I left the office and went to my car as fast as the cane and cast would allow. Ten minutes later I was at Amanda’s house. Rodney’s truck was parked in front. There was no sign of him or anyone else on the premises.
I went to the door and tried to open it. It was locked. I listened but couldn’t hear anything. I walked around the house looking in windows. Most of them were covered with curtains. You’d think I’d have remembered that having lived in the house for several miserable days, but I don’t pay attention to curtains.
I did remember that the kitchen window over the sink had no window dressing. I had often looked out into the back yard when I washed dishes for Amanda. I got up on tiptoe, not easy with a leg in a cast, and looked in. Rodney sat on the floor next to the refrigerator tied with a pair of pantyhose and gagged. I had to let myself down before I fell down.
I went up again to look in. Rodney began to twist around, trying to say something. He was agitated and couldn’t make more than a muffled yell through the gag, which I recognized as one of my old socks. I hoped it was clean.
I heard the front door open and close followed by a scream, loud at first then muffled. It was Amanda. I’d heard that same scream one day when a mouse ran across the kitchen floor.
I stretched up and looked in the window again. Nothing happened for a while. Then Jeremy Pugh came into the kitchen dragging Amanda tied and gagged like Rodney. Her face was distorted with fear, and she tried to cry out, but the gag, one of her own stockings, kept her from yelling.
Jeremy looked up and saw me. His hand came up, and he pointed Roscoe directly at me. I dropped to the ground and Roscoe spoke for the first time since I’d gotten him. The bullet drilled a small round hole in the window pane and went over me out into the back. I hoped it didn’t hit another house.
He knew I was here now, but he didn’t know whether I was armed. Which is probably all that kept him from coming to the back door and finishing me off.
I went around to the front of the house. I wanted to call him and do some hostage negotiation, but my cell phone was back at the office getting charged. I got close to the front of the house near a window and yelled, “Jeremy!”
No response. I yelled again. Then the window opened, and an awesome sight presented itself. Dad’s old shotgun barrel came sticking out the window. I didn’t want to call out again. I didn’t want him to figure out where I was from the direction of my voice. I kept quiet.
“Bentworth? You still out there? Speak up. I won’t shoot.”
Could I trust him? What else could I do? I spoke quietly. “I’m here Jeremy. What do you want?”
“I want Amanda. You people keep getting in the way. Her kid comes in here waving a pistol and then you. All I want is to talk to her.”
“So you tie her up and toss her in the kitchen?”
“She started screaming. I just wanted to talk.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you come out, and you and I can talk?”
“I come out, I come out shooting. You had my two best friends killed.”
Probably his only friends.
“That wasn’t me, Jeremy. I had a beef with those two guys after the beat-down, but I don’t shoot people. Besides, the cops checked my piece. It wasn’t me.”
“Okay, I’ll hold off until I’m sure. But if you’re lying...”
“Okay, Jeremy. Just don’t hurt anyone. Don’t let it get out of control. You haven’t done anything really bad yet. Let’s keep it that way while we figure out where this is going.”
A black SUV pulled up across the street. Sanford got out and stood there in his ill-fitting black suit and a black trench coat. He watched me to see what would happen.
“Who’s that guy over there?” Jeremy said.
“That’s someone who can help you get out of here unharmed. I’ll go talk to him. Don’t shoot.”
I went across the street to where Sanford stood.
“Need help? The boss says we owe you.”
“I figured we were even after those two army guys and the wise guy.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. You want help or not?”
“I could use some.” I explained what was happening.
“I can take him. Clear shot.”
“There’s a direct line from here into the kitchen. You might hit one of the hostages.”
“Okay. What can I do?”
“How about you go in the back door into the kitchen. Get my sister and nephew out while I’m talking to Pugh. Shoot him if you have to, but I have the cops and the Army on the way. They can take him out. Save you the trouble of explaining anything. And the paperwork.”
“And them checking my piece.” He patted the left side of his chest.
“You got bodies on that piece?”
“Could be.”
That figured.
“Okay. Wait until I get back to the window. Then drive around the block, and come in from the rear so he can’t see you coming. You’ll need a knife to cut them loose. They’re tied with stockings. Butcher knives are on the countertop.”
Sanford pulled a long switchblade from his pocket and held it up.
“That’ll do,” I said.
I walked back towards the house, hoping Jeremy would keep his promise not to shoot me. The shotgun barrel was still sticking out the window. I made it to the wall.
“Where’s that guy going?” Jeremy asked.
