No Gun Intended (16 page)

Chapter Thirty-four

I woke up Monday morning and the first thing I thought of was Bonkers. I had been gone a whole week, and I missed my kitty perching on top of my chest and nose-butting me. Mickey was still asleep, snoring softly, which was not a satisfactory substitute for Bonkers' purrs.

I sat up and found my phone on the bedside table. I texted Vicki, although I knew that Mickey had already told her we didn't know when we'd be back.

“Hi, Vicki. How's the Bonks?” I typed.

I waited, staring at the screen until it dinged.

A picture of Bonkers, sound asleep on Vicki's bed, popped up with a message. “No worries! Eating well, playing with mouse toys, sleeping a lot.”

This made me feel better, then made me a little upset. Bonks didn't seem to be missing me at all.

I poked Mickey. “Hey.”

He jolted awake, alarmed. “What? Huh? You okay?”

“Jeez, Mickey, I'm just waking you up. It's late.” I had no idea what time it was, but it felt late.

Mickey picked up his watch from the other bedside table. “Annabelle, it's six o'clock. Jeez yourself.” He lay back down and pulled the covers to his chin. “Go to sleep.”

“Can't do that. Bonkers isn't here and Bonkers doesn't miss me.”

He coughed. “Bonkers is fine. Vicki said so yesterday.”

“I know. She just sent me a picture.” I held my phone in front of his face. “Look.”

He opened his eyes. “Looks like Bonkers.”

“Exactly. I have to go home before he forgets who I am.”

Mickey rolled away from me. “I don't think we can go home until Dawson and Monroe are satisfied that we aren't central to their investigation. And besides, don't you want to make sure that Claudia is okay?” He yawned.

“Claudia Schmaudia. She held a gun on me. I think she's wacko. This vacation has not been a vacation at all.”

“Good reason to stay a couple of days longer, right? To have some relaxed time with the 'rents before we leave?”

I snuggled up behind him, spooning, and reached my arm across him so that the picture of Bonkers was in front of his face again. “You can resist this perfect kitty?”

He groaned and took my phone. “Absolutely.” He put the phone down and then rolled over toward me. “Are you trying to tell me that you need your cat more than you need me?”

We kissed, and then kissed some more, a lot more, and then Mickey pulled me on top of him, and, well, after a little while, I decided it was cool for my cat to have Vicki as a best friend. Sex with Mickey was better without Bonkers watching us from the end of the bed.

A little later we had coffee and toast with Mom, Dad, and Luis, and then set off to the police station for our meeting with Dawson and Monroe.

***

Dawson greeted us with handshakes. “Nancy Bigelow is here. She called her husband early this morning, asked him to pick her up at the airport. Apparently Claudia dropped her there and drove off.”

“Phillip?” Mickey asked.

“He's here, too.”

“What about Scranton?”

“All three of them.”

“Are they talking? Do they know where Claudia went?”

Dawson shook his head. “No. They say that Claudia is troubled, bipolar or something.”

“Where's the gun?” I asked.

“Apparently Claudia has it. Forced her mother out of the car with it. Pointed it at her and told her to walk away or she'd shoot.”

I frowned. “But Nancy shot Scranton?”

“Now he's saying he's not sure who shot him.”

“You have still the APB out on the car?” Luis asked.

Dawson nodded. “Yes, but no hits. Why don't we all sit down over here and wrap this thing up?” He motioned to a room to our right, and we followed him in. It was an interrogation room. We sat in the chairs around the table in the middle.

“I have some good news. We had another attack in the park. Well, that's not good news, but we caught the guy. He confessed to the assault on Claudia. He was looking to rob her, but there was nothing worth his time in your backpack.”

My silver cricket? How could a robber resist that?
I thought.

He smiled at me. “Plus, I think you and your folks showed up and he got scared and ran.”

“So that had nothing to do with any of this?” I surmised.

“Bingo. And,” he reached under the table, “here's your backpack.” He handed it to me.

“Thanks.” I put it on my lap and rubbed the silver cricket, like that would make me feel better.

“I don't see why you all have to stick around anymore,” Dawson continued.” Your story about the backpack at the airport and everything that has happened since, it all coincides with what the Bigelows have told us.”

“What about this second gun, the one Claudia has now? Do we know where it came from?” I asked.

“No. Phillip never saw Claudia with it, and Nancy says she wouldn't know how to describe a gun accurately, except that it was a pistol. We know that Phillip owns a gun, but he hasn't been home to see if it's still there or not. We'll be checking that out right away.”

