Cafe Underground Presents
COMING UP ROSES
Book 2 -- Chapters 11
The Detective Andi Wicksham Series, by RL Bell
Copyright © 1997 RL BELL
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....author RL Bell
Andi Wicksham's INVESTIGATORY SERVICES
Chapter 11
Paco and Francois left together in Francois' car--they'd wait by the supermarket at 39th.
Lena phoned Daniel to pass him their cell phone's number. She and Andi waited eight and a half minutes--then they descended, coats and envelope in hand talking as boisterously as they could about dinner and a movie.
They studiously ignored the women still loitering by the motorcycles. Once they'd crossed the street Lena turned and complained scoldingly. "What you got that for? You're not going to carry it around with you the whole night are you?" There was insufferable shrill to her voice, "...I don't want to go by a post office." She stomped her feet and scowled a spiteful look toward Andi.
Andi stopped dead in her track and cursed. "...here, take my coat," she ordered, "I'll dump it at my desk...sheeze!!" she retorted, angrily throwing her coat into Lena's arms and dashing back with the envelope waving conspicuously in her hand.
She dashed up the stairs, a moment later the light in her second-story office window flashed on. It winked off she returned at a skip across the street to Lena. "So far so good." she muttered nervously. "And...thanks for not using that tone on a regular basis." she gave Lena a peck on the cheek. "It would definitely put me off..."
Lena shrugged off the kiss and fiddled with the box. "I can't tell if the thing really works...swing a circle around our office to check it, then park across from the Wine Merchant...we're supposed to be ready if they head west?"
Andi didn't answer, just started the engine and pulled out carefully. She glanced questioningly to Lena.
"So far so good..." Lena granted cautiously as she punched numbers into the cell phone and swept her bangs to a side. "...I'll ring the boys."
Andi swung around a block then headed down Hawthorne, watching her rear-view mirror. She turned right on 28th, slowed to a crawl, paused a minute and slowly rolled ahead. No one turned or paused at the corner behind. She made a few more turns and returned to park in the shadows where they could see a stretch of Hawthorne.
She turned to Lena with a smile. "Now you get to experience the real life of a private eye...incredible tedium until something happens...if it happens. Maybe we should get a snack..."
Two and a half hours later the cellular phone rang for the fourth time. "Yeah Francois?" grouched Andi as she picked it up.
"For somebody without anything to do you sure resent phone calls...but this time it's not a false alarm, I think the clip is moving." Paco's voice was quiet and slow.
Andi elbowed Lena who shot her a dirty look and pointed at the dial on her box. "I see it..." she said irritably. "...but which way is it going?"
"...yes, got it..." confirmed Andi into the phone. She started the car's engine. "Which way?" She glanced over her shoulder and tossed the phone into Lena's lap.
"North...whoa..." Lena squealed, her eyes on the box's dial, her hands turning the box to keep the arrow in its narrow range.
Andi turned east onto Hawthorne, by the time they were at 39th the needle pointed straight north. Andi turned off Hawthorne as the yellow traffic light turned red.
Lena held the black box in one hand and the phone in the other. Andi swerved around a delivery van and caught the last bit of yellow-signal speeding across Belmont.
"Looks like they're turning at Burnside..." reported Lena. "Paco thinks it's a green Honda with two men...it pulled into the left-turn lane. When we catch up they'll pull ahead and confirm...the Honda's turning."
"Hold on..." Andi stomped on the accelerator and swung around a bus, then into the right lane to pass a car, then swerved back to the left, continuing through to the turn lane and around the corner onto Burnside all in a single fluid movement.
"Nice..." complemented Lena. "That's Francois' brown Subaru." she pointed, he was two cars behind the Honda. "Yeah...we're coming up right behind you...got the license number?" Lena fished a pen from the ash tray and scribbled on a scrap of paper.
Andi came up behind Francois as he pulled into the left-hand lane. Just then the green Honda slowed for a bus pulling out. The car between Andi and the Honda changed lanes as well, pulling behind Francois to swing around the bus.
"Oh, Jesus Christ..." exclaimed Andi suddenly recognizing the foul-up they were driving up to. "Duck..." she hissed to Lena, grabbing a map to hold before her as they rolled up directly behind the Honda still stopped at the light.
