Flower Girl: A Burton Family Mystery Part 3

I have tried to get to know this daunting and haunting character; however, maybe I don't need a father who is more absent than present and is so secretive and in such a violent occupation.

The hit on Dr. Evel Park, Sr. continues to disturb me; however, strange as it may be to others, if they knew, to me it seems justified, if Reddy was the shooter.

From that day forward every time there was an item in the news about anyone being a.s.sa.s.sinated anywhere in the world, my thoughts turned to Reddy.

One morning Matte called. "Hi Shannon! Is Reddy there? I need to speak with him." I flinched, half expecting that Rhyly was shot for a third time, or maybe another a.s.sa.s.sination in the news.

"To be honest, we haven't been able to get in contact with Reddy for several weeks, not since returning from Skeleton Lake. Angie and I have one clue; that he may be tracking someone with the initials 'S-C.' Any idea who or what that is?"

"It's Sara-Clare O'Callahan, the reporter. I introduced Reddy to her because she's down in Central America doing a series on child brides." Matte's voice had a worried tone as she added, "Please have him call me when you find him. It's urgent he make contact with my friend Princess Zubaida."

"I'll leave him a text to get in touch with you ASAP."

"Hey, I'm late for my date," Angie said, heading for the showers before her breakfast date with Agent Clemson Rapier, her latest beau.

Most of the time, Angie and I were both wrong about Reddy's whereabouts. When he reappeared a few weeks later, he said, "I've been on the trail of Rhyly's shooter."

Reddy picked up the kitchen phone and turned on the speaker so I could add my two cents. He dialed Matte at Professor Craft's but got his voice message, "I'm out walking the dogs."

Reddy left the following text message: "Hi, Craft. Tell Matte I'm back at Shannon's. Meanwhile, I located a guy by the name of Purcell in Berkeley, and I have him safely on ice. After a bit of persuasion he indicated that he was the shooter the second time Rhyly was targeted. He says he doesn't know the first shooter and so far he hasn't divulged the name of the punter. He needs some more persuasion. I'll tell you more when we see you and head for the lake. Give my regards to Matte and Rhyly. Comet and Shy are acclimatizing and Shannon sends her love. Cheers! Reddy P.S. Ask Matte to call me from a secure phone."

The next morning, the phone rang. "Hey, Reddy, there's a call for you on the secure line in the kitchen," I shouted down the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs."

"I'll be right up," he replied.

Reddy came up the stairs two at a time, punched the speaker b.u.t.ton on my kitchen phone and got right down to business as was his style. "Hi, Craft. Shannon, the dogs, and I will meet Rhyly at Lambert Field. See you and Matte in River View before we head for the Lake. Tell Matte I'll contact Princess Zubaida shortly," Reddy said. "Hope you have an extra bunk at the cabin for our guest shooter."

When Reddy and I arrived in St. Louis at Lambert Field, Comet and Shy were anxiously waiting in the Northwest baggage area, eager to get out of their cages after the five hour flight from Oakland in the cargo bay of a NW Air Boeing jet. However, this would be their second annual Bear family reunion and they were getting adjusted to flying.

We had a surprise guest with us. "Sorry about this extra baggage, Rhyly, but we just captured this creep and we couldn't leave him behind with only Angie to watch over him," Reddy said. "Meet 'Critter' Purcell." Critter took this all in, with a look of total disinterest.

"Sounds like a plan, Reddy, but he'll have to ride in the back with the dogs," Rhyly said. This time Critter twitched, noticeably. "He seems awfully nervous around the dogs," Rhyly said. "What do you think of my new toy? We call her 'Streak.' Check out the neat black lettering on the silver paint job, compliments of Sarge's son."

We oohed and aahed our appreciation, loaded Critter, then the dogs, and Rhyly said, "Everyone buckle up, and double check the dogs' harnesses, please."

During our flight to River View I told Rhyly the tale of how Comet and Shy sniffed out and captured Critter.

"I was home alone, Angie was out partying, and I hadn't seen nor heard from Reddy for a few weeks. I was reading some Sufi poetry, you know, that beautiful stuff by Rumi that Matte and you recommended last time we talked. Anyway, it was a quiet and peaceful evening when suddenly I heard the crunch of footsteps out back on the gravel that encircled the house. Comet's and Shy's ears went straight up. Comet was growling a soft low rumble while Shy hunkered down as if about to pounce. The hackles went up on her back, then his, and they both were growling in soft but menacing tones. They went totally silent as I stepped to the screen door and peered out into the blackness. I turned off the night lights to get a better look at whatever was out there in the dark.

