Notes: Thank you for wanting to share your poignant story with me, my anonymous fellow Wesley fan. And you so inspired me with your love of this story that I managed to get all of this chapter written in the time since I saw your review.
Chapter Twelve
Steve frowned and leaned back in the chair in front of Tragg's desk. The story that was unraveling was both confusing and hopeful.
The Swiss police had been contacted and had agreed to help. They were trying to obtain a search warrant for Stratton's cabin now, and with any luck, that would pan out with the discovery of the missing chessboard. That would also prove that Stratton had been using the alias listed on the police auction records.
Sergeant Brice had just called in to report that the statue was covered in the fingerprints of police officers—most likely from the auction—as well as Ned Thompson's and Stratton's. There were other prints on it as well, but those could not be identified.
Steve sighed in frustration. "So we still don't know if there was anything in the compartment in the statue, whether it would be relevant to the case, or who might have taken it." He looked to Tragg. "It could have been Stratton, if he went on the run. Or it could have been whoever ransacked the house."
Tragg nodded, clasping his hands on his desk. "Oh, there was one other bit of news," he said. "The man you found in front of Stratton's building has regained consciousness. I just got the call before you came in."
Steve perked up. "Did he say anything?"
"Not yet; he was still coming around. And he said he'd only talk to the police. The doctor said you can go down there and see if you can get him to say something sensible."
"Then I'll do that," Steve said. "Do they think he'll live?"
"They think he has a chance, at least."
Steve gave a thoughtful nod. "How's Andy?"
"Antsy," Tragg said, shaking his head. "That's why he and Fallon were looking stuff up on the Internet. He wants to get back to work."
"I wonder where he gets that from."
Tragg shot the thoughtfully amused Steve a Look. But then he chuckled, dropping the façade. "We're all just a bunch of dyed-in-the-wool cops. We can't so much as take a vacation without thinking about cases within a couple of days."
"Or less," Steve remarked.
He stood. "Well, I'd better get down to the hospital before that doctor changes his mind about letting me talk to his patient."
"You do that," Tragg nodded. "I'll wait to hear from the Swiss police. Although maybe the chessboard isn't that important now. It would be odd, if it had a secret compartment too."
"I don't think there's anything about this case that isn't odd," Steve said. "We don't even know how Stratton ended up with that knight. We can prove he wasn't the man who bought it originally."
"Probably," Tragg mused. "Unless the fellow who keeled over bought it for Stratton in the first place."
Steve blinked. "Should I have Nichols look into the possibility that they knew each other?"
"Eh. Couldn't hurt."
"I guess you're right." Steve gave a wry smile. "Just about anything could be the answer at this point."
Tragg nodded, also with a wry smile. "But only one thing actually is. We just have to find out what."
"And that's the problem," Steve sighed.
"Oh yes," Tragg said sagely. "That's definitely the problem."
xxxx
Amory typed his username and password into his email account and pressed Enter. He and Andy and Jimmy might be here for a long time, waiting to hear news from the Swiss police or from Steve or Tragg. And he might as well be getting something else done if he could. He couldn't get into the office, but working at all would be a good thing.
Most of the emails were business-related, he noted, just as they should be. But one other stood out, with a subject line of From a Friend and an unfamiliar sender. It had come not that long ago.
He frowned. He used a different address for personal email. Something about this message and how out of place it was made his stomach turn. He clicked with a heavy heart.
Your wife is pretty, Mr. Fallon. You better hope she stays that way.
I know where you are.
There was also an attached photograph. And when he clicked on the preview of that, up came an exterior shot of the hotel they were in.
The color drained from his face.
"Mr. Fallon?" Andy was perplexed. "Is something wrong?"
"Wrong?!" Amory echoed in his distress. "I'll say there's something wrong. This . . . this piece of stalker hate mail is what's wrong!" He pointed at the screen.
Andy leaned over, taking it in within an instant. "They probably got a temporary email just to send this and then deleted the account," he said in disgust. "But I'll have a squad start investigating right now."
Amory ran his hands through his hair. "I have to get back to Edith," he declared. "She could be in danger right now!" He frowned. "And you might be too, Lieutenant. They probably also know you're here!"
"I have little doubt of that," Andy admitted. "But you shouldn't go to your wife alone. I'll come with you." He stood, getting out his phone to call the police. "I'll call on the way."
Jimmy came over from the kitchenette, a sandwich in hand. "What's going on?" he demanded. "Andy, you shouldn't be getting up!"
Andy looked to him. "I have to. It's trouble," he announced. "The Fallons aren't safe here. We probably aren't, either."