"Shit...have they recognized us?" she worried out loud She snuck a glance from behind the edge of the map, the man in the passenger seat still faced forward, apparently unalarmed, the driver turned to look out the left-hand window, then toward his passenger, waving a hand as if in conversation.
"I'm supposed to tell you?" grunted Lena. She was folded forward over her seat-belt, her head turned toward Andi below dashboard level, phone still clamped to her ear. "Paco confirms that it's them..." she wheezed, short of breath from her contorted position.
The bus pulled away, followed at a safe, considerate speed by the Honda. Lena made a rude remark over the phone. Andi turned on her turn-signal and held back as if waiting for a parking spot--a car pulled between them so Andi turned off her signal and followed along slowly. "You think we should pull off?" she asked uneasily.
"Not if they didn't recognize us." replied Lena, dropping the phone in her lap and pulling a baseball cap and a pair of dark glasses from her bag. "Follow...but keep back at least a car or two...isn't that supposed to be the advantage of the box?"
Andi didn't answer, but dallied long enough for another few cars to get ahead, then a truck pulled in and she lost sight of the Honda.
"...Paco thinks it's funny." Lena reported with a sneer as she pulled her hair back and put on the hat. She snatched the phone back up, "Weren't you supposed to follow a block or two off to a side?" she demanded indignantly in the phone. "Yeah, Ok...you're right..." Lena turned to Andi and said. "He and Francois are being smug and obnoxious. They'll stay a couple blocks ahead, we'll hang a couple behind."
She returned to the phone. "...whoa-there..see that Paco? Andi turn left." Lena ordered in a hiss, pointing across the street as they entered the intersection. Andi had to swing suddenly from the slow lane, cutting across two empty lanes to make the turn heading south. Then she sped up the next block as fast as she dared.
Lena held the box in her hand and turned it round and about as if confused, then turned to look out the back window. "Damn...me too..." Lena cursed urgently into the phone. "...yeah...west from us and back to the north."
Andi was already turning right as Lena's arm shot out directing her. They caught each other's eyes and smiled.
"Almost straight north now..." Lena eagerly reported in the phone as she silently directed Andi to turn right again. "Yeah, us too...we're going north...back to Burnside..."
They pulled up to the corner and Lena pointed left. Andi turned, following the traffic unaggressively.
"In there..." Lena shouted triumphantly, pointing in the driveway of a motel. "No, we won't..." she assured the telephone, tugging Andi's arm and gesturing wildly for her not to turn in.
Francois' brown Subaru approached from the west and, as they passed, slowed and pulled into the drive. Andi negotiated a change of lanes and pulled to the curb a half a block past. She caught Lena's eyes and they froze in place a moment.
"Show time..." Lena winked, grabbing her oversized bag. That broke the spell, they spilled from their car and picked their way through the traffic and back to the motel on a run.
Around the corner of the motel's restaurant they could see Francois and Paco standing beside their car in the parking lot holding a map before them. Paco pointed in their direction as if discussing directions, his hand unobtrusively turning from pointing finger to upraised palm.
Andi slowed and stopped, out of sight from the inner court.
Lena leapt beside her and asked in her phone. "So...what's up ducks? Hello..?"
Neither of the figures lifted a phone to his ear, but Francois pointed right at them and seem to wave in vague recognition. They stood by Francois' car another moment, then Paco wandered off into the motel complex. Francois watched a moment, shrugged, then turned and ambled toward Andi and Lena.
"Paco's using the box to verify the room number." Francois said quietly.
Lena held the phone to her ear. "He's left the line open, I can hear footsteps and the brush of his sleeve...he just said `number 243'..." she reported in a whisper. "The clip's inside...he's going to loiter...wants us to watch this side." She stepped a cautious step or two from the shielding wall, looking west, toward the second story walk.
Andi and Francois joined her, the two of them looking away, Lena watching over Andi's shoulder as if they were tourists. They stood in the growing dusk until the lot's flood-lights clicked on.
Finally Paco emerged from the cloistered walkway, continuing past until out of line of sight from the rooms behind. Without saying a work, the three waiting friends turned to follow.