"At that moment, Reddy drove into the driveway and lit the place up with the high beams of his Silverado. The truck headlights startled the creature that was hiding in the dark and it began to run, sort of a shuffle. Reddy yelled out, 'Let the dogs loose.'

"I unlatched the screen door and Comet and Shy took off in the dark in the direction of the creature, up the hill trail and off to the south towards the stadium. Reddy grabbed a couple of big flashlights from his truck, tossed one to me, and hollered, 'Let's follow them.' I had my running shoes on from my evening workout, so the two of us took off up the hill, flashlights dancing and lighting up the trail. We could only hope that the home-fort was secure, in case the creature doubled back.

"A mile down the trail we caught up with the dogs who were sitting at the base of a large windswept cypress tree, staring up and growling menacingly. We panned the tree with our flashlights and spotted the quarry, a bedraggled homeless person. Reddy said, 'Better get your a.s.s down from that tree.' But the man in the tree said, 'Not while those dogs are here.'

"Anyway, to shorten the story, that was my introduction to Critter, the man Reddy has been tracking for the past few months," I said.

"Is he the one who shot me?" Rhyly asked with an icy tone.

"Reddy says he is; he just uses the homeless man bit as a disguise. He's a former dropout from Marine sniper training. Makes a living at contract killing for anyone who has a need, but he's expensive."

"So what's next?" Rhyly asked.

"You'll have to ask Reddy."

"Thought we'd take Critter to Skeleton Lake and introduce him to some really deep cold water. Might find out who the first shooter was and who hired him and Critter. That is, if it's okay with Craft. If not, I'll find a suitable disposal site," Reddy said in a matter-of-fact tone. Critter's eyes never left the dogs.

"Speaking of the dogs, let's walk them out behind the cargo hangar and back. They need to take a pee break," I said while cringing a bit as Rhyly gave me a big hug. I'm getting better with my no hugging phobia, at least with close friends. "d.a.m.n, it's good to see you. How are Matte and Craft and mother KC, Rogue and Wolf?"

"Matte's in DC lecturing on child slavery. She said to tell you it's urgent she talks with you about Princess Zubaida. She'll be back in town tonight. Meanwhile she sends her love," Rhyly said. "KC and the pups and Craft will join us for dinner at his home on the river. We should be there in an hour."

Reddy asked, "I don't want to keep Critter at Craft's place. Any ideas where else we might store him until we leave for the lake?"

"How about the RVPD's drunk tank?" Rhyly said. "I'll call Sgt. DeRosa."

Rhyly taxied up to the dock and we tied down the Streak in the slip next to Craft's Caravan. I soon found myself entangled with a restless gang of four dogs who were none too sure they were family. KC, matriarch of the Bear clan, kept a discreet distance ready to referee when called on.

A scruffy looking figure emerged slowly from the Porter, not sure whether to run or jump in the river and risk swimming for it, even with his hands handcuffed.

"I do believe they'd make a great fur coat," Critter said with a feeble chuckle. As if in response, KC sashayed over and gave him a thorough inspection, so intimidating that Critter peed in his pants when the big dog growled before returning to her role as a protective barrier between the stranger and Craft.

"This here is Critter Purcell," Reddy said. "I'll tell you about him as soon as we get settled in and have a pot of that favorite tea of yours, if you please. You've converted Shannon and me to hojicha."

Reddy removed the handcuffs so Critter could change his pants in the shed. Meanwhile, Reddy informed Craft that he has been trying to break "Critter" with a few months of kindness torture.

Critter isn't used to being treated humanely, much less respected for his sniper skills and ability to disguise and hide in the midst of any scene. Shannon and I plied him with kindness and sympathetic understanding for a few weeks after we captured him. It was hi-tech torture to a dude like him. He has started to look a bit more human. He even bathes once a week, cropped his beard and got a GI haircut just a couple of weeks ago, and even had his teeth cleaned. That was all around the time that I last called Craft. He finally caved and blurted out that he was hired only for the second shooting. He didn't know the name of the client and frankly he couldn't care less since he got paid half up front.

Craft asked, "Did you gather any evidence we can use to legally prosecute this b.a.s.t.a.r.d?"

