Bay of Deception Page 12

  Oliver didn’t respond, only sighed. After stopping at the light leading toward the old Broadway gate, he quickly moved the weapon from McKenny’s temple down to the man's crotch in one smooth motion. If McKenny had been still before, he became positively statue-like now, saying nothing other than a slight whimper.

  Oliver drove his vehicle slowly, deliberately, aware that McKenny might try something soon if for no other reason than impatience.

  “Not much further, McKenny,” Oliver intoned evenly. “Just another quarter mile, then we’ll have our little talk.”

  Perhaps it was simply Oliver’s nerves, but it seemed to him that McKenny breathed a little easier after that. They pulled into a school parking lot a minute later without incident.

  “Now what, Peidmont?” McKenny asked, once again finding his voice and it was obvious the gun’s target had improved his tone, if not his attitude.

  “What else?” Oliver replied, shutting the car off. “We talk.” Lifting the gun from McKenny’s crotch, Oliver kept its aim true.

  “I’m usually a pretty quiet guy when a gun’s pointed at me,” said McKenny. “Even more when it’s aimed at my dick.”

  “So I noticed,” Oliver replied dryly.

  “Small man with a big gun, ooohhhh, I’m scared.” McKenny raised his huge hands and shook them.

  “Big man with a small brain,” Oliver gripped the weapon tightly, aware of the hot button he'd just pushed.

  The giant’s breathing sped up. “If you got something to say, dickhead, say it! Otherwise I’m outta here.”

  Oliver stared at him for several seconds, then lowered the gun to his lap.

  “Fine, I’ll make it clean and simple, Jenel plans to either kill you along with us or more likely, make you the fall guy for our deaths. That is, unless you and I can bring the missing papers back on time.”

  If he hadn’t expected it, Oliver probably should have as McKenny burst into raucous laughter, slapping his ham sized leg till his breath became ragged and his voice hoarse.

  “I can’t believe you’d try something so obvious, Peidmont? Weren’t you listening?” McKenny snarled. “I did everything Jenel asked and more, when I brought you two in. I’m practically a hero.”

  Oliver really didn’t have time for this and fixed the gloating man with a cold stare.

  “Okay, McKenny, just listen to what I’ve got to say until I’m done. If you think I’m wrong, fine; you can keep acting like the world’s biggest asshole.” In the semi-darkness of the parking lot lights, Oliver felt more then saw the giant man tense and gripped his gun tighter.

  “Talk away,” McKenny said dismissively, then settled against the car door to his right. “It’s your breath.”

  “If I had more time, I’d go into more detail but I think the five items I mention will make it clear just how bad your situation is.”

  Holding up his free left hand, Oliver ticked off each point with a raised finger.

  “First of all, as far as the police know, your ex-wife is missing and they have her recent statement on record of your history of violence against her. Secondly, your ex-wife’s girlfriend, an employee of JenelCo by the way, was murdered within the last seventy-two hours and though you have what appears to be an airtight alibi, Jenny’s sudden death would certainly prompt them to take a closer look at any connection you might have with the two thugs I killed earlier tonight.”

  “Thirdly," Oliver said, lifting another finger. "My own disappearance would prompt a major investigation of JenelCo, again pointing in your direction since I was last known to be working on the murder of a former employee of JenelCo, your wife's best friend. Eventually my own emotional and physical involvement with your wife would be discovered, once again pointing toward you: the jealous ex-husband. Fourthly, your boss seems very uncomfortable with the kind of publicity that three dead bodies would bring; possibly national media coverage when the ties to JenelCo inevitably come out.”

  “Finally," he said, bringing up his thumb until all five digits were aloft. "Jenel avoids all this by offering you to the police; the scorned ex-husband, who first killed the supportive friend, then your ex-wife and finally her new lover. If he’s really creative, he’ll kill you and make it look like a homicide/suicide. A messy ending to be sure, but it will ensure that you don’t talk.” Oliver lowered his hand while keeping the gun pointed toward McKenny.

  McKenny had begun swearing after Oliver’s third point, although under his breath, until all five digits had been lifted before him.