Paco shook his head, disappointed with himself. "...they're upset...it wasn't what they expected...they're yelling at each other." He and Francois shared a steely meeting of eyes. "It's a perfect situation for a bug..."
"Let's go...waiting here's stupid..." complained Lena.
"Did you tell Ramirez know what we're doing?" Francois glanced to Andi.
"Of course not..." Andi replied defensively, "...but I guess we should."
"Room 243..." reminded Paco.
Andi wrote it on the palm of her hand.
"Coffee People's on Hawthorne?" suggested Lena.
"Too far..." declared Andi. "There's a Starbucks on 28th" Francois blinked and Paco nodded as they drifted toward their cars.
Andi didn't comment until her engine started. Lena punched in Ramirez's home number as she slid into her seat. "Tanya...hi, it's Lena...yeah, I'm out with Andi on a job and there's something important Ramirez should know...sure..." She looked across at Andi and tapped her finger on the dashboard. Andi pulled from the curb and hung a right at the corner.
"Hey...Ramirez, it's Lena...yeah I'm out with Andi. Nimitz' killers and Simpson's assaulters are in a motel on Burnside...eastside, just over the bridge. Wow, good guess, that's the one...room 243. Absolutely...yeah, right now, this minute. They have the envelope Simpson was supposed to mail to Nimitz...just believe me when I tell you it's true, OK?" Lena stared blankly out the window and shook her head. "That's right...and there's a tracer bug in the clip holding the papers together...it's a tracer-bug...it comes back to us, understand?"
She glanced over to Andi, rolled her eyes, then raised her voice. "Well you're the one who told her to leave it for them to find...sure, you can tell them anything you want, but it's ours and we've tipped you to the collar so we want brownie points. Tell Max...if you don't, I will..."
Andi laughed as she drove, glancing over now and again.
Lena caught her eye and winked. "...no, I don't expect you to get up from your dinner, except that you might want to phone someone who's supposed to care. Yeah, right...sure, right." she responded drily.
Andi could imagine Ramirez's complaint--he'd feel obligated to leave his dinner half-finished and meet the uniforms at the site.
"...sure...and they're disappointed in the envelope's contents. Yeah? Oh yeah? Well, the same to you, but give Tanya our love....yeah, whatever." she lowered the phone and pushed the off button.
"He can be frustrating, can't he?" observed Andi knowingly.
"Just how dissatisfied does he get if you don't help him out?" Lena grumbled.
Andi met Lena's eyes, "The package wasn't what I expected either."
"Do we conclude their expectations were the same as yours?" Lena questioned with sober suspicion.
"...Watson..." Andi confided, wheeling left onto Burnside and heading back to 28th. "...you and Ramirez distrust intuition and it holds you back...I know what Rex put in the package. Things are falling into place..."
"Must be nice..." grumbled Lena "...except that your stigmata stains and the glow from your halo keeps me awake..." She punched another set of numbers in the phone and sat back listening to it ring. "Yo JoAnn...it's Lena."
Andi pulled up and parallel-parked on Burnside across from Starbucks.
Lena reached a hand to restrain her. "Oh yeah? You OK?" she laughed, "...no shit..." she laughed again, harder. "OK...send a bill, I think Andi was impressed and she'll bust a gut when she hears...yeah, sure...sleep tight...OK, at least sleep..." she laughed again. "...bye." She lowered the phone and pushed the off-button.
"So...?" Andi paused and looked across, her hand on the door handle.
"JoAnn and her friend hung out a while, saw a flashlight in our office window and caught the boys in the Honda sneaking out after kicking in our door. The faster one got away, but the slow one got his face beat-in with a Dr. Pepper bottle, withstood a serious effort toward removing his kneecap and had his fancy Israeli automatic pistol taken away...the pistol's worth at least a couple of hundred..."
Andi chuckled in amusement, they slid from the car and picked their way across the street against the light.
"Hot chocolate?" asked Andi after they shouldered in. Lena nodded and joined Francois and Paco already with cups in hand, looking for a table.
