“You think Flo will be on?” Dan asked.
“I’m starting to like her earthiness, Rick commented.
“Earthiness?” Gary asked. “She does grows on you.”
“Grows or grates? Either way, she’s likely gone,” Dan replied.
Few patrons remained at Ginger’s. Orange traffic cones and a bucket blocked the right side where a “Section Closed” sign hung from a mop. Two men in work clothes occupied stools at the counter, and a couple in their late twenties sat close on the same bench in the farthest booth. The Jute Box played, Chick-A-Boom, when it clicked on Good Morning Sunshine couple danced.
Flo was mid-way wiping tables. They interpreted her wave as an invitation to sit anywhere and decided on the second booth. It distanced them from the door and provided separation from the couple.
“You Limeys want fed?” Flo asked from across the room.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Rick answered. “Didn’t expect you’d be on.”
“Split shift.” She took three steps, sailed utensils wrapped in heavy napkins onto the table, and turned back to wiping the counter in one motion. The bundles landed in the center of the table.
“That takes skill,” Gary said.
“Or something,” Dan agreed. “It’s worth coming for the show. Think she puts it on?”
“Likely as eggs from roosters,” Rick replied. “She has enough spunk to moonlight as a knife thrower at Cedar Point carnival.”
“That a scientific observation…”
“Y’us ready yet?”
“I’ll try the meat loaf,” Rick requested.
“If’m y’u must,” she answered with a hint of a chuckle.
“Second thought; how’s the clam chowder?”
“Hot.”
“It any good?”
“Some thinks so.”
“You ever ate it?”
“Yep.”
“You like it?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll have it. With the clam cakes, coleslaw …”
“Y’u say toss salad; house dressing?”
“I did and whatever else you think’s best. Don’t wait to bring the chowder.”
“Weren’t gonna,” she said turning to Dan. “An yu’s?”
“I’ll try the open face turkey sandwich with green beans,”
“Worth a try.”
“Make mine the same, but fries,” Gary said.
“Y’ur’ learnin’ mate. Want dem mugs filled, wit y’ur wat’r?”
“Sure.”
Once Flo passed through the kitchen door Dan asked, “What do you think we just ordered?”
“Only Flo knows,” Gary said.”
While waiting, the two men at the counter left. Gary went to the counter and brought back a ketchup bottle. Returning he saw some folded papers under their booth and picked them up.
“Ketchup on an open face?” Dan asked.
“Got fries, Gary said unfolding the papers. One was a map, the other sketchy notes.
“Here she comes,” Rick announced.
Gary slid the papers to his side.
Flo sat the soup bowl down and slid it toward Rick. “Chow” Then she raised a pot to hold it at Dan’s cup.
“Oh, its coffee.”
Wha’ y’u spectin’? Bilge? It’s a coffee mug ain’t it?”
“Great! Coffee’s perfect. Caught me off guard.”
“Sure y’u was, and I’m a mermaid.”
“We’d all love some, you recommending it,” Rick said.
“Been sweet talked ‘efore, but yu’ keeps on.”
“Shucks Flo, you’re a romantic,” Dan added.
“Comes natch f’r mermaids. Help y’ur selfs to refills,” Flo said leaving.
They sipped the strong coffee and were soon eating. Two bites into his sandwich Dan remarked, “Whatever else this place is – the food’s great.”
“Once you learn how to order,” Rick said.
“Yeah! Let Flo do it for you,” Gary said retrieving the papers and examined them between bites.
“You find a treasure map?” Dan asked.
“Not sure, but doubt it’s kosher,” he handed the papers to Dan.
Dan studied the first one, “I think this is a map to Ginger’s Galley,” he said handing it back. Opening the other sheets he studied them murmuring, “Interesting—real interesting.” Water stains partially obscured the handwriting smudges:
“Drop se- –r 8:0- —– exchan– –from barn —- -dest— —ss
“They — –pposed to — –front —- –fix——ble cross. – Care—l
Buyer will arr— –cadilack.
Has ot— half bill.
Check ser—numb– — make match.
Off load at ————– stay with tug.”
The other was a scrap of smooth paper with greenish smudges. Although the paper felt familiar to Dan, he didn’t know why. He returned them, “What do you make of it?”
“Off the wall—smugglers.”
Just then four men clad in a blend of motorcycle and pirate’s attire entered the restaurant. One had a full beard, the other three unshaven. They were in their late twenties to mid thirties, and physically fit. A red scarf wrapped the head of the biggest man. He went to Flo, “We left some papers behind. Did anybody find them.”
“Didn’t tell me if’n they did.”
“We were in that booth,” he pointed at Dan’s booth revealing a tattoo of a skull and cross bones holding a dagger in its teeth on his wrist.
“I remember y’us. Don’t know not’in’ about y’ur papers. She turned to the kitchen cut out, “Anybody give y’u papers?” Larry shook his head and kept on cooking.
“They got to be here,” the man said stepping toward Flo. Dan slipped a blackjack into his palm, slid from the booth and stepped over to Flo’s side.
“Tolds y’us, dog breath, ain’t seen ’em. Look f’r y’urselves,” Flo snarled.
The man starred at Dan and barked, “You seen any papers round here.”
“Since you’re askin’ nice, no I ain’t seen your love letters. Like the lady said; check for yourself,” Dan said taking a defensive stance facing him over his left shoulder.
Gary and Rick stepped out of the booth and stood aside.
Glaring at Dan, he shouted at a companion, “Well, crawl under there and find ’em.”
The man stooped and looked. “They ain’t there, Skull.”
Skull slapped the man on the back of the head, “Get out of my sight, idiot!”
The bearded man left.
His eyes swept the floor and once more locked with Dan’s, “We’re gonna meet again.” He turned to leave.
“Please hurry. I won’t be able to sleep ‘til then.”
The door slammed behind them. Rick slumped into the booth. Gary slid in beside him noticing his pallor and remarked, “Weak knees are often a problem around Dan.”
“I thought there was going to be an AWFUL fight,” Rick said.
As Dan sat back down, Flo appeared at the table. “Honey, y’us got a death wish. But, I be luvin’ y’u f’r it.”
“Don’t recall you backin’ off any.”
