Sneak Thief (A Dog Park Mystery) (18 page)

Lia could see Terry duck his head in modesty. “I'd like to think—” Lia heard a rachetting that sounded like the pump stroke on a shot gun.

Terry jumped back. “What the . . . that's . . . .”

“The only daughter I recognize is named Remington. Now get out of here, you filthy Satan-worshipping liberal hippie!”

Terry backed away a few feet until the door slammed shut, then jogged briskly to the truck. He leapt in, cranked the motor and tore down the street, saying nothing. Lia noticed his face was red. She waited until they were safely around the corner and driving at a safe speed before she spoke.

“Blood pressure up?”

“I was not anticipating a brush with death. That is not the usual response to a condolence call. The man was clearly mistaken in his estimation of my motives.”

“Obviously,” Lia agreed, keeping her voice suitably serious. “I take it the camo didn't impress him. What was it he called you? I couldn't quite hear,” she lied.

Terry muttered something indecipherable.

“I did discover one thing,” he said finally.

“In the two seconds you were at the door? What was that.”

“The man is no stranger to firearms.”

L
ia tapped
on the doorjamb to Dave's cubbyhole office. Dave looked up from the time sheets he was totaling and raised an eyebrow at the stack of index cards in her hand.

“I just wanted to ask you about the bid cards for the silent auction. Should I put them out now, or wait until after the service?”

“Put them out now. No one will be going down to the basement until the auction starts.”

Lia toyed with the top card. “I hate to see the necklace go.”

“The purple crystal? You should keep it.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Without you, Desiree would still be in cold storage and Three Sisters wouldn't have a sizable donation coming in. She'd want you to have it. We can spare one item from the auction.”

“Thanks, Dave. I'll treasure it. And thanks for letting me bring Julia.” Julia, lying by Dave's feet, wore a big pink bow around her neck and a tee shirt that said “I'm an Orphan, Adopt Me,” on the back. She looked up when Lia said her name and thumped her tail on the floor. “And you, Missy,” Lia said to the pup, “best behavior. No running off with cell phones or car keys.”

Bailey was first to arrive for the invitation-only event. “I thought you might need a hand.”

“I think we're okay until it's time for the food to come out, and I believe the cooks have that handled. Dave has the coffee all ready to start perking once the service begins. Maybe you could look at the auction tables and tell me what you think?”

They descended to the basement, set aglow with tiny, multi-colored Christmas lights vining around the ceiling pipes like an invasion of kudzu.

“It's . . . a basement.” Bailey commented, looking around at the concrete walls.

“Yep. They have bands down here sometimes. Has more of that underground club feel, don't you think? Help me rearrange this table,” Lia said, crossing to the other side of the room. “Dave said I should keep the amethyst. That would be alright, wouldn't it?”

“I don't see why not. We're bringing in plenty of cash on eBay with Desiree's collection of lingerie.”

“You can't be serious.” Lia stared at Bailey, horrified. “Tell me you didn't.”

“Did. Posted links on the YouTube video, and we're getting bids in the hundreds. The brassiere she was wearing in the video is now at $1,837 and the auction isn't over until tomorrow night.

Lia shook her head. “Shame she didn't live longer. She could have been the next William Hung. It will buy a lot of kibble, anyway. There's something I don't understand.”

Bailey tilted her head, waiting for Lia's question.

“You're a feminist. Why are you auctioning off her intimate apparel? Isn't that a violation of sorts?”

“I didn't know her as well as you did, but from every thing I've seen, she got a kick out of being noticed. Taking pride in her sexuality was a way for her to make a feminist statement. She would see this as becoming a minor sex-goddess, and be pleased that the devotion of her followers will do so much good for homeless dogs. . . . I know, not how you or I might see it, but that was Desiree. She enjoyed being an object of desire.”

“You're doing this to
honor
her?” Lia blinked with disbelief.

“There isn't anyone lining up to spend two K on my grannie panties. Yours, either. Bids already total more than five grand. Someone must like her.”

Lia didn't know what to say. She turned back to the now pathetic array of vintage and kitsch housewares, CDs, books and costume jewelry and stroked a finger across the purple stone. “I think I'll wear this. Will you find something else to go here while I put this on?”

By 7:00 pm, the back room was packed with mourners. As requested by Dave in the invitation, they were all wearing bright, happy colors to honor Desiree's pseudo-pagan inclinations. Paul Ravenscraft, ordained minister, massage therapist and drummer in a world rhythms band, stood resplendent in a painted silk robe, waiting for the crowd to settle. He tapped the standing mic and nodded to Dave when the PA system issued a loud
THOK, THOK
.

Dave left his post to lock the front door for the duration of the service. He had the key in the lock when a slight, dour man knocked on the door. He wore a black suit that was older than Dave. The fit of the suit was terrible, the jacket bagging in a way that suggested he was wearing several colostomy bags.

“I'm sorry,” Dave said, “this is a private event.”

Paul's voice came over the PA. “As we gather here today to honor the life of Desiree Willis, a beautiful young woman whose adventurous spirit and loving generosity touched all who knew her . . .”

“Can't a loving father grieve his daughter?” The man's eyes were bloodshot and his thin hair greasy and wild. Could it be possible that Desiree's father regretted his treatment of her? Josiah Willis shoved the door open and pushed past Dave. He stopped at the entrance to the back room, taking in the brightly colored crowd. Dave locked the door and joined him, determined to keep him close.

“. . . we take joy and comfort in the thought that she will be returned to the body of the Goddess, becoming one with the earth. Her breath continues to be shared with the earth's atmosphere and with all things that live and all things that die. . . .”