"Now here's the evidence part," Reddy said. "The bank transfer to his account in the Cayman Islands went through and that was the only clue I needed. Critter still wants to collect the project completion bonus of 100,000, but we kept him under-wraps and persuaded him that Rhyly was under our protection. It was more than a veiled threat and he knows it."

"Not much hard evidence. Anything about who hired him?" Craft asked.

Reddy replied, "I asked Critter if he still has the deposit records from his two earlier contracts-hit attempts. Critter lives like a slob amidst dirty dishes piled in the kitchen sink and slipping over onto the counter tops, soiled clothes and piles of unwashed linens and towels strewn about the garage we found him living in. However, in stark contrast to his living quarters, he itemizes his firearms and ammo expenses, and his workshop is immaculate. His financial bookkeeping is as meticulous as the colonial Spaniards. His Cayman Island numbered bank account was only a funnel for his three numbered Swiss Bank accounts with three separate Swiss banks where he had ama.s.sed a sum of 1.8 million."

I said, "He's a freak. He's meticulous yet a slob to look at. I think it's all part of his disguise. He looks like a homeless person just in case someone arrests him or comes after him or recognizes him when he's on an a.s.signment."

Reddy added, "Essentially he has taken on the persona of a street person for the past several years. It makes him easy to overlook, sort of invisible, like a servant or slave."

Craft said, "I know what you mean. Servants are like part of the woodwork. No one looks directly at a street person; instead they quickly look away, in part, out of shame and guilt. Viet-Nam war veterans living under the causeway near the entrance to LAX International airport being a case in point."

"Basically, no one bothers these street people and that works for Critter," Reddy said. "Meanwhile, I traced two deposits back to a bank in downtown Highland Park, Illinois."

"d.a.m.n, isn't that sweet. The Greys' family bank. That can't be mere coincidence. Nonetheless, wasn't that stupid of them?" Craft replied. "Two deposits, you said. He only admitted to one shooting for which he got paid half up front."

"The two deposits make me think Critter might be playing us about the other shooter; however, then there should be three deposits. We'll get the truth out of him in the lake, I mean, at the lake," Reddy replied.

"Not stupid, careless. The acts of people who are arrogant to the point of being falsely sure they would never be discovered, or for that matter, no one would dare come after them," I said as Matte entered the room almost unnoticed, arriving for dinner. Shy and Comet milled around her and sniffed until they were satisfied she was a friendly.

Matte nodded in agreement, "Good psychological a.s.sessment, Shannon. I could use an a.s.sistant shrink."

I smiled and replied, "I'm busy at the moment, but I could be available for select projects."

"What's our next move?" Craft asked.

"I'm getting a head start on a plan as we speak. Basically, Critter is going to collect the 100,000 bonus," Reddy said. "The evidence we have isn't sufficient to take to court but at least we know whom we are dealing with."

As promised, the second Bear family get together at Skeleton Lake was a feature event of summer 2. We were again keeping the promise made when we adopted the pups the year before. This summer visit was to be only a month as we all had business to attend to in early August.

July was full of sniper training and six directions recon training, Reddy's Rules instruction, and some significant father and daughter bonding. Morning runs around the lake had to be done in s.h.i.+fts of KC plus two pups at a time. We actually caught some ba.s.s and trout and Reddy cooked them on the gas outdoor grill. My mouth starts to water whenever I recall the delicious odor of parmesan and b.u.t.ter basted trout frying. He's a d.a.m.n good chef. Why am I surprised?

The summer moved along peacefully enough until during our last week at the lake. Abruptly, our idyllic summer was shattered by events that centered on our cabin guest, Critter Purcell. Reddy's and my burgeoning sense of family was interrupted and put on hold when, on a visit to Mugzy's Coffee House in Huntsville for espressos and the morning news, a startling news headline splashed across the big screen: "WWN News 28 July 2012. Saudi amba.s.sador and Russian representative shot at G-8 sub-committee meeting."

"Oh, no," Matte said. "Craft told me last night that there is a meeting at the Deersville Resort this morning. Craft and Laz's Uncle Sergei as well as other members of the G-8 are there discussing the increasing global panic over an oncoming Comet Swarm." The meeting was being held at the Deersville Resort because of the excellent security the year before at the G-8 summit.

The newscaster came back on screen: A witness to the shootings reported that the G-8 representative from Russia, Sergei Lazerov, suddenly slumped over in his seat at the conference table, face first into his salad plate, with a crimson crease parting his black hair. A second or two later, Prince Ahmad Khamal, the Saudi representative, screamed as blood began spurting from his neck.