“Y’a, lost m’ senses. Them bottom feeders only been in a few times last couple weeks.”
Dan and Gary returned to their food, but Rick’s appetite was gone.
“What you think now?” Dan asked sopping the last bite of bread in gravy.
“Dope smuggling, Turkish, comin’ in through Canada?”
“Hey-uh, Dan, Rick interrupted. “They are waitin’ outside.”
“Humm,” Dan mumbled quietly. Gary and Dan finished their food but lingered sipping coffee. “They gone yet?”
“No, they’re still back tracking their route,” Gary noted.
Why those scraps so important?
Pulling several bills out, Dan waved Flo over. “Is there a back way out?”
“Ain’t no check at y’ur table. Scoot out through the galley.”
“Leaving the money he departed. The others followed him round the side of the building. They concealed themselves in bushes and watched Flo’s ‘bottom feeders.’
“What now, Dan,” Gary whispered.
“After meetin’ Skull, I’m sure it’s not on the level. Not our jurisdiction, either. Smart move is notify the locals and move on.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“Not more ’an you.”
“Hey-hey-hey,” Rick interrupted, “Am I invisible? What are we talking about?”
Dan shrugged his shoulders. “He’s YOUR friend.”
“We’re trying to decide what to do,” Gary replied. “Tell the locals and forget it or find out what it’s about.”
“You mean a crime in progress?”
“Our guess, drugs or smuggling,” Dan said.
“What’re we waitin’ on?” Rick urged, “Let’s get ’em. Nothing like this ever happens at the university.”
“Hold on, Rick,” Gary cautioned. “Smugglers and dopers are dangerous. You saw but a sample of mean. People get killed getting in their way.”
“Ahh, you’re just trying to scare me.”
“Yeah! He is!” Dan admitted, “with good reason. How about you going back to the cabin and call the locals. We’ll keep tabs on them.”
“Not in your lifetime. I came fishing because it’s the most excitement my life ever sees. Not shoving me in a closet. One for all and all for one.”
“You watch too much television,” Gary retorted.
“Yeah, and they’re likely to take off any minute,” Dan warned. “So decide. Kick this ball or run it?”
“Run it,” they responded together.
“Alright then, they probably have a vehicle. So, we’re gonna need wheels,” Dan looked around the vacant lot, “from somewhere.”
“There’s a taxi barn around the corner. Two blocks down Perry Street,” Rick said. “Saw one there this morning.”
“Could be a good undercover car.”
“It’s all we got,” Gary said.
“Alright,” Dan sighed. “You two stake this place out. I’ll fetch the car.”
“How?” Rick asked.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Dan headed out on foot, as dusk brought shadows. He ran the block and a half and found the Plymouth taxi. OH BOY! Yellow fenders on a bright blue body! It’s ugly as sin, but no choice? The office door bore a sign “Port Clinton Livery” with hours of operation and a phone number. Whatever happened to plain ol’ ‘Taxi?’. was past closing time, but Dan heard a television. Guy must live here. knocked on the door. The weathered grain skinned his knuckles. He looked for a pay phone, but saw none. His eyes caught a large marlin spike by the door. He picked it up and rapped. The loud sharp sound provoked response, “Go away! Closed!”
He banged three more times and yelled, “Open up! Police!”
He heard movement. The blind slats parted revealing a face which reminded Dan of the logo on a box of fish. “Don’t know you,” he said. “And, I knows all the law ’round abouts.”
“I’m not from ’round abouts!’ And I don’t have time to play twenty questions! Open the door or I’ll take the window out with this marlin!”
“I’m callin’ the real law!”
“Fine, but it’ll be after I’m through the door. I have an emergency and I need the car!”
“Let me see your badge!”
Dan pressed it against the window pain.
“Don’t look like a real badge.”
“I told you. I’m not local!” Dan shouted pulling his revolver from his leg holster and tapping it on the window. “This badge any better?”
The man inside dropped to the floor and crawled away.
Great! Fool thinks I’m gonna shoot him! Worse—if I bust in he’s likely to shoot me. As Dan considered his next move he heard a scraping noise at the foot of the door. Dan looked to see a long leather strap poking out the threshold crack.
“Take the car!”
Dan didn’t waste time. Explanations were for later. He started the car. Don’t have to notifying the locals, anymore.
The gaudy Plymouth pulled into the restaurant parking lot. It’s door advertised “Por Clint Liver.” Dan bumped across the rough apron. Needs shocks too. On the third jolt the gas gauge dropped to “E.” Great! Butt ugly car, broken gas gauge, and I’m out of jurisdiction!
At Ginger’s, he whistled out the window, with no response. They were in those bushes. Where’d they go?
Dan parked and searched for a trampled spot. Probably following ’em. Which way? In what? Must be on foot. I’ll start a search. Better leave word in the restaurant. rushed in the Galley as Flo charged. They collided in their haste. Flo staggered back a couple steps. Dan went to the floor like a defeated Sumo. Wha’d I run into? He looked up. ’s over-towering form met his gaze. Hands on hips, she squawked, “Y’u only bumped y’ur ego! Get y’ur carcus up! Gary needs y’u!”
“What do you know about Gary?”
“I know you all’s the law, and him an’ the other feller’s doggin’ ’em vagabond ruffians. Went down the dock road fifteen minutes ago.”
Dan made it to his feet just as the cook came slapping through the kitchen door, waving money and shouting, “Hold on Flo! Where’d you get this fifty?”
“From ’em four bottom feeders in seven, Larr’.”
“It’s bogus, and if you hadn’t been in such dad-blame hurry to light out, you’d ‘ve noticed! It’s out of your wages!”
“Not if’n you e’r wanna see m’ carcass a-g’in!”
“That’s it!” Dan exclaimed. “They’re running counterfeit.” He grabbed the fifty from Larry, “I’ll explain later,” and ran out. I still don’t have a clue where my partners are—OH, and, worse—two sheriff deputies are ‘running’ the cab!
They noticed his abrupt reaction “Hold it!”
Should I make a run for it? Oh that’s ridiculous! I’m only guilty of aggravated stupidity. Dan joined them.
“Is this your car?”
“No. But, I did commandeer it.”
