A Game of Dons Page 13

  But Reece wasn’t listening. Instead, he’d snuck out the door and was moving along the corridor, Alice and Fee right behind him, with Rick picking up the slack, just like before.

  “I don’t like this,” Rick was muttering.

  Alice’s heart was beating fast, adrenaline pumping. “This is so exciting!” she said.

  “I just hope nobody shoots us,” said Fee. “I don’t think it’s fun to be shot at.”

  “You can say that again,” said Rick.

  Reece was purposefully moving from door to door, finally halting in front of one that looked promising. He took up position on one side of the door, and gestured for Alice to take the other side. Then he started making weird and complicated hand gestures. It looked like something from a cop show. Only Alice wasn’t well-versed in cop sign language. Even though she’d applied to the police academy thrice, the way of the law remained a mystery to her.

  “What are you doing?!” Rick hissed.

  “We breach on three!” Reece hissed back.

  “Breach? We’re guests in this house. There will be no breaching!”

  “One—two…”

  With a groan, Rick tried the door handle. The door was unlocked. He gave Reece a pointed look, and stepped inside, followed by Reece, Alice and Fee.

  They found themselves in an office, a large desk in the middle of the room, bookcases lining the walls, and a huge window overlooking the ocean. Nice, Alice thought. Probably the office of the master of the mansion. But then she remembered that the master of the mansion was a mobster and a chill trickled down her spine. She wondered where he buried the bodies. She hoped not in there.

  “Maybe we should go,” she hissed, suddenly feeling ill at ease.

  “No way!” said Reece. “I’ll bet he’s hiding in here somewhere!”

  They looked around. No men in black in there, and nowhere to hide.

  For a moment they all just stood there, then Reece said, “Let’s search the office. He can’t have gone far.”

  “Oh, dear,” Alice said. She just hoped she wouldn’t be the one to find the bad man. If he jumped out at her, she wouldn’t know what to do except scream.

  Rick plainly refused to take part in the operation, which he called ludicrous and a violation of privacy for which they could get arrested, and Alice and Fee only performed a token search, merely glancing around here and there. Reece was the only one who took his task seriously, looking all over, but even he had to admit defeat when not a single sign of a black-clad man could be found.

  “He’s gone, Reece,” said Rick, leaning against a wood-paneled wall. “Let’s go back to the party and let the police handle the shooting.”

  “He has to be in here somewhere,” said Reece, not willing to admit defeat.

  “This isn’t one of your movies,” said Rick. “The killer doesn’t just pop out from some secret nook or room and take the hero by surprise.”

  Suddenly, the panel behind him turned on its axis and the black-clad man emerged from a secret room or nook, a gun in his hand as he growled, “No sudden movements or I kill the moron.” And as he was pointing his gun at Rick’s head, it was obvious who he considered to be the moron.

  Chapter 29

  “You don’t want to do this,” said Reece.

  The man in black frowned. “Aren’t you that actor?”

  “That’s right. Chuck MacLachlan at your service.”

  The man in black displayed a rare smile. “Hot potato! Love those movies, man.”

  “Thanks,” said Reece. “Always nice to meet a fan. I’m actually working on a sequel now. Crunch Time 4: The Stiffening. We’ve got a script, and it’s definitely happening.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty jazzed.”

  “Can’t wait to see it,” said the guy, rubbing his black little goatee. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to kill this dodo here.” And he screwed his gun into Rick’s ear.

  “No, don’t!” Alice cried.

  And Fee, too, yelled, “Don’t kill him!”

  “I’m sorry, toots,” said the man. “I’ve got my orders.” And then he pulled the trigger.

  Or at least he would have, if not a can of sweet corn had at that exact moment hit the killer in the head and he went down like a ton of bricks.

  Fee, Alice, Reece and Rick looked up, and found that a young man with a round face was standing in the doorway, a second can of sweet corn poised in his hand. He was clearly the one who’d launched the first one and was ready to launch number two if necessary.