Andi ordered and waited for their cocoas--Lena was weaning her from coffee. After waiting for their order she followed to a table in a corner near the window. "Well, that was a washout..." she complained to no one in particular.
"Too bad I didn't get the bug." Paco apologized.
"Too bad the envelope didn't hold what they wanted...we got copies of every page." grumbled Andi.
"Ramirez sniveled that he'd catch hell for moving on an anonymous tip..." Lena stirred her chocolate to cool it off. "...but the bug gives an explanation for the DA...they'll forget to report whose it was. Until then he'll use my name so Max doesn't freak...it'll work."
"Doesn't anybody care that those guy's would have killed me for that package?" Andi appealed to the others.
"Oh yeah...there's that..." conceded Francois off-handedly. "I think things went good. No one hurt and we worked up to specs..."
"It was too much to dream that all the loose ends would tie up." acknowledged Andi, a bit miffed. "Were there more than the two?"
"Maybe...I heard two voices." Paco sipped his camomile tea and looked stone-faced around the table.
"Saying what?" asked Andi quietly.
Paco shut his eyes to reconstruct the scene. "One complained, `I can't believe it's not here...the stuff's not here...' The other one shouted, `No...it can't be.' in a really distraught voice, then the first retorted that he could look for himself if needed to." Paco smiled. "...the second complained that the first didn't have two broken teeth and a busted leg. Then they whined the same stuff over again with different words."
Lena caught Andi's gaze, but didn't mention what JoAnn had reported.
Paco hunched his shoulders in a wordless shrug.
"You couldn't hear anything else about what they expected?" Andi looked over to Paco.
"Couldn't tell..." murmured Paco.
"They complained about broken teeth and a busted leg?" Andi asked, meeting Lena's eyes again, but maintaining a straight face.
Paco shrugged again, "...they wondered if they were followed...but not a clue about us..." he smiled. "I figured they were due to stick a head out and didn't want to be caught hanging by their window...too bad about not getting an audio bug." he glowered gloomily to himself.
"Leaves us spinning wheels..." observed Andi uncomfortably. "I suppose we should still lay low..."
"You bet, toots..." said Lena with certainty.
"My place or Ramirez's?" asked Francois, palming his spoon as if practicing a magic trick--waving his hand over the table; there it is--waving it again and it's gone.
"Tonight we'll be with you my friend..." smiled Lena with an after-the-fact glance to Andi for confirmation.
"Fine..." he put both palms on the table as if ready to push himself up. "Anything else?"
Andi drained the last of her chocolate and rose in dismissal. "On the counterfeiting, Feight solved the paper problem...Nimitz could hot-rod copiers...Gould probably helped develop the laundry. It's hard not to assume this thing doesn't have counterfeiting running all through it..." her voice betrayed disgust at not having definite answers. "I guess there isn't much else to do..." She smiled across at Paco and Francois. "Thanks a million...nothing would have happened without you. Claim what you want...I owe you..."
"Your tabs running..." confided Francois with a knowing smile. He fastidiously straightened his lapels and cuffs and glanced down at his shoes.
"You don't owe me..." spat Paco bitterly, "...if I'd gotten the right bug, we might have more answers..." he pushed his chair back under the table, grabbed his cup to leave off in the bus-tray and left without a backward glance.
Andi looked over to Francois who just shrugged, shook his head and walked backward to the door while talking. "It'll be best to leave your car at your office. I'll swing by." He called the last through the door before disappearing.
Lena looked into Andi's face and gave a tired smile. "Hey sailor...looking for a good time?" she hadn't stirred from her chair, she pulled a strand of hair across her face and peered through it.
"I don't think I can afford you..." laughed Andi.
Lena used a phony Eastern European accent, "That's OK...I've been told that I'm cheap..." she gazed up through lidded eyes and extended a limp hand.
"Please...it's not right to call yourself cheap dharlink..." replied Andi in as close an accent as she was able, pulling Lena from her chair and escorting her to the door, "...this is Amerika...the term is competitively priced..."
Andi called Simpson at seven AM after waking up at four obsessing that the attackers might have slipped away and would be looking to settle their score. Andi would give odds Simpson hadn't taken her psychiatric medications since being beaten up. Lord only knew what that would do to her behavior.