  “Goddamn fucking Jenel!” McKenny responded, pounding the car dash like a caged animal. "Shit! Oh shit, Oh shit, that stinking Italian's going to sell me out! Oh shit!”

  “One last point,” Oliver interrupted. “Why do you think Jenel sent you along with me, as if you could stop me from going to the police?”

  He knew he shouldn’t feed McKenny’s paranoia more than he already had, yet the fear on the other man’s face felt right somehow; a small but exacting revenge for all Jenny had suffered at his hands. He watched as McKenny’s mind searched for the answer and the look on his face became one of complete terror.

  The voice which spoke next was no longer that of an arrogant and sadistic killer, but that of a little boy, whining at the approach of an angry father. “So plenty of witnesses could say I was the last person with you before you were murdered?”

  Lifting the revolver from his lap, Oliver took aim in the near darkness at the wide-eyed stricken McKenny, then made a show of pulling an imaginary trigger.

  “Bang!” he whispered.

  Though he worked for the city of Pacific Grove, Willy Johnson loved his hometown of Seaside and the squared-jawed, handsome policeman never missed an opportunity of championing its positive aspects.

  ‘But,’ said many in the other communities. ‘Wasn’t he aware Seaside had the highest crime rate on the Peninsula?’ ‘Yes,’ he would smile in answer. ‘And that it had almost no tourism to speak of! Why, with the closing of Fort Ord,’ they would go on. ‘Many of its rental units now stood vacant, a potential, perhaps an inevitable draw for crack dealers and the homeless who wandered its back streets! ‘Yes, yes, and yes,’ he would reply, then he would counter each negative viewpoint with his own positive perspective, never flagging in his enthusiasm and belief that Seaside was a great place to live.

  All such factors and more had been explained to Willie many times, often after he'd pulled a motorist over or responded to a call out among predominately white Pacific Grove. Out it would come, like some kind of morbid confession: a local liturgy, a recitation of Seaside’s woes until his city was nothing more than a problem in their minds, instead of the vibrant city of living, breathing human beings that it was. Though no one had spoken the words, Willy suspected what some wanted to say was that Seaside was a blight on their peninsula: an eyesore warranting removal.

  Insistent, yet not overly loud, the knocking which awoke Willy Johnson persisted until he got out of bed clad only in boxers and T-shirt. He reached for his weapon which sat on the five foot tall dresser beside his bed and well out of reach of his three year old twin girls. His wife, Julie continued to sleep, stirring only slightly as he left the bed and made his way towards the front door. Though it wasn’t common for Willy to have visitors at four-thirty in the morning, neither was it unheard of. Despite the weapon for insurance, he expected a locked out neighbor kid wanting to sleep on his couch; certainly not Oliver Piedmont with a worried looking Collin McKenny behind him.

  “Hello Willy,” Peidmont said, wearing a worried grin under the anemic entryway light. “Got a minute?”

  It took nearly a half hour to explain the situation to Willy before he was finally comfortable putting his gun away. A precious half hour gone, which left, according to Oliver’s watch, about ten hours and fifty minutes to save Jenny’s life. Assuming Jenel would keep his word, a very big assumption, Oliver kept reminding himself.

  “I need you to call in tomorrow, Willy,” Oliver said as the three of them sat
around Willy’s kitchen table. “Tell them one of your girls has got the flu, or a dentist appointment. Something which allows you to be seen around town.”

  “No problem, Ollie, but what’s your plan? You got any idea where those papers are? How do we know they even exist?"

  It was McKenny’s turn to speak.

  “Look, Johnson, if Jenel said some papers were missing, they’re missing. He’s got no reason to have Peidmont and me running all over this area other than to find what Carol Montoya stole.” As a kind of afterthought, McKenny laughed coldly, “Unless it was just to hang my ass out to dry.”

  “I hate to say it, but McKenny’s right,” Oliver said after he sipped some of Willy’s instant coffee.

  “Jenel wants those papers enough to risk letting me go, all in hopes of minimizing the damage already done by Carol. She made a royal mess for him and he’s hoping I’m the mop to clean it up.”