They threw him spread-eagled against the taxi patting him down. This is gonna get uglier! They found his off duty revolver and the slap-jack.
“You’re under arrest for vehicle theft, possession of concealed weapons and aggravated assault,” one deputy informed while handcuffing Dan.
Who’d I assault?
Before Dan could respond, Flo converged on them. “Arty, turn ’im loose! Y’u outs of y’ur fool head? We’s gots hornswagglers to nab.”
“Flo, this is police business, you …”
“Stops jackin’ me around, Arthur Justin Hamilton! I know’d y’u from when y’us grasshopper high. I’ll gets Frank down here an makes da fools of y’u.”
“Flooo…”
“Chester, best y’u reign Arty in,” she addressed the second deputy. “Them argonuts hornswaggled me f’r fifty bucks. Look!” Flo took the fifty out of Dan’s front pocket and shoved it at Arthur. “Dis ain’t comin’ out my wages. He’s on to ’em good. We’s got to get after ’em, NOW!”
The deputy took the bill to examine.
“Deputy,” Dan said, “I’m a police officer. Shield’s in my wallet there. I realize I’m out of jurisdiction, but I stumbled into a counterfeit buy. It’s going down somewhere close soon. If you’ll take the bracelets off, I’ll lay it out.”
“Y’u goin’ to listen, now! Or, does I call Frank!”
Arty examined the badge. “Okay, we’ll go in and verify you’re authentic and…”
“We don’t have time! Play it by the book, and you’ll miss the biggest bust of your career.”
“What do you think, Rog?”
“Looks good, sounds real, and Flo’s vouching. I’ll play along, for now. But mister, if you’re scamin’ me you won’t ever see daylight.”
“You worryin’ ‘bout scamin’?” Flo shouted red-faced. “You keeps treatin’ me likes I ain’t here I’ll kick y’ur shins blue! Y’u’s holding fifty clams of scam an’ ain’t got sense t’ know!”
The deputy removed the handcuffs, and Dan turned to Flo.
“Cool your jets, Flo. I stepped across the line. They’re just doing their job.” Flo relaxed, and Dan briefed the deputies.
“Okay, hop in, we’ll see if we can find your friends,” Arty offered opening the back door.
“Leave it to y’u to find a whacki-taxi,” Flo said, stiff-arming Dan and plowing in the cruiser. She pulled herself to the far side of the seat. Sensing their surprise added, “My fifty ain’t it?”
“The problem I’m seeing,” Dan said, “is sneaking up on them in a squad car?”
“We could split up and take both,” Chester suggested. “Hold marked car back until the other scouts the situation.”
“Arty, let’s you and me take the whacky tax?” Dan offered. “Chester and Flo can follow.”
“Sounds like a plan, what do you think, Rog?”
“Let’s do it.”
“One minor detail,” Dan added. “I don’t have a clue where my partners went.”
“He’s markin’ trail,” Flo answered, but no one paid her any attention as they discussed a search.
Flo raised her voice, “SAID! He be markin’ trail!”
“What are you fussing about?” Arthur challenged.
“Watch m’ lips Arty! Dey’s - markin’ - the – trraaail! Best y’o clean da wax out.”
“You mean Gary? How?” Dan asked.
“Don’t y’u know? Could be wettin’ hydrants f’r all I know. He grabbed cray’ns from da kiddie pail–if dat helps.”
They were off looking for the crayon marks. The cruiser remained behind, much to Flo’s dismay. Dan found the first yellow mark along the curb where Flo last saw them. They found others guiding them to the pier where yesterday’s headboats docked.
“Arty, pull over,” Dan directed. “Your uniform shows up like the lighthouse beacon. You’re going to have to trust me to go ahead on foot.”
Dan left the taxi and a reluctant deputy behind. The markings guided Dan though the docks several hundred feet until he came to an “X” inside a circle. Blast him, what’s with the wait here?There has to be something more, but further searching convinced him there were none. At least he wasn’t captured, or he would have left a slashed circle - if he had time? Dan rubbed out the center of the “X” with the heel of his shoe. Wish I had a crayon. Then he returned and updated the deputies.
“If they’re that far down the pier,” Arty suggested, “we might as well bring the cruiser closer.”
“Be a good time. There’s plenty of places around the buildings to hide it. Meantime, I’ll go back to the mark and wait. If I’m not back in forty-five minutes, best, you hunt me up.”
Dan returned to the mark he had found on the pier. Quickly he checked for new markings, but found none. He slid down amongst a grouping of pier posts nearby to wait. Slapping waves, intermittent boat horns, and the odor of fish oil and seaweed were his companions. No matter where Dan went, or what he did, Dan couldn’t shake the impression he was on his own. Half the allotted time passed before Dan heard a dragging sound. A rope pulled by a mooring? Then he saw someone slowly approach using the boats, freight boxes, and fishing gear along the pier for cover. Gary – Rick– no it don’t fit them. The way he moves is somehow familiar. The newcomer stood over the mark. It’s Flo!
“What are you doing here?” He whispered forcefully without moving.
“Same as y’u. Huntin’ ’em sea dogs. Here’s y’u sumpin’ to clubs ’em wit’.” She held out the marlin he left in the taxi.
“No need, Arty gave my off-duty back. You get back to the cruiser.”
“Naw, they’re at the foot of the pier. Waitin’ f’r me to blow this,” she held up a large brass whistle. “’sides, I knows these docks.”
“Find you a spot, then. All we can do is wait.”
She settled in against a post draped with netting, the dark haul of a tug behind her. Five minutes later Gary walked down the pier. Dan waited to be sure he was alone before speaking, “Over here. Where’s Rick?”
“He’s posted keeping an eye on ’em.”
“What’s the deal?”
“They met a tug here. Talked with a man, but I couldn’t hear. Then cut back up toward Perry Street. There’s a warehouse a hundred yards south, smells like burning algae…”
“That’d be the ol’ Brannigan Smok’ry. Been closed f’r two years,” Flo offered.
“They’re holed up in…What IS she doing here?”
“Long story. No time,” Dan apologized.
