Stiffed (23 page)

‘Barry White’s brother and sister.’
 

We’re slowing for the traffic lights ahead.  Annabelle still has her indicator on to drift into the turning lane.  The Taylor siblings are clearly following Kate, hoping she will lead them to
us and the million dollars.  At some point, they’ll return to where they are staying, with or without Kate’s head on a platter.

‘Stay in this lane,’ I tell Annabelle.  ‘Maybe they’ll lead us back to Jason and Paavo.’

Annabelle cancels the indicator switch.  As we come to a halt at the traffic lights we’re waiting alongside the Taylor’s newly stolen car.  I’m firmly wedged in the foot well, out of sight, clutching the cap.  I’ve no idea whether this is good or bad luck.  It’s probably both, if that’s possible. 

* * *

Annabelle has let two cars slip in between us and the Taylors.  She reckons this is what a private investigator would do to prevent himself being spotted.  Personally, I’m just happy to put a bit of distance between us, though I’m still having trouble deciding whether to sit on the seat or slide back into the foot well.

A police cruiser approaches on the other side of the road.  Instinctively I start to slide down
wards.

‘Stay where you are,’ Annabelle instructs.  ‘Do you want him to get suspicious?’

‘He might recognize me.’

‘Then turn
the other way.  Look, Tadhg, just calm down and try and act naturally.’

‘I am acting naturally.’

‘No you’re not!  You’re like a hyperactive teenager.  Just relax.’

‘Do you have your cell phone, Anna?’ I ask, trying to change the subject
as the police car passes by.  ‘We better call Sally and let her know what’s going on.  Get her to drop back a bit or something.  It’s going to look weird, two Annabelle’s Delights vans in a convoy.’

Annabelle roots in a pocket and hands me her smart phone.  After a bit of fiddling I find her contacts list and scroll down to Sally’s number.  It rings a dozen times before it connects, though nobody speaks.

‘Sally?’ I hazard.  ‘Sally, are you there?’

‘Is that you, Tad, you son of a bitch?’ Redneck says.

Shit!  Redneck still has Sally’s cell phone.

‘You’re a dead man walking, chickenshit.  Do you hear me, boy, a dead man
walking.’

‘How’s the leg?’ I manage to ask.

‘Don’t you worry about my leg, chickenshit.  I’m made of stronger stuff than the average man.  You tried to bash my head in and that didn’t work.  Then you tried to bust my leg, but I’m still walking.  The next time I see you I’m going to shoot first and ask questions later.  We’ll see how tough you are then, chickenshit.’

‘The police are looking for you,’ is the best I can offer as a repost. 

‘Son, the police have been chasing me my whole life.  They’re more chickenshit than you are.’  There’s mumbling in the background, Redneck answering, though I can’t hear what he’s saying.  ‘Look, Tad, I know we haven’t been getting on too well, but I can be a reasonable man.  If you hand over the million dollars, then I’m prepared to let you walk away without consequence.  Now, you can’t say fairer than that, can you?’

‘What makes you think I’ve got the million dollars?’
 

He must be crazy if he thinks I’m going to fall for a ruse like that.  I might not be the bright
est bulb in the chandelier, but I have enough wattage to see past that one.

‘The fact that Kate is st
ill out there searching for you,’ Redneck says.

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I’m following her.’

Following her?  What
the ...?

I
scan across the cars in front of me, but can’t spot him.  I twist round in my seat, but all that’s there is the wall of the cab, so I swing back and stare into the wing mirror. 

We need to get out of here right now!  We’re in a convoy of certain death.

‘Well, I don’t have the million dollars
,’ I snap.  ‘All I have is some worthless cap.’  I end the call.  ‘Turn in here,’ I instruct Annabelle, pointing at the entrance to a Pizza Hut.

‘Why?’

‘Because Redneck is right behind us.’

‘He’s behind us?’

‘For God’s sake, Annabelle, just get off this fucking road!’

She put
s on the indicator and turns into the restaurant car park.  ‘We’re going to lose them, Tadhg.’

‘Good.’

‘What about Jason and Paavo?’

Damn! 
Jason and Paavo.

‘I’ll get Sally.  We can set off again then.
  It’ll be better to be at the back than in the middle.’  I open the door and jog to the other van. 

