Sinner or Saint Page 16

  “I suspect your visit is about much more than that. What can I get you to drink?” Conrad asked, taking his usual position at the drink cart.

  “Vodka on the rocks, please,” Kelsey said without batting an eye.

  “Same,” said Marlee, even though it was before noon, and she rarely imbibed before five o’clock.

  Conrad whipped up their drinks, today clad in one of the more normal ensembles Marlee had ever seen on him. He wore black parachute pants with zippers all over them, his doughy legs pushing against the nylon of the fabric and the seams of the zippers. On top, he wore a red leather jacket, resembling Michael Jackson in the Thriller video. It wasn’t until he handed them their drinks that she noticed he was wearing one bejeweled glove. If he attempts a moon walk, I’m going to puke, she thought, sipping her drink.

  “Della said you left her house last night shortly after she got you settled in. That doesn’t sound like a very appreciative guest to me.” Conrad said.

  “I’m so sorry, and I need to apologize to her today. It was very nice of her to offer her house, but something came up, and I had to leave,” Kelsey said, looking to Marlee with help in telling the story.

  “It’s true. Her father and Ian were in my house when I returned yesterday. They were looking for Kelsey to take her back to Dublin. I wasn’t sure if their intentions were good or bad. Given what I’ve learned about Ian from various sources, I tend to think he would either harm Kelsey or force her into criminal activity to benefit himself,” Marlee said.

  “They stopped by and were both quite rude. They forced their way past me and looked all over the house for Kelsey. They were convinced she was here. And one of them swiped my Spanish stallion sculpture while in the study. I would’ve alerted the police, but I didn’t want any attention, especially since Kelsey just brought the antique pipe from Ireland.” Conrad sat in his usual chair with his usual drink. “My associations with Ian O’Sullivan are finished from here on out!”

  “And the emeralds,” Marlee said.

  “Enough with the emeralds!” Conrad yelled. “There are no emeralds!”

  “Kelsey saw you empty something from the antique pipe. If they weren’t emeralds, then what were they?” Marlee asked, unwilling to let the matter go.

  Conrad shook his head. “I’ve told you a million times that I have no use for emeralds or any other kind of jewels. Don’t you understand that?”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Conrad. What did you empty from the pipe?” Marlee moved to the edge of the couch to look at Conrad square in the face.

  “Oh, for God’s sake! They weren’t emeralds. I dumped out pieces of green glass,” Conrad said.

  Marlee laughed louder than she intended. “Puh-leez! You really think I’m going to buy that? Why not tell me you dumped out green M&Ms?”

  “I’m not kidding. Green glass pieces were in the pipe.”

  Remembering that Kelsey said Della was excited about the green objects and claimed they were the solution to her problems, Marlee asked, “What makes this so-called green glass so valuable to you?”

  Conrad realized he was trapped. He couldn’t think of a reasonable answer to get Marlee off his back. “They are shards of a highball glass used by James Joyce. He broke the glass when he was in Paris writing short stories that later were included in Dubliners.”

  “I didn’t realize you collected literary memorabilia in addition to books,” Marlee said, doubting Conrad’s story but also thinking the glass couldn’t be worth that much even if the story was true. James Joyce was one of the most revered Irish authors, but it was hard to believe his broken drinking glass would fetch any amount of attention or money.

  “I’m not, but my little Lamb Chop knew someone who would pay for the glass.” Conrad drained his scotch and went back to the drink cart to pour another. “The pipe is for my collection, and the glass is for her.”

  Kelsey and Marlee both winced upon hearing Conrad’s term of endearment for the rough and tough Della. The Della and Conrad connection was only getting more bizarre as time passed.

  “Who would buy broken pieces of glass? I don’t care who touched it, I wouldn’t pay for it,” Kelsey said.

  “If it’s someone Della knows, then it must be someone on campus. It’s either an art professor or an English professor. Maybe a history prof, but I doubt it,” Marlee surmised, proud of herself for figuring it out. “Or it could be a professor from Marymount College,” Marlee said, reminding Kelsey that it was a small private college in town.

  “I can neither confirm nor deny because she never told me who wanted it,” Conrad said, walking back to his chair with another double scotch.

