.

“The guy on our inside just ran off the
track,” I told Ruthie. “If you ease to the left, you can pass the
lead cars on the inside.”

Ruthie waved off my comment. “We’re fine,
Leigh, don’t worry.”

Ruthie turned the wheel and expertly guided
the Corolla to the inside, passing the cars in the lead.

“Millie’s directing you, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she thinks it’s fun. She wasn’t
allowed to drive in her day.” Ruthie giggled.

Good Lord, what was I in for? “Don’t drive
too fast,” I cautioned. “Go just fast enough to stay ahead. If you
zip around the track, the judges will know something’s up.”

Ruthie nodded. “Millie wants you to know
that she was always honorable and wouldn’t commit this dastardly
deed if the race weren’t for charity.”

As it turned out, my worries about being
conspicuous were unfounded. The cars behind us provided such a
show, no one noticed the DAFFODILS car. Out of the clear blue,
Racing Thunder simply crashed into the wall. Luckily they weren’t
going fast. Then Hell on Wheels moved into second spot, only to be
bumped by the NASA team. The two cars spun into the infield. That
left Woody and the realtors—driving cautiously. To them, five laps
must have seemed like an eternity, but to us—thanks to Millie—it
was a piece of cake. I had a slight tinge of guilt about our
otherworldly help, but shed it fast when I remembered the
storeowners from the interview.

Once again the DAFFODILS crossed the finish
line first. As we did the victory lap to the finish line—Ruthie was
allowed to take off her bag to insure we made it—I told Millie,
“You have to leave now. We like you, and we appreciate all the help
you’ve given us, but it’s time for you to go home. Millie, do you
hear me?”

On the back straightaway, Ruthie twitched
and immediately opened her visor. “Millie’s gone back to the Casa
Monica. She says there’s a good party going on there. If we get a
chance, Millie said we should come up. She had fun with us.”

Ruthie was back to her shy self by the time
we reached the finish line. She waved self-consciously to the crowd
and took off for the pits. Once again our alien friends—the
Klingons and Romulans—went into full victory whoops.

The third, final, and toughest contest was
the bus race. It was fitting that Penny Sue was the driver,
considering all the terrorist avoidance classes she’d taken. True
to form, Penny Sue took a swig of oxygenated-water, slapped on her
helmet, and strapped into her seat. She and Annie did several sound
checks, then Penny Sue raised her thumb, ready to go.

There was some confusion at the starting
line with buses getting out of the proper order. Too difficult to
fix, the judges decided to leave it alone, meaning Hell on Wheels
(the teenagers) were on Penny Sue’s inside instead of the
Demons.

“Annie, we’ve won the last two races, I’m
going to win this one, too,” Penny Sue said.

“
You will if you listen to me,” a male
voice replied.

Penny Sue glanced at the spotters’ booth
where Annie was pointing to her headset and shaking her head.

“
Who the hell are you? Get off this
channel, I can’t hear my spotter.”

“
Who worked on your helmets and
headsets?”

“
Larry?”

“
I go by that name sometimes. Listen
carefully. There are some very mean people who plan to kill you in
this race. I’m here to see that they don’t succeed.”

“
Where are you?”

“
I’m in what remains of the billboard
next to the digital time clock. Penny Sue, you have to do exactly
what I say. Your life depends on it.”

“
Okay, but who’s after me?

“
Racing Thunder, which is part of Al’s
mob. They don’t want you to give a deposition. They figure if they
kill you, Leigh and Ruthie will be too scared to talk. The Speed
Demons are Russian and trying to protect you because they want you
to testify. Their mob wants Al put away so they can horn in on his
drug operation. It was the Russians who nailed your
assassins.”

“
Our assassins? The guy on the balcony
and the casino guy?”

“
Them and a couple of others. Now listen,
whatever you do, stay to the inside. Racing Thunder is going to try
to push you over the wall.”

“
Inside? I’ve got Hell on Wheels next to
me.”

“
They won’t be for long. Stay exactly
beside them. Don’t try to pass or make a move. I’ll take care if
it. Are you with me?”

“
How do I know you’re who you say you are
and not one of Al’s goons?”

“
You haven’t been out of my mind since I
first saw you.”

“
You sent the roses?”

“
An old friend of yours from Roswell
asked me to send them, Honey Bunny.”

“
Rich!”

The starter waved the green flag and the
buses took off. Penny Sue stayed against the wall, matching the
speed of her second row opponent.

“
Take your foot off the gas,
now.”

Hell on Wheels moved ahead and there was a
sudden ping. Hell’s front tire started to go flat and the bus
dropped back, finally pulling into the infield.

“
Pull into that inside spot,
now!”

Penny Sue did it, with Woody slipping into
her position. As this was going on, Racing Thunder was running next
to the Speed Demons and nudging them at every opportunity.

“
Drop back, Thunder’s trying to flip
Demons over the wall and Thunder may succeed at the next
turn.”

Penny Sue did as instructed and Woody pulled
ahead, right on the tail of the Demons. As they came down the
backstretch, another ping sounded. What do you know? Thunder’s
front left tire started to lose air.

