Hot Shot, page 9
Lizzie nodded. Her eyes searched those of the tall man standing in front of her. “You’re sure, Joe?”
“Look at me, Lizzie. I’m a doctor, not God. I am as sure as I can be as a doctor that it is okay for you to leave. Your husband is in good hands. Now, goddamn it, GO!”
Lizzie struggled to offer up a weak smile. “Okay, Joe, I’m going. Call me if anything changes.”
“You got it.”
Outside her husband’s hospital room, Lizzie literally fell into Charles’s and Fergus’s arms. “Can you take me home?”
“Of course. That’s why we’re here, to help,” Charles said. “Might I make a suggestion, Lizzie?” She nodded. “Instead of going home and being alone, why don’t you come back with us to Babylon?”
Lizzie shook her head. “I have to go home. I need my . . . I need to feel close to my husband. I want to hug his pillow. I want to sit in his chair. The house is alarmed out the kazoo, Cosmo made sure of that. I’ll be fine, truly, Charles, I will. I just need to be alone right now.”
“Do you want us or just one of us to stay with you?” Fergus asked.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I need to be alone. I need to think. I need to . . .” Lizzie tossed her head from side to side, her hands flapping in the air. “I need to get back to being who I am so I can deal with . . . with all this.”
“Totally understood, Lizzie. We’re just a phone call away if you need us.”
“And I appreciate it. Tell me what you’ve all been doing. Has anyone found out anything?”
“Well, for starters, Maggie is here; she arrived yesterday. I’m not sure whether you knew about that. Right now she’s with Dennis at Happy Village. The boys decided that those two had the best chance of talking to the senior citizens, who as a rule do not talk to strangers. If anyone can get them to open up and actually talk, assuming they have something to say, it’s young Dennis, with Maggie at his side.” Lizzie smiled wanly and nodded to show she was in agreement.
“Ted and Jack are also on their way to Happy Village to talk to Gentry Lomax and his assistant, Bessie Love, the ones in charge of the day-to-day operations at the complex.
“Harry is with his friends from the martial arts trials, showing them around Vegas. He’s just a phone call away if needed.
“Avery is here, and I’m not one hundred percent sure about this, but I think he has teamed up with Abner. Both men seem to have gone off the grid, and we are not sure why. We think, and I stress the word think, that they both started to explore the dark side of the web and are not sure of their next move. I’m sure that Abner has enlisted the aid of his . . . ah . . . fellow hacker, the one he calls Phil. But that’s all we know right now.
“Mr. Zack Meadows, your husband’s partner in the ownership of Happy Village, has not seen fit to return our numerous phone calls, and that’s starting to bother all of us. An eyeball-to-eyeball meeting is on the agenda. It was our job this morning, before coming here, to see if we could speak with him. We called, and of course the call went to voice mail, as did all the others. We tried calling the office, but the person who answered just said Mr. Meadows was not available and asked if we wanted to leave a message. We did. At that point, Fergus and I decided there was no point in fighting this abominable traffic just to be told that the man was unavailable, so we came here.
“Joseph is manning the apartment. Everyone checks in hourly with him, and we’re to meet up at one o’clock, but if that isn’t physically possible, then people will call in. I think that brings us pretty much up-to-date, and I regret that we don’t have more to report. But rest assured, we are working it. We’ll figure it all out, then take the appropriate action. We’re dealing, I suspect, with gangs and some turf warfare.”
“We’re here,” Fergus blurted as he swung the car into Lizzie’s paved driveway, where the silver Mercedes Jack and Harry had borrowed and obviously returned was sitting. Both men got out and walked Lizzie to the door.
Lizzie hugged both men before she unlocked the door. She thanked them for bringing her home, her eyes filling with tears. The last thing she said before she closed the door was a heartfelt whispered “Find those bastards and make them pay for what they did to my husband.” Fergus and Charles simply nodded.
