Deadline for Lenny Stern Peter Marabell (best ereader for comics .TXT) 📖

Russo,” Hendricks said. I let it go. We’d had this debate before. It always got us nowhere. I changed the subject.

“Clear something up for me, will you, Don?”

He waited.

“Joey DeMio,” I said. “The restaurant over on Lake Street. What do you make of it?”

“Pretty obvious to us,” Hendricks said. “Joey’s making his move to the mainland.”

“Is he leaving Mackinac?”

“Our sources tell us no.” It was Fleener. “Joey’s expanding.”

“You worried about that?” I said.

“Concerned would be a better word.” And that was that. Hendricks drank some coffee, put the mug down and said, “All right, Russo, get on those two guys in Carp Lake, but keep Marty in the loop. Understand?”

I left the County building on the Lake Street side and headed for the office. I’d walked almost two blocks, lost in thought about our meeting, when I noticed the sun and the blue sky were lost in clouds. It was still July hot, but the edge was gone, at least for the moment.

“Morning, boss,” Sandy said when I walked into the office. She was at her desk. Henri sat in a client chair over by the Lake Street windows. I grabbed a bottle of water from the small refrigerator near the door and sat next to Henri.

“So how did you and Hendricks leave it?” Sandy said.

I took a long drink of water. “First, did all go well at the airport, Henri?”Henri nodded. “Picked up Lenny first, then Tina. I waited in the terminal until their flight was in the air. Arrived at O’Hare early. They’re Gloucester Security’s problem now.”

“They’ll have an easier time covering him,” I said. “Three days of meetings, cocktail parties, the hotel. Limos between the events. They’ll wrap him up tight.”

“He won’t be very happy,” Sandy said, “but he will be safe. Now what about Hendricks?”

I took another drink of water, put the bottle on the floor next to my chair, and gave them a quick recap of my meeting.

“Hendricks and Fleener don’t want to tip off the Cavendish family any sooner than necessary.”

“Well, if mother Sylvia’s dealing drugs,” Sandy said, “wouldn’t they have their guard up anyway?”

“Hendricks doesn’t think she’s a dealer.”

“Sell them or give them away,” Henri said. “You do that, you’re on edge.”

“Did they speculate,” Sandy said, “why Sylvia would give drugs to company employees, who then supply their friends?”

“She wants to be loved?” Henri said.

Sandy ignored his comment and said, “She’s paying for something. Loyalty, maybe.”

“That wasn’t a question,” I said.

“Wasn’t meant to be. You give something of value, you expect something in return.”

“A little cynical, don’t you think?” Henri said.

“Got a better suggestion?”

Henri shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

“For services rendered?” I said.

“Does that include murder, boss?”

“Could be,” I said, “but we know the four buddies and Cavendish Company have something going on, or we wouldn’t be having this discussion. Let’s go see if the Carp Lake pair is home.”

“They were there a while ago,” Henri said.

“Yeah?” I said.

Henri nodded. “Swung up that way after I dropped our friends at the airport. Found the house, with the truck Jimmy Erwin described out front.”

“I wonder how much drugs it takes to buy a murder?” Sandy said.

41

“You think Kate Hubbell was murder-for-hire?” Henri said.

He eased his SUV through traffic north on US 31 toward Carp Lake. He always insisted on driving if we were trying to be inconspicuous. Another SUV, no one noticed or cared. But my BMW? Inconspicuous?

The cloud cover cast a welcome gray dullness over the late morning. It wasn’t much cooler or less humid, but hiding the sun for a while made it feel that way.

“Not sure what to think, Henri.”

“If Sandy’s right about the Cavendish woman …”

“That she’s paying for something?”

“Yeah. Could she be paying to threaten Lenny Stern?”

“Could be,” I said. “Question is, why?”

“Maybe she doesn’t want bad publicity for her dead husband.”

“So she’d contract a murder?” I said.

We cruised by the Pellston Airport. The landing lights of the north-south runway sparkled in the gray day, and the parking lot was crowded with cars, as it always was in mid-summer.

Henri paid little attention to speed limits as he blew through the Levering blinker light. He eased off the throttle several minutes later and turned off 31, near the Carp Lake post office.

“It’s a few houses down,” he said, turning on a narrow tarmac road that paralleled Paradise Lake. “There. The green F-150.”

“Someone’s in the truck,” I said. “Two guys.”

Henri slowly drove past the house, pulling to the side of the road about sixty feet away. I turned to watch. Henri adjusted his mirror. The green truck went the other way.

“You recognize them?”

“Didn’t get a good look.”

“Shall we go for a ride?” Henri said, making a U-turn.

“Nothing better to do,” I said. “Truck’s headed south, toward Petoskey.”

“Too bad we didn’t get a look at them,” Henri said.

“Let’s see where they’re going. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

The green F-150 moved steadily along, not pushing the speed limit. Henri kept plenty of highway between us, and the road was straight. We’d pick up a turn easily enough. The truck went past C-66 at Levering.

“Not cutting to I-75 or the lake,” Henri said. “Petoskey, here we come.” He glanced at me, then added, “I’m curious why Hendricks was so eager to let you run interference for him and Fleener.”“Hendricks was clear, Henri. They can’t tie the Cavendish family to Kate Hubbell’s murder. But if they are involved, why tip them off?”

“You think the Cavendish brothers … . Hey, they’re turning,” Henri said. The green truck took a right about fifty yards ahead.

“Only one thing between here and the lake.”

“Moose Jaw Junction,” I said. “A burger and beer in beautiful Larks Lake, Michigan.”

There were no vehicles between us and the F-150 on Van Road. Henri stayed well back, but another arrow-straight road through rural Michigan farm country made for an easy tail.

“Bar’s another mile or so,” Henri said. “The brothers … you think they believed your bullshit story about a company truck driver witnessing a crime?”

“Don’t know, but they must suspect something’s going on. They didn’t