Best Defense (20 page)

thirty-one

At eleven p.m., I
parked two blocks away from Mankosky's house on a cross street. “Okay, ladies, it's the witching hour. Dot, give Dabba and me ten minutes, then head for the front door. We'll get around back and be ready to break in. You hit that doorbell and don't let it stop ringing until someone shows up. As soon as it opens, cry rape or anything you can think of to keep the person engaged. With luck, it'll bring everyone else in the house running to the door.”

I patted Dot on the shoulder. “I know you can make a ruckus. I've heard you do it. Dabba and I will be alert for your signal. When I hear you screaming, I'll count to ten, then I'm going in. I would prefer to do it without a lot of noise, but I can't take the chance with a deadbolt or a chain. I'll make as much racket as necessary to get through that door. Once inside, I'll increase the uproar, which should draw attention away from you. That'll be your clue to come through that front door, moving like a cat with a tin can tied to its tail. Be ready to neutralize anyone who tries to stop you. Don't kill 'em, though—unless you have to.”

Dabba said, “What about—”

“I'll get to your part in a minute. Let me finish with Dot first.”
I stopped and thought through the actions I laid out. “That's about
it. Dot, once you're inside, we'll team up, secure everyone we meet
, and search for Ashley. Do you have the duct tape?”

“Got it,” Dot said, patting her purse. “Uh, one question, though.
What if it's not the right house?”

“Not something I want to consider. But if it's not, you and Dabba run like there are Dobermans nipping at your butts. I'll wait for the police.”

Dot's mouth opened, but I turned away from her. “Now, Dabba, I need you for my backup. You'll help me with the break-in, then remain outside the door, covering me in case someone comes running. Be careful, though. It could be an innocent neighbor, someone who thinks we're burglars. Stop them. Don't shoot them.”

“But I got to find Linda. She won't know who you are. She'll be scared. I can't stay outside.”

“Please, Dabba,” I said. “I really need you there. I can't afford to have someone surprise me from behind. I need you to protect my back. Without you, this cannot work and we'll never recover … uh, Linda.”

Dabba appeared to think about it. “Okay, but make sure you tell Linda her mama's waiting for her. And you bring her to me fast. If you don't, I'm bustin' in that house.”

I exhaled the lungful of air I'd been holding, while hoping Dabba
would agree to stay where I wouldn't have to worry about her. “I promise. I'll bring Linda to you.”

“I don't like it, but I'll do it. If you ain't out with Linda fast, I'm goin' in.”

I figured that was as much control over her as I'd ever have. “Is everyone ready?”

“Dearie, I was born ready,” Dot said. “Seems like I spend all my time waitin' for you.”

“Ready to git my Linda,” Dabba said.

We did fist bumps, then got out of the car.

Dot said, “Wait up a minute, dearie.” She took me by the elbow and steered me toward the back of the car. Over her shoulder, she said, “Dabba, I just got something I need to tell Beth.”

“I'll be right back.” I made a motion for Dabba to stay where she was.

When we were a few feet away, Dot said, “You know you can't trust Dabba. If she does what you say, I'll be one surprised ol' woman.”

“I know. But I don't have many options. Telling her to stay with the car is a loser. It's better to give her a job to do. I'm hoping she won't come crashing in until after we have things under control.”

Dot sighed. “Good luck, but watch your back. She's your joker in the deck.”

I stared at Dot, wondering if I would ever have a better friend. Life sure deals some strange hands. A homeless woman, almost twice my age, with a terrible track record and me—a misplaced Texan with a private eye license—on the way to becoming best friends. Didn't make much sense. I pulled her to me in a hug. “Thank you.”

“Humph. Don't git all squishy on me, now.” She squeezed me in return. “Now, let's do it.”

I let her go. “Yeah. Okay, let me gather our stuff, then we're on our way. Remember, ten minutes.”

