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Authors: Ron Hess

Murder at Fire Bay (27 page)

BOOK: Murder at Fire Bay
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“Okay, Jim, take off. Be back here as soon as possible.”

He left his trash can where it was and left.

I looked out the window. The chief was still questioning people. Even from where I stood, I could see he was getting exasperated. Witnesses seldom told the same story. Well, time was sliding by. I went out the door to the lobby and then out onto the parking lot. I pulled on the chief’s sleeve.
 

“Not now,” he growled. “Oh, it’s you, Bronski. What do you want? I’m busy.”

“Just a couple of questions, chief. How long has it been since the robbery, and which way did they go?”

He tipped back his hat. “Well, the robbery happened maybe forty-five minutes ago. Now as to the direction they went?” He looked around, as if counting. “Most people say they went north in an old blue van. Maybe a Dodge.” His eyes turned hard. “Why?”

I held up my hands, palms out. “Just curious.”

He snorted. “Bronski, what are you up to?”

I shook my head as innocently as I could. “Nothing, just trying to stay on top of things. I guess you’ll be handing this over to the postal inspectors and the FBI?”

“Yeah, Bronski. You got anything else? I’m trying to run an investigation here.”

“Nope,” I answered.

The good chief turned back to the little woman before him and flipped a page over on his notebook. I left him quizzing her as to her whereabouts when the robbery happened. Her reply was that she noticed these two people wearing masks when she was getting into her car. Before she knew it, they were holding up the two bank employees with these big old guns. I looked around. If anything, the line was longer. Everybody wanted in on the act. This was the most excitement that had hit this small town in a long time. I went back to the office and called Jeanette. When I told her what I planned to do based on a hunch, she let me know her thinking and it wasn’t very positive.
 

She made a last try. “Leo, have you told anyone besides me what you’re going to do?”

I sighed. “No, I haven’t.”

“But yet you’re not only going to endanger your life, but that of a young postal employee? Leo, you are not as young as you used to be. Don’t do this.”

“Honey,” I countered, “I have to. Call it pride, revenge or whatever, but I have to.”
 

There was a sniffle. Jeanette’s good. I knew if I kept talking to her, she’d talk me out of it. Thank goodness, Jim the janitor walked into my office.

“Honey, I have to go. I love you, and I have my cell phone. Bye.” 
I stayed on the phone long enough to hear her say, “Be careful, Love.”

And that was enough for me.

 

Chapter 34

 

“Leo . . . uh boss, I got a extra pair of rubber boots, 30.06 hunting rifle, a camp shotgun and a .44 magnum pistol.”

I permitted myself a small smile. “Do tell. Well, that ought to be enough to hold off a small army detachment. What about a sleeping bag?”

He grinned. “I got that too.”

I checked my watch. It had been almost an hour since the robbery. Time to get going. I looked back at him. “You know you don’t have to do this.”

“Boss, are you kidding? I haven’t had so much excitement since the first Gulf War. I was an infantry soldier.”

There was no doubt about it. He was trim and fit. Maybe Jeanette was right, maybe I was too old for this stuff. I took a deep breath. To hell with it. My mind was made up. We were going.

“Okay, let’s get out to your plane. Didn’t I hear somebody say Ralph keeps his plane at a small strip a few miles north of here?”
 

His eyes brightened. “Do you think it was Ralph who did the robbery?”

I cocked my head and gave a reluctant nod. “Yeah, him and somebody else who isn’t here today.”
 

“You mean Martha?”

“No, I don’t mean Martha. According to the witnesses, they wore pullover type masks. So it could have been anybody, but I don’t think it was Martha. I believe it was Ashley.”

He frowned. “Oh, her.”

I nodded. “Yeah, her.”

By this time, we were walking out on the main floor. I waved Sam Goodnight over.

“Yes, sir?”

“When the Boss calls—and he will—be truthful. He’ll rant and rave. Just tell him I left without telling anyone. He won’t like it, but he won’t be able to do anything about it and you’ll keep your job, okay?”

“Yes sir. Uh . . . what are you up to?”

I shook my head and smiled. “Sorry, it’s better for you if you don’t know.”

Although I didn’t tell him, I knew not knowing for sure would infuriate the Boss. But the Boss and Sam were smart; they would put two and two together. Still, the kid wouldn’t have to lie and that was important.

We exited the building to see Emily standing beside my Jeep. I’m not sure what part she was dressed for, but she was resplendent in a long black trench coat over black wool pants and sweater. With her short hair thrown back over her ears and the dark glasses on, she looked liked Trinity in a Matrix Redone movie.

“Emily! What are you doing here?”

She slung a backpack down to the ground. “Now, Leo, I’m going, and that’s that!”

It was a new Emily I was talking to. Still with her lisp, only I hardly noticed it. There was a certain power to that voice. That Sam Goodnight was a miracle worker.
 

I put my best steely-eyed glare on her. “Sam told you.”

She looked off into the distance, playing the old deaf routine.
 

And who had told Sam?

I turned my steely-eyed stare over to Jim. “You told Sam.”

He shrugged and nodded. “He said he wouldn’t tell anybody.”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Son, just so you know in the future. Anything you tell Sam goes to Fire Bay’s ace newspaper reporter. They are peas in a pod. You understand?”

His face turned red. “Yes, sir,” he said, and turned to face me, now a little wiser.
 

I looked back at Emily. “Are you sure you’re in shape for this? What am I going to tell your Momma if you are killed?

“Leo, we’re wasting time,” she reminded me. Her face almost turned back into the old Emily, sad and downcast. “And besides, I don’t have a Momma.”

I shook my head, sorry I had said it. “Get into the Jeep,” I said, and tried not to see the joy that filled her face.
 