“
Drop back, drop back, give him
room.”

Penny Sue let off the gas and was rammed
from behind by Team NASA. The rear of her bus skidded to the right,
dusting the wall. She hung a hard right and corrected the skid.

“
Good move,” Larry said in her ear.
“Watch Woody, he’s starting to weave.

For that matter, everyone except Penny Sue
was driving like they were drunk.

“
These people are crazy,” Larry called.
“Drop low and floor it.”

“
Don’t worry, I know what to do.”

Penny Sue set her jaw, hung a left, and put
the pedal to the metal. She passed the other buses as if they were
standing still. The starter was berserk, stabbing the black flag at
the other buses. Penny Sue ignored it all and kept a hefty lead for
the rest of the race.

Once again, the DAFFODILS came in first—a
clean sweep. Of course, we had some help, but hey, it was a charity
race! All the money went to hurricane victims. Our clean sweep also
meant the Hamptons crowd had to pony up an extra $100,000. Oh well,
they could afford it!

We were in our pit area, ogling the trophy
and doing press interviews, when a small caravan of grey Crown Vics
with dark windows sped down the track and surrounded the Speed
Demons and Racing Thunder. Men with guns piled out of the cars and
circled the teams. Surprisingly, the mobsters put up little
resistance. In fact, some of them seemed to be laughing.

“I wonder what that’s about?” Ruthie
said.

“I’ll tell you later,” Penny Sue replied
nonchalantly. Then suddenly panic crossed her face. “Where’s
Guthrie?”

“Here I be,” he answered, staggering up.

Timothy’s eyes narrowed. “Guthrie, have you
been into the booze?”

Guthrie stumbled backward. “No man, like, I
was helping win the race.”

Timothy was not amused. “Win the race? I did
everything you were supposed to do.”

“I made the brownies.” Guthrie gave us a
goofy grin.

“Big deal,” Timothy said. “They were good,
but nothing special.”

Guthrie swayed like a wet sock in the wind.
“Yours weren’t, but theirs were.”

“Exlax,” Frannie May exclaimed. “I knew
it!”

Timothy gave Guthrie the squinty eye. “It
wasn’t Exlax, it was grass, wasn’t it? You promised you’d given up
all that hippie stuff.”

“Well, I had a few bags left from the olden
days.” Guthrie was still wobbling. “I knew this thing was for the
hurricane victims, and the Hamptons people had promised a lot of
money if the DAFFODILS won every race.” Guthrie put his face within
an inch of Timothy’s. “You know, I us-sed to be an accountan-nt. I
got a list of pledges and figured the victims would get the most
money if the DAFFODILS made a clean sweep. So, like, I decided to
make sure they won.” Guthrie shook his head. “I wasn’t being
crooked or anything, I only wanted those poor people to get the
most money they could get.”

“If that grass was from the olden days, it
had to be moldy. You may have poisoned people,” Timothy said
sternly.

“It was vacuum packed in those boiling bags
you see on TV and I’ve kept it frozen.”

“Frozen? How could you keep it frozen for
twenty years, through all of these hurricanes?”

Guthrie swayed. “I was careful. What do you
think I needed the ice for when I put the chicken on my knee?”

Timothy put his hands on his hips and
stared. I held my breath. Was he going to deck Guthrie? Suddenly,
Timothy threw back his head and laughed. “All these years you had
me bringing you ice and dry ice, it was to store your old grass?
Man, you are one piece of work.” Timothy reached out and pulled his
staggering buddy to his chest. “You are the biggest pain I’ve ever
known, but your heart is in the right place.” Timothy sat Guthrie
on the ground with a bottle of water. “Tell me the truth, is that
the last of it?”

Guthrie looked sad. “Yeah, that’s it. My
youth is over. I guess I’ll have to be responsible now.”

Fat chance, I thought, trying not to
smile.

As this drama unfolded, Annie was busy
loading her mini-cup car on its trailer with Chris’ help. Finished,
she returned to the group at about the time Timothy sat Guthrie on
the ground.

“Penny Sue, I don’t know what happened in
the bus race,” Annie started to apologize. “My headphone went dead.
I have no idea what happened. Our sound checks were fine. I’m sorry
I let you down, but it looks like you didn’t need me after
all.”

Penny Sue put her arm around Annie’s
shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.” Penny Sue pointed at a man coming
our way. “He’s the culprit.”

Frannie May took one look at the man and
went into hysterics. “Enrico! I thought you were dead!”

Our Larry, the fisherman, was Fran’s Uncle
Enrico? Enrico, the man of mystery that no one in Fran’s family
knew how he made his living and was afraid to ask? Uncle Enrico,
who’d vanished one day without a trace, leaving behind a large
trunk stocked with sniper rifles, knives, and other weapons that
Fran kept stored in her attic?

Fran ran toward Larry/Enrico. He picked her
up and twirled her around with kisses and mutterings about Little
Francy.

Back on her feet, Frannie May gave him the
once over. “You look good. But, you worried me to death!” She
smacked his face lightly. “How could you do that to your
family?”