“They’re holed up in a livery barn with wide double doors on each end and bays along the sides. I could see a bunch of fishing gear, nets, and boat rigging. The front left bay is packed with food provisions, and there’s an a big press in one bay alongside several reams of paper. Five minutes ago they started loading a pickup with banded boxes. I’m guessing uncut bills. I haven’t been able to drum up any probable cause, but Rick’s behind some barrels on the lakeside watching through a window.”
“Let me at ’em. I’ll give ’em probabilities. Fifty bills is cause ’nough.”
Gary had a concerned expression.
“Cool your jets, Flo. We’ve done this before, you know,” Dan said. She remained quiet while Gary finished.
“It fits. But, we still don’t have enough to move in.”
“What if I drove the taxi up looking for a fare?” Dan asked. “Might get close enough to see something incriminating. At least scope the place out.”
“Don’t think it’ll help, and they’d recognize you. Best wait. There’s going to be a pow-wow soon. They didn’t meet that boat, or load the truck for exercise.”
“Let’s go back and brief the deputies, and then meet up with Rick,” Dan suggested. “Flo you… Where’d she go?”
“Is it my night to watch her?”
“Hope she didn’t light out for the warehouse. She’ll blow the whole setup.”
“Whose brainstorm was it to bring her along?”
“Nobody’s, ‘cept hers. Somehow it was trump! This whole caper’s a bad dream. She’s just part of it.”
“She can hold her own. Flo’s got street savvy. Let’s get back. She’ll show up.”
“That’s what worries me.”
They walked back to the deputies and quickly briefed them ending with Flo’s disappearance.
“Flo came back,” Arty informed them. “Said you sent her for the taxi, and drove off right before you got here.”
“Where’d she go?” Gary asked.
The deputies shrugged their shoulders.
“Let’s get over to the warehouse – quick!” Dan cried. All four jumped in the cruiser. Arty assigned posts; he and Dan to the front, and Gary with Chester to the back. This gave them radio contact and a plan could be coordinated after reconnoitering. Dan would fetch Rick into their team. They parked behind a plumbing warehouse adjoining the south side of the smokehouse concealing the vehicles between bathtub and shower crates. The teams split and headed for their posts.
Dan and Arty hid behind a stack of old plastic barrels and discarded pallets fifteen feet from the doors. They were out of view. As he tried to become accustomed to the sickening sweet musky odor, Dan whispered, “What’s that stench?”
“The barrels. Sour molasses, Worchester or both used to season smoked fish.”
“As long as it ain’t toxic.”
“It’s harmless. Could make you toss your cookies though.”
“I’ll fetch Rick.”
Arty nodded, but a loud scraping “WHAMP” from the street stopped Dan. Both heads turned. A car bottomed out on the uneven driveway. Oh no! It’s Flo!
She approached the doors blowing the taxi’s horn like a fire truck siren. Slowly the left door slid half opened and two men exited. Bathed in the taxi’s headlights, Dan recognized the men from the diner.
“Taxi’s here!”
“We didn’t call a taxi! Get out of here!” Skull shouted.
Flo opened her door and stepped halfway out, “Looks h’re I can’t be wastin’ gas at today’s prices! “Y’us change y’ur mind—fine wit’ me—but fair’s fair. Yy’us ows me a fiver f’r showin up.”
“We don’t owe you a plug nickel,” the second man replied starting to slide the door back. “Now get that hunk of junk out of here!”
“I ain’t goin’ wit’outs m’ gas money!”
“Hey, I know you!” Skull said suspiciously. “You’re the waitress from that Galley place.”
“So’s what? Taxi’s m’ moonlight. Don’t specs me t’ raise m’ young’ns on tips like y’us leaves me. Does y’u?”
“You ain’t moonlightin’ here!” Skull bent over and picked up a broken slat.
Dan started to move to Flo’s defense, but Arty grasped his elbow whispering, “Play this close. Let her run her line out.”
With the threat, she fell back into the driver’s seat, slammed the taxi in gear, floored the accelerator and roared through the doors. Fragments flew and the men jumped.
The taxi struck the rear of the pickup truck inside. Flo slammed the car in reverse. It jerked back and stalled. Skull dropped the board in the melee and headed for her. Flo jumped from the car darting through the barn like a butterfly in a meadow.
With the doors splintered and knocked off the tracks, Dan and Arty watched the show. The argument grew louder, but remained a stalemate. Flo was standing her ground.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Arty whispered. “Get Rick while they’re distracted.”
“You know the situation better ’an me.”
“She’s such a handful. They don’t know what to do with her. She’ll be okay.”
“It’s your ballgame.” Dan took the opportunity to find Rick who was peeking through a side window.
“What’s SHE doin’ in there?” Rick whispered.
“Long story. No time.” Dan could see Flo was now scurrying like a mouse chased by cats, but eventually the villains corralled her in the bay with the offset press. Cornered but not lassoed, she grabbed a sheet of paper. “Okay! Here’s my insurance agent!” Flo dipped a brush by the press into some green ink and wrote, “Will Getzu Allstate 555-1919,” and thrust it at them. “Forget the blasted gas money!”
Her response caught them off guard, and she calmly walked to the rear of the truck and knelt. “How bad I get y’r fool bumper,” she asked. Rising up she declared, “I ain’t payin’ for none of that rust neither. Just m’ own damage.” Turning in a huff, she walked to the taxi. Without a backwards glance Flo plopped in, backed down the drive, and drove away.
Crook and cop were dumbfounded. The counterfeiters attempted to pull the broken doors unsuccessfully. Rick and shook their heads in unbelief. Gary and Chester heard the commotion, but having no vantage point and lacking radio communication had no choice but to wait.
“Follow me,” Dan directed and they joined Arty.
“How much of that spectacle did you see?” Arty asked Dan.
“Most of it, what’d you catch?”
“Not much of the inside stuff, but I covered her retreat. I’ve known her all my life. Saw it with my own eyes. Still can’t believe it.”
“Want me to sneak out and try to corral that wild mustang?” Dan asked.
“I’ll go. You two wait. When clear, I’ll brief the backdoor, and try and get some backup.” Arty left on the run.
“Here’s what we have so…”
“Oh something’s rank?” Rick interrupted.
“It’s the barrels.” Dan said.
“Rick reached over to touch the coating of an open barrel. “It’s sticky as fly paper.”
“Yeah, toxic too.”