I drove as fast as I could to the airport. My two passengers had little to say. Each lost in the upcoming chase? Maybe. It’s always hard to gauge what people think under stressful situations.

I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing. Maybe I was letting my bruised ego get in the way. I wasn’t really all that angry with Ralph. He was simply along for the ride with Ashley. She had screwed me over more than once. Well, now I was determined to make it her turn.
 

I went through the airport’s gate to where the single-engine light planes sat.

“Which one is yours?” I asked Jim.

Jim pointed out a beautiful red Cessna 185 sitting over in a corner of the field.

“That one,” he said with pride. “The red one with the three-bladed prop.”

I nodded. He had a right to be proud. The plane looked like it had just came out the factory door. I had no doubt he drove out and dusted it off every day after work.

I pulled up beside it and we bailed out of the Jeep. Emily walked ahead of us, like she wasn’t about to be left behind by a certain Leo Bronski, who had been known to pull a trick or two in his day. I almost laughed at the way her coattails flew out behind her, but realized that all of a sudden laughter was out of fashion. She threw her backpack through the open cargo door and turned to face me, ready for me to object at the last moment. Instead, I asked, “Uh . . .you have a weapon with you?”

And to my surprise, she hauled out a small .25 caliber automatic. “Will this do?”

“Sure,” I said, as matter-of-factly as I could. And indeed it would—up close, anyway.
 

While Emily and I secured our gear, Jim released the tie-down ropes, made a quick preflight check and started the engine.

Take-off in a Cessna 185 is exhilarating. There’s the low engine growl at first, then the roar as the prop comes up to speed. Your back is glued to the seat back as the plane moves down the runway.
 

The plane’s tail came up and I watched as Jim worked the control wheel and rudder pedals to keep her headed straight down the runway. Then we were off into the blue, the Cessna’s three-hundred-horsepower engine noise no doubt rattling the windows of nearby buildings. A pilot gets every bit of the thrill a car driver gets going down a drag strip.
 

We leveled out five hundred feet above the ground and began following the highway north. At cruise, the engine was much quieter. I looked back at Emily in the rear seat. Her eyes were closed. Bless her heart.
 

“The scenery is beautiful from up here, Emily.”

Slowly she cocked her right eye open and turned her head toward the window. She opened the left eye and pressed her nose to the window.
 

“Your first time in a light plane?” I asked.

She nodded as Jim banked the plane to stay with the highway. Immediately her eyes closed again.
 

“We can let you out if you want,” I said.

Her eyes opened and she gave me a first class glare. “Oh, no, you don’t, Leo Bronski. I’m staying. Don’t you tell Sam!”

I smiled. What a team they would make. Well, enough of the deep thoughts. I turned my attention to scanning the road below. Not a blue van in sight.
 

“I don’t see the van,” I said.

“You might not,” Jim said, “They may have switched vehicles. She drove a brown Buick, right?”

He was right. They probably had switched. It was time to do something different.

“Okay, Jim, lets make a beeline for that strip. We just might get there before they do.”

He nodded and shoved the throttle forward. Fifteen minutes later we were circling the strip where Ralph kept his blue Cessna 180. As we came in low to make a pass to scare off any moose that might be on the runway, I saw that it was still there.

“Did you see it?” Jim asked.

“Yeah, back in the trees,” I answered, and looked back again at Emily. Her eyes were closed again. Jim circled again and turned onto final approach, throttle eased off, with the wind whistling by the cabin of the plane. I turned to look back at Emily.

“Are you okay?”

She opened the eye closest to me.

“Yeah, as soon as we get this cotton-pickin’ thing on the ground.”

Was that sweet Emily talking?

“Emily?” I said, still looking in her direction.

“Well, this flying business has me stressed!”

I turned back to look out the front windshield. A stressed-out woman is best left alone. Jim was a good pilot. No thumps, no bumps to upset the woman in the rear. We were down, safe and sound. The engine had barely stopped ticking over before we were out of the plane and pushing it back into the trees. That is, Jim and I pushed, while Emily walked around, a dazed look on her face. I tried to be funny.

“Hey, Emily, we’re really on the ground—and in one piece.”

She gave me a look that would melt a steel post.

“Enough, Bronski, I’ll be all right.”

Jim raised an eyebrow in my direction and smiled as he handed me the short barreled shotgun.

“What’s your plan, sir?”

I didn’t answer him right away. While I was thinking, I busied myself putting three-inch double-ought buck magnum shells into my weapon. Up close these shells would stop just about anything the North Country could offer. Even a grizzly. Finished, I looked over at him.

“You have a cell phone with you?”

He shook his head. Hmm . . . that might be a problem. I had mine, but . . . wait a second.

“Emily!” I shouted. She was standing on the runway, coattails swishing back and forth in the breeze. She had her shades back on, which meant I guessed, that she was back in command of her senses. But standing in the middle of the gravel runway was a surefire way of being seen. She slowly turned to face me.

“What?”

Yep, she was back in command.

“Come over here!” I yelled.

She came, but she took her own sweet time. I decided not to yell at her about standing out in the open where she could be seen. She was in no mood for it.

“Emily,” I said quietly, “I need your cell phone.”

Her mouth opened in disbelief and then closed in a straight line.

“My cell phone?”

You would have thought I was asking her for her first child.

“Yes, I said, with a grin, “your cell phone. You are part of this team, right?”

She reached into an inside pocket of her coat and plopped it in my hand. I immediately passed it over to Jim who set to programming it so it wouldn’t ring out loud, but only vibrate in his pocket. Since he was so proficient at programming, I gave him mine. Within a minute, he handed mine back all ready to go. Just to make sure, we called each other to check them out. Emily stood there, a pained expression on her face.

BOOK: Murder at Fire Bay
12.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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