Chapter 17 - Intermission
It was late afternoon when I returned to the Discrete Inquiries office. I told Betty to take the rest of the day off. She set up the coffee for me and got sandwiches from the diner. All I had to do was turn on the hot plate to start up the coffee. I watched as the water boiled up into the upper bowl and as it dripped down, while I ate half a sandwich.
I took the upper bowl off the coffee pot and put it into the bathroom sink. I poured myself a cup, went over to my desk, and sat down. There was a message on my desk.
“Mr. Smith called,” it said.
There was a number to call back. I sighed and took out my Colt. I opened it up and pulled the cylinder. I removed the spent cartridges and replaced them with new ones. I reloaded the cylinder, re-holstered the Colt. I finished the second half of the sandwich.
I picked up the phone and called the number Hart had given me. It was a brief conversation. He was safe.
There was a knock at the door and the familiar voice of Lieutenant Sanders.
“Watcher, you home? Don't shoot, it's just me,” he said.
“Come on in and pour yourself some coffee,” I replied. “There's a sandwich here if you want it.”
He slowly walked in and saw the mostly full pot of coffee. He poured himself a cup and grabbed the sandwich. He walked over to a client chair, sat down, and put his feet up on my desk. He sipped at the coffee and ate the sandwich.
“Betty makes a good pot of coffee,” he said.
“Are you okay with her working here?” I asked.
“Are you kiddin’? ... last night... Never mind. Yeah, I'm okay with it.”
We both sipped our coffee.
“This isn't over yet, is it?” he said rather than asked.
“It is for you,” I said. “There are aspects of this case that affect people who live on the other side of the country.”
“And you?” he asked.
“Yeah, and me," I said. "I ended up being the wild card that messed everything up for the crew that was going to cut out with close to half a million dollars. But only one man was going to eventually get away with that money.
“His plan was to take out his partners, one at a time. Perfume Eddy was to take care of Mason, only he was incompetent. I think Simon got word to Mason that he was a target. Mason then laid low until Simon let him know about Hart. The odd thing was, Hart was a red herring. None of his information led to the money.
“Whoever was in this with Martin hoped that Simon, Joseph, and Mason would get into a battle with each other. He would only have to worry about who was left and he would be the last man standing. I think it was Joseph who tried to drown me. I suspect the running bag was supposed to provide enough evidence to point to Joseph killing me. That would take him out of the picture. I survived and that created a bigger problem. From then on the plan was bollixed. I got tossed into the mix, and it all went awry. Ironically the plan almost worked anyway.”
“Well, you were right. Mason was one of the men who bushwhacked us in your hotel. The other guy was a cousin of, of all people, Eddy,” said Lieutenant Sanders.
“That just left Simon and Joseph,” I said, “All he had to do was misinform them that Mrs. Stanton knew where the money was. Then wait for the police to take care of his remaining partners.”
“You know who he is?” Lieutenant Sanders asked.
“I'm pretty sure I do,” I said. “I'm hoping Mr. Smith will deliver him, or rather he'll help me to deliver him up.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“It means that you go home to your wife. It's over for you. These are out-of-towners, and it’s their personal business. We let them handle it. They’ll take it away from here. It's a win-win for everyone.”
Lieutenant Sanders finished his coffee and finally stood up. The phone rang. I waved him away. Slowly and reluctantly, he left.