“Putting his car out of sight so no one can see him help you escape.”
“Why would he do that.”
“I asked him to. To save Amanda and Rodney.”
“I’m not going to hurt them.”
“Good.” I had to keep him talking. “What happened with your boat?”
“I got it blown up. They were going to repossess it, and I needed to drop out of sight. I thought maybe my wife and kids could use the insurance if they thought I was dead.”
“Why did you need to drop out of sight?”
“The brass got it in their heads that I was stalking Amanda. Sent me to an Army shrink. He was talking about confinement.”
“You didn’t think that might help you?”
“No, goddammit. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
Add denial to this fruitcake’s disorders.
“Who did the explosive device?”
“An army demolition guy I served with in Iraq. We set it off with a cell phone. You should’ve seen it go.”
This was good. He was starting to talk to me like we were old friends. Probably the manic side of his disorder kicking in.
“How about letting Amanda and Rodney go?”
“Can’t. They’re my insurance.”
That didn’t make sense. How did he think holding two civilians hostage would keep him out of the loony bin?
“Where’s that guy at?” he asked.
“He’s over there.” I pointed to the side of the house out of Jeremy’s sight. “I can see him.” I couldn’t, but I didn’t want Jeremy to start worrying about where Sanford was. I had to keep him diverted.
“Where did you meet your two friends? The ones that got shot?”
“Years ago. At the Moose lodge. We were like brothers. They made a good team.”
“I’ll say, and I have the bandages to show for it.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Yeah, me too. I think you and I could’ve been friends under different circumstances.”
Fat chance.
“Shit!” Jeremy said.
“What?” I looked behind me. Two Army vehicles were pulling up across the street where Sanford had been parked. Stewart and his two associates got out of one. Four MPs in full SWAT gear got out of the other.
“Wait, Jeremy,” I said. “I’ll go talk to them. You’re safe as long as you’re holed up in there and have Amanda and Rodney.” I hobbled over to the Army cars where Stewart and his entourage were waiting, crouched behind their cars, guns aimed at the house.
“How did you know it was this much trouble,” I asked. “When
I called, I didn’t know he was here yet.”
“We know the Captain,” Stewart said.
“He’s in the house at the window,” I told Stewart. “He has an old shotgun and my pistol. He has hostages, my sister and her son.”
“A child?”
“No. Teenager. They’re both tied up in the kitchen at the rear of the house. I have a man sneaking in the back way to get them out while we keep Pugh occupied.”
“Isn’t your man likely to get hurt going in there like that?”
“He can take care of himself. Pugh has been getting chummy, so maybe we can talk him out. Do you know him?”
“Yes. He’s been on our radar for a while. Had to pull him out of Afghanistan. Post traumatic stress disorder. He ought to be in a hospital.”
“I need to go back and keep him talking.”
“Well don’t trust him to stay friendly. He has a short fuse. One minute he’s your pal, the next minute he’s in your face yelling and screaming.”
“So I’ve seen. My guy will sneak the hostages out and, your guys can deal with the short fuse.”
“Okay, we can give it a try if you think your man can handle it.”
“He can. Pugh told me that he had his boat blown up to fake his death so you guys wouldn’t send him to the funny farm.”
“Figures. My guys can take him out. He’s in clear view in the window. Fool.”
“Absolutely not. Let’s get the hostages out first.”
Stewart looked at me as if to ask where I got the authority to run a hostage situation. Before he could raise the question, an unmarked police car pulled up. Bill Penrod got out and came over to where we were crouched behind the Army cars.
“What’s going on here, Stan? Willa called.”
I explained the situation to him.
“I better get our SWAT team over here,” he said.
Everybody wanted to shoot this guy. Must have been a slow SWAT day.
“Look around, Sergeant,” Stewart said. “We have ours in place and ready.”
“So you do,” Bill said. “But these are civilian hostages on civilian premises. The police department has jurisdiction.”
“Hey, guys,” I said. “It’s kind of busy here. Let’s not get into a turf war.”
A black SUV turned the corner and came towards us. It pulled up behind Bill’s car and stopped. Sanford held a skinny arm out the window and gave me a thumbs up. I went to the SUV and looked in. Amanda and Rodney were in the back seat looking frightened and tussled but none the worse for wear. I grinned at them and went back to Bill and the Army.
“He’s all yours, guys. The hostages are out.”
“Is there a phone in there?” Stewart asked.
