Marjorie Thelen - Designer Detective

I stayed eyeball to eyeball with him. Was he telling me to play along or was he telling me the truth this time? But that had been my problem all along, ever since I saw Albert Lodge stretched out on the floor of his library. I didn’t know who was telling the truth.

Ratko said, “That’s what I like, a man who knows how to cooperate. See Joey, I told you we’d get somewhere with the guy. The girl’s a bimbo, but the guy I can like.” He grinned at me and turned around to face the traffic.

Bimbo? He referred to me as a bimbo?

Joey turned onto a side road and through a series of impressive side street short cuts made his way to McLean. The Cadillac smelled new and was shiny inside. A GPS screen on the dashboard showed where we were going and spoke directions in its metallic voice from time to time. Like it was a normal day, Joey and Ratko talked about football, which teams they liked and who was going to win tonight’s game.

I closed my eyes. Jake’s fingers touched mine. I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or smack him. I hoped his gentle touch meant that he knew what he was doing. I wondered where Hudson and Mike were. Could they possibly have known that Ratko himself was afoot? I looked around to see if I could see the gray Suburban that we should never have left. Maybe they had seen us get in the Cadillac Escalade and were following. Not in sight. This whole affair had been what I should have done. How was I to know? I was a miserable failure as a detective. Jake’s fingers closed over mine, and I looked at him. One of the guys in the back leaned forward and stuck a gun between our heads.

“Better you should watch the scenery,” he said.

Those were pretty clear instructions. I wondered what was going to happen when we got to Albert’s mansion. I wondered if there was a guard on the place and what would happen then. I wondered where Cody was and if Opal was going to New York or Oregon. And how did Jake know where the guns were hidden?

At the entrance to Albert’s place there was no guard, and we swung through the gate. The front door was covered with police crime scene tape.

“Go to the back of the house where the garages are,” said Jake.

He spoke with a confidence that impressed me. I was sitting on knife points. Behind the house there was a line of outbuildings, well maintained, not touched by the fire. The house itself sported a charred hole in the roof that some fast thinking contractor had put a bright blue tarp over. The manicured bushes and lawn in front were trampled and broken. The back of the house looked undisturbed.

Ratko put his hand on Joey the driver’s arm. “Hold up. Something’s not right here. Too quiet. This is too enclosed. Someone could ambush us.”

Joey stopped the car and waited, engine running. Ratko turned to Jake. “You and the boys get out. You show them where the rifles are. The girl stays with us. Anything goes wrong, she’s dead. Understand?”

Jake nodded once slowly. He looked at me, and our eyes held for an extra moment. I didn’t know if that was goodbye or trust me. I was trying my best to come up with a plan of escape, feeling like a pawn, wanting to be the queen. Jake got out and the two men in the seat behind us got out with him. Ratko moved in beside me.

“Now, girlie. You behave real nice and nothing will happen to you. But if your man there doesn’t come up with the rifles, we got serious trouble.”

Jake and the two men walked to the far end of the lot. Half hidden in the shadows of a stand of tall pines was a low building. A shutter hung loose, and the roof sagged. The scrub around it had not been trimmed. Why had I never thought to come out here to sleuth? Why had Jake never told me about this place? If Hudson had hidden the guns, and Jake knew where the guns were, then Jake and Hudson were in cahoots. Why hadn’t I figured this out before?

Jake opened the door of the shed and ducked in. It hadn’t been locked. One of the men followed him in. The other stood outside, watching with a drawn gun. Jake and the man came out of the shed. The man looked in our direction and nodded his head.

Ratko said, “Joey, call the office and have them get the truck on the road. Looks like we’ve found the rest of the shipment.”

I said, “Aren’t you taking an awful chance picking up rifles in broad daylight?”

Ratko gave me a stupid-broad look. “Not in a furniture delivery truck.”

Clever. Could I help I was a bimbo?

Ratko got out. “Watch the girl, Joey. I’m going to look around. There might be something else we need in this dump. Too bad the old man had to go and die on us before we could blackmail him more. He was such an easy squeeze.”

Ratko walked over and talked to Jake. Joey and I sat in the car. The men disappeared from sight. We waited, my nerves fraying into gossamer strands. Jake wouldn’t be able to help me, not surrounded by three men with guns. It was now or never. Joey might think I was a bimbo, too. I didn’t see a gun, though he must have had something concealed.

I leaned forward and said, “Joey, do you happen to have a cigarette? I used up all of mine.”

“Sure, babe. I was just going to light up myself.”

He drew a half filled pack of Marlboro’s from his jacket and shook out a few. I selected one. I hadn’t smoked in years, but the idea of a cigarette right now was appealing.

Joey lit my cigarette with his lighter then lit his own.

“Nothing like a good smoke, eh?” he said. “You’re a nice looking broad. That your husband?”

“No.” I was playing it cool but I noticed my fingers were trembling so bad the cigarette was twitching. I put the cigarette down so Joey couldn’t see.

“You ever free for dinner?” he said.

I shrugged. “Maybe.” I couldn’t believe he was hitting on me, but this might lead to escape.

“I know some good restaurants around town. I do pretty good driving for Ratko. I could show you a good time.”

Joey must have been all of five feet high with a pencil thin mustache that looked like it would draw blood if you kissed him. He sported a black and white check jacket that I had last seen the likes of in a 1950s movie. In any other circumstance I would have laughed at his cheekiness, but this wasn’t the time. I played along. “It doesn’t look like I’m going to have too many more good times, if things don’t go like Ratko wants.”

Joey shrugged. “He’s pretty pissed about the rifles. Them vodka swillers are unpredictable. I don’t much like working for them but they pay good. If Ratko ever finds that guy Cody, he’ll be mincemeat. Say, do you like mincemeat pie? My mother always made it at Christmas. One of my favorites.”

In my mind I saw Joey grinding up Cody arm by arm and a fat Italian woman rolling pie dough. I developed a coughing fit.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like Marlboros?”

I beat my chest. “I must have inhaled down the wrong pipe. You mind if we get out? It’s a little stuffy in here.”

Joey looked around. “I guess it’d be okay. Here, let me get the door for you.”

The guy had manners. Maybe I should switch allegiances. Where could Jake have gone with those men? I hoped they hadn’t killed him. If they killed Jake, a thought I was reluctant to entertain, there wasn’t much hope for me.

Joey opened my door and held out his hand to help me down. I didn’t see any sign of a gun. Trusting soul. I calculated that I probably outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. Instead of daintily stepping down, I launched myself and caught him off guard. Over we went in a scuffle.

“What the hell, what the hell,” he kept shouting. We rolled around on the ground, me trying to whack him with my purse, he trying to shield his face. Surprise had been to my advantage. He seemed more interested in trying to defend himself than in trying to subdue me. I kept trying to whack his bony head. Finally, my purse connected hard with his head, and I jumped up and ran. I wasn’t sure where to go but the trees beyond the shed looked like a good bet. Unfortunately, I had on high heel boots. I kept tripping on stones and pinecones and whatever else resides on a pine forest floor.