It would be better to be on a completely different road heading away from Carrick Springs with all due haste.

‘You need to park up and come with us,’ I tell her through her open window.

‘But what about the
van?’

‘Forget about
the van.  Hurry up or we’ll lose them.’

I run back to Annabelle a
s Sally drives to the end of the car park and parks the van.

We roll-up and she hops in, Annabelle already heading back to Telegraph Road before Sally is seated.

‘What’s going on?’ Sally asks.

‘What’s going on was that was a lucky escape,’ I say.  ‘For the last half mile we’ve been following Barry White’s younger brother tailing Psycho-Bitch and Juan.’

‘So why did we stop?’

‘Because Redneck and Cowboy were following us.’

‘Oh my God!’

That about sums it up.
  It seems we finally agree on something.

Annabelle puts her foot down and we cruise along
, searching for the badass convoy.  It doesn’t take long to find them.  The black Taurus is parked at the far end of a Motel 6.  Young Barry is parked a short distance away.  If Redneck and Cowboy are there, I can’t see them.

Annabelle cruises past and parks in the Burger King next door. 

This kind convergence has the potential to turn into another shootout as with the truck stop or the shopping mall.  Only we don’t have any guns, just two frozen corpses that might be used as battering rams.

* * *

It’s coming up to seven thirty in the evening of what has been a sizzling May day.  For the last twenty minutes we’ve been watching the car park of the Motel 6.  Young Barry and Denise are still parked in the same place.  We think that Redneck and Cowboy are on the other side of the road in the car park of a La Quinta Inn.  In half an hour the sun will set and the sky will fade to indigo and eventually an inky blackness peppered with stars.

‘But who killed
Tony Marino?’ Sally asks.   

‘Barry White or Redneck,’ I answer.  ‘They must have come to the house before going to the truck stop.’

‘But what was Marino doing there?  In your house?  Shouldn’t he have been at the truck stop with Psycho-Bitch?’

‘Maybe one of them lured him there?’

‘But how would they know about him?  If he was her ace in the hole?’

‘Jesus, Sally, I don’t know, okay.  I don’t know who killed Marino!’

For the last ten minutes she’s been running through the day, asking an endless series of questions.  One after another, droning on and on and on.  If I survive the madness we seemed to be trapped inside, she’s going to drive me into an asylum.

‘Well, sor
rrry.’

‘Apology accepted.’

‘It wasn’t an apology, Carrothead.’

‘Look, Sally, I know you’ve got emotional or psychological problem
s or whatever the hell they are but, please, just give it a rest.  For all our sakes.’

‘You can’t … tell him, Annabelle; he can’t insult me like that!  I don’t have any emotional problems.’

‘Will the two of you please
stop
,’ Annabelle says.  ‘You’re
both
driving me crazy.’

‘All I was doing was trying to make sense of what has been happening and he has to insult me,’ Sally says.

Neither Annabelle nor I reply, our eyes locked on the car park.

‘Well, pardon me for trying to help,’ Sally continues.

I can’t help but to roll my eyes.  Yesterday I would have pitied Sally being married to her idiot husband and looking after his two brat kids, but now I have nothing but sympathy for the poor bastards.  It must be like living in purgatory.

The door to the silver car opens and
Young Barry steps out. 

At last, some movement.  I was beginning to wonder if we were going to sit here all night.

A second later, Denise exits the car, closing the door behind her and walks round to the driver’s side.  They swap a few words then Denise slips in behind the wheel.  Young Barry heads for the shadows and Denise pulls away.

Annabelle starts the van and reverses from our spot.

‘We’re leaving?’ Sally asks.

‘We’re trying to find Jason and Paavo,’ I say.  ‘Maybe they’re where Barry White’s sister is going.  You can stay here and keep an eye on
everyone else if you want.’

‘There’s no need to be rude; I was only asking what we’re doing.
’

‘And all I was doing was telling you.’

‘Just
stop
!’ Annabelle says.  ‘Before I kill you both.’

We exit the car park back onto Telegraph Road and trail after Denise, keeping our distance. 
A mile later we pass under the interstate and a short distance beyond that the town limits.  Way off to our right, Malachy’s Mill is hidden in the trees.  We continue on for two more miles, heading towards Lyonstown, the traffic gradually thinning.