Rick’s eyes bulged.
“Not really, it’s sour molasses or something, but don’t eat it. Wipe it off on the ground.” As Rick worked to remove the residue Dan finished updating him.
They were no longer aware of the odor when a black Cadillac pulled up to the entrance and beeped. Dan noted the plates from habit, MAT 245. Faces peered around the sides of the broken door’s slats. The Cadillac pulled inside. Four men in suits emerged with automatic weapons.
Come on God give us a break here. Arty isn’t back, no radio, and we’re out numbered two to one, including armament. This nightmare just keeps getting worse!”
“Can’t walk away now, can we?” Rick whispered.
“Nope, we’re on this merry-go-round ’till the music stops.” They waited. Never again out of jurisdiction. Just walk away!
The men conferred, but Dan couldn’t hear the conversation. Eventually, one of the suited men retrieved a duffel from the trunk. Returning he tried to pull the remains of the doors shut, but they were snagged. He gave up and returned setting the duffel on the tailgate. Finally a break. Skull opened it, examined the contents. In the dim warehouse light, he appeared to flip through a bundle of bills.
Good bills for bogus, probably a dollar on a hundred.
The suits accompanied by Skull entered the Cadillac and it backed out of the barn stopping parallel to Dan’s hide. The other three boarded the pickup. Dan heard the truck’s starter grinding and grinding, but it didn’t start. The passenger door opened and one of them raised the hood and toyed with the motor. Another continued the futile cranking.
Skull shouted from the Caddy impatiently, “What’s wrong with it!”
“Won’t start.”
“I see that you nit wit. Didn’t you gas it?”
“Yeah, we gassed it!”
The cranking slowed.
“Don’t have all night.”
“Battery’s dead now.”
“Useless as screens on submarines! We’ll get the van. Be ready!”
Shortly after, Arty returned from his errand.
“Did you find her?” Dan asked.
“Yep, she’s headed back to the docks. And, get this. She grabbed some samples of bogus! That’s one courageous tiger in a dress!”
“Where’s she now? She okay?”
“In the cruiser, and she’s fine. Had enough excitement for one day. You won’t believe how she put it.”
“I think I might. She has a way of getting her message across.”
“Yeah, I asked her if she was coming with me. She said, ‘Naw, I limits m’self to wetin’ m’ pants t’ once a day.’”
Dan chuckled as Arty asked, “What do we have here?”
“Apparently some good luck for a change. They’d be gone, but their truck didn’t start.”
“Weren’t luck, Flo stuffed the tail pipe with a potato when she checked bumper.”
“I’m glad she’s on our side,” Rick whispered.
Dan finished briefing Arty.
“Okay, you take this shotgun,” Arty said handing the Remington he brought back to Dan, “I’ve got my side arm. I radioed Chester and he has the other shotgun.” He turned to Rick and asked, “You have your off duty?”
“I’m not a cop. I’m a college anthropologist.”
“Where am I? A costume ball?” Arty asked turning to address Dan. “You a real cop?”
“I am,” Dan assured Arty while offering Rick his off duty. “Here, point it, look mean, just don’t pull the trigger unless it’s life and death.”
“Is it loaded?”
“Yeah. Why, you want me to take the bullets out?”
“No-o-o!”
“The way I figure it, Dan, when they come back they’ll load the bogus,” Arty said. “We’ll have two options; move in and make the arrest, or follow the parade hoping to uncover the next rung on the ladder. If we want the head honcho, we’ll have to tail ’em.”
“True, but the tailing option chances losing it all,” Dan said.
“They’d have to be blind for it to succeed. Face it; we’ve got a cruiser and a tawdry taxi. I’m drawing to an inside strait. I’ve requested an undercover team, but it’s a big county on a busy weekend. If it doesn’t happen we’ll have to move on what we have and let the Feds clean it up.”
Fifteen minutes passed and no truck. The radio alerted Arty two undercover vehicles were en route, he left to coordinate their arrival. Twenty minutes later a cargo van arrived and backed up to the disabled truck. Dan noted the license, HEB 139, Probably a rental.
“Rick, sneak over and tell Arty it’s going down,” Dan whispered.
Rick slipped away as the counterfeiters transferred the bundles. Arty and Rick had not returned as the last bundle was transferred.
I can’t spring the trap. I got no trap! This whole caper’s melting away like ice on a summer beach.
Skull entered the Caddie with the suits, and it backed down to the street and waited. The others boarded the van.
I could unload on the tires as the van rolls past. The blasts will alert everybody else. They’ll converge and we’ll take them down. Not good. Too risky! They’ve got automatic weapons. Be skydiving without a chute. Gotta let it go.
The van backed down the driveway. Instinctively the shotgun came to Dan’s shoulder. He steadied the sight bead on the rear tire. Dan’s finger brought pressure to the trigger. Oh well! Let the chips fly! I can’t let it go!
Dan felt the nudge on his shoulder before he heard Arty’s whisper, “Let ’em go.”
Dan watched the van pull away with the Cadillac following. “Please, tell me someone’s tailing them.”
“A fellow we call Deputy Dawg, with Chester and Gary. Come on. Rick’s waiting in the second car.”
They hurried to the staging area. A nondescript brown Chevy Nova sat alongside the cruiser. Rick stood beside it with another man.
“Meet Deputy Victor Morgan. We call him “Morgue-man”, Arty said.
Morgan briefed them as they piled into the vehicle, “Flo took the taxi back. She’s had enough. The Coast Guard is on standby in case our bogus bandits head for the lake.”
“Ocean-Charlie-23,” the radio whined, “Lake don’t appear to be their destination. They’re headed down Perry Street toward the main interchange for State-53.”
“Ocean-Charlie-31,” Arty spoke in the radio, “We’ll be up with you in a couple minutes.”
“Ocean-Charlie-23, we’re passing the exchange and going north on Sand Road.”
“Ocean-Charlie 31, I can’t figure this. Catawba Peninsula extends only six miles.”
“Ocean-Charlie-23, we’re sure they haven’t made us.”
“This road’s a dead end at the ferry to South Bass Island,” Arty spoke openly. “I suppose they could have a boat around Put-in Bay, but why not load off sooner. Plenty of better places.”