I sighed. “I wish we knew what was up with Claudia. Why did she take me with them last night? She knows I've just been trying to help. It's so confusing. I hate to leave when everything still feels so unsettled.”

“We'll find Claudia, Annabelle. It won't surprise me if we find her today, in fact.”

“Would it be possible for us to talk to the Bigelows?”

Mickey extended his hand across the table to me. “Babe, that's not a good idea. We've done what we can for Claudia, and the detective is right. The police will locate the car and then all will be clear.”

“I don't want to walk away from this yet.”

“What happened to ‘Claudia Schmaudia'? I thought you were ready to wash your hands of her and her problems.”

“I'm pissed off, Mickey. I need answers. She reached out to me, twice, and then she abducted me. It makes no sense. Maybe she's brainwashed or something…” I trailed off.

“
Amiga,
what can you do at this point anyway?” Luis asked me, calmly.

I didn't have an answer.

Dawson stood. “Thanks, folks. Have a safe trip home to New York. If we need you for anything, we know how to reach you.” Another round of handshakes, and we were gone.

On our way out, however, I saw Nancy Bigelow down a hallway, and broke away from Mickey's side to approach her. “Nancy!” I called.

She stopped and turned. “Oh, it's you!” She fidgeted with her purse. “I was just going to the ladies room.” I noticed a uniformed officer further down the hall, watching her, and now us.

“Just wondering if you have anything you'd like to tell me, seeing as how we were all in a park last night with a gun, and, oh yeah, you and your daughter kidnapped me, remember?”

I could hear Mickey approaching me, as I saw the policeman coming toward us from the other side.

“Annabelle, let's go,” Mickey urged quietly, his hand on my shoulder.

“Claudia is not well, dear. And that's the truth of the matter. I'm sorry for your distress.” Nancy pushed on the lavatory door and went in.

I started to follow her, but Mickey held me back. “No, you'll have that police officer charging in after you, and we'll be here for another several hours. Let's go, babe, this is all over.”

I thought,
It can't be, not until I understand what the hell happened to Claudia.

Mickey was firm in changing my direction to the street. We stood by the car, while Luis called the airline to make a plane reservation.

“I could use some more coffee, maybe a mocha with whipped cream.” I scanned the street.

“Let's walk a bit. Settle ourselves. Find a café.” Mickey got Luis' attention and we all started walking, Luis still on the phone.

We turned a corner a couple of blocks up and saw a sign for Stumptown Coffee Roasters, which looked promising.

But we didn't get there.

I stopped cold as a chilling thought hit me.
That wasn't Nancy's purse. It was Claudia's
.

I whirled around and ran back toward the police station with Mickey calling after me. I raced inside and into the ladies room, whirling around and bending over to look underneath the stall doors.

Mickey charged in after me along with two policemen, followed by Luis. “Annabelle! What the hell?!” Mickey yelled.

“Where is she?” I shouted.

“Miss, you need to calm down,” advised one of the cops.

“Claudia's purse! She had Claudia's purse!”

Mickey thrust his arms straight out at me like he was going to stop me from talking or moving. “Babe, so what? What are you talking about?”

I grabbed his arms. “Mickey, Claudia would not give her purse to her mother if she was making her get out of the car, pointing a gun at her.”

“Maybe Nancy just took it when she got out of the car…”

“No. You don't try to steal someone's purse when they're pointing a gun at you. Something is all wrong here.”

The policeman approached us. “I am asking you once more to calm down, and I need you to come with me out of this bathroom.”

Then Dawson ran in and stopped, surveying us. “What's the story?”

Mickey held my eyes. “Let's go back to the interview room and tell Dawson. It's not too late to find out from Nancy Bigelow what she's doing with that purse.”

Dawson squinted at me. “Purse? What purse?”

“Claudia's. She has Claudia's purse.”

“Well, fuck me.”

Mickey jerked around toward him. “What.”

“Nancy Bigelow. She just fainted, then came to and complained of nausea and sharp pains. She looked sick. She's on her way to the hospital in a medical transport van.”

Luis walked over to the big trash can in the corner of the bathroom and peered in. He reached in and lifted something out.

Claudia's purse.

He handed it to Dawson, who opened it.

“Fuck me again.”

He pulled out a gun and held it daintily, like it was a handkerchief, between his thumb and first finger.

“Holy moly, what is that?”