Last night she'd left her car by their office and Francois settled them in the apartment he kept as a secret entrance to his cyber lair. After sleeping lightly through a night of disturbing dreams and waking early to stare into the dark, she'd reconciled herself to wakefulness, dressed at quarter after six and had been sitting by the window watching shadows sweep across the wall. There was no answer at Simpson's, no machine--the phone just rang and rang.
"She's probably hiding out like you told her to..." Lena mumbled grouchily, her eyes still shut to mole-like tightness. She pulled the covers over her head and curled into a fetal position.
"Who ever listens to advice?" Andi muttered to herself, fretting uneasily. "Why don't we drive out there this morning...?"
"Andi..." came a complaining voice from under the blankets.
"A nice drive in the country...it wouldn't be work...when was the last time we did that?" Andi wheedled, but just then she was interrupted by the cell phone on the bureau.
Andi grumbled snatched it up, "Yeah...what?"
"Good morning..it's Daniel...there's someone up in your apartment right now." he whispered excitedly.
"Really?" Andi responded in an excited whisper. "Lena..." she held the receiver aside and hissed, "...get up. There's someone at our apartment."
Lena leapt naked to Andi's side, reaching to the bedside table for her watch, fumbling for underware and cursing that she didn't have more clothes.
Andi watched--the receiver held tight to her ear. "Thanks Daniel. What are they doing? You're OK? Good, we'll be there in minutes...yeah she's dressing...yeah...thanks."
"So..?" cried Lena excitedly, bounding to her feet and storming to the chair with her clothes.
"Twenty minutes ago someone knocked at our door, then he heard them around at the side door...breaking the lock he thinks...then creeping up the back stairs to smash a window and get in." Andi glanced around to see if they left anything.
Lena had grabbed her shirt and was pulling on socks a quick as she could. "Did he call the cops?" She slipped on the shirt and charged into the bathroom.
Andi yelled over the sound of running water. "He called Ramirez..."
"I'm ready..." Lena called out, coming out from the bathroom in a western shirt and Levi's, her oversized handbag hanging heavily from her shoulder.
"Without shoes?" Andi stood and pointed at Lena's feet.
"I'll put them on as we go..." Lena made a dive to grab them.
"Oh, no..." Andi screamed. "My car's at the office..."
"It'll take less time to run home than get it..." Lena plopped to the floor to pull on her shoes.
Andi ducked into the bathroom. Lena pulled the strap of her bag over her head so it crossed like a bandolier. They met at the front door and dashed out, jogging across Division and north toward Hawthorne. Fourteen minutes later they slowed to catch their breath across from their apartment--the second-story flat was dark--no dark forms moved among the shadows inside.
"Let's sneak over." hissed Andi. She streaked off, continuing at a sprint past the sidewalk onto the lawn two yards down from their own.
Lena stayed at her shoulder, stride for stride as they snuck up the front porch stairs and warily eyed the curtained door to their apartment.
Daniel swung the door open before they had time to knock, holding the knob with one hand and wheeling himself backwards with the other. "I'm pretty sure they're still there..." He whispered tensely.
Lena closed the door after peeking again to the empty porch. Daniel spun his chair and led them back to his kitchen where Ramirez sat placidly, feet up on another chair, cup in hand, basking in the aroma of fresh brewed coffee.
"There's been pacing going on." Daniel said in a low voice, pointing up to the ceiling.
"Hi Ramirez." greeted Lena quietly, she gave a little waist-high wave..
"Yo..." Ramirez replied in a casual whisper. "Doesn't sound like any searching." He turned to Andi. "Maybe you know what's it's about?"
Andi stood mid-floor and looked up to the ceiling. "Maybe...did you get the guys at the motel?"
Ramirez nodded quietly and held up two fingers. "One of them had that Phineas cross made into a P and number twenty-five tattooed on his forearm." He looked into his coffee cup and frowned. "Do you have what they want?" He pointed to the ceiling, then reached for the pot and poured himself another cup of coffee without moving his feet from the chair before him.
Andi shook her head and pulled up a chair. "No..." she whispered with a simple head shake. Then, "...those two at the motel?"