"What?!" Jimmy looked to Amory's laptop and stiffened. "Holy Toledo!"
Amory was already rushing to the door, not stopping to wait for the cousins. Andy chased after him as fast as he dared, trying not to put undue pressure on his injured leg. And Jimmy was right on his heels, after shoving the sandwich into the small fridge.
"Hello?!" Andy exclaimed into the phone as he half-hobbled down the hall. "Lieutenant?"
"Andy, what on Earth . . ." Tragg sounded both gruff and worried. "What's happening there?!"
"Lieutenant, please send some of your men as backup right away," Andy pleaded. "Mr. Fallon's wife may be hurt. All of us are in danger; Mr. Fallon received a threatening email with a picture of the hotel. They know where we are!"
"WHAT?!" Tragg was furious now, at both the criminals and himself. Somewhere there had either been a slip-up . . . or a leak. "There's other police in the building, near both your room and Mr. Fallon's. I thought all of them had been checked out and were on the level. Now I don't know if one of them might be mixed up in this. I'll lead a squad in there myself. And Andy . . ."
He hesitated. He could not ask Andy to sit and wait for their arrival. Edith might be dead by then. And Tragg doubted Amory would wait, anyway.
He drew a shaking breath. "Andy, be careful," he begged. The fear in his voice was agonizingly audible.
"I will be, Lieutenant," Andy assured him. "As much as I can be. But please . . . hurry."
"I'm leaving right now," Tragg declared.
Andy ended the call and slipped the phone back in his pocket. Amory was quickly working himself into a panic. And Andy could not blame him in the least. This was a horrifying situation. There was no telling what they might find when they burst through that door.
xxxx
Brendon Mileson turned just slightly as Steve entered his hospital room, regarding the detective with bleary eyes. "You're the Lieutenant?" he mumbled.
"That's right," Steve said, taking out his badge. "Lieutenant Drumm. Sergeant Nichols and I found you collapsed outside the Stratton company building. I'd like to ask you a few questions."
"Sure, go ahead." Brendon looked to the wall now, his eyes glazed and unfocused. There was a sense of resignation about him. Perhaps in the past he would have refused to answer. Now, he seemingly did not care.
"Did you call Lieutenant Anderson last night and tell him you had information about the Graveyard Murder?"
"Yeah, I did."
"And what was this information?"
That was another angle the police had been turning inside-out, hoping for some connection to what had happened in the park. So far, they had found nothing. And the Graveyard Murder was still just as much of a puzzle as ever.
Brendon toyed with the bedcovers. "Mr. Stratton witnessed the murder."
Steve froze. "What?!" He stared at the kid. "What was J.K. Stratton doing there in the first place?"
"I don't know that," Brendon admitted. "I was just taking a walk through the cemetery that night when I saw Stratton and two other guys. I saw that one of them had a gun, so I freaked out and hid behind a big headstone. I didn't want any of them to know I'd seen them."
"Of course. Could you hear what they were saying?"
"Not much," Brendon said. "The guy with the gun thought that the third guy had taken a bunch of information about him and some organization of his. He asked Stratton about it and Stratton stuttered and stammered and finally said the guy had."
"And what did the third man say?"
"He denied it, man. The stuff was supposed to be in some trippy chess knight statue, and he swore up and down he didn't have it."
"Why did the gunman think he did?" Steve frowned.
"He said Stratton had told him the guy had been skulking around his garage, looking for stuff to steal. So then the third guy said Yeah, sure, he'd done that. And he'd even found the horse statue. But he insisted he hadn't taken anything out of it. Heck, he hadn't even known the thing opened up!" Brendon's eyes flickered and he clutched the blanket. "That's when they got into a fight over the gun. The third guy was panicky by then and grabbed it, hoping to get it away or something, I guess. And the second guy just shot him dead and Stratton yelped."
Steve's frown deepened. "Could you see anything of what this man looked like? You saw enough to recognize Stratton."
"Well . . . that's just because I know him," Brendon said. "I work in his company. It was more I recognized his voice than anything else. It was really dark."
"Alright." Steve sighed. "What happened then?"
"Stratton burst out, 'Why did you do that?' And the murderer said, 'He might've gone and blabbed to the cops.' Stratton said, 'So you believed him and you just killed him in cold blood!' And the murderer said, 'You're next if you don't keep quiet. But I know you will, won't you?'"
"Do you know what he meant?"
"Uh uh. But Stratton did. He went all stiff-like and stared at the guy's body and finally mumbled, 'Yes.' And then they left. I waited until I was sure they were gone before I left too." Brendon twisted the edge of the blanket.
