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thou shalt not kill

CLASSIC ROUND ROBIN

Chapter 7

by Lindariel

Rick McLaren, aka Mason Heep, couldn’t believe his luck. He’d decided to risk going to the district attorney’s office to see if he could find out anything concerning the whereabouts of his erstwhile client Lucy.  He’d just parked in the visitor’s portion of the small parking lot, only to spot Catherine Chandler and Detective Juarez exiting the building and jumping into what must be Juarez’s squad car. Glancing around, he swore under his breath when he couldn’t spot Earnie’s cab anywhere.

The idiot can’t even carry out the simplest of assignments! We’ve definitely got to put our weakest link out of his misery.

Carefully, the fake lawyer pulled out of his spot and followed Juarez’s cruiser, keeping a good distance back and even letting a car or two get in between them from time to time. He had a few panicked moments when he thought he might have lost them as they made their way to the Upper West Side, but he managed to maintain his tail and then pass by them once they turned into the circular drive in front of the large condominium building close to Central Park where he knew Miss Chandler lived.

He paused at a red light and watched in his rearview mirror as the Chandler woman and the detective spoke with Jed, who was masquerading as the doorman for her building, and got his permission to leave the squad car out front. McLaren quickly circled the block and found a parking space just across the street and down the block from the building entrance where he could easily observe comings and goings.  He tried to get Jed’s attention, but to no avail.  A few minutes later, another police squad car pulled into the underground parking deck of the building.

What the hell is going on here? McLaren wondered.

About an hour later, the squad car left the parking deck and then Chandler and Juarez exited the building with what must be Ms. Chandler’s suitcase.

They’re putting her into protective custody! McLaren thought. Now I REALLY can’t lose sight of them!

McLaren was on pins and needles as he carefully trailed Juarez’s cruiser at a distance until the detective pulled up in front of a large brownstone and parked. McLaren continued to the end of the block and turned into the empty corner parking spot on the first side street to watch Chandler and the detective being welcomed into the building by a tall, distinguished-looking older gentleman.

McLaren had just settled in to watch the front door of the brownstone when his mobile car phone rang.

“McLaren here,” he answered.

“Rick, it’s Earnie,” came the reply.

“Earnie, where the hell are you?  You’re supposed to be following that Chandler bitch in your cab!” McLaren snapped.

“I know, Rick, I’m sorry, but I just got so tired,” the cab driver whined. “I thought it would be OK if I grabbed a bit of shut-eye during her work day, and then I’d go right back to shadowing her at her apartment. Anyway, we got bigger problems.  Jed is here at the motel.  He just heard that the DA’s office is sending the Chandler woman to New Orleans. You said the lady worked for her daddy’s firm, but she’s an ADA! And now she’s headed down to our old stompin’ grounds. What are we gonna do? We gotta disappear again!”

McLaren snorted. “Fortunately for you and for all of us, I spotted Ms. Chandler leaving the District Attorney’s Office with that Detective Juarez, and I followed them. He didn’t take her to the airport. He took her to a safe house on the Upper West Side. We don’t need to disappear. We just need to take her out! You two stay put at the motel. I’ll call Charlie, and we’ll make a plan to grab her tonight.”

After about half an hour, McLaren was pleased to see the detective ushered out of the home by the older gentlemen, followed a few minutes later by a middle-aged woman in a housekeeper’s uniform.  Twenty minutes later, just as he was about to give Charlie Emerson a call, McLaren saw a cab pull up in front of the house.  Soon, the front door opened once again, and he watched the older gentleman bid an affectionate goodbye to Ms. Chandler and depart the home with a suitcase.

So, all by our little lonesome in a big, old brownstone and feeling quite safe, aren’t we, Ms. Chandler? McLaren smirked as he dialed Charlie Emerson’s number. We’re gonna have fun tonight!

Catherine threw herself into Vincent’s warm, enveloping arms. “Oh, Vincent! I’m so glad to see you!”

“And I you,” Vincent murmured into her ear, sending delightful chills down her spine. “Come, let’s go. Mary has prepared a guest chamber for you, Lucy is anxious to see you again, and Father would like to update you on Tammy’s condition.  She’s doing better, and she has quite a LOT to say about these dreadful men masquerading as vampires.”

Just as they turned to go, Peter called down from the Tunnel entrance in his basement.  “Catherine … oh, hello, Vincent! You should both come upstairs right away. Detective Juarez is on the phone, and it’s urgent.”

Catherine hurried to the kitchen phone extension as Vincent and Peter exchanged quiet greetings and hugs.

“Mike, it’s Cathy,” she responded. “What’s happened?”

“It seems we were followed, Ms. Chandler,” Mike answered. “One of our unmarked cars spotted a silver Mercedes tailing us after we left your apartment. The driver parked just down the street and around the corner from Dr. Alcott’s brownstone. It’s Rick McLaren. Looks like we may have to move you to a different safe house.”

Catherine looked wildly over to Peter and Vincent, then paused and thought for a moment.