Just then, footsteps looped through the hall from kitchen to living room, then paused.
"Well..." replied Ramirez, looking down to pour milk and take a sip. "...runners for the counterfeiters...now they're scared and ratting on each other. White trash losers with a grudge...thought they'd take over when the organization started fraying..." He toasted them with his cup of coffee. "Classic right-wing poster children...bigoted, foul-mouthed, and sociopathic...wanted for explosives, weapons, harassment and threatening judges. West Linn already filled statements of interest."
"So there's only one person upstairs?" asked Andi hopefully.
"Maybe..." Daniel said. "Only one set of footsteps at a time."
Ramirez nodded, then shrugged, nervous, but smug. "I checked your side-door and peeked up the back-stairs. They weren't elegant getting in..."
Andi nodded, looking up again. "Can we have coffee?" She stared at the ceiling as if expecting for it to fall.
Daniel pointed to the cupboard under the counter and Lena pulled out mugs. Ramirez sat quietly, observing. Above them, someone walked across the living room floor.
"You here alone?" Lena asked Ramirez point-blank.
"A car's cruising the hood..." he said calmly. "Milk?" he pushed the quart carton over to Lena.
Just then the footsteps shuffled across the living room floor toward the bathroom. In the silence they could hear the faint sound of the door swinging shut and its lock sliding closed.
"Time to go..." Andi leapt out of her chair, followed by Lena.
"Hold it..." cried Ramirez in a whisper with an edge of desperation as he grabbed at his phone and punched in numbers, "...I have to call back-up..." he put the phone to his ear. "You can't go yet..." he hissed.
"Can't wait..." Andi whispered from the living room. Her keys were in her hand by the time she reached her front door. Lena held the pistol grimly, her left hand assisting her right. They crept cautiously up the stairs leaving the front door open behind them.
No sound greeted them as they avoided the seventh step's squeak. Lena peeked into the living room, looked back over her shoulder and shook her head. Andi crept quietly toward the kitchen, holding her breath as she listened, suddenly swinging around the jamb.
There was nobody in the kitchen, but a ten-inch french knife that had not been out before lay on the kitchen table. The room looked intact, no cupboards stood open, no clutter from dumped drawers. Lena crossed the kitchen in three smooth steps, looked into the bedroom--first to the windows, then the closet, again shook her head and pointed, unsmiling toward the bathroom.
Andi nodded, a nervous lump in her stomach.
Just then Ramirez appeared at the back door, his eyes sharp and hard and his own pistol in hand. Andi pointed to the bathroom and held up two fingers. "Two doors..." she reminded him in a tense whisper.
He nodded, tiptoeing across the kitchen to the hall, checking the safety on his gun and readying himself for action. Lena stood, her feet spread, her pistol raised in both hands, it and her eyes riveted on the door between bath and bedroom.
From where she stood in the middle of the kitchen, Andi could hear the bathroom door click and swing open, then two shuffling steps--probably in rubber-soled shoes.
"Hold it right there..." boomed Ramirez in his roughest cop-voice. "Police...stay where you are. Raise your hands over your head." he demanded. Andi moved up beside him.
Lena glided through the bedroom and appeared at the other end of the hall. In front of the bathroom door stood Simpson, hands over her head, looking awful, with two terribly blackened eyes and a welt that stretched across her chin and up her cheek.
"I don't have a gun." Simpson said simply. "I left it in the living room."
Lena nodded to Ramirez and glided behind Simpson, across the hall to the living room.
Ramirez herded Simpson into the living room with a wavering gesture of his gun. "Why would you break in here?" stormed Andi. Lena stood guard at the end table where a forty-four caliber, gun-metal blue, long-barreled revolver lay.
"I came to see you...but I got desperate so I let myself in...can I put my hands down?" Simpson's sounded distracted and tired.
"Over there..." Ramirez nodded to the chair on the far side of the room. Simpson moved across the floor and sat down.
Suddenly there came a tramping of feet on the stairs and a shout of "Police..."
"In here, Jacobi..." called out Ramirez as the came up into the hall.
The cops appeared at the door wearing flack-jackets and guns drawn--a tall robust man and a slightly shorter woman. They positioned themselves about ten feet apart for tactical advantage.