  “Okay, I believe you. So where do we go from here?”

  Oliver took a long pull on his coffee until nothing remained in the cup, wondering how best to answer. Slowly, with a carefulness that made the kitchen’s silence even louder, he set his coffee cup onto the table.

  “I think you should go over to Carol’s house, Willy. The cops who went through it were only looking for potential items related to her murder. Anything with JenelCo on it would have slipped by since she’d recently worked there.”

  Willy nodded but remained silent, sipping his own coffee.

  “Since Jenel has McKenny acting as my watch dog, we dare not split up or one of his people might notice and that could seal Jenny’s fate, whether we bring in the papers or not.”

  “Why not call your partner?” Willy suggested. “Jerk or not, we could really use John Collinson’s help right now.”

  “Too big a risk," Oliver said, shaking his head. "It’s likely Jenel has at least one informant in the Monterey Department and I can't risk both of you calling in. However I might have somebody else who can help us, someone I’m pretty sure Jenel doesn’t know about.”

  “I hope it’s not another cop,” McKenny stated loudly. “You’re just asking for trouble if another of your buddies comes to our little party here.”

  “Ssshhhhh!” Willy hissed at him, “You’ll wake my family.”

  “Okay, okay,” McKenny shot back sullenly though quieter.

  Oliver stood up, eyed his empty mug, then pushed his chair into the table. “We’d better be going, Willy.” Oliver turned toward the sleepy, though still chiseled looking officer.

  “I sure appreciate your help in all this. I’ll call or stop by when I can to check on your progress at Ms. Montoya’s house. I doubt her phone’s been shut off yet.”

  Willy stifled a yawn as he nodded, then let Peidmont and McKenny out into the early morning darkness before getting himself dressed. He would need to leave his wife, Julie a note and Chief Williams would likely shit a few bricks when he learned he'd called in to help Peidmont on this case. Quietly slipping into a pair of jeans, Willy sighed, knowing he could do little more than hope all would be approved, after the fact.

  After pulling on his street-worn Reeboks, Willy donned his coat before inserting his service revolver into its waiting shoulder holster. Checking the gun’s safety, Willy pulled at the coat’s zipper until both weapon and holster were hidden. With both hands embedded in the coat pockets, he looked just like any other early riser out for a walk. It was going to be a long day.

  Oliver, with McKenny tagging along like some giant puppy, climbed into his cruiser. Heading toward Monterey he took the back streets, careful to keep just under the speed limit lest a fellow cop pull up to say hello and then identify McKenny. Enough had happened in the last two days to convince Oliver that some kind of warrant may have been issued for the brute. If McKenny were pulled in, such questioning would eat up the lion’s share of the ten plus hours he had left. Though it rankled him, Oliver knew he needed some kind of quiet, unofficial assistance. Very quiet.

  Cruising into the parking lot now, Oliver recalled having been at this park only the night before, yet so much had transpired in that short time. Slowing to a stop, he shifted the car into neutral before shutting the ignition off.

  “What?" McKenny looked at him, puzzled. "We’re gonna play at the park at five o’clock in the morning!”

  Oliver waited a moment before answering, craning his neck as he did so.

  “No, just want to talk to a friend. He stops here every couple of hours.” Oliver scanned the park, it's entrance, along with the few scattered cars parked on the surrounding side streets were visible under the white neon lamps.

  “You’re looking for another one of your cop friends, aren’t you?” McKenny whacked Oliver's right shoulder, shaking him with its impact.

  Oliver turned toward McKenny and saw the growing look of terror. He decided to play this down.

  “McKen...Collin, look. We just need to make sure you and I aren’t pulled over. There’s probably a warrant out for you by this point and if we get pulled over...”

  “What do you mean, there’s a warrant out for me?” McKenny interrupted him, panic in his voice. “Jenel said I would be free and clear, said I had nothing to worry about after spending the night in that shitty jail?”