A moment later, Dabba and I skulked from shadow to shadow as we worked our way toward Mankosky's house. I wanted to approach from the rear, not taking a chance someone would spot us coming down the sidewalk. During our afternoon reconnaissance, I noticed that the house behind it, facing Elmendorf Street, had an open back yard that joined with Mankosky's. That was the direction Dabba and I headed, down Elmendorf Street. The three-feet-long package we carried might have made us obvious to anyone looking through a window, but I couldn't worry about that. Even if they called the police, things should be over by the time they arrived.

I was in the lead with Dabba behind. “Move a little faster,” I said.
“We have to be in position before Dot gets there.”

“I'm movin', I'm movin'. What is this thang? Weighs a damn ton, it does.”

“It's our passport into the house holding Linda. That's why we have to move fast.”

She grumped, but picked up her step, and soon we were
creeping alongside the house facing Elmendorf. The windows were dark, making me hope either no one was home, or they were sound asleep. So far, our luck held.

I whispered, “We have to get across the open yard between the houses. Can you make the run?”

“Humph. Don't go slow, or I'll be passin' you, and pullin' you along with this thang.”

I smiled. “Let's go.”

True to her words, Dabba pushed me all the way.

At the back of Mankosky's house, we pressed up against the siding, the package at my feet. I knelt and pulled the covering off, revealing a battering ram. It was solid steel with a flat head and straps so it could be swung by one person. In the backroom of Mo's store, I had hefted it and let it swing. Mo said it weighed about thirty-five pounds and would crush its way through any standard lock and doorframe it hit. According to him, it was a favorite of SWAT teams around the country. I hoped he was right. I figured one smash at the door would bring everyone running, and I had to be inside before they arrived. I counted on surprise to give me an upper hand.

I whispered to Dabba, “Remember, once I get inside, you keep your eyes open for anyone coming behind us. Don't hurt them though—unless you have to. Make sure before you jump anyone.”

“What, you think I'm crazy or sumthin'? I knows how to git things done.”

Squinting at her in the dark, I let my eyes roll, then decided to believe her. I took a deep breath before saying, “I trust you. I'm nervous. That's all.”

“Then let me do it. It's my Linda in there.”

There went my newfound confidence in her.

The faint sound of a ringing doorbell saved me from having to answer. The house had the old-fashioned kind that actually rang, rather than dinging or chiming. It must have been Dot, and she was riding that button like it was a fire alarm in a high rise.

I took my Walther from my purse, then handed the purse to Dabba. “Hold this for me, please.” I lifted the battering ram and got into position beside the door. It was awkward because I was trying to hold my pistol and one of the straps in the same hand, but I wasn't about to give up either one. The doorbell went quiet, and I stepped around and let the ram swing. The door crashed inward, just as Mo said it would. I dropped the ram and raced inside, finding myself in the kitchen.

Something slammed into the middle of my back as a hand reached around and grabbed my right arm. That sent me into an out of control spin which brought me face to chest with a huge man who could only be Lawrence Lawrence.

Another mistake, making me wonder if I was doomed to set a new record in this case—my third biggie. My first was jumping to the conclusion John killed his wife and the maid. Then there was the soccer field, resulting in a trouncing I still felt. And now, I'd made another. I had assumed Lawrence would be at one of the ransom drop sites by now. Apparently not.

When I tilted my head up, I saw that he looked just like the chief described him—one big, mean son of a bitch.

My right hand hurt, and I realized it was because Lawrence had it crushed in a death grip. My pistol clattered to the floor.

“Well, Ms. Bowman, we meet again. Guess you didn't learn anything last night. You've made yourself a pest. Hasn't she, Edith?” He looked toward the entryway into the kitchen and I groaned. A woman stood there, holding Dot in front of her. From the look on Dot's face—pure outrage—I guessed the woman was in control.

“Ms. Mankosky, I presume?” I had to give credit to the police sketch artist. He'd done a good job of capturing her. I looked at her left hand, the one squeezing Dot's arm. She wore a large marquise-cut green stone on her third finger. My guess was it was an emerald, and as described, surrounded by diamonds. It didn't help my situation any, but I applauded Ms. Dimitri, the school secretary. She had nailed it.