"I was too scared to come forward; I thought maybe they'd seen me after all. But it kept bugging me until finally I picked up the phone and called Lieutenant Anderson. I remembered he was the one they put on the case. So I set up the whole deal at Griffith Park. I thought there'd be lots of people around and I'd be safe."
Steve's hand flew over his notepad. "But something went wrong?" he prompted.
"Oh boy, did it. When I got there, I saw Stratton. I couldn't believe it! I thought sure he knew and that he'd tracked me down, maybe even that the murderer guy was there with him.
"Well, I freaked. I went tearing out of there as fast as I could. And as I ran through the trees, I saw Lieutenant Anderson get held up by someone."
"Could you tell who?"
"No, I didn't know this guy. But when he cracked Lieutenant Anderson over the head and he fell down, I was really sure the jig was up. I thought he'd killed the Lieutenant and he'd be after me next.
"I waited until he'd left, and then I went over to Lieutenant Anderson. I figured I had to find out whether he was really dead or not, since I'd got him into the mess. And then I saw his wedding ring and I didn't remember he was married. So I got out his I.D. and saw that it wasn't Lieutenant Anderson at all, but some guy named Amory Fallon."
Steve looked up with a start. "Did you remove Fallon's identification?!" he exclaimed.
Brendon would not meet his piercing gaze. "Yeah, I did. I heard someone else coming, so I just took off with the I.D. I knew my fingerprints were all over it, and I was afraid I'd be accused of killing him. I'm sorry."
"What about his wedding ring?" Steve prompted. "Did you take that, too?"
"Yeah. Same reason. I touched it when I saw him wearing it." Brendon clenched a fist. "It was all so stupid. I wanted to get away, but I still wanted to find the real Lieutenant Anderson and warn him. I knew they'd be after him if they saw him walking around."
"Did you ever find him?"
"I saw him get chloroformed," Brendon said. "Then I heard the guy saying something on the phone about getting Amory Fallon. By then I was really mixed up! It seemed like someone had really wanted him too, and I didn't get it. I'd thought Lieutenant Anderson was the only target between the two of them."
Steve paused in his writing. "You didn't, by any chance, take Lieutenant Anderson's identification too, did you?"
Brendon flushed. "Well, they were talking about taking him away to question him about something and I started wondering what would happen when they realized they had a police officer instead of Mr. Fallon. I felt awful for getting Lieutenant Anderson out to the park; I figured what was happening to him was all my fault for not coming forward in the first place. So I threw a rock and got the guy to leave, thinking someone was spying on him. Then I sneaked out and took Lieutenant Anderson's I.D. and his badge. I was going to give him Mr. Fallon's stuff, but I didn't have time. The guy came back and I had to run for it."
Steve rocked back, shaking his head. "This is one of the most convoluted stories I've heard in a while," he declared. "And if you were really feeling so terrible about inadvertently walking Lieutenant Anderson into a trap meant for his double, why didn't you immediately call the police about him being abducted?"
"I started to!" Brendon insisted. "But I was right all along about someone having seen me in the cemetery that night. The same guy who hit Mr. Fallon came after me when I found a phone. That's how I got . . . like this." He looked at his bandaged arm.
"He thought he'd killed me and I just made like I was dead, hoping he'd keep thinking it and go away." Brendon shook his head. "And I passed out about then, so it wasn't hard. I don't even remember walking to Mr. Stratton's place. I wonder if they dumped me there on purpose, as a warning to him. He was really scared of that guy in the cemetery."
"Maybe so then," Steve said noncommittally.
Brendon looked up at him. "Can you pick Mr. Stratton up and ask him?" he asked hopefully. "About the cemetery and everything?"
Steve heaved a deep sigh. "I wish we could," he said. "Mr. Stratton has disappeared."
"Oh man." Brendon leaned back against the pillow, tightly shutting his eyes. "And Lieutenant Anderson and Amory Fallon. What about them?"
"They're both alright, thank God." Steve fixed the kid with a look of mixed emotions. "As off-the-wall as your actions were, by taking Lieutenant Anderson's identification you really might have saved his life. Or at least prolonged it enough that he was able to save himself."
Brendon opened his eyes. "Then I did good," he breathed in relief.
"Well, I can't deny that this whole thing might have been prevented if you'd come forward in the first place, and that taking his I.D. could have backfired and caused worse trouble. He's just lucky it didn't." Steve moved to close the notepad. "Is that everything?"
"Yeah," Brendon nodded. "Oh. Except, I hid the I.D. cards and the ring in a bush in the park. If I got caught, I didn't want them found on me."
Steve nodded too. "I'll see that they're found. Do you remember where in the park?"