“She’ll be fine, mate,” Fergus said on the way back to the car. “When we see her next, she’ll be ready to take on the whole world. That is one woman you don’t ever, as in ever, want to go up against. Especially when she’s in top form. These past few days blindsided her. Stronger people than Lizzie would have crumpled too. Now she’s mentally where she goes before she hits that courtroom to fight for her clients. This time, though, she’s fighting for the love of her life, and I, for one, would not want to be on the other end of whatever she decides to do.”
Charles agreed. “I guess it’s back to Babylon to do whatever we can. There must be someone who can turn us on to the group they call the Cavaliers to see what they’re all about. Call Joseph to see if anyone has checked in or if he knows anything.”
Five minutes later, Fergus shook his head. “Quiet as a church, in his words, mate. Meaning nothing has happened and no one has called in.”
“Guess they need us to liven things up. What’s your feeling on all of this, Ferg?”
Fergus shivered and hugged his arms across his chest. “Nothing good, that’s for sure. I keep thinking about what Maggie said about Abner, and now he’s off the grid. That’s what happens when you mess around with the dark web. It’s evil, Charles. Not for the likes of you or me or the boys. We don’t live in that kind of world. I’m not sure we’re equipped to take on the likes of what dwells in the underbelly of the dark web.”
“Good will win out over evil every time, Ferg,” Charles said. His tone of voice, however, sounded less than reassuring to Fergus, who simply shook his head and stared out the window. His thinking was, there was a first time for everything.
Back at the hotel casino, Charles turned his car over to the valet parking attendant, and the two men rode the elevator to Annie’s penthouse suite. They looked expectantly at Espinosa, whose first word was “Nada.”
* * *
Less than seven miles away as the crow flies, Maggie was ringing the doorbell of the first apartment building in Happy Village. When there was no answer, she rang the bell again and kept her finger pressed hard on the round button. “I’m staying here until someone opens this door. These people need to know we’re the good guys, and I’m the one who is going to rally them together so they understand we mean no harm. You with me, Dennis?”
“Of course I am. It’s not me you need to be concerned about. We have to win them over, and I think we can do that, but first they need to open the door.”
Maggie leaned closer to the door, sensing that somebody was standing on the other side. She told herself she was a reporter and knew things like that. Besides, it was what she would do if she were the person on the other side of the door. She removed her thumb from the doorbell and gave it three zippy little taps. The bell bonged inside. Finally, she heard a voice say, “Who is it?”
“My name is Maggie Spritzer, and this is my partner, Dennis West. Mrs. Cricket asked us to come here to talk to you. Please, open the door. We can talk out here if that is more comfortable for you. I was hoping you’d invite us in for a cup of tea so we could talk.”
No one was more surprised than Maggie and Dennis when the door opened and a pink-cheeked lady who looked to be in her early seventies, with pearl-white hair and wearing a purple-flowered dress, smiled at them. “Come in. A person living alone these days can’t be too careful. We have classes here about how older people get taken advantage of. Mr. Cricket takes good care of us, along with those lovely young men of the Cavaliers. Still, we have to be alert at all times. That’s why we all wear what Mr. Cricket calls our magic buttons,” the woman said, pulling a chain out from under her dress. A white square with a blood-red cross in the middle served as the button. “And we don’t have to pay for this service either. Help comes in under five minutes if we press the button.”
“That’s wonderful,” Maggie said sincerely. Dennis nodded his agreement.
“Well, now that you’re here, were you serious about wanting a cup of tea? I have some nice blackberry tea I save for guests. I get it from a specialty shop.”
“No, not really. We just want to talk to you, Mrs. . . . I didn’t get your name, ma’am,” Maggie said.
“Frances Gossett. Well then, we can sit in the parlor and talk,” the little lady said primly as she led the way down a short hallway to a neat-as-a-pin parlor with comfortable furniture. A fat tabby cat stared at them before it leaped off the sofa to land in Frances Gossett’s arms. She laughed out loud as she hugged the fat cat. “I don’t know how I can help you, but ask me whatever it is you came here to ask me.”
Dennis spoke first. “Let’s just cut to the chase and you tell us what, if anything, you know about the shooting that took place here, the one that landed Cosmo Cricket in the hospital fighting for his life.”