Under Paul's sonorous pagan ode, Dave heard a metallic click. A ring of cold steel pressed against his neck. “That's some grief you've got there,” he said.

Josiah hissed, “Keep quiet and do what you're told.”

L
ia noticed
the derelict wearing a baggy suit and Jesus sandals standing by Dave.
How Odd.
Next to her, she felt Terry stiffen.

“Oh, shit,” Terry muttered. She elbowed him.

“. . . Her blood returns to the streams, the rivers, the oceans and the clouds that float over us all. Her thoughts return again to that great Sky of Mind from which all thoughts arise and return. And that flame which is of Spirit again burns in yet another form. So, in a very real sense, this is not so much a good-bye as a farewell until we meet again, and again, and yet again—”

“Blasphemers!” Josiah screamed. He kept one gun on Dave and shot a second into the ceiling.
That's why his suit was bagging
.
How many more guns does he have?

Everyone stared at the little man standing behind Dave in the doorway.

“Hands in the air!” He shot again, this time putting a hole in the vintage photo-booth in the back corner. “That's right, I'm armed. Don't do anything funny. I've got another gun on this guy, and I'm packing four more. I'm Josiah Willis and that's my daughter you're talking about, so you're all going to listen to what
I
have to say. You, Red.” he waved his gun at Bailey, who was sitting with Lia, Terry and Jose in the back. “You're going to grab that trash can and collect everyone's phones, right after you take this guy's keys. Anyone who tries to call 911 is going to get shot. Get a move on, girlie.”

“What do I do?” Bailey whispered to Lia.

“No talking!” Josiah Willis fired another shot, this time over Bailey's head.

“Humor him!” Lia hissed between her teeth. “Buy time.”

Bailey picked up the wastebasket set under the coffee urn in the back of the room. She took the keys Dave still held in his hand.

“Cell phone, too,” Josiah snarled. Dave dropped it in the plastic bin. One by one, Josiah allowed people to briefly lower their hands to give their cell phones to Bailey. There was a certain amount of noise as people scooted their chairs around to allow her by. Terry used the noise for cover.

“Jose,” he whispered, “I'm packing. How about you?”

“Got my taser,” Jose hissed out of the corner of his mouth. “If I manage to get behind him and zap him, you think that will make him squeeze the trigger, or will he freeze before that happens?”

“It's a distance, but I think I can pull off a head shot from here,” Terry said. “Or I can just shoot through Dave to hit him. Better lose Dave now than after that maniac manages to shoot half of us. It's simple math.”

“Stop it,” Lia hissed. “If the gun is pressed to Dave's head, he'll get tased, too, and the gun will go off when they hit the floor. You'll get Dave killed. As for you,” she whispered to Terry, “you pull your gun and I'll mace you before you can get a shot off. We have to wait until Dave isn't at risk.”

“Who's talking?” Josiah fired again, this time taking out one of the beer bottles displayed on a high shelf that ran around the room. Glass rained down, but mourners were too scared to move. Lia noticed a thin trail of blood forming on the cheek of one woman where she was hit by a glass shard.

Bailey completed her rounds and deposited the phones at the front of the room.

“You!” Josiah waved his gun at Paul. “False preacher! Sit down over there.” Josiah marched Dave over to the mic stand, keeping the gun to Dave's head. “This is better.” His voice boomed through the PA system. “You may rest your hands on your heads. Keep them where I can see them. I should have exterminated this nest of Satan's vipers when Desiree first told me she was working here. . . .”

Mark Hoebbel pressed his sinewy body against the hall wall by the rest rooms, listening. He didn't like to use the men's room at The Comet. The toilet stall was accessed by a swinging, louvered half-door, like in a 19th century Western saloon. The gap between the floor and the bottom of the door was 30”, at least, and if someone opened the men's room door while you were using it, there was a good chance you would flash the ladies passing by on the way to their bathroom. The only protection it afforded was hiding his face, so no one would know whose ass they were seeing. His friends thought his modesty ironic, since his normal attire included jeans belted below his hips.

Despite being in extreme discomfort, he'd waited until he was sure everyone was in the back room and the service was about to start, then he'd slipped out to use the toilet. Now he was the only person in the building not under the control of Desiree's deranged father.

Mark was a good guy, but no way was he going up against a half dozen guns. He slipped out the rear exit to the deck, ran down the steps and cut around the side of the building. Once he felt safe, he leaned against a brick wall and pulled out his phone. Panting, he explained the situation to the 911 operator, then hung up without giving his name. His mom lived up the street. He'd hang on the porch and listen for the sirens from there.
This is gonna be sick. Gotta call the guys, they can't miss this … oh, yeah, they're still inside. . . . Wonder if Mom has any brew?

“. . .
N
ew Age Devil
worshippers poisoned her heart against God, against her own father. You taught her the ways of sin. You sent her home with witch marks upon her skin. Well,
‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!'”

Lia gasped.
Did Desiree's father just confess to killing her?

“. . . contaminated the pure and innocent fruit of my loins. This shall be your last day. But I am merciful. You have led lives of sin against God, but you have one chance to be redeemed before you meet your Maker. You may come up here, one by one to renounce your sinful ways and take Jesus Christ as your own personal savior. You who are saved, I will take you first to lessen your suffering.

“You, Red. Will you be saved?” Josiah's kind invitation sent chills down Lia's back.

Lia elbowed Bailey. “Say yes! Buy time!” she hissed.

Bailey walked up to the front of the room.

“Stop right there!” Josiah commanded when she was six feet away from him. “Kneel!”

Bailey obeyed.

“Repent your sins!”

“I repent,” Bailey croaked, fear strangling her voice.

“Louder! Let the Lord and all his angels in Heaven hear you!”

“I REPENT!” Bailey yelled.