U
p ahead an indicator light flashes orange and Denise turns off the road, disappearing behind a wall of conifers.  As we near the spot, the iron rail fence and the ornate gateway to the old Foxboro hotel emerges into view.  Up a curving driveway, framed by an overgrown lawn, is the imposing neo-gothic façade of the main building, with its dark cut stone and copper green roof.  Denise is parking near to the front door as we pass.  We continue on, turning half a mile or so further along the road.

The Foxboro Hotel was built in the early twentieth century by Archibald Stewart
, a rich banker made wealthy by the stock market.  Constructed well outside the then small, bustling town of Carrick Springs, it was a ‘build it and they will come’ venture with no expense spared.  As well as sixty bedrooms, there was a large ballroom with a glass roof, an open air swimming pool, an extensive library, and a boat house with a jetty extending into the lake at its rear.  Everything Stewart felt was necessary in order to attract well healed guests from Boston and New York.  After a couple of reasonably successful seasons, Stewart’s wealth evaporated with the 1929 stock market collapse and his hotel’s fortunes followed a similar decline.  Over the years various individuals and consortia have tried to revive its fortunes, the last closing the doors for the final time seven odd years ago.

We creep
along the high wall skirting the property up to where the iron railings start and stare across at the hotel. 

‘This place gives me the creeps,’ Sally says.

She’s not the only one.  Ever since I was a kid this place has unnerved me.  The hotel would make the perfect set for a horror film, with its gothic looks, gargoyles and haunted atmosphere.  

It would also be an ideal place to hide two captives. 

And to get rid of two corpses.

Or to create more.

11

Everything is always okay in the end; if it’s not okay, then it’s not the end.

‘So now what?’
Annabelle says.  ‘Do we follow her in, wait here, or hide the van and find another way into the grounds on foot?’

I shrug.

‘Well, we have to do something, my best employee is probably tied up in there.’

‘And Paavo,’ I mutter.  Sometimes Annabelle’s mercenary qualities float to
o near the surface.  I know she said that to try and motivate us into action, and that she cares deeply about Paavo, but at the same time many a true word is said in haste. 

‘So, how are going to proceed?’

‘I think we should call the cops,’ Sally says.

For once I agree with her.  Now we’ve got to the crunch moment, this doesn’t feel
like such a hot idea.  In fact, it feels like a really terrible one.  The three of us are no match for Barry White and Denise.  My balls are shrinking just at the thought of meeting him again.  He’s one scary dude.  If he smiled, my legs would probably disappear from under me.  With a gun and a temper, I’d have a stroke before the bullets even started flying.  What’s needed is fifty heavily armed cops and a SWAT team.  That should just about be an even match.

‘Maybe Sally’s right,
’ I venture.

‘Well, there’s a first,’ Sally says gloating. 
‘We better make a note of that for the record.  Tiger agrees with Sally.’

‘It took a metaphorical gun to the head for it to happen, so don’t get too excited.’

‘The point is that you finally saw the light and realized that I’ve been right all along.’

‘You haven’t
been right all along.  Just this once.’

‘Oh
, give me a break, you weasel.’

‘Oh-oh,’ Annabelle mutters.

We look over at her, then to the hotel.  Denise and Barry White are descending the short flight of steps and getting in the car.  Barry White is holding a large pistol.

‘Back it up and hide,’ I tell Annabelle.

‘Back it up where?’

‘I don’t know! J
ust back it up so they can’t see us when they leave.’

Annabelle starts to reverse along the road verge
. 

There
’s nowhere to hide.  The wall to the hotel is on one side, the open road on the other.  They’re going to emerge from the gateway at any second and then we’re at the mercy of whether Denise realizes that an Annabelle’s Delights van has been tailing her.

‘
Pull out onto the road and drive past,’ I say. ‘They’ll think we’re just passing traffic.’

‘The wall ends in a couple of mete
rs.’

‘Anna, we don’t have time!
’

Annabelle keeps reversing, shooting past the end of the wall.  In front of us is the entrance to a narrow road
, skirting the hotel grounds.  Annabelle slams on the brakes, puts the van in drive and speeds into the turning.