  Marlee couldn’t take it any longer. “Jesus, Conrad. How many of those do you drink during the day? I think your liver is going to give out any minute.”

  A smile spread across Conrad’s face, basking in the highest compliment Marlee could bestow upon him. “I can handle my alcohol. I’ve always had a very high tolerance. It doesn’t affect me like it does others.”

  “It’s interesting that you can drink so much, but your sister, Rita, was alcohol intolerant,” Marlee said, recollecting Rita’s condition from when Marlee had been at Conrad’s house years earlier.

  “I won the lottery on that one,” Conrad said, beaming again.

  His cocky behavior about drinking was immature for a man in his fifties. Yet, Conrad conducted himself like a college frat boy on spring break, consuming more alcohol than anyone else and proud of it. Back when she was a probation officer, Marlee had noticed this type of immaturity in some of the people under her supervision. One thing they had in common was they had been chronic alcoholics since their teens or even pre-teens. Once heavy drinking became routine, the person’s maturity leveled off, leaving a teenager in the body of a full-grown adult. This appeared to be Conrad’s story too.

  Conrad wasn’t going to cut back on his drinking unless there was a worldwide shortage on scotch. With his money, he’d be able to locate a source and pay top dollar for it. Moving away from the topic of drinking, Marlee asked, “Where did Ian and Patrick say they were going?”

  “They never said. Both of them have the manners of a billy goat, barging into my house and rummaging around. I’d given my security officer the night off, but he’s back on duty now. If they try it again, Ralph will use his Taser on them. He’s anxious to try it out,” Conrad said.

  Kelsey’s eyes widened, and she moved toward Conrad, facing him. “Please don’t hurt my Da. He’s only doing this because Ian is forcing him. Ian is an evil bastard, but my Da is a good man.”

  “If you say so,” Conrad muttered, shrugging his shoulders in his too-tight jacket.

  “Any ideas on where I could start looking for Ian and Patrick?” Marlee asked, knowing the obvious location was Della’s house.

  “They didn’t share their plans with me. Unless they knew someone in Elmwood, they probably stayed overnight in a flea bag motel.”

  “Da didn’t know anyone here, other than Marlee,” Kelsey said.

  “Thanks, Conrad. We’ll be on our way. Please call me if Ian and Patrick come back.”

  As they walked to the vehicle, Kelsey clutched her backpack. “I forgot to return the little horse knick-knack. Mr. Thayer thinks Ian and my father stole it.” She stopped and started to turn around. “I’ll ask to use the loo and then sneak it back into the study.”

  “You can’t do that. If Conrad thinks they took the sculpture, how can it now be back in its place? He’ll know it was you. We’ll have to think up another plan to return it without getting him on your bad side. Until this mess is straightened out, we need everyone’s help. Even Conrad’s.”

  They drove around the block a few times, checking for any type of activity at Della’s house. It was Saturday, and normally she’d be home, but there was no sign of her Suburban in the gravel driveway. They went to the front door and knocked, but there wasn’t an answer. Marlee peered in the glass window in the door and nothing looked out of pl
ace. She could hear faint chaotic barking, so the dogs were home. Kelsey heard it too and said, “Her dogs are going crazy. Maybe they’re hurt.”

  That didn’t seem right. Della’s dogs were her whole life, and she never isolated them, no matter how loud or irritating they were to non-dog loving visitors. To Della, locking her dogs in a spare room was akin to leaving a baby in the basement while running errands.

  Marlee fished around in her purse and pulled out some lock-picking tools she acquired in a spy shop while at a conference in New York. It was illegal to have them in your possession since the only thing they could be used for was breaking into locked buildings. She’d managed to keep them hidden from Hector when they were together because he would’ve thrown a fit.

  “We’re only going in because I think Della’s dogs might be in trouble,” Marlee said, justifying their entrance into the house more for herself than Kelsey. “If everything’s okay, then we’ll leave right away. I know Della would understand if she thought her dogs accidentally locked themselves in a room.” She looked over her shoulder as the lock popped open, and they entered the house.

