Chapter thirty-two

Sam headed south on the beach road, then cut back to the main drag. Two stoplights ahead was a small retail strip whose largest occupant was the Blue Moon Gallery. Parked at the end of the block of pale yellow buildings was Jenny’s Jeep.

“They didn’t,” Sam said out loud as he pulled a U-turn on the street and parked behind the Jeep. Cursing himself for not having a weapon, Sam got out of the car slowly, taking in the situation.

Two large plate-glass windows facing the street revealed nothing of the gallery inside, thanks to rattan shades that were down. Sam glanced at his watch: ten-thirty. Shades should be up by now. Sam jogged to the end of the block and cut behind the strip mall. Counting the doors as he passed them, he found a deep blue one with scrollwork letters spelling out Blue Moon Gallery, a stark contrast of fancy compared to the windowless cinderblock blah of the rest of the building.

The delivery door was locked. Sam ran back to the front of the building and proceeded full force into the gallery. When his eyes adjusted to the darkened space, he found Jenny holding fast to Lisa’s arms, pinning them back by the elbows. He smiled when he saw that Molly was nose-to-nose with Lisa, drilling her with questions.

Sizing up the situation, Sam slowly turned to lock the door. He stuck his head in the gallery’s office, looking for a phone. Chuck isn’t going to be happy about this, Sam thought as he dialed the number. His call was cut short by Molly’s scream.

Sam dashed back to the main gallery to see a slick-looking blond man holding Molly in a headlock pose, a gun to her temple.

“One step closer and she’s a goner.” The sick smile on Molly’s tormentor’s face made Sam wince. Sam watched as the man hugged Molly tighter.

“Pity, really. She’s my type, I hear tell.”

Sam quickly played out scenarios in his mind. He looked to Jenny, who searched his eyes for direction. Sam nodded, and Jenny released Lisa.

“That’s enough, Tripp. Let’s get going.” Lisa rubbed her arms, sore from Jenny’s grasp. She moved toward the suitcases scattered in the gallery. “I’ve had enough of this town anyway.”

Sam hedged. “Let me get this straight: you’d rather spend time with your brother Tripp than sell lovely pieces of art here in Carolina Beach? This is your brother, Tripp, right? What about your children? And Chuck? You think he’s stupid or something?”

“Now that you mention it, yes. Of course, I’ll miss the boys, but they can take care of themselves these days. But Chuck, well, he was just a means to an end. This end.” She held up the smaller suitcase.

Sam didn’t miss a beat. “And the chief…was he a means to an end, too?”

Lisa stopped and stared at Sam. “Leave Dan out of this.”

“Let me help you with that….” Sam started to lift the larger suitcase, but Tripp trained his gun on Sam.

“Don’t move!” Tripp was agitated.

“Just helping the little lady, Tripp.”

Tripp’s smile widened. “She’s no lady. She’s my sister. Half-sister, to be exact. I’ve always wanted to say that.”

Sam went with it. “Half-sister. On your father’s side?”

“Sure. Dear ol’ Dad was a busy guy in his youth. Now enough of this chit chat. Into the office.” Tripp gestured with his gun. “This one,” he said, his grip tightening around Molly, “she stays with me.”

“Tripp, you are not going to do that here. Somebody might hear you. Let’s take them somewhere else to do this.”

Sam stalled. “Look, man, at least let the ladies go.”

“Sure. I’ll let this one go…with me.”

Molly grunted as Tripp’s arm tightened around her neck again.

“You must have it in for her family.” Sam didn’t move.

“Family?”

“Her brother. You wasted him on his boat.”

“I waste lots of brothers. It’s a matter of usefulness. When they are no longer useful….” Tripp shrugged.

Sam watched the blood race back into Molly’s face as she wrenched herself to the right of Tripp, her hands both clawing at his arm. Tripp ignored her fingernails digging deep into his tanned flesh.

“Um, I like the way that feels, honey,” Tripp goaded Molly. “You and me…we’re going to have us some fun real soon. Why don’t you save it until we’re alone? You still have a use as far as I’m concerned,” he cooed. “Unlike this place here, see. It’s no longer useful.” Tripp was clearly enjoying himself, pointing around the gallery like Vanna White presenting a winning phrase. “Now if you would be so kind as to move it, we’ll get this over with. I have other things to attend to today.”

Sam moved back a step into the office doorway, watching Lisa as she walked casually around her desk and reached to unlock the back door. Sam turned as if to help her again with her bags, his action being enough to divert Tripp’s attention away from Jenny.

Amidst Tripp’s shout of orders for Sam to put the bags down, Jenny lifted a cantaloupe-sized amethyst geode from a cream-colored pedestal standing in front of the Claude Howell and hurled it at Tripp. Her toss fell short, but it brought a shout from Lisa that momentarily distracted him.

In an instant, Molly leaned all of her weight forward onto Tripp’s arms and mule-kicked him in the groin with her heel. Tripp squatted forward, his hands covering his privates, trying to regain his balance. Molly didn’t give him a chance. She kicked him in the left kidney, bringing him to the ground as he reached for his lower back. Molly snatched the gun away and pressed it hard to Tripp’s temple.

Slowly cocking back the safety, Molly put her finger on the trigger. “For my brother.”

“Don’t, Molly!” Sam yelled.

“He deserves it!” Molly shrieked.

“But you don’t deserve the consequences,” Sam calmed. “Put down the gun, Molly.”

Molly blinked at Sam as if seeing him for the first time. “He killed my brother.” She slowly put the gun to her side, and her eyes returned to the heap of man at her feet. Molly gave him a swift kick in the side, then realigned the safety on the gun and tucked it into the back of her jeans under her sweater.

Not wanting to be left out, Jenny raced to the huddled mass while raising a tall turquoise pottery vase.

“Not the Sedberry!” Lisa screamed, her hands to her mouth in horror.

She cares more for her art than for her brother, Sam thought. Nice sister. Sam ripped Lisa’s hands from her face and brought them to her back as he watched Jenny pause over Tripp. She was dripping with sweat, ready to pummel Tripp.

“Jen…” Sam called gently to her.

Frozen, Jenny didn’t answer.

“It’s over.” Sam’s voice was now just above a whisper.

Still Jenny didn’t move, the vase high over her head.

The back door flung open. Chuck Owens moved in, gun raised, with his partner Mike Smith right behind him. Chuck’s eyes were wild, but his actions were calm as he grabbed Lisa by the wrist and cuffed her.

“You have the right to remain silent…” he started slowly.

Lisa didn’t respond.

Mike cuffed the writhing Tripp and pulled him to his knees.

“Jenny, it’s over,” Sam repeated quietly.

Jenny remained poised to strike.

Sam gently brought her arms down, the smooth-sided pottery vase still in a vise grip. “He’s not worth it.”

Jenny collapsed in his arms, sobbing, still holding the heavy Ken Sedberry vase.

Molly slowly took the vase from Jenny’s grasp and put it back on its pedestal. Then she headed for the suitcases.

Molly gasped when she unzipped the larger one and opened it wide for all to see: stacks of hundreds, twenties, and tens, each stack neatly wrapped and secured by a thin blue ribbon like it was a party favor.