Edith Mankosky smiled, a small one. “Nice to meet you, Beth Bowman. Who's your friend here? She's not very talkative.”

“You just take that damn gun outa my back, and I'll show you
talkin'. I'll spell out some words all over your ugly face. What you say to that, you fat bitch?”

Dot was wound up, and I had no doubts she would do just what she threatened.

“Feisty, isn't she?” Lawrence said, laughing. “You might need a bigger gun to handle her.”

I gave a quick shake of my head to Dot, hoping she'd get the message to
cool it
. If she did, she didn't show it.

“Well, you gon' put down that peashooter and go toe-to-toe with me? Or, ain't you got the guts? Hell, I'm twice your age, and you damn sure outweigh me. Shit, I bet you got forty pounds on me. But I'll still kick your fat ass all over this place.”

Edith shoved her toward me and took a step to the side. “Shut your mouth, you old hag, or I'll drop you right here. I can do it now just as good as later.” She waved her pistol around Al Capone style. “You do know both of you have to die, don't you? But you'll do it at my convenience—when and where your bodies won't turn up too soon. Larry, lock them in my bedroom closet. We'll
leave them there until Joe gets back with the ransom. Then we'll take
them to the Glades and get rid of them.”

Joe? Another miscalculation? No, I forgave myself for that one. Having another person covering a drop site didn't surprise me. The emails had said the writer had enough people to keep things covered at all times. “Just a minute,” I said. “You at least owe me an explanation. How'd you know I'd come busting through your back door while my partner rung the front doorbell?”

“Because you're so transparent, that's how.”

“Sorry,” I said, “I must be more dense than you think. How does my being transparent answer my question?” From the serious look on Edith's face, I assumed she didn't get my poor attempt at a joke.

“I saw you this afternoon,” she said, “creeping up the street in your car, casing my house. Then your friend comes around the corner where you turned and starts knocking on doors. She didn't know that everybody in the neighborhood works. When she banged on my door, I got a real good look at her.” She glanced at Dot. “Not someone I'd be likely to forget—ugly as a manatee. Tonight when the doorbell rang, I peered through the peephole, and there she was. Your plan was just too easy. If she was at the front, you had to be at the back. I sent Larry to take care of you, and I took care of your friend.”

“How in hell did you get a PI license?” Larry said. “You're too stupid to live. Now, move your butt that way.” He nodded toward the doorway through which Edith had entered. “It's time for you to disappear for a while.”

It wasn't exactly
He who runs away lives to fight another day
, but it was close enough. As long as I was breathing and my heart was beating, fate could deal me a winning hand. And the same went for Dot.

“Don't be in such a rush,” I said, raising my voice as much as I dared. “You can tell me why you did all this. Ashley's never done anything to you.” I was stalling, hoping Dot was right about Dabba, that she wouldn't do anything I asked her to do. In fact, I was wishing Dabba would ignore my instructions and come crashing in, looking for Linda. I inched myself toward the back door.

“Oh, funny girl,” Larry said. “You think—”

“Why not?” Edith said. “She thinks she's so damn smart. No problem in her knowing the whole story as long as she's going to die anyway. It'll be fun to watch her face when she finds out how dumb these rich farts are.”

“Yeah,” Dot said. “Why'd you do it?”

Edith laughed, then sneered at Dot. “Why the hell do you think? Look at this dump I'm living in. That damn Hammonds took most of our money to defend Herb, then let him rot in jail. That left me with a pittance. I had to sell the house and most of the furnishings. I even had to sell a lot of my jewelry. You ever tried to sell something fast? You get a few pennies on the dollar. I was lucky to get enough to buy this crap of a house.

“And, can you imagine what it did to a gentle person like Herb to go to prison? The cretins he faced every day? The people he had to share life with? It was hell. Every time I saw him, he blubbered about the way the guards and the other prisoners treated him. The guards didn't miss a chance to abuse him, calling him all kinds of vile names. And the prisoners beat the shit out of him at every opportunity. He was terrified of taking a shower. The guards didn't care. They watched and laughed. I expected a message any day he was dead. When it finally came, I was not surprised at all.”