  The barking became louder as they walked through the kitchen. She opened the basement door and out bounded Della’s two boisterous dogs. The larger of the two jumped up on Marlee and licked her face while the shorter wagged his tail and barked his gratitude. “I have Della’s number. I’m going to call her and let her know that we came in and let her dogs out of the basement. Don’t want her to find us here and think we were up to something.” Marlee pushed the big mutt off her and wiped dog slime from her face.

  Kelsey nodded, barely paying attention as she was now down on her knees petting the dogs. When she looked up, she gasped at the sight before her. Marlee turned to see what had startled Kelsey and found a gun pointed in her face.

  Is someone who double-crosses a double-crosser a triple-crosser or a quadruple-crosser? Math never was my strong suit.

  Chapter 23

  “Hand over your mobile,” Ian O’Sullivan barked, the gun pointed squarely at Marlee’s temple. She gave it to him with a shaking hand. Ian grabbed the phone and jammed it in his coat pocket. “And yours too,” he said, motioning to Kelsey.

  “What are you doing here?” Marlee asked, figuring Ian and Patrick broke in before them and were waiting for Della to return home.

  “None of your business, but thanks for bringing Kelsey to me,” Ian sneered, stepping back but still keeping the gun aimed at Marlee’s head. “We’ll be out of Elmwood soon. Then you can pretend that none of this ever happened.”

  “I’m not going back!” Kelsey’s eyes darted back and forth, looking for an escape route.

  “Oh, yes you are. I’ve had enough from you. As soon as the crazy old bat who lives here tells us where she hid the emeralds, we’ll be on our way.”

  Marlee and Kelsey looked at each other. The green items hidden in the pipe were emeralds after all, just as Kelsey said. Conrad’s story that they were shards from a broken glass used by James Joyce was bullshit.

  “Where’s Della?” Marlee asked. “Her Suburban isn’t here.”

  “Patrick went to put fuel in it. We’re taking it on a little road trip. No point driving that dumpy rental car anymore if we can ride in comfort in her giant vehicle. You Americans know how to ride in style.”

  Her mind was racing. If they were taking Della’s SUV, they were probably driving to one of the larger airports; Minneapolis, Denver, or Omaha to catch a flight to Ireland requiring the fewest connections. The short drive to the Elmwood airport wouldn’t take more than a teaspoon of fuel, even in Della’s gas guzzler. They wouldn’t get far once the police were alerted. The cops in four states would be looking for a tan SUV with Della’s license plate number.

  A muffled moaning came from a room in the back of the house. “What’s that?” Marlee asked, knowing the answer before Ian spoke.

  “Come on back and see for yourself.” Ian followed Marlee and Kelsey as they followed the sounds. Tied to a straight-backed chair was Della, two strips of duct tape placed over her mouth. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Marlee would’ve found it comical. Della was such a nuisance that she had to be bound and gagged, while her unruly dogs were locked away. Apparently, Marlee wasn’t the only one who found Della and her dogs irritating. Even a seasoned criminal couldn’t handle them.

  “Are you okay?” Marlee moved toward Della, but Ian reached out and pulled her away. Della had a fat lip and swelling around her left eye.

  “She’s fine. Leave her be.” Ian moved over to Della and punched her in the jaw. Della’s head flew back. The smack of Ian’s fist on Della’s face was bone chilling. “Are you ready to tell me where the emeralds are, or do we need a few more rounds?”

  Della nodded and when Ian ripped the duct tape from her mouth, she whispered something unintelligible.

  “What’s that? I didn’t hear you.” Ian moved his face closer to Della’s.

  This time Della’s voice was perfectly clear. “I said ‘fuck you,’ you shit stain!” Then she spit in Ian’s face. This punch made the previous one look like a love tap. The force of Ian’s strike tipped Della over backwards.

  Ian crouched to upright Della’s chair so he could slap her around some more but stopped when he spied a cloth pouch tucked beside a dog toy under her bed. He reached inside and said, “Look what we have here!” Nestled in his palm were four glistening gems. No way were they merely shards of a green drinking glass.

  At that point, Patrick entered the bedroom. “The vehicle is ready to go. What are they doing here?”