I was actually shaking. Another a.s.sa.s.sination, two targets this time. Was this Reddy's handiwork?

Suddenly, Reddy appeared out of nowhere, like an apparition with a huge grin on his face. "Good morning folks; thought I might find you here."

"Reddy!" I shouted with glee as I jumped up from the booth and hugged him. We never had called each other daddy and baby girl. I was so relieved that I totally forgot my hugging phobia and my premonition about Reddy's latest activity. When the reporter used the word sniper, I flip-flopped back to my premonition and glared at Reddy who was nonchalantly sipping an espresso with an angelic look of innocence plastered all over his face. Then I thought, Reddy doesn't miss. This can't be his work.

"Why the Russian? Why was Sergei Lazerov, Laz's uncle, a target of an a.s.sa.s.sin, or was he collateral damage? Was the Saudi representative the real target?" I rattled off these questions.

Reddy didn't hazard an answer. However, several of Mugzy's patrons did. "d.a.m.n Arab terrorists," said a stout man seated in the next booth.

"Wasn't neither. It was those pesky university environmentalists," countered one of the fishermen, and the debate was on.

When we return to Craft's cabin on the lake from Mugzy's, there is a note pinned to the screen-door. "Thanks for the free lift to Huntsville; I'll find my own way back home. Your pal, Critter"

Reddy said, "I wondered why he was being so pa.s.sive and cooperative. Now we know he wanted to get here, to Huntsville, for his next contract hit a.s.signment. I reckon we didn't break him after all. I underestimated him. He says he's headed back home. Back to Oakland is my guess. That's where he thinks the girl he kidnapped a few years back is living. Critter is not about to relinquish the girl he wants for a bride."

I think these failed a.s.sa.s.sination attempts at Deersville reinforced Reddy's decision to go off the reservation. His intent had always been that when his hi-tech sniper weapon was completed and tested, collateral damage and misses would be things of the past.

Several weeks later Reddy told me he suspected that his employer, the CIA, had sanctioned the Deersville hits. The CIA had spun the rumor that there was a spy on the G-8 subcommittee who was going to sabotage the global panic prevention co-operation efforts and turn against Craft and the rest of the G8.They narrowed the shortlist of spy candidates to two, Sergei Lazerov or Ahmad Khamal. It was a very convincing subterfuge except for Reddy knowing Sergei better than that. Nevertheless, the CIA simply attempted to take them both out. Reddy's Rule Number 1 "Never kill anyone who doesn't deserve killing" carried with it the implied meaning that there would be no collateral damage. Rule 1 had been violated and Reddy blamed the CIA.

We soon found out that Sergei was out of danger, and I was relieved that Reddy wasn't the shooter. Laz and Rhyly flew the Porter from Moosonee to Huntsville and went to the Huntsville Hospital Emergency to see Sergei. A week later, back at Moosonee, they flew back to River View. I suspect she finally had the opportunity to thank Uncle Sergei properly for the Porter.

The next morning we packed for our flight back to River View. Five large dogs, four humans, and luggage was an easy load for the Caravan.

Back home in Berkeley, Shy and Comet ran about the house and grounds making sure no one had violated their turf while they had been away at Skeleton Lake. I suspect that Reddy had already cleaned the place of spy devices. However, Angie and I didn't need to guess this time. Following the incident with the two botched a.s.sa.s.sinations at Deersville, Reddy was back on the scent of Critter Purcell.

On our flight back to Berkeley, Reddy told me he was upset that his employer, the CIA, would even consider hiring an a.s.shole like Critter for a sanctioned hit. h.e.l.l, he was unreliable and a lousy shot, as he had just proven for the third and fourth times. His two deposits consisted of half upfront for the first shooting which failed and another upfront deposit on his promise of the second hit being the charm.

Reddy sent Sgt DeRosa at RVPD copies of the deposits with a copy of the ballistics report on the 223 rounds recovered by the OPD at Deersville Resort. The report confirmed that they matched the 223 rounds from both of Rhyly's shootings. Critter was the owner of the 223. Reddy now had evidence for what he had suspected, that Critter had only admitted to the one shooting as part of his act to get to Huntsville and to keep Reddy searching for the second shooter.