I have the passenger door open before she’s pulled to a halt.  I run the few meters back to the junction and peer around the corner of the wall.  The silver car has emerged and is turning towards Carrick Springs.  I watch it drive off
, then remember to breathe.

Now that she’
d located Kate, Denise obviously came back to the hotel to collect Barry White for their showdown over the missing million dollars. 

If Jason and Paavo are tied up in the old hotel, they were now on their own
, the whole of the Taylor clan circling round Kate.  All we have to do is find them, set them free and get them out of here. 

Oh, yeah, and dump the bodies of Junior and Marino
.  Then we’re in the clear.  Problem solved.  Everything turns out okay in the end.

‘Well?’ Annabelle says at my shoulder.

I damned near jump straight over the eight foot wall.  Is the woman trying to give me a heart attack? 

‘They’re gone.  Which means Jason and Paavo are alone in
there.  If that’s where they are.’

‘
Come on,’ Anna tugs my shirt.  ‘Let’s go and look for them before the Munsters return.’

* * *

The van is parked at the edge of the car park.  The plan is that I find Jason and Paavo and free them, whilst Annabelle and Sally hide Junior and Marino in the shrubbery for the police to find later.

I’ve left them to
that task, crossing the weed-infested tarmac and climbing the short flight of stairs to large wooden double doors studded with black bolts.  There had been a heavy padlock in place to keep out unwanted intruders, but like the lock to the main gates it’s lying on the ground. 

I twist the handle and tug
the right hand door open.  I hesitate before entering, listening for any sounds within. 

The place really does give me the creeps.  I visited it a couple of times when it was still open under the tenure of the last owners. 
At the time the interior had been dark slate floors and elaborately carved wooden paneling with brooding landscape paintings and animal heads hanging on the walls.  It was if some gothic, Scottish castle had been scooped up and transported across the Atlantic.

I step across the threshold.  It’s gloomy inside, despite the setting sun shining on the tall, narrow windows.  The reception area is
pretty much as it was, except the paintings and animal heads have disappeared.  In front of me a grand staircase rises up half a floor then splits left and right, curving up to the landing above.  To the right is the reception area, an office in behind it, and to the left the entrance to the bar-cum-restaurant.

As I remember it, t
he design is basically a large rectangular donut, the hole consisting of the two storey ballroom with a glass roof and full length windows along the south side giving a view of the open air swimming pool.  Surrounding the ballroom and swimming pool are, to the north, the bar/restaurant and the large library, to the east the stage area and guest bedrooms, to the south a row of bedrooms, and to the west a short set of bedrooms and the reception lobby.  Upstairs the donut consists of nothing but bedrooms, down below is a maze of service rooms – kitchens, launderette, stores and so on.

I doubt the Munsters, as Annabelle calls them, would have ventured far into building.  I start to head left towards what used to be the bar/restaurant. 

I’ve only taken two paces when there’s a noise to my right.  Underneath the right split in the staircase, a route through to the ballroom, is another Barry White clone, this one carrying a lot more weight, with a head of short dark hair.  In his left hand is a handgun which he’s pointing at me.  A medium-sized one, dark grey in color.  The kind that shoots bullets that kills people.

‘Who the fuck are you motherfucker?’
  His voice isn’t quite so deep and sonorous as his elder brother, but it’s still an octave below a fog horn.

I think my bowels have just done a triple back somersault with a double twist in the pike position. 
Barry White must have got his whole family to travel up to Carrick Springs to deal with Kate and Redneck and snatch back the million dollars.  I guess we were pretty dumb to think that they’d leave Jason and Paavo unattended. 

The story of our day so far.

Behind me the front door clunks open.  I glance back to see Annabelle and Sally rush into the lobby.

‘What is this,’
Fat Barry says, ‘an episode of Scooby-Doo?’

I use the distraction to start to shuffle sideways to
wards the far side of the staircase.  I know there’s another door under the left branch of the stairs that leads down between the ballroom and the bar/restaurant towards the library.

‘Redneck’s is coming up the drive,’ Annabelle says skidding to a stop.

‘Who the
fuck
is Redneck?’ Fat Barry booms.  ‘Now get your hands on your heads where I can see ’em.’

‘The guy your brother stole the million do
llars from,’ Annabelle answers, raising her hands.

‘For fuck’s sake!
  Fucking rednecks.’