“Hey, you’re the tour guide,” Dan said, “I don’t know the lay of the land.”
They silently weighed the event. Five minutes later the radio reported again. “Ocean-Charlie-23, the suspect vehicle is approaching the ferry.”
“The ferry,” Arty said, “That’s it!” He called the lead car. “Ocean-Charlie-31, can you hold back? They’re using the ferry to watch for a tail? We can catch up and take the lead. You follow on the next one.” He slapped the driver on the shoulder, “Hit it Morgue-man! To the ferry, double time.”
The car sped up and closed the gap.
“Okay Dawg,” Arty radioed, “we’re on your six. Break off left on Cliff Street. It’ll look like you’re local.”
Morgan trailed behind watching the lead car turn left and then seconds later the villains went right toward the ferry. Morgan made a quick diversionary right and picked up the county road. As Morgan negotiated the route, Arty removed his uniform shirt exposing a white T-shirt. Timing brought them back in behind the target at the ferry.
Five cars were loaded on the ferry behind the target vehicle. The suspects were in the front row of two wide and three deep. It placed Dan behind the suspect vehicles with another van between them. The ferry ride took thirty minutes to loop around to the back of Bass Island and unload.
“Ocean-Charlie-31, we just off loaded, and are following them up the ramp.”
“Ocean-Charlie-23, we’ve half way to Bass. A Coast Guard defender class ship is standing by at Rattlesnake Island, but the proximity of Canadian waters concerns them. They’re notifying the Canadian Navy.”
“It just can’t get any crazier,” Dan said.
The radio clicked again. “The Coast Guard is now advising of an auxiliary crew of two at Miller’s Marina at Put-In-Bay with a six man rigid hull inflatable, but there’s no mounted armament.”
“It just did,” Arty said.
The van moved out of the main harbor area. Dan and his companions followed as it wound around and took the county highway south.
“Round and round we go,” Dan murmured aloud.
Soon they left the county road onto a State Park dirt service road. It led through a grove of pines.
“This wild goose chase is ending,” Arty said. “After these trees, it runs dead at lakeside. That means they can’t escape by land without coming through us.”
Arty informed the tail car and requested his dispatcher to notify the Coast Guard. They approached slowly without headlights. Their eyes adjusted quickly, and the full moon and clear night provided ample light. Dan went ahead on foot to be sure the road was clear. Within ten minutes, he walked into view of the van backed up to the water’s edge a hundred yards ahead. He wouldn’t have seen them if the tug hadn’t been using flood lamps to load. Dan signaled Arty who joined him. A couple minutes later the second car arrived, and Arty briefed Morgan and Gary.
“Ocean-Charlie-31,” the dispatcher alerted, “The Coast Guard’s inflatable is in route from Miller’s with an ETA of twelve minutes. The Defender’s moving the islands so it can intercept on either side of the island.”
Twenty minutes ticked by as the tug loaded; the men in suits guarding while the workmen ferried boxes. The forty-foot tug had a black hull with a pilot’s cabin mid shift. Arty examined her through his binoculars. “She’s under an American flag, and my guess is drafting a couple feet. Means she’s pretty empty.” He lowered the glasses.
“In another ten minutes they’ll be loaded. I figure the limeys will stay on the tug, but expect the suits to drive back this way. We’re stuck. The Coast Guard will have to intercept the tug, and we’ll take down the Caddie full of suits. Let’s get a limb shoved behind our front wheels. Maybe they’ll think a couple lovers got hung up. At least put them off guard enough to give us an advantage.”
As the others worked at the diversion, Arty put his uniform shirt back on. The six officers would be ready with four service revolvers, three shotguns, and Rick with Dan’s off duty. With a tree limb under the front right tire, and a rear wheel buried in the sand, the car appeared abandoned. Cardboard from the trunk placed on the windshield read “gone for tow.” The second chase car backed up around the bend. They also briefed the dispatcher and requested her to alert the Coast Guard.
“Okay men,” Arty directed. “This isn’t going to be an ice cream social. In order to contain them, we must cover both sides of the road. That creates a potential dangerous crossfire. Be careful! Three on the driver’s side, four on the other.”
Arty spaced the men at staggered intervals, and marked the positions by tying strips of a sheet from the car’s trunk on the trees. “Pay attention to these. I don’t want anyone shot in a crossfire. Wait ’till they get out. I’ll yell ‘Ottawa County Sheriff Department, you’re under arrest,’ then we’ll see what happens. I emphasize, BE PATIENT, don’t jump the gun. Wait for my order. But, if they try to back up take the rear wheels out with the shotguns. If they start shooting—and you have a clear shot—take it. Be mindful of the strips and watch the crossfire. We’re all elevated on these roadside berms so be sure to shoot down. Take your places, and God protect us.”
The workmen finished loading a short time later and stayed aboard as the tug chugged away. The men in suits boarded the Caddie. The ominous sedan crept toward the snare leaving the van behind. When it encountered the roadblock, it came to a complete stop.
Minutes passed. Both rear doors opened and two men stepped out with weapons. Slowly they approached the abandoned vehicle. Illuminated by the Cadillac’s headlights they worked on clearing the limb. Then they tried to push the car by joining bumpers. One man steered the car through an open door, but the car slid sideways. “Willie, get your lazy behind out here and help!” he yelled.
A passenger emerged from the Caddie slamming the door. When he reached the front of the vehicle Arty yelled, “Ottawa County Sheriff! Hands up! You’re under arrest!”
The command startled them. The Cadillac attempted to retreat and a shotgun flashed reverberating from the trees; “CABOOM! CABOOM! CABOOM!” The tires flattened. The car stopped. The man between the vehicles swung a short-barreled automatic weapon from under his coat spraying Rick’s cover. Immediately, return fire came from Morgan’s position striking the man twice in the upper chest. He sank to his knees and fell forwards.
The other two culprits dove into the abandoned Chevy through open doors. Momentarily, the officers accepted it as a sign of surrender. The Caddie driver, not yet persuaded, lay across the front seat, lowered the passenger window, and fired randomly.