“A Colt Mustang,” Mickey answered me.

“You gotta be kidding me. Nano, Bobcat, Mustang? Are gun manufacturers having way too much fun?”

Everyone ignored me.

“We need to stop that van,” said Dawson. “You three, stay here. Sit down with Monroe and tell him about the purse.”

“What's to tell? You're holding it right now!”

Dawson hurried out the bathroom door. “Just sit tight, okay? I'll ask Monroe to talk to you.

We followed him out into the hallway.

“We're not going to sit tight, are we?”

“
Amiga,
there is nothing we can do.”

“We can find Claudia!”

Mickey sighed like he was exasperated. “Annabelle, there is no way we can do that. She could be anywhere, and they're looking for the Honda, and…”

“But I think I know where she is!”

Both of them stood with their arms folded. They looked like they were about to start a Blues Brothers routine. “
Amiga,
what do you mean?”

“The park. She's still at the park. I think Nancy left her there, and stashed the car at the airport.”

“Why would Nancy hurt her daughter?”

“Don't you see, Mickey? It's always been Nancy, not Phillip. Nancy wrote that note. The handwriting is so neat and practiced like a rich woman's. The police didn't find it in Claudia's pocket when she was mugged. Nancy is the one Claudia wanted to shoot.”

“Why wouldn't Phillip say something?”

I shook my head. “Maybe he doesn't know everything. Maybe he's trying to protect his wife and his daughter. Hell, I don't know, maybe he wants to shoot Nancy, too. Anyway, we have to go to the park!”

I started for the door, just as Monroe came around the corner. “Leaving?”

Mickey nodded. “Why don't you come with us? Annabelle has a theory about where Claudia is.”

“No shit? Gee, I'm always ready to follow a well-meaning citizen around on a wild goose chase,” he sneered.

“So take us in your car and bring an officer along if you want. What's the harm?”

Monroe paused. “Tell me about this theory.”

I did.

The four of us left the station, got into Monroe's car, and he turned on the blinking lights and siren, wailing us all the way to Blue Lake Park.

Chapter Thirty-five

If you've never ridden in a detective's car with blinking lights flashing and a siren blaring, I highly recommend it. It's as exciting as an amusement park ride, even though when riding in an unmarked police vehicle, you should be in a situation that's anything but amusing. Nevertheless, it's a rush. I closed my eyes and imagined I was in an Aston Martin being driven by Daniel Craig a la James Bond, chasing after the bad guy who kidnapped Eva Green in
Casino Royale
. Then that made me think about the scene where she's sitting on the floor of the shower with her evening gown on, the water drenching her and she's upset, and Bond comes in and asks her if she's cold, and she says yes, and instead of turning off the shower, he sits down beside her in his tuxedo and hugs her, the water still running all over them.

That's one of my favorite romance scenes. Ever.

But now was not the time for romance. I was jolted from my escape-dream by Monroe taking a hard left into Blue Lake Park.

He parked and we jumped out, running to the place where Scranton got shot the previous night. “Where?” Monroe demanded.

All three men looked at me.

“I don't know! Somewhere close. We have to look!”

I sprinted toward the lake, while they all scurried off in other directions.

It's a small, pretty lake, and the sun was shining, so the water was sparkling. I saw some ducks paddling around, but no movement otherwise. I kept calling out for Claudia as I scurried along the lake.

I burst into the bathrooms, both women's and men's, but no luck. I rushed back out and called for her again.

Then I thought I heard something. A muffled sound. I turned around and ran to a pier jutting into the lake, stopped, and listened.

The same sound.

I saw a group of overturned paddleboats on the shore. I knew they were paddleboats because a sign said so. In warmer weather, they were available to rent for a leisurely jaunt around the lake.

“Claudia!” I yelled.

A knocking sound led me closer to the boats until it was clear. I tried to lift the boat, but it was too heavy.

“Mickey! Luis! Monroe! Over here!” I screamed. I crouched down close to the boat. “We're here, don't worry, Claudia. We'll get you out.”

I was amazed she was alive, given that she spent the night on the ground, underneath a boat.

The three
amigos
came running and the four of us hoisted the boat up and over.

Claudia was curled up in a fetal position, shivering. Monroe quickly summoned an ambulance. Mickey and Luis lifted her up and brought her onto a grassy area, away from the lake. Luis took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders, while Mickey rubbed her hands.