  The man in black groaned and rubbed his head where the sweet corn had hit. He looked up at the round-faced youth. “You again,” he grunted. “You keep popping up, don’t you?”

  “Who are you?” asked Rick.

  “Dickens,” said the young man. “Flint Dickens.” He crouched down and retrieved the man in black’s gun.

  “Oh, you’re the guy my dad hired!” said Alice. “The Lazy Robber!”

  Flint winced. “Can you please not call me that? I’m not lazy. It’s just that my robberies have a habit of going wrong.”

  “My dad says it’s because you’re way too nice to be a robber.”

  “Whatever the case,” said Rick, letting out a long breath of relief, “thanks, Flint. I thought I was going to die for sure.”

  “Did you see your life flash before your eyes?” asked Flint, interested.

  “Not yet, but I had a feeling the reel was lining up and was about to be displayed on the screen.”

  Reece, meanwhile, had found a piece of string in one of Eddy Grabarski’s desk drawers, and was using it to tie up the man in black’s hands.

  “I never thought I’d say this,” said the man, “but it’s an honor to be tied up by the one and only Chuck MacLachlan.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” said Reece graciously. Even when dealing with murderous thugs, he never lost sight of the fact that even murderous thugs are potential fans—probably even more so than non-murderous non-thugs.

  “Neat trick,” said Alice, pointing to the can of sweet corn. “Where did you learn to throw like that?”

  “Oh, it kinda comes with the job,” said Flint. “I’ve been holding up convenience stores for so long I kinda got handy with the wares. And I love to snack on sweet corn.”

  “My dad told us he’d hired you,” said Alice. “He never said he’d hired you to be our bodyguard, though.”

  “He didn’t actually hire me. More like promised not to throw me in jail if I did him this one favor.”

  “Figuring out what happened to Vic Grabarski’s body?”

  “Yup.”

  The man in black eyed him curiously. “And? Did you find out?”

  “I think I did. It’s two losers who used to work for Chazz Falcone. Johnny Carew and Jerry Vale?”

  The man in black closed his eyes. “I knew it.”

  “You know them?” asked Alice.

  “Everybody knows Johnny and Jerry. They’re like the Laurel and Hardy of the criminal world.”

  Reece had liberated the man’s wallet from his leather jacket. “Pete Gladiola,” he read. “I like the name. Sounds like a character from one of my movies.”

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”

  Alice decided to cut this budding bromance short. “So who hired you, then?”

  “My lips are sealed,” said Pete Gladiola, mimicking a clam.

  “I’ll bet it was Eddy Grabarski himself, wasn’t it?” said Rick. “He hired you to figure out what was going on with Vic.”

  “So why did you have to go and try to kill Ricky?” asked Reece. “That wasn’t nice.”

  Pete clamped his lips shut and shook his head.

  “Oh, don’t be like that, Pete,” said Reece. “This is Chuck MacLachlan you’re talking to. You can tell me. From one action hero to another.”

  Pete displayed a slight smile. “Oh, all right,” he said. “I guess the game’s up anyway. Yeah, Eddy hired me, first to track down the bozos who
were trying to make a spectacle out of his son’s death, and then to punish the man behind the whole thing: Chazz Falcone.”

  “By killing Chazz’s son,” said Fee, nodding. “Of course. That makes sense.”

  “Only in a very warped, criminal-mind sort of way!” said Rick, still looking spooked.

  “So now that we’re all on the same page, why do you reckon your dad is doing this?” asked Alice, addressing Rick.

  “How should I know? We asked him, remember? He refused to divulge a thing.”

  “At least we’ve eliminated a threat,” said Fee, eyeing Pete Gladiola curiously. “I should probably punish you for trying to kill my fiancé, but I’m going to be the bigger person here and not go down that route.”

  “Very big of you,” said the guy, appreciatively.

  Fee gave him a ringing slap across the cheek. “There. I might be the bigger person, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t feel the sting of my contempt.”

  “You better call your dad, honey,” said Reece to Alice. “So he can pick up Mr. Gladiola and throw him in the slammer.”