Dan felt a hot poker jab his shoulder. Pain didn’t last. Arm still works. Flesh wound, but close enough, scumbag. Time I teach you manners. Dan fired the remaining shells into the door. Not enough to get through the door? Okay, I have time to reload. However, the rattle and impact impressed the driver. As Dan thumbed more rounds in the tube, a white handkerchief appeared in the window waving frantically.
“Guns out first!” Arty ordered. “One at a time! Caddie driver first! Any hint of a gun, and it’s all over!”
A hand dropped a gun out the window. The door opened activating the dome light revealing the driver. There were red specks on the gunman’s forehead, and right cheek. He exited in slow motion as if stepping out on eggs.
“Turn around. Face the car!” ordered Arty. “Dan, cuff him.”
His ears ringing, Dan stepped into the sulfuric air and secured the man. Arty took the other two prisoners through the same routine, and then everyone left their cover. Everyone except Rick.
Dan went into the cover with dread. “Rick! It’s over! Rick! This is Dan coming your way! You okay!”
There was no reply.
“The music’s over! Time to get off the merry-go-round!” Dan came to Rick’s post. The strip of sheet fluttered in the breeze, but no Rick. Get hit, panic? Disorient and run off?”
Heavy cover made searching difficult even with the flashlight. These pine boughs hang so low, lying under a tree he’d be easy to miss. searching another ten feet he saw Rick prone on the ground. “RICK, you okay?”
Rick groaned, “Is it over?”
“Yeah, it’s all over.”
“Good, it hurts my ears.”
“Come on, follow me out.”
“That was loud! Not what I expected! Here, take this thing ‘fore it goes off.” He gingerly handed Dan his gun. Dan checked the hammer position. Safe. He opened the cylinder. No spent rounds. Dan closed it. It was a short trip back to the road. As soon as Rick saw the criminals were secured, his composure changed. “We sure shut this gang of cutthroats down, didn’t we?”
“We certainly did,” Dan said smiling.
Two additional uniform cars arrived, and transported the three prisoners. The fourth man was dead. The driver incurred minor cuts from fragments of glass shrapnel. The bleeding stopped, he’d be treated later.
The county Crime Scene Unit took another fifteen minutes to arrive. Dan, Gary and Rick gave statements to the investigators. An hour into processing the scene the investigators removed the body.
While Gary was giving his statement, the dispatcher advised Artie the Coast Guard had followed the tug to a small freighter. According to the Canadian Navy, it had drifted into U.S. waters. The USCG invited the Canadian Navy to join the boarding party. Ten million dollars counterfeit was confiscated along with the tug. The freighter of Greek registry would be detained. Thirty-eight crewmen were pending official charges.
The trio sat on the roadside taking turns relaying their specific part in the adventure to the investigators. Gary was last. Returning to Arty’s cruiser he commented, “That about raps it up. They said our stories meshed.”
“Meshed?” Dan chuckled as Arty walked up. “Arty, your boys give you any advice on handling us loose cannons.”
“There’s no problem, guys. You know how it is with a fatal shooting; by the numbers, no loose ends.” He walked to the driver’s door. “Let’s get out of here. Where’re you staying?”
“Angler’s Camp,” Gary replied pulling a door closed.
“Somebody will be out to take you to the Sherrif’s office for formal statements in a few hours. Get some sleep,” Arty advised on the way back.
By the time they reached the cabin, Rick’s anxiety attack was over. He reveled in reliving the event in every detail. “From the beginning, I knew it’d be exciting,” Rick said walking through the cabin door. “Never dreamed it so exhilarating!”
“When I get back to work Monday, I’m going to score those thirty-eight felonies on my sheet,” Dan boasted. “It has to be a record.”
“You can’t score ’em. You’re out of jurisdiction,” Gary laughed.
“Well, I can take assists, can’t I?”
“Okay with me, anything to mess Hess’ stats up!”
“You guys have this much fun every day?” Rick asked.
“No, just on vacation,” Dan answered.
“As late as it is, morning’s gonna come fast,” Gary warned from the bunk’s edge. He flipped his shoes off, heel-to-toe. Still dressed, Gary flopped on the mattress as the second shoe hit the floor.
“I hear that,” Dan said following suit.
“You guys aren’t gonna undress?” Rick asked.
“Hey, it’s the way stakeouts work. Down time’s short. You don’t waste it.”
Rick pulled his shoes off and lay back on the bunk. “Boy, that was something else!”
No one answered they were already asleep.
It was a short nap, and not even Rick wanted to respond to the alarm. Nevertheless, they rousted, packed, and were on the stoop when a sheriff’s car arrived.
“You guys Black, Follert, and…” the driver hesitated trying to read a paper.
“That’s us,” said Gary.
I’m Allen Tremont. Call me Alibi, everyone does. Short for Alibi Al. Great bust! Secret Service already showed up.”
“They tell you we’re buying breakfast?” Dan asked.
“Nope, my orders are to fetch you straight to the Sherriff’s Office,” Alibi replied.
“Deputy, are we under arrest?” Dan asked.
“Of course not! This is a courtesy.”
“Then we’re going to breakfast first. Like I said we’re buying.”
“Sorry, Sherriff Labide’ll have kittens I take that long!”
“Well, we aren’t going peaceful until after breakfast. You joining us?” Dan said walking away.
“Hold on! I have to bring you in. If you won’t go and I can’t arrest you, I have to deal. If I let you all take me to breakfast will you come in peaceable?”
“Got our word.”
“Don’t see I have a choice. I have to complete my mission.”
“Alibi Al fits you, Com’on.”
“So, where we eatin’?”
“Ginger’s!” they responded in unison.
“Think she’ll be there?” asked Rick.
“No doubt,” said Gary.
They were barely seated, when a rough voice trumpeted from the kitchen, “Y’e ol’ sea dogs! Best not b’ dragg’n no more sinkin’ sewage scows in t’ m’y gall’y!”
They all looked, but saw no one. Alibi Al’s face showed confusion. “Was that meant for us?”
Before they could answer the kitchen doors burst open propelling Flo toward them. Her hint of a limp was gone. She skipped like a flat rock across a pound. “Sees da law’s ridin’ y’u close. Suits me fine, it do. F’r one, I’s still not ov’r the nerv’us twitches. Ye dang ne’r gots me kil’ded, ya did!”
“Flo, meet Deputy Alibi Al,” Dan said.