Claudia looked blue. I mean it. I'd never seen an actual blue person before, other than in
Avatar,
but those bluebies weren't people, and frankly, I don't know what all the fuss was about with that movie anyway. But Claudia, she was in bad shape, judging by the hue of her face.

I squatted beside her. “Can you talk?”

She shook her head.

“Did your mother put you here?”

She nodded.

“Did you get the gun because you wanted to kill her?”

She shook her head.

Monroe stood behind me. “I've got a blanket from the car.” He draped it around her and she clung to it like a baby clings to its mother.

Well, that is, if the baby's mother isn't Nancy Bigelow.

***

After we put Claudia in the ambulance, we all piled back into Monroe's car. He got a call on his cell before he turned the key in the ignition.

“Yeah, Dawson, what's up?”

Monroe didn't say another word before he hung up. But he did slam his hands against the steering wheel.

“Bad news?” Mickey asked.

“The Bigelow broad got away.”

“How is that possible?” I asked, leaning forward over his shoulder, while Mickey gestured for me to sit back.

“It turns out we didn't use a medical transport vehicle. We had a rookie take her to the hospital in a patrol car. When they got to the hospital, he opened the back door, she got out, kicked him in his nuts, and bolted.”

We were silent, taking in this unfortunate development.

“At least Claudia is in good hands now, and I am sure you will find Nancy,” said Luis, full of optimism and what I guessed was anxiousness to go home and be done with all of this.

Monroe started the engine. “I don't know about that.”

“The airport,” Mickey said.

“What?” Monroe pulled out of the parking lot.

“Nancy will go to the airport to get her car. Has the airport security located it?”

Monroe nodded. “Dawson said yes.”

“Did they leave it in place?”

Monroe nodded again. “Let's go.”

I fastened my seat belt, and let the ride transport me once more to Daniel Craig–land, lights flashing, siren blaring, shower scene not suffering one bit from replay.

***

The Portland Airport really is the best airport in the country, and I'm not the only one who thinks that.
Travel + Leisure
magazine has voted it so, at least in recent years. It's easy to get to, get around in, and get fed in. It has high-quality shops and a bright carpet, and live musicians play piano and guitar. It's an airport you could imagine going to just for fun.

This visit, of course, was for anything but fun. Monroe screeched into the parking garage and pulled his car to the side. We waited while he talked to a security guard, who had been warned of our approach. Dawson was on his way, too, along with a couple of patrol cars, but we were closer and got there first.

The Honda CRV was parked on the top level, and security cameras confirmed that it was still there. Monroe called Dawson and told him to get to the lot exit, while we wound our way up to the roof. We arrived, saw the car, and stopped several parking spaces away, where we could keep an eye on it.

We sat and waited, saying nothing, until I couldn't stand it any longer.

“Um, guys, I'm sorry, but I have to find a bathroom.”

Monroe sighed, like I was a pain in the ass. And here I had been thinking we were on good terms now.

“Look, Detective, I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'll stay out of sight of the elevator and wait to get on before anyone gets off so that if Nancy…”

“You'll take the stairs.”

“That's a lot of stairs.”

“Annabelle, I think he's right. You have less chance of meeting Nancy on the stairs. Why don't I come with you?” Mickey unfastened his seat belt.

Monroe sighed again. “Sorry, no. I need all three of us here. If she comes out of the elevator bank over there,” he pointed, “then I want the two of you on foot while I block her with my car so she can't back out in hers. We already know she's a runner. I'd like you and Luis to have a good chance of grabbing her, when she tries to bolt.”

“Really? You think we need three men to take down a fifty-year-old woman?” Mickey sounded irritated.

“Mickey, it's okay. I'll be fine. And I have my phone. And my book.” I smiled at him when he turned around.

“Be careful.”

“Always!”

Luis took my hand. “
Amiga
, I suggest you do not come back up. Stay inside the airport until we let you know that this is over.”

“Okey doke.” I got out of the car and walked to the stairs.

So many stairs. Good thing I have a hardy bladder.

I started down at a clip, but I slowed to a walk soon, not wanting to bounce up and down too much. I mean, one should respect one's bladder and not challenge it unnecessarily.

I had made it down several flights when I heard footsteps coming the other way.
Not to panic,
I told myself.
Could be anyone. And don't think about that stairway fight in
Casino Royale
. That was bloody and scary and this is not that. This is not
Casino Royale
and you are not Daniel Craig, and Nancy is not coming up the stairs.

I was right, two out of three.