“No, Mike,” she declared. “I think we need to take this as an opportunity to set a trap. If McLaren has been watching the house, then he knows that you and Peter’s housekeeper have already left.  That just leaves Peter and me inside the house.  Let me get Peter off to a hotel for the night.  In the meantime, why don’t you get a few more plainclothes officers quietly into position. There’s a back entrance to the home from the garden patio. I can let a couple plainclothes officers into the home from that entrance to intercept our bad guys if they manage to get in. Hopefully, they’ll be apprehended trying to break into the house. I have my gun as a last resort, and I know how to use it, if necessary, but I plan to be well out of sight and to let the police handle the situation.”

“OK, Ms. Chandler, that sounds like a solid plan to me. I’ll call back in a few minutes with the names of the plainclothes officers,” Mike replied.

Catherine hung up the phone and looked over to Vincent and Peter. “I guess you heard most of that. Peter, I need you to quickly finish packing your bags for your trip tomorrow, while I set up a hotel reservation for you and call a cab.”

“Are you certain about this, honey?” Peter asked. “Maybe it would be better to let Detective Juarez take you to a different safe house.”

“Thank you for caring so much, Peter, but I think this is our best opportunity to catch these guys in the act. They’ve evaded arrest and prosecution in at least four other localities across the U.S. for an untold number of violent assaults on women. This needs to end now,” Catherine replied.

Then she looked over to Vincent. “I want you to stay close in the Tunnel entrance, Vincent. I’m going to get Peter off to safety, and let in the plainclothes officers. Then I’ll work with them to make up the bed in the guestroom to look like someone is sleeping there. Once that’s set, I’ll tell the officers that I’m going to hide in the basement. They don’t need to know that I’ll be in the Tunnel with you.”

Vincent sighed heavily. “I don’t like this any better than Peter does, but I understand the need to apprehend these vile men before they disappear to do more harm elsewhere.”  He turned to go back to the basement door and paused. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Catherine.”

“I will,” she replied. “Now let’s get busy with our parts of the plan.”

Five minutes later, Detective Juarez phoned to let Catherine know that plainclothes detectives Greg Hughes and Sheila Danvers would be knocking on the back patio door in just a few minutes. She let the detectives into the house, and quietly explained her plan for the guestroom. While the detectives were making up the bed, Catherine phoned in a reservation for Peter at the Four Seasons LaGuardia and summoned a cab. Fifteen minutes later, she was bidding Peter a sweet goodbye.

“Have a safe flight and give Susan my love,” she murmured, as Peter left the house, suitcase in hand.

“You be safe, young lady,” he replied. “You know I’ll have to answer to your father for this.”

“I’ll be fine,” she answered, closing and locking the door, watching the cab pull away through the tall sidelight window. “Be well, Peter.”

“Ms. Chandler,” Greg Hughes called quietly from the hallway. “Sheila and I have the guestroom all set up.  With the lights off, it looks just like someone is sleeping in the bed. There are four other plainclothes officers positioned around the house, and Mike Juarez is stationed in the control van just down the street. He says McLaren just pulled away, probably to go meet up with his nasty pals. If they show up tonight, we’ll get these guys. Don’t you worry.”

“Thanks, Greg,” Catherine replied, pulling on her jacket, picking up her purse with the handgun inside and a flashlight. “I’ll take up my hiding place in the basement. Just flick the light switch by the basement door in the pattern I showed you once you’ve caught them, and I’ll come back up from my hiding place. You two be safe!”

Shortly after midnight, a late model Chevy van pulled onto the street and parked just down from Peter’s brownstone, several parking spots away from a large Con Edison van. McLaren turned to his partners in crime.

“OK, Earnie, here’s your chance to redeem your screw-up today,” McLaren hissed. “You stay here with the van and be ready to drive off once we get back with our nice little prize. Jed, you set up just around the corner of the brownstone there behind the bushes in that flower bed and keep an eye out for cops. Charlie and I are gonna pay Ms. Chandler a little visit now that all the lights are out and the little lady thinks she’s safely asleep. Shouldn’t take long to knock her out, grab her, and then we can go have some Lost Boys fun in private.”

“You got it, Rick,” Earnie replied from the driver’s seat. “I won’t let you down.”

Once Jed was settled in his hiding spot, McLaren and Emerson donned their masks and sauntered down the street to the front door of the brownstone. A tinkle of glass broke the silence on the quiet street, and Earnie watched as Rick and Charlie made quick work of opening the front door from the broken sidelight window.

Suddenly a large hand clapped over Earnie’s mouth, as another large hand gripped his wrist and took control of the van keys, and a voice quietly whispered, “Earnest Oswald, you are under arrest.”

Crouching in the flower bed, Jed gasped when he felt a gun pressed against the side of his head as his arms were pinned behind his back with handcuffs.

“Jed McGyver, you are under arrest.”

Inside the brownstone, Greg Hughes’ walkie-talkie came to life with a message from Mike Juarez in the control van disguised as a Con Edison truck. “Heads up. Our slime balls have arrived, and it looks like we’ll be able to nab all four.  Hendrix and Addison will take care of the driver and the lookout. You have two bogeys getting ready to break into the front door. Be careful.”

“Ten-four,” Greg replied, signaling for Detective Danvers to take her place on the other side of the guestroom door.