“Yes, on a table next to the window.” I said and gave him the number. He called. We could hear the phone ringing through the open window. After about seven rings, it stopped.
Stewart said, “Captain Pugh. This is Special Agent Stewart,
USACIDC. We got the hostages out. You’re all alone. You want to come out, or would you rather die today?”
“Man,” I said to Bill, “That’s a hell of a way to negotiate.”
He shrugged and said, “I wouldn’t do it that way. I guess they have their methods.”
Stewart turned to me. “He wants to talk to you.” I took the phone.
“What’s up, Jeremy?”
“Bentworth, this is going to come to a bad end, I can tell. Those guys want to shoot me.”
“It doesn’t have to happen. What can I do?”
“Come back up here so we can talk without them listening in.”
“You won’t shoot me, will you?”
“No. I give my word.”
Do you take the word of the guy who tried to have you killed then took your sister and nephew hostage? I wasn’t sure.
About five police cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck turned onto our street, lights flashing, sirens quiet.
“I called them,” Bill said.
The cops stopped, piled out of their vehicles, and crouched behind them. More guns came out and were pointed at the house.
“The militia is here Jeremy,” I said. “They’ve got guns trained on you. They’re ready to take you down. Get back away from the window. I’ll call you again and let you know what’s happening.”
I hung up.
“Why’d you tell him that?” Bill said. “Now we might have to put men at risk.”
“Wait,” I said. “There’s an easier way.”
I went over to Sanford’s SUV.
“You think you can get him out of there without killing him?” I asked Sanford.
“Piece of cake,” he said.
I went over to Bill and Stewart.
“I don’t want my sister’s house all shot up,” I said. “And let’s not be so quick to shoot this guy. He’s sick. My colleague and I can get him out. Hold your fire, and let us try.”
“Okay,” Bill said, looking at his watch. “But only because it’s you. You got ten minutes. Then we go in. You agree, Agent Stewart?”
“Yes.”
I went over to Sanford’s SUV and said, “Let’s go.”
He got out of the SUV keeping his back to all the cops and soldiers. We walked down the sidewalk away from them and the row of official vehicles, more or less out of sight of the house.
“Can you walk any faster?” Sanford asked.
“Not much,” I said.
“Okay. I’m going ahead. Go down half a block, turn up the side street, and come to the back door. It’ll be open. You can just walk in.”
“What if you don’t have him?” He looked at me like he couldn’t believe his ears. “Sorry,” I said. “Proceed.”
He went off at a medium trot, his black trench coat flapping in the breeze. I followed at a slow cane-assisted stroll. It took a while, and I was worried about Bill’s ten minute deadline.
When I got to the back door, it was open. I went in, looked from side to side, scanned the kitchen, and peered into the dining room. Nothing in sight, no sounds.
I felt naked entering an unsecured crime scene without Roscoe. Old habits die hard. I moved cautiously across the kitchen. My cast and cane made thump, thump sounds. I couldn’t help it.
Sanford called out, “Come on in, Bentworth. I got him.”
I went in and found Sanford holding his gun on Jeremy, who was on his knees, his hands cuffed behind his back. The shotgun was on the floor, and Roscoe was on the coffee table. I went over, picked it up, and stuck it in my belt.
“Any trouble taking him?”
He gave me that look again.
“Where’d you get the cuffs,” I asked.
“Keep them. I have others. You can take him outside. I’m out of here.”
He want back through the kitchen and out the back door. I opened the front door and yelled, “Hold your fire, we’re coming out.”
I leaned over Jeremy, took hold of his cuffs with my good hand, and pulled him up to his feet. He helped, so it wasn’t that difficult. I pushed him ahead of me and stepped out onto the stoop. In no time at all, two policemen had him on the ground, were putting their own cuffs on him, and reading him his rights. Just like on television. Except the cops weren’t all that handsome.
They tossed Sanford’s cuffs to me. A souvenir. Never had my own cuffs since I left the force. I’d need a key. No problem. Once size fits all. The cuffs could keep Roscoe company in the safe.
For the first time in hours I breathed easily. My injuries were aching from the walk and the stress. I needed to sit down.
Jeremy looked up at me and said, “I thought I could trust you.”
“I saved your life, Jeremy. If these cops didn’t get you, that shotgun would’ve blown up in your face. I just hope you get the help you need.”
Don’t ask why I gave a shit about his welfare, given all the grief he’d handed down. Just my nature, I guess.
Sanford’s SUV backed away from the curb and into a driveway. Amanda and Rodney got out. The SUV pulled onto the road, turned away from us, and drove away.