  Oliver realized then that McKenny was losing it. He reached towards the keys to start the car; hoping to calm him down at the very least. But as often is the case, timing is everything. Paul Rodriguez’s patrol car turned into the parking just at that moment, his front lights settling on Collin McKenny like a net.

  “Collin...” Oliver began, but in a blur which defied the man’s size, McKenny opened his door, leaped out almost directly into the path of Rodriguez’s vehicle and ran off into the silent darkness. Rodriguez leaped from his patrol car, drawing his weapon but soon realized there was little use for it in the almost complete darkness. He stopped, then reached toward his radio just as Oliver opened his door. Rodriguez' jumped, redrawing his weapon as Oliver emerged into the cold night air.

  “God damn it, Ollie,” Rodriguez barked after a tense moment. Slowly he re-holstered his weapon. “When I recognized your car, then saw McKenny run off, I thought he’d killed you!”

  Oliver leaned against the car behind him, expelling every inch of breath in him.

  “He did worse than that, Paul. For all intents and purposes, he likely just killed his wife.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Too fast! It had all happened too fast. The rules of this game seemed to change moment to moment and each time, it left him with fewer pieces to work with. He ran his fingers through his hair, slowly stroking the growing headache which seethed just below his head wound. It all struck him as surreal somehow; standing there in the El Estero park parking lot with Paul Rodriguez at almost five-thirty in the morning. Oliver struggled to pull his thoughts together.

  “I warned you about those guys at JenelCo,” Rodriguez spoke before Oliver gathered much of anything. “I’m just sorry you didn’t listen to me.”

  Perhaps it was the idea of having a choice in all this which struck Oliver funny or simply the frustration of all he’d been through in the last seventy-two hours. His hollow sounding laugh went on for several seconds and brought a concerned look from Rodriguez.

  “Paul,” Oliver caught his breath, “personal choice has been the least of my options in the last few days.” He felt another wave of laughter rising, but fought it down till only a hollow ache remained.

  With a look of growing concern, Rodriguez turned and leaned against his car.

  “How long since you got some sleep, Ollie?”

  “A bit.” Oliver pushed himself upright and stretched.

  “Then tell me what’s going on. What were you doing with a creep like Collin McKenny?”

  He was about to tell Rodriguez he had no time for explanations, that what he needed was a new plan now that McKenny was gone when Rodriguez’s radio came alive and he walked around to the driver’s side to report in. Oliver’s thoughts
drifted to Jenny sitting a few miles away, her life hanging by a very thin thread.

  “Ollie, Get in!” Rodriguez shouted as he slammed his door excitedly.

  Oliver bent down, staring through the passenger window as Rodriguez turned the engine over.

  “What?” he shouted over the engine’s roar, but Rodriguez leaned over and shoved the passenger door wide. Reluctantly Oliver climbed into the car which roared backward before he could shut his door. “Paul, what the hell are you doing?”

  Rodriguez failed to answer until he’d turned the car in the opposite direction.

  “Got a report of a Peeping Tom, said somebody was looking into some windows over on Scott street, about nine blocks from here.”

  Oliver tried to stay calm as the car raced toward the park’s entrance.

  “I’d like to bag a Peeping Tom as much as any cop, but...”

  “Ollie. Rodriguez steered the wheel with one had while whacking Oliver on the shoulder. ”The caller said it was a very big Peeping Tom.”

  It took a moment for Oliver to understand, then they were tearing through the heart of Monterey, viciously bouncing over and through the dips which separated the city’s streets. The dispatcher reported that two other patrol cars had positioned themselves on Casa Verde, a block away from Scott and were only waiting for him and Rodriguez to get into position. Oliver reached for the microphone as they pulled up to the edge of Scott street, then handed it to Rodriguez.

  “What?” Rodriguez stared at the microphone.

  “Tell your buddies to not harass him, Paul,” Oliver said quickly. Just have him picked up.”

  Rodriguez stared at Oliver, his face a mixture of resentment and thwarted anticipation.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking, Ollie. Cops all over Monterey hate this guy. When they find out it’s him, it’s not going to be pretty.”

  Oliver leaned back against the seat, struggling with what to reveal.