Frances Gossett looked as if she was going to cry. “That’s just it. I don’t know anything. I was watching my soap opera, and I keep the TV turned up high because my hearing isn’t what it used to be. To be honest with you, I’m vain enough not to want to wear hearing aids. I found out only when the ambulances swooped in, and Sawdust here about jumped out of his skin. In case you’re interested in his strange name, I named him Sawdust because he used to like to stay with my husband in his woodworking shop, and he’d come into the house all covered in sawdust. However, I digress. I saw all the flashing lights through the windows and went outside to see what was happening. It’s not all that unusual to see an ambulance here. We are, after all, a community of elderly people.
“All my neighbors from this building were already outside when I got there, and they didn’t know anything other than that someone was shot. None of us knew that it was Mr. Cricket—who, by the way, is just the loveliest man in the world. Later, when we found out it was Mr. Cricket who had been shot, we all gathered in the chapel to pray. The police questioned all of us for hours and hours, but none of us could tell them anything. The police still have a presence here, and Porter, my next-door neighbor, told me that the police set up what he called a command post in a room off the main office, where Gentry Lomax and Bessie work. They more or less run the day-to-day business here at Happy Village.
“Now, I can’t speak for the tenants in the other buildings, but I think I would have heard something by now if any of them saw or heard something. You’ll have to talk to them directly.”
Maggie smiled as the cat in Frances Gossett’s arms purred so loudly she could hear it from across the room.
“What about the Cavaliers?” Dennis queried.
“Lionel? He wasn’t here that day. But I think Gentry or Bessie called him, and he came over with his group later on. He checks on us three times a day. Or I should say his group does. Lionel is what we refer to here at Happy Village as our in-house security. Mr. Cricket pays him and his crew out of his own pocket to watch over us.”
“Are you aware that Mr. Cricket has a partner where this complex is concerned? His name is Zack Meadows.”
Frances Gossett’s head bobbed up and down. “I know of him, but I have never laid eyes on him. I think his mother lived here at one point. At least that’s what I heard. Contrary to what you might have heard about us old people, we do not gossip. No one talks about him. They just talk about Mr. Cricket.”
“How long have you lived here, Mrs. Gossett?”
“I moved here five years ago, after my husband Ralph died. I had to wait seven months for an available apartment.”
“How do you or the others get in touch with Lionel or his crew?” Maggie asked.
“We just call him, and someone shows up. Sometimes it’s Lionel, and sometimes it’s someone else. Lionel’s mama lives here in Building Three. That’s the building on the corner of Primrose Avenue and Lilac Lane.”
“What do you think happened here, Mrs. Gossett? Do you know what the tenants think? Was Mr. Cricket at the wrong place at the wrong time? Someone must have seen or heard something. We know there are gangs all about, but we were told Happy Village was off-limits even though it had once been gang-held territory. Do the Scorpions come out in broad daylight? Do you think they’re behind this?” Dennis asked all in one long, drawn-out breath.
Frances Gossett stopped stroking the purring cat to throw her arms in the air. “That’s just it, we don’t know. It’s as if we were all struck deaf, dumb, and blind that particular day. I wish it weren’t so, but I can’t change what happened. I will tell you this—everyone in this building meets up at the chapel every day at four o’clock to pray for Mr. Cricket.”
Maggie looked at Dennis, who just stared at her. His look said, I think we got all we’re going to get out of this lady. Maggie stood up and offered her hand to Frances Gossett. “I would appreciate it if you’d give me Lionel’s phone number, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, dear. I’m sure he’ll help you if he can. He’s studying to be a lawyer. Everyone in his group attends classes the casino owners pay for. At least that’s what I was told.” Sawdust jumped off her lap and raced out of the room. Frances got up and walked over to a small secretary, then rooted around until she found a small white card that had three inked-in phone numbers on it. “The top number is Lionel’s, the second one is Sula’s, and the third is Andy’s. All lovely young men. They all treat us like we’re their grandparents. It makes us feel safe. You can tell them I gave you the card. I have another one.”