Bill walked up. “Your friend is leaving. I never got a look at him. Who was it?”
“An associate,” I said. If Sanford didn’t want to talk to cops, I wasn’t going to intervene.
“Did you cut Overbee loose?” I asked.
“Not exactly. He cut himself loose. I went with the tech guy to get the bracelet after our meeting this morning. When we got to his house, there were reporters all over the place. I don’t know how they got past the guard.”
“Old Bob? Probably time for his nap.”
“The ankle bracelet was already off Overbee and on the leg of a statue in the foyer. He didn’t tell me how it got there, and I didn’t ask.”
Good for Rodney. I could forgive him for pinching Roscoe as long as he never did it again. I walked over to him. “Where’s my holster?”
“In my truck.”
“Go get it.”
He went to his truck and returned with the holster. I put the pistol in it and clipped it to my belt.
“What made you try a stunt like that?”
“The guy’s a nut, Uncle Stanley. He was coming after my Mom.
You’re all crippled up. Somebody had to do something.”
“So what did you learn from all this?”
“Learn?”
“Yes, learn. What did you learn?”
“Not to take your gun?”
“No. You learned that having a gun doesn’t make you the baddest badass on the block. You walked right into it. He took the gun away from you, and you’re lucky he didn’t shoot you with it.”
“He was already in the house when I got there, but I didn’t know that. When I went in, he was standing there pointing Grandpa’s shotgun at me. He tied me up, and when Mom got home he tied her up.”
“Yeah. I heard all that.”
“What’ll happen to him?”
“The cops and the Army will have to fight that out. I don’t care as long as they put him away somewhere for a long time.”
Amanda said, “I’m proud of both of you.”
She rubbed Rodney’s hair, and he squirmed to get out from under her caresses.
“That man who got us out of there,” she said, “we met him in the hospital. Who is he?”
“A very good friend named Sanford. Wants to maintain some distance. But we all owe him big time.”
Rodney said, “I feel a ‘hiyo, Silver’ coming on.”
“I should cook dinner for him,” Amanda said.
“I’ll pass the invitation on. He’ll say thanks and decline. But you owe him your lives. Chances are if the cavalry had come storming in, Pugh would have killed both of you before they got him.”
Neighbors started to come out of their houses and line the side-walk. They watched the vehicles pull out. Amanda and Rodney went into the house. The neighbors talked among themselves, speculating about what had taken place.
A Channel 6 news van pulled up. Late to the party. A camera-man and a pretty woman holding a microphone got out.
“What happened here?” the woman asked, her microphone stuck in my face and the camera pointed at me and grinding away.
“Beats the shit out of me,” I said and walked away towards my car. The news team went to interview neighbors. I hoped they’d leave Amanda alone. If not, Rodney could tell them how he had saved his mother from a horde of madmen, home invaders, stalkers, and rapists.
I got in my car and headed to the office. On the way I stopped at the liquor store to get another jug. This time I got the good stuff, went to the office, climbed the stairs, got my cell phone from Willa’s desk, and sat alone at my desk. I sipped bourbon and thought about the day. Two cases closed on one shift. It doesn’t get any better than that.
I looked at my cell phone. Buford had called. I punched the redial button. He answered right away.
“Sanford called,” Buford said. “He says you got your Army problem cleared up,” he said.
“Yes, I did with his help. I can’t thank you guys enough.”
“You earned it. I’ve got to clear out of here. The mob knows where I live and who I am now. Hell, the whole fucking world knows who I am and what I look like. Reporters and cameras all over the place.”
“Maybe Sanford can shoo them off.”
“Yeah. Well, anyway, I’m out of here. Want to buy a mansion?
Real estate’s way down.”
“Where will you go?”
“Offshore. I can run my business just as easily from some island. I never did get face-to-face with most of my clients anyway. And Serena can get that year-round tan she’s always wanted.”
“And you can be closer to your money.”
“Right.” He laughed for the second time since we’d met.
“Thanks for everything, Stan. If I ever need somebody found, I’ll call. Do I owe you any money?”
“No. We’re good. Keep in touch.”
There goes my perpetual retainer, I thought. I knew it was too good to be true.
I didn’t want to get drunk tonight, so I paced myself and used the time to update the files on the Overbee case. There were no files on the Jeremy Pugh case, it being a personal matter, so I wrote entries in my journal to capture for posterity all the relevant times and events. Maybe I’ll write a book some day.