  “Talking of slammers,” said Alice as she took out her phone. “What do you think happened to Virgil?”

  Chapter 30

  “We’ll try again tomorrow,” said Marjorie, as she took out her knitting and settled herself in her easy chair in front of the television.

  “Fine, Mom,” said Virgil, relaxing in the other chair.

  “Don’t think this means you’re off the hook, you hear?”

  “Okay, Mom,” he said, a silent groan in his voice.

  “You did a bad thing, Virgil, and you deserve to be punished.”

  “Mh.”

  She put down the knitting. “You can’t just go around burying bodies for girls you like.”

  “It wasn’t like that, Mom.”

  “Oh, it was exactly like that. Don’t think I don’t know how it all went down. Pretty girl makes your head spin. Asks you to help her cover up a crime and you just jump to it and start digging.” She shook her head. “You have to learn to control these urges, Virgil.”

  “There were no urges involved, Mom. No urges whatsoever.”

  “Oh, I’ll bet there were. She’s pretty, this girl?”

  “Very pretty,” Virgil said after a pause.

  “See? It’s the pretty ones you have to look out for. They’ll do your head in and make you regret what you did.”

  They’d gone down to the station, Virgil being led by his mother, but unfortunately the desk officer had refused to lock Virgil up, or perform a proper arrest. Instead, she’d laughed her head off, thinking the whole thing was a big joke.

  “Virgil guilty of being an accessory to a crime!” she’d howled. “He’s not even capable of seeing a crime when it’s being committed! Oh, you’re a real hoot, aren’t you, Mrs. Scattering? I didn’t know you had it in you!”

  Marjorie, her lips set in a tight line, had turned to the room full of coppers, all working on their computers, and had bellowed, “Someone here has to arrest my son! He did a very bad thing and he needs to be arrested and locked up!”

  The entire room had erupted into a riot of laughter at that, and when finally Marjorie couldn’t take it anymore, she’d waltzed Virgil right out of there again, and home, where she’d removed his handcuffs and told him he was grounded for the rest of the month.

  “First thing tomorrow we’re going to try and get you arrested again. And this time I hope one of your colleagues will have the good sense to do as I tell them to.”

  “Yes, Mom,” said Virgil, thinking he’d give anything to be far away from there. On his phone he’d received messages from Alice, keeping him informed. But when he’d started replying, his mom had taken away his phone.

  “Being grounded also means no phone privileges,” she’d said.

  So now there he sat, watching Sylvester Stallone in one of his eighties turkeys, and wishing he’d told Deanna to find herself another patsy. Then he wouldn’t be in this mess.

  Heike Grabarski was not a happy camper. First he’d gotten a phone call from one of his best buds that he was out of the bodybuilding competition over at Hrodebert Bunker Powerhouse Gym, and now his mom had given him a gift for his birthday he absolutely didn’t care for: a personalized photo keychain with pictures of his mom, sister and Eddy.

  Lame-o!

  He’d stared at the keychain, then at his mom, figuring this was some kind of joke, but his mom had seemed serious.

  “Mom, where is the gun you promised me for my birthday?” he’d finally asked, trying to control his temper. There were guests around, and they were all looking on, some of them holding up their phones and filming the happy moment. Instead of erupting into cheers and giving his mom a big kiss, he’d rounded on her.

  “What do you mean? They told me you canceled. That you changed your mind about the gun.”

  “Changed my mind! But Mom!”

  “Actually your sister was the one to go in and cancel the order,” said his mother.

  Gertrude looked up in surprise. “Wait, what?”

  “Yeah, you went into the store this afternoon and told Mr. Whitehouse that your brother had changed his mind. That he’d already gotten the gun some other way, from a gun fair or something.”

  “I never went near that store!” cried Gertrude. “Why would I go to some stupid gun store! Geez, mom.”

  “You also went to the gym and told them I was pulling out of the competition,” said Heike icily. He’d had enough of his sister’s meddling. “You told them I had a paper cut and I couldn’t compete if I wasn’t in peak condition. You probably thought that was funny, huh?”