As Reddy took in the aroma of fresh brewed Kenya AA and followed the trail up the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs and into the kitchen the next morning, I asked the obvious, "So, who's the second or first shooter? Were Critter and the second shooter both hired by the same punter?"

"First and foremost, the Deersville shooter is Critter, the same nut case and child kidnapper who shot Rhyly both times, and the same creep I delivered to his latest a.s.signment site. He loves his work and at the very least he feels justified about everything he does."

"Justified!" I said. "That sounds a lot like Rule Number 2: Don't kill anyone out of revenge."

"Okay, I'll buy that up until the collateral damage; that was not justified. h.e.l.l, Critter has met with rejection at every turn in his life, even the thing he wanted most since his earliest memories had been taken from him by the very Marine Corps he cherished. They busted him out of sniper school and he resents them now."

"I get it, it's justified in his mind because he thinks the world owes him something," I concluded. I wondered how Reddy knew so much about Critter on a personal level; however, I kept silent.

"He wants credit for his work. He scared the h.e.l.l out of the folks living in the Bay area with a series of three shootings and a child kidnapping six years back. He loves the notoriety and the press and the fear that his kills generate; however, he also wants to remain invisible," Reddy said.

"What happened to the kidnapped child?" I asked.

Reddy replied, "I chose to track Critter's kidnap victim. I figured it would be easier to track her and to let her tell me her tale, rather than risking a showdown with Critter. Critter has kept the girl for seven years and named her Penelope. The Stockholm syndrome has long since taken over. She's now twelve and, for all intents and purposes, Critter's daughter and bride to be.

"On her twelfth birthday Penelope calmly walked into a shelter for battered women in San Jose. The shelter happens to be a project of Sara-Clare O'Callahan's. At the shelter, Penelope told Sara-Clare that Critter came home to the cellar apartment they lived in, all disheveled and looking like he'd been in a really bad fight.

He had a scary look on his face and he shouted, "That b.a.s.t.a.r.d Burton and his dogs ain't catching me again."

When she heard that last bit, she decided to pack, get the h.e.l.l out, and go to the shelter.

"Sara-Clare called me about Penelope and I decided that if I stashed her away somewhere, Critter would eventually come to me. No need to waste any more time and energy chasing him," Reddy said. "I told her to catch the next bus for New Orleans, to go to the Quarter, 915 Saint Croix Street, and ask for Aunt Selma who lives over the bar."

Chapter 4: An Unexpected Addition to the Burton family.

I found myself twisting back and forth between nightmares of the man-in-black cras.h.i.+ng through the wall, Reddy a.s.sa.s.sinating foreign dignitaries, and my recurring dream of the man climbing the mountain to visit the two graves. However, I was also starting to adjust to having a father, if one can ever adjust to having a father who was absent more often than not; and oh yes, one who was an a.s.sa.s.sin, living in one's bas.e.m.e.nt where he was building a deadly weapon. Even so, protecting Penelope gave me a warm feeling about Reddy.

Reddy disappeared again, the morning after he told us about Penelope. When we returned from our morning run on a Monday four weeks later, I glanced at the kitchen calendar and saw the date 11 October circled. Reddy must be home, and it was 11 October. Angie and I simultaneously asked, "What's happening on 11 October?"

Right on cue Reddy strolls through the front door, something he rarely does during daylight hours, preferring his secret entrance into the bas.e.m.e.nt after dark.

"Not a word for four weeks and we are supposed to do what?" Angie said.

"Thought I'd join you, Angie, and the pups for breakfast after your morning run. I brought some chocolate and almond croissants from the French bakery over by the campus south gate," he said with a big grin.

"No cannoli cookies for the pups?" I asked. "Angie and I figured you were tracking Critter, but for four weeks?"

Reddy replied, "I have a second bag of goodies from the Beastro, and I have a fix on Critter. I'll deal with him in due time. Meanwhile, Sara-Clare's TV doc.u.mentary on child brides is debuting today. That's why I circled 11 October." Shy and Comet were licking his hand and sniffing at the bag eagerly.

"I reckon you're not such a bad dude after all." I said, adding, "That was the doc.u.mentary Matte told us about at the lake."

Angie said, "Let's set up in the living room by the TV." I nodded and arranged some plush cus.h.i.+ons in a semi-circle on the floor with a good view of the 42" plasma screen. Angie added, "I'll make some Hojicha."

Then it came to me, "Wait a minute. It's a Monday. The Beastro's closed."