  “I just found the emeralds, no thanks to this bitch,” Ian said, kicking Della’s shoulder as she remained motionless on the floor. “Marlee was nice enough to bring Kelsey here. That eliminates our next stop. Now, we can be on our way,” Ian said with a smirk.

  “No! Absolutely not. You’re not forcing Kelsey to leave with you.” Marlee stood firmly between Kelsey and Ian, holding her ground as Ian approached.

  “We’ll see about that,” Ian said.

  And then everything went black.

  Marlee awoke to a pounding head and blurred vision. “That son of a bitch knocked me out,” she muttered, crawling to the bed and pulling herself to her feet.

  Kelsey was gone and so were Ian and Patrick. Della was still tipped over backwards, bound to the chair, and her mouth had been freshly taped. Marlee reached over and ripped the duct tape from her mouth.

  “Untie me!” Della bellowed, giving no attention to her injuries.

  The chair was set upright, and the rope around Della’s arms and legs was sliced with a kitchen knife. “Are you alright? Ian slapped you around pretty hard, and you were knocked out for a bit. I can take you to the emergency room.”

  Della gingerly touched the side of her face which received most of the trauma. “Nah, nothing’s broken, and I’ll heal up just fine.”

  “Did Ian and Patrick say where they were going next?” Marlee handed Della a dampened kitchen towel to clean the dried blood off her face.

  Della shook her head from side to side. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Marlee fumbled in her purse, looking for her cell before realizing Ian took it. Della still had a land line, a red wall-mounted pushbutton phone. Marlee dialed 911, impatiently waiting for the phone to register the number and make the connection. After reporting the matter to the police, she called Hector and told him what happened. Two squad cars and Hector’s Jeep arrived less than four minutes later. Della and Marlee were separated to get their individual accounts of what happened.

  “They don’t know anybody else in Elmwood other than Conrad, and he’s pissed at them. There must be a hiding spot nearby. They can’t be out on the road for too long because you guys will track down Della’s vehicle, right?” Marlee was thinking through the practical steps of the case, mainly apprehending Ian and Patrick and bringing Kelsey back to safety. She met Hector’s gaze, looking for reassurance.

  “Yeah, we’ll get them. It’s
only a matter of time. Cops will be looking all over for Della’s Suburban. With South Dakota license plates, it’ll be easy to track once they move out of state. They can’t get out of the country unless they have fake passports. They’re criminals and have all kinds of connections and hiding places to use until they can flee the country.”

  Della was across the room sitting on a chair matching the one she’d been tied to earlier. She gestured animatedly as she answered the questions asked of her by a rookie officer, a few times even jumping to her feet before being encouraged to sit back down.

  A few things were puzzling Marlee. First, why had Ian spent so much time and money to get Kelsey back? Second, why did he want the emeralds back since he’d sent them with Kelsey in the first place? And most puzzling of all, what was Della planning to do with emeralds? She ignored Hector as he talked about the upcoming capture of Ian and Patrick, trying unsuccessfully to listen in on the story Della was telling a uniformed officer.

  After Marlee’s interrogation was wrapped up, Hector followed her home. She waved at him as she pulled her car into the garage, thinking he would drive off after seeing she was safely home. He didn’t. Hector parked outside the garage and followed Marlee down the snow-packed sidewalk into her house.

  “I’m fine. Thanks for seeing me home, but I don’t need a babysitter,” she said a bit more harshly than she meant. Hector stood outside the door, opening his mouth to protest.

  “Bridget will be over here in a few minutes. I called her from Della’s, and she’s going to hang out with me and stay overnight,” Marlee said, already forgetting about the spat she had with her cousin the previous night.

  Hector nodded his head in defeat, turning to walk to his Jeep. “I’ll be by later to make sure you’re okay. Is that alright?”

  “Sure, the three of us can discuss the case. I’ve got some new theories spinning around in my head.” Marlee really did want to talk with Hector and Bridget about the questions still plaguing her about the emeralds, Della, and the three uninvited Irish visitors. As long as her cousin or some other third party was around, she hoped Hector wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Bridget’s possible romantic interest in Hector was the last thing on her mind now.