That about sums it up
, though I have a few others to add to the ‘fucking list’ including fucking ex-girlfriends and her badass partner in crime, Fat Barry’s fucking brothers and sister, and the fucking Pirelli clan.

Outside a car comes to a halt, followed by two car doors slamming.  We’re about to become piggy in the middle of a gun fight.  A
nd as much as that might be quite exhilarating, I prefer my thrills to be a damn sight less dangerous.  Like playing Kerplunk or jumping around on a bouncy castle.

I glance at Annabelle and Sally trying to attract their attention.  I manage to catch Sally’s startled ey
es and nod towards where we need to head.  I’ve no idea if she understands what I’m trying to communicate.

Just as I’m taking a deep breath, read
ying myself to yell my order, Annabelle beats me to it.

‘RUN!’

I grab Sally’s arm and dash for cover behind the rising staircase and its stone balustrades and banisters.

There’s a loud crack that seems to reverberate around the room and I feel a twinge in my hair.  I land on the cold slate floor, Sally tumbling on top of me. 

There are four more shots from at least two different guns.

Holy crap!

I push Sally off and right myself so that I’m on all fours.  I raise my head and sneak a peek between two balustrades.

The front door is pushed open, but the lobby is empty.  There’s no sign of Annabelle.  She must have run the other way. 
Hopefully she’s okay.  If she’s got any sense, she’ll find a way out of here and go and raise the alarm, leaving me to find Jason and Paavo.

I spot a
Crusaders cap at the bottom of the stairs.  I reach up and touch my hair. 

Oh
God, it’s
the
Crusaders cap.  A supposed million dollars sitting in no man’s land.

There’s another shot from the doorway.
  Then some shouting, the rattle of a machine gun and the sound of ricochets pinging off the hotel façade.  It appears that Redneck and Cowboy are now the piggies in the middle.  Only they have guns with which to fire back. 

We were clearly spotted tagging after Denise and followed in
a convoy out to the old hotel.  And now we’re stuck inside the musty mansion.  Shit!

‘Tiger?’
Sally says like a lost child.

‘Yeah?’
I mutter, digging the pager Pirelli gave me from the pocket of my jeans.

‘I don’t want to die.’

‘None of us want to die.’  Well, at least not right now.

I press the green button as instructed.  Then push it half a dozen times more and jam it back into my pocket.  I’ve no idea whether we’re near enough to a
cell mast that’ll work out here, but summoning Pirelli seems like a good idea.  If anyone has the muscle and know-how to sort this madness out, it’s him.

‘I have kids
to look after.’

‘You’re not going to die.’

I focus my attention back on the cap.  If I don’t retrieve it now, then it’s lost.  Any moment soon the Memphis mob are going to fight their way through the front door, no doubt followed by whoever is firing at them.  Crouching, I dash, from our hiding place and grab the cap.

There are
two more shots from where Fat Barry is holed up.  I’m not sure if they were aimed at me or the front door.  I don’t really much care as long as I’m unscathed.

I dive back behind the staircase
.

‘What are you doing, you moron!’ Sally says as way of praise.  ‘Are you trying to get
yourself killed?’

‘I was
retrieving the million dollars.’

There are two holes near the top of the cap. 
I push my finger through then touch my hair.  I’ve clearly had a lucky escape.  If it were possible to buy luck, I’d like to trade the cap for a triple dose.  What was I thinking, bringing the damn cap with us?  We should have hidden it somewhere so we had something to bargain with.

‘That thing’s not worth a million dollars
!’ Sally screeches.  ‘It’s just a cap.’  She hits me on the arm. 

I have this horrible feeling that she’s about to slip into hysterics.  I’ve no idea what you’re meant to do with a hysterical woman other than slap them round the face
and tell them to pull themselves together.  And I suspect that’s only a dramatic effect for the big screen and not what you’re really meant to do.

I put the cap back on.  There are three more shots from the front door, answered with two
from Fat Barry and three more from outside.

‘
Come on.’  I grab hold of Sally’s hand and we push through the door under the left hand branch of the grand staircase and hurry down the barely lit corridor.

Halfway along
, a set of stairs leads up to the bedrooms above and down into darkness.  Opposite the stairwell is a set of double doors that lead into the ballroom.