"She's not with the jerks last night." Ramirez murmured nonchalantly--still watching Simpson, lowering his gun but not re-holstering it.
"Who is she?" the woman cop asked, all-business, holstering her service revolver and pulling her note-book from a shirt pocket. The Jacobi, Ramirez called out to.
"...Alison Simpson, lives in West Linn." answered Andi, "The thugs arrested last night's second victim..."
"Will she ID 'em?" The male cop asked.
Ramirez shrugged. "We'll see..."
Simpson nodded with wide-eyed urgency first seeking Ramirez's eyes, then Jacobi's.
"Was this a B&E?" Jacobi asked in an even voice, she studied Simpson's face with obvious discomfort.
"Yeah...let me look." Andi gave Simpson a dirty look and went to look at the back door. "...broken window...the door below too..." she reported when she returned a moment later.
"You want to press charges?" Jacobi didn't sound like she expected to hear a `yes.'
Andi glared at Simpson again who gazed back fearfully. She shrugged her shoulders. "I think we're going to talk about that..."
Ramirez looked over to Jacobi and nodded. "Thanks for coming..."
"Want us to stick around?" she asked, looking doubtfully from Andi to Lena and Simpson before swinging her gaze back to Ramirez.
"No. I think we've got it covered. I'll give a call to coordinate reports...and bring Ms Simpson in for the ID..." Ramirez lifted a hand in a dismissive wave, his voice, quiet and amused. Jacobi shrugged, her partner nodded and, as if it were choreographed, they turned together and left.
Andi waited until the bottom door shut behind them, then she walked to the couch and sat down. "So...tell us the story, Alison..." she said in a friendly voice.
"The story?" Simpson asked as if confused.
"I know you switched the material in that envelope from Rex..." Andi encouraged quietly.
"You do?" Alison looked over in surprise.
"Sure..." replied Andi, still friendly, consciously modulating pitch and keeping a round, warm tone. "The material to counterfeit twenties and hundreds was inside...you took it."
Simpson paled. "I brought it with me to show you...but it's not money...it's on white paper." She sounded discouraged.
"You have it here?" Andi asked, surprised.
"Over there..." Simpson pointed to the table with her gun and started to rise.
"No..." ordered Ramirez loudly. "We'll get it."
In a step, Lena reached and pulled the heavy cardboard folder from beneath Simpson's pistol. After a glance, she handed it to Andi who opened it and paged through the half-dozen white sheets lined with perfect pictures of large-denomination bills. One of Simpson's personal notes was on top, reminding her to `keep these papers,' `call Andi Wicksham,' `buy carrots,' `ask about money,' and `find safe places.' Andi left it in place without comment.
"See..." said Simpson. "I told you..."
"These aren't what the guy's were after..." stated Andi flatly. Her voice had lost its easy, conversational tone.
"They're not?" replied Simpson incredulously.
"What about the computer disk?" Andi rose to her feet and took a menacing step toward Simpson.
"The blue one?" Simpson cried in alarm. "That was what they wanted? I put it in my computer, but it seemed to be garbage...it's back at home in a cookbook..." she looked confused and upset.
Andi sank back on the couch with a tired sigh. "How long have you known about the counterfeiting?"
"I knew Rex would be mad about me opening his envelope, but thought he might pay me something..."
Andi sat silently, eyes focused on Simpson. She chewed her lip a moment, then asked, "How about the antique revolver you gave Mr. Tyson..."
Simpson's mouth opened and she blanched noticeably. "You..you know about the gun?" she stuttered in shock, her hand started shaking.
Andi nodded. "I know about everything...I know how you killed William Tyson.
"They weren't who they said they were..." said Simpson in dismay.
"But Mr. Tyson rejected you..." Andi urged with an easy, congenial tone.
Simpson nodded silently and leaned backward, her eyes wide open with fear. "I asked him about the counterfeiting...I told him I understood, I thought it would show him he could trust me. He'd been so nice before. I loved him...but he called me horrible names..."
"Tell us about the revolver..." prompted Andi, continuing her patient prodding.