“Y’u fits ’em, ‘Ale-bi’. Watch ’em closer ‘an hawk her ’yungins.”
“We’re kinda in a hurry,” Gary said. “Thought we’d do breakfast before we take on all the reports you got us into.”
“Y’us was at the helm, sailin’into dat storm. As for breakfast, ain’t holdin’ this pad for not.”
“Sorry, we haven’t checked the menu yet.”
A bell sounded from the service window and Larry yelled, “Number seven!”
“Y’us jus’ ain’t n’er gonna learn,” she said turning away to deliver the order for another table.
“Who’s the character?” Alibi asked.
“Talk later. Order now,” Gary said shoving a menu card at him.
“You see that ‘cat got a mouse’ grin?” Dan asked. “As she’d say it, ‘h’r main sail’s, still bittin’ in t’ a full wind’.”
“Who is she?” Alibi asked.
They didn’t answer, because Flo was back, “Y’us ready yet?”
“Coffee all around,” Dan said. “We’ll order when you get back.”
Y’us d’ ones got da scurry on,” she said heading for the coffee urns. Flo picked up the coffee pot and returned without stopping. Everyone flipped their mugs over and she filled them. “Ready yet?”
“Two eggs sunny side, crispy bacon, hash browns, and toast,” Dan rattled off.
Flo nodded, “Ex-press num’er three.”
“Bowl of oatmeal and a grapefruit,” Rick said.
“Y’u puttin’ m’ on, mate? And we’s done rode d’ riggin’ together?”
“I don’t like fried eggs, too runny.”
“Num’er six, for da ol’ salt!” she yelled back.
Rick didn’t reply, but Gary did, “Right on Flo. That’s what he’s tryin’ to say.”
“And, I’ll have a six also,” Gary said.
Flo nodded and looked at the deputy, “Y’us eatin’ or just comp’ny?”
“Give me what he got.”
“Uh-uh,” she grunted and left. “Two m’re sixes!”
“Ocean Charlie 21,” the deputy’s radio broke in. “Your ETA for the Sherriff.
“Ought-O, Sherriff’s tracking me,” Alibi muttered before keying his mike, “Ocean Charlie 21, ran into a snag. Be thirty to forty minutes.” Then turning back to the threesome commented, “I’m gonna half to dance all around this. It better be worth it.”
“It will,” Dan promised, “Even though I’m not sure what you ordered.”
“Same as you.”
“Maybe, but when you said ‘what he got’, you didn’t specify which, ‘he’.”
They all laughed at the consternation of Alibi.
“Don’t worry Alibi. We’ve never had bad food here,” Gary assured.
Flo floated to the table with newfound energy and orders stacked up both arms. Rick’s number six was poached eggs. The whites were solid, the yoke firm. Alibi’s order was the same as Dan’s.
“Flo, you’re psychic, and you’re kitchen’s magic,” Gary said.
“Take a coffee break. Pull up a chair and join us,” Dan offered. “Wanna discus your adventure.”
“Y’u alls got d’em bottom feedin’ scallywags, didn’t y’us?”
“Sure enough and we couldn’t have done it without you,” Dan said. “Wanted to stop in and thank you.”
“Shucks,” she said bowing her head, “twern’t not’in’ much. Then raising her chin added, “When I gonna get m’ fifty back?”
“Right now,” Dan said, pulling fifty dollars from his wallet. “I’ll put a voucher in for it.”
“Plugging the tail pipe was a smart trick. Key to the whole shootin’ match,” Gary said. “It stalled them long enough for the calvary to get there.”
“Fixed der wag’n good, did I?”
“You’re a courageous, fast thinking lady,” Dan said. “We’re all proud to know you.” The others chimed agreement. “Tell me, how you’re holdin’ up, now it’s over. Sometimes the aftershock’s worse than the real thing?”
“I’m good, long as ’em Argonauts is chained in da hold.”
“Argonauts?” Alibi asked.
“Don’t ask,” Rick said.
“Yeah, ’em vag’bo’nd bottom dredgers. Ought t’ be drown’d in da bilges?”
“You put them out of circulation for some time, Flo,” Dan encouraged.
“Good ‘nough. Gots m’ tables t’ get backs t’. Remember, when y’u’re in this port, it’s Tex-Rex; d’ grubs on me.”
They ate quickly. Gary, Rick, and Dan each left ten bucks on the table. The Sherriff’s office was nearby.
The depositions and paperwork took most of Sunday morning. The “commandeering” was forgotten at the urging of the deputies. They learned Arty submitted Flo for a Citizen’s Bravery award, which was accompanied by a certificate and a hundred dollars.
Sheriff Abel Labide personally bid them farewell, “You boys put us on the biggest bust in years. Have to give credit. Well done. Sharing it with us was the smart move. Can’t help feeling you’d have preferred dropping it on my doorstep all wrap up in a pretty bow. So, if you cowboys ever play rodeo in my county again I’ll lock you up in a dungeon so deep the fires of Hades will warm your toes, and feed you bread and water till your beards drag the floor.”
Dan chuckled as they left Labide’s office.
Gary asked, “What you so happy about? Other than not getting locked up?”
“Sheriff Labide really makes you feel right at home.”
Chester chauffeured them back to their fishing camp. He wasn’t as talkative as Arty on the short trip back, but after they debarked he rolled the window down. “You know, me and Arty got called on the carpet by the Sheriff, but considering the results he couldn’t make it stick.”
“Sorry about that,” Dan apologized. “The brass hats are the same everywhere.”
“Wanted to tell you, we both think it was worth it. I had the best day of my career! Don’t expect to ever top it.”
“I appreciate you telling us, Chester,” Dan replied.
“You headed back right away?”
“Soon as we can get packed,” Gary replied.
“You come back any time. Look us up. We’ll ride any trail you pick. And, don’t worry about Labide. He doesn’t have a dungeon.”
The cruiser slowly pulled away, flashed its beacon lights and disappeared around the corner.
“Well,” Gary said, “time to head for the peace and quiet of home.”
Dan was looking forward to returning home, but chuckled at the thought of ‘peace and quiet’. There’s no escaping. Crime is everywhere! Peace is just a word in the dictionary.”