“Thank you for talking to us, Mrs. Gossett,” Maggie said as she led the way to the front door, Dennis right behind her.
“Ah, young lady, there is one other thing you might be interested in.” The little woman in the flowered dress let her hands flutter in the air as her facial expression turned worried.
Those words were just what Maggie wanted to hear. She whirled around so fast she nearly lost her footing. “What?” she all but screeched.
Taken aback, Frances Gossett stepped back and stared at Maggie. She cleared her throat. “I don’t know if it means anything, but I have been concerned simply because when I asked questions, no one had any answers to give me.”
Maggie clenched her teeth. She wanted her to say it, spit it out already. Instead, she took a deep breath and then said, “What questions would that be, Mrs. Gossett?” She could feel Dennis’s hot breath on her neck as he inched closer to make sure he didn’t miss a word.
“It really is none of my business, but Ellie and I were friends of a sort. We were bingo buddies, and we always sat together when we took the jitney to the casino for lunch. We do that one day a week, you know. Each week, it’s a different casino, and it’s free to all of us.”
“And . . .” Maggie prodded gently.
“Ellie Harper was her name. She was . . . is a widow like me. She lives at 202 Lilac Lane. Well, she did live there, but she’s gone. She never said good-bye, and she didn’t leave a note. It was like she disappeared into thin air. No one knows what happened to her. I wanted to file a police report, but Gentry Lomax said he would do that. I assume he did, but nothing came of it. Bessie Love said the police said
Ellie probably just got tired of this place and moved on. I don’t believe that for a minute. Ellie loved it here, and I know for a fact she had paid her rent through the end of the year. Her husband left her very well-off. She even had a portfolio.” It sounded to Maggie’s ears as if to Frances Gossett, a financial portfolio was right up there with the Holy Grail.
“Does she have a family?” Dennis asked.
“No. She had a son, but he died of leukemia years ago. People our age simply do not walk off into the sunset. Our goal is security. We like to surround ourselves with pets and friends, and Ellie was no different. I think something happened to her, and no one cares. That’s what I think,” Frances Gossett said, and sniffed.
“When did she leave?” Maggie asked.
“April 17 was the last time I heard from her. We were supposed to take the jitney to the dollar store, but she didn’t show up at the clubhouse. That’s where we board the jitney. When we got back, I went over to her apartment; I have a key, and she has one to my place too. I let myself in, but she wasn’t there. Everything looked normal. Nothing was out of place. I felt like a sneak going through her things, but I felt as if I had to do it. I couldn’t tell whether anything was missing. Her purse wasn’t there. Ellie had this . . . what I call a satchel that she carried everything in—her knitting, personal things—and it was gone, and so was her cell phone. There was quite a bit of food in her refrigerator, and her pantry was well stocked. Her bed was made too. She had no pets, said she didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of an animal.
“I went back every day for a week. I called her cell phone at least a hundred times during that week, then I asked Gentry Lomax to look into it.”
Maggie felt like pumping her fist in the air. At last, something to sink her teeth into. She was about to ask a question when Mrs. Gossett continued, “And that’s not all. Other people have left here in more or less the same way. My next-door neighbor Porter said his friend Will left too. He reported it the same way I did. Nothing came of it, either. Will’s unit is also empty. Will was some bigwig in Silicon Valley, and he moved here, Porter said, about two years ago. Meaning he was wealthy. I don’t know if he paid his rent ahead of time like Ellie did or not. That’s one of the reasons Gentry gave for not being able to do anything. His mantra was they were free agents, older than twenty-one, in good health, and not answerable to anyone but themselves. Porter has a key to Will’s place, and he still checks it every day, hoping to find that Will has come back. He and Porter used to play chess every day, and he misses him. It’s hard to lose a friend. I miss Ellie terribly and am so glad I have Sawdust. Do you think you can do anything about this, young lady? Do you think it might have something to do with Mr. Cricket’s getting shot?”