"As far away from the hill as possible," Brendon said. "That's probably why the police haven't found them yet."
"Probably," Steve agreed.
"Does what I told you help any?" Brendon wanted to know. "About catching the killer and stuff, I mean."
"I don't know," Steve admitted. "If we could find Stratton, it might help a lot more."
Brendon sighed. "I hope you can. And that he'll still be alive to talk."
"So do I," Steve said. "Thank you for your cooperation."
"Any time, Lieutenant. I know better now." Brendon finally met his gaze. "If I witness any more murders, I'll go to the police first thing."
"Good," Steve said. "Now, you just rest and get better. Someone will let you know when everything is wrapped up. And I imagine Lieutenant Anderson will want to talk with you himself."
"Oh. Yeah." Guilt flickered in Brendon's eyes. "I hope he won't be mad."
"I'm sure he'll mostly be grateful," Steve said. "Lieutenant Anderson's a reasonable man."
He shook his head as he left the room moments later. Brendon Mileson's story was absolutely bizarre. But, cynical though he was, Steve found that he believed it. Insanity aside, it did fit the facts as they were known.
Andy would want to know about it immediately. Amory, too. Steve would check in with Tragg and then maybe go on to the hotel to tell them in person.
He took out his phone, regarding it in surprise when the screen informed him he had a voice message from Tragg's number. And it had been sent not long ago.
Steve walked down the hall as he listened. His eyes narrowed and his pace slowed. Then he picked up speed, hurrying to the door as fast as he dared.
Nevermind stopping at the station. He had to get to that hotel immediately.
xxxx
Amory knew something would be wrong when he grasped the knob of his and Edith's hotel room and found it already unlocked. As he opened the door, the sight of his wife being held captive by a man with a gun to her head stopped him cold. "Edith!" he burst out.
She looked to him with wide and frantic eyes. "No, Amory!" she wailed. "Go back, please! They really want you, not me!"
The gun pressed harder against her temple. "The problem is, Mrs. Fallon, the best way to get at your husband is through you." The intruder looked to Amory with a wretched, twisted sneer. "You know what we're after, Fallon. Well? How about it? Will you be handing it over?"
"I can't!" Amory screamed. "What's the matter with you? Why are you so convinced that I have it?!"
"Because that's what Mr. Stratton told my boss."
Amory stood stock still in disbelief, even as Andy and Jimmy ran in behind him. "Mr. Stratton was lying!" Amory burst out. "I don't have this blasted information. I wish I did! Then maybe you'd be behind bars instead of threatening my wife!"
The man's eyes flickered in honest surprise to see the cousins. "What's going on here?" he demanded. "Is this a convention?" He gaped as he took a closer look at Andy. "What are you, his brother?"
"I'm Lieutenant Anderson, L.A.P.D.," Andy snapped. "And you're under arrest."
The distraction was enough for Edith to stamp on her captor's foot. While he cried out in pain, she tore his arm away from her throat and ran towards Amory. He grabbed for her, even as the thug recovered and fired. Amory ducked and dove to the floor, falling over Edith to protect her. Andy and Jimmy returned fire.
Edith looked up at Amory, horrified tears in her eyes. "Amory! Oh, Amory, are you hit?" she cried.
"No, I'm fine," Amory soothed. "He missed me." He held her close. "It's going to be alright. We're going to get out of this." He prayed that was true.
The gunman hit the floor, using a nearby chair as a shield. He fired once, then twice. Two more men emerged from either side of the room, engaging Andy and Jimmy in gunplay. The police had no choice but to take cover of their own.
"Amory, what's happening?!" Edith exclaimed. She tried to raise up enough to see, but Amory kept her down.
"We've all been set up," Amory said angrily. "I don't know what's going to happen now."
And then he stiffened. With these new men fighting Andy and Jimmy, what had happened to the original thug?
A gun clicked, far too close to him. "Alright, Fallon," the cold voice growled. "You have one choice left. Tell me where the information is, or I blow your brains out with your wife right here to watch."
"NO!" Edith screamed. She pulled away from Amory, diving at their nemesis.
Amory paled. "Edith, no!" he shouted. He grabbed for her in desperation as the gun fired.
The bullet never hit either of them.
The gunman swore, falling back with eyes wide.
Amory and Edith could only stare.
Something had come between them and the gun. A translucent, ethereal figure was standing in front of them, protecting them. The left hand was raised and flung backwards, as though it had knocked the bullet off-course. The lead was buried in the wall behind them.
"Ned," Amory whispered in disbelief. "Ned Thompson!"
His business partner had come back from the grave to save their lives.