"Do I have to?" asked Simpson in a little girl's voice, the corner of her mouth twitched as well as her hand, her voice seemed almost detached from her body.
"How about if I start and you fill-in details if I get things wrong...OK?" Andi asked gently, her voice was almost a whisper.
Simpson nodded. Two quick bobs forward with her head, her eyes never leaving Andi's face, her dilated eyes gave her an unearthly look.
"You prepared the pistol the day before, maybe making a list of what to bring?"
There was an eye blink response.
"...then you walked across the hills to his house..." Andi leaned forward, her eyes far harder than her voice.
Simpson blinked and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
"You brought the shotgun with you too...was it the pump-action one?" Andi tilted her head to a side to illicit a response.
"Yes..." Simpson whispered, barely audible.
"You knew Rex was gone, because you phoned first...you approached from the back and walked around the east edge of the house."
Simpson nodded.
Andi continued, "Tyson was in his study as he usually was...you handed him the revolver through the bars on the window telling him your uncle wanted him to have it..."
"...I told him it was broken..." Simpson said in obvious confusion. "How can you know this?" she suddenly screamed. "You can't know this...you weren't there..."
Ramirez rose from his seat and took a step forward, ready to restrain her, but paused and retreated when she settled down.
"Tyson took the old revolver, sighted along the barrel, like gun people do and took it back to his desk to examine it..." Andi continued.
Simpson nodded, her jaw moving slowly as if she wanted to speak, but without uttering a sound, her eyes seemed to glaze over and her focus upon Andi was lost.
"...when he got to his desk and turned back toward the window, you raised the shotgun and shot him." Andi concluded, glancing over her shoulder to see if there was anything on the wall where Simpson was looking.
"Hold it Wicksham," interrupted Ramirez quietly, "Tyson was killed by a bullet from the pistol he held in his hands."
"A bullet originally from the revolver in his hands and from the cartridge left in it..." Andi corrected.
"You can't know this..." whispered Simpson with a fierce intensity.
"So?" demanded Ramirez, his jaw set and lips pinched with impatience. "Explain..."
"The day before, you carefully loaded your Uncles' pistol and shot into something soft..." continued Andi, addressing Simpson.
"Into newspapers..." whispered Simpson, her voice sounding dreamy. Her gaze was half-focused--off into a corner of the ceiling as if reliving the scene in her mind.
"...you recovered the projectile and loaded it into a shotgun shell..." all eyes were on Simpson now, but she seemed in another world. "...that's what you shot Tyson with...maybe with your coat over the open barrel..."
"...yes, to keep the wadding from exposing me. I used my old jacket, but then I threw it away..." whispered Simpson as if already far away. Her hands and cheek had stopped twitching, she sat as if frozen.
"Then you tossed in the suicide-note you typed for him..." Andi's voice ground to a halt as she realized she'd lost Simpson's attention.
Ramirez mumbled something unintelligible, patted his pockets for his cellular phone and retreated into the hall to call the uniformed officers back. Simpson sat slightly bobbing her head, slightly moving her lips ever breath or two as if mouthing unvoiced words, still looking up at the ceiling as if watching a movie--a few stray tears slid silently down her cheeks.
Lena quietly came and sat beside Andi. "You said you knew what happened to the roses too?" She looked from Simpson to Andi and took Andi's hand in her own.
Andi looked up to where Ramirez stood, still talking on the phone, now to somebody in his office, then she looked back to Lena with a grin. "Simpson ground them up into mulch the morning her uncle died...using the grinder in the potting shed." Andi winked and then glanced again to Ramirez who'd moved on to a second or third call, "We might recover the top layer of chips and give it to Gould in a box...but I don't really care if that crime gets solved or not."
Lena gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
Andi smiled a distracted smile in response. "Gould brought Rex to Feight's that afternoon...maybe to steal them. He would have been first one to discover them missing. He told Gould on their drive back." She leaned back against her couch's cushions, blinked and fell silent.
The front door bell rang. Lena rose to let the police back in. Ramirez returned from the hall and counseled with the uniformed officers.
Andi waited quietly on the couch, watching Simpson, chewing her lower lip and thinking about her mother.
THE END
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Last Updated 5/24/97
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