  Gertrude snorted, then, when Heike’s expression darkened, said, “I swear I didn’t!”

  “You probably thought, oh, it’s my big brother’s birthday. I’ll play a little joke on him—well it wasn’t funny. I trained hard to get in shape.” He flexed his bicep. “See? I’m at the top of my game!” Or he would have been if he hadn’t done that big bender last night. So maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t competing tomorrow. Then again, the bodybuilding magazines all said alcohol was a great diuretic, so maybe the boozing had helped? He’d never know now, would he? Cause his sister had canceled his registration!

  “At least you didn’t have your dog stolen,” said Gertrude.

  “Who cares about your stupid dog!”

  “I care about my stupid dog!”

  “This is the worst birthday ever!”

  “This is the worst day ever!”

  And both of them would have stomped off if not suddenly the party had erupted into a chorus of screams and horrified shouts.

  “Now what?!” Heike cried.

  “Oh. My. God,” said his sister, and pointed in the direction of his birthday cake.

  Chapter 31

  Since practically all the members of the Happy Bays PD were at the party, it wasn’t difficult for Alice and Fee and the others to find a cop to take Pete Gladiola into custody.

  “I’ll do it,” said Officer Wilson as he collared the would-be killer. Chief Whitehouse had sent him up to Eddy’s office to deal with the crisis, and they’d all returned downstairs when a huge birthday cake was being wheeled out. It looked like one of those cakes that sometimes have a person hiding inside, who jumps out and surprises the birthday boy or gal.

  “Looks terrible,” said Fee’s mom as Fee joined her and Dad.

  “Terrible? What are you talking about? That cake looks fine to me.”

  “Clearly one of Marcel’s creations,” said Bianca disapprovingly.

  Marcel was Bell’s Bakery’s main competitor. Its owner had recently spent some time in prison but had been back at the oven and churning out his trademark pies and pastries.

  “Definitely,” agreed Bettina.

  “I don’t think so,” said Fee’s dad.

  “Yeah, doesn’t look like one of Marcel’s,” Fee’s uncle Achilles agreed.

  “So where did they get the cake? They didn’t get
it from us,” said Bianca.

  “No idea,” said Aunt Bettina. “Like I said, the daughter came in this afternoon to cancel the order. Pity, too, cause Alistair had been slaving away all morning.”

  “Yeah, pity,” said Alistair, still looking peeved.

  “At least we were able to repurpose the cake,” said Bettina. “We sold it to the Looselys. Their niece was over for her birthday, and when Caroline came in to buy a birthday cake for the girl I told her we had the best cake for the occasion, and I sold it at a discount.”

  All this talk about cake wasn’t really keeping Fee’s attention riveted. She wanted to discuss the recent events with Chief Whitehouse. “Have you seen Curtis?” she asked.

  “Oh, he and Demetria are around somewhere,” said Bettina.

  “Try the drinks table,” said Bianca. “I’ll bet Curtis is keeping a close eye on the liquor.”

  The cake was wheeled out, and the search began for the birthday boy. Heike didn’t seem all that interested, though, for Fee could see him walking away, along with his sister. They seemed to be having some kind of row, judging from the way they were behaving.

  Just then, there was a minor explosion that seemed to originate from within the cake, and several people cried out in surprise.

  “What’s going on?” asked Bianca.

  “Probably the person inside the cake trying to burst out,” said Bettina. “They always do that.”

  “They don’t always blow up the cake to do it,” her husband grumbled. He still hadn’t gotten over the fact that the Grabarskis had gone with another cake baker, apparently.

  But Bettina was right: the top of the humongous cake collapsed, and a person popped out. Or at least he would have popped out, if he’d still been alive. As it was, he was dead as a dodo, and instead of popping he more or less flopped out, then just lay there, surrounded by spongy cake, icing and plenty of sprinkles. Fee knew he was dead because she instantly recognized him as the man they’d been chasing all day: ‘Hot Vic’ Grabarski.