Merry Wrath Mysteries Boxed Set Volume III (Books 7-9) Read online

  Riley nodded. "It would definitely take more time. Probably would've added to the intruder's time to get in and out."

  "I was inside the house for a while." I sighed. "How much time he took might not have mattered."

  Nonetheless, we continued going over every inch of the back door. And we came up with nothing.

  "Come on," Riley said. "I can make some hot tea."

  Once we started warming up, Riley made a couple of calls to his family. I tuned him out. He'd brief me if he found something. I wondered if Linda was working on the puzzle. It was almost eleven, and I'd bet she was.

  My stomach rumbled.

  "Well," Riley joined me. "I've called a few relatives. No one has been in contact with Vy since she went to prison."

  "Do you believe them?"

  Riley frowned. "I do. None of them are in the espionage business. But I'll follow up. They don't live in Iowa, so if she's in Des Moines, it would make sense she'd go underground."

  My stomach roared.

  I got up and grabbed my coat. "Tell you what. It's time for lunch, and I hear the Radisson has a mean stuffed pork chop. Let's go. After, you can investigate and I'll run by Linda's to see how far she is on the clue. Deal?"

  "Deal."

  * * *

  I texted Mom before I left Riley's, inviting them to lunch. It would be bad manners not to. Riley met me there five minutes later and held the door open for me as we walked in.

  The Flying Pig, the restaurant in the hotel, was part of a chain throughout the state. I'd never eaten at this one, but I knew of their reputation for an authentic, stuffed Iowa chop. The name also appealed to me. Although, so did the irony that if pigs could fly, this place wouldn't be able to make a mean pork chop.

  Mom and Dad waved us over to a table, and we joined them. The décor was simple, with barn doors, wood walls, and a few plaster pigs with wings suspended from the ceiling. But the scent of fried, grilled, and smoked meat turned me into a drooling, monosyllabic carnivore. The waitress took our orders then dropped off a bowl of steaming homemade rolls and a cup of honey butter. I dug in.

  "So, Riley." My dad buttered a roll, but I was on my second already. "How's the new business?"

  Mom put her hand on my arm, a gesture she has always used on me when she didn't want me to fill up on bread and save room for dinner. Here, she was probably making sure I'd fit into my wedding dress when the wedding did take place. I finished the second roll and set my knife down on my plate.

  "It's coming along, Senator." Riley hadn't touched his bread. He was averse to carbs or anything unhealthy. "It takes time, but since I'm technically retired, I'm not in a rush."

  "This is your first case then?" Mom asked. She was just now buttering a roll. It would be her only one.

  He grinned. "I guess so."

  "It's pro bono," I said quickly. There was no way that Riley was getting one penny from me.

  "Okay." Riley laughed. "But I get bragging rights."

  Bragging rights. Rex was missing, and Riley wanted bragging rights when we found him. Fine. He could have that. After all, I'd get Rex. That was the big prize.

  Mom sensed what I was thinking. "I postponed the wedding with the church, caterer, and reception. And I cancelled the honeymoon reservations. This is just a setback, that's all." She smiled and squeezed my hand.

  "And I'm taking vacation time," Dad said, squeezing my other hand.

  Riley rubbed my foot with his, possibly because he felt left out. I kicked him. Hard.

  "Riley's not the only one helping," I said as I went ahead and buttered a third roll. "Do you guys remember my fourth-grade teacher? Linda?"

  Dad nodded. "I'd heard she retired. The teachers lost a real champion when she left."

  "What about her?" Mom asked as the waitress set down our drinks.

  I explained about the puzzle I'd found. "And she's kind of a puzzle master. She's working on it right now."

  "Who are the suspects?" Dad asked.

  Riley explained about the three criminals that Rex had put away. He forgot to mention that he was related to Vy Todd.

  "Vy Todd? Really? Good Lord!" Dad started.

  "We know Prescott Winters II," Mom offered.

  Riley gaped, "You know the man who killed his wife?"

  She shook her head. "No, his father. He was a major donor to your dad's campaign until that strange heart attack."

  Dad nodded. "His son was a bad sort. When his mother died a month later, also from a heart attack, he inherited and cut the ties to all of his parents' legacy charities. A couple of the nonprofits folded under the strain of their budgets. It was too bad."

  "His parents would've been horrified," Mom added. "They were very generous people. It would've broken their hearts."

  I leaned forward. "They all died of heart attacks? Sounds suspicious."

  "One investigation at a time." Mom patted my hand.

  "And Prescott III's wife? How did she die?" I had to ask.

  "Her parents were even wealthier than his. Only child and orphaned. Fell down a flight of stairs," Dad said. "The detective at the time noticed that there was way too much blood at the bottom of the stairs for it to be a simple accident."

  "That was Rex," I explained. "Rex was the detective for that case too."

  It was so good to hear this story. My heart swelled as I thought of him making the arrest of this greedy kid. Why hadn't I asked Rex about his life before I'd met him? How selfish of me to never ask questions about his past cases.

  I was learning so much now. It didn't seem fair that he wasn't here to be amused by my interest. When I got him back, I was going to make it up to him. And I would have to grill him for more stories.

  "What about Harvey Oak?" Riley asked. "He was local. Is that a family name around here?"

  I hadn't thought of that.

  Mom looked at Dad. "I think there were one or two around here at one time."

  Dad shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I don't know."

  The food arrived, along with food for thought. We had five suspects. They were weak suspects, but I needed to have someone in my mind, even though it was possible that it was someone else. I'd love for it to be Juliette Dowd. A flash of fury coursed in my veins as I remembered catching her in Rex's house, but that didn't mean she wasn't keeping Rex in her basement. There was a break-in in my near future.

  No one discussed the case while we were eating. You have to enjoy an Iowa stuffed chop in reverent silence. Thick, juicy, and filled up with apple glazed stuffing, there's nothing like it in the world. The closest I ever came across was in Nicaragua, but that had been a badly burned bit of pig flesh on a stick coated in a paste made of dead ants. Not the same. At all.

  We were just looking over the dessert menu (yes, I was still hungry) when I got a call from Linda Willard.

  "Mom, Dad," I said as I stood and slipped on my coat. "I've got to go. But Riley's picking up the check, so don't fight him on that." I slid a look at Riley, whose face remained unruffled.

  I grabbed a roll, buttered it, and took it with me. What? In my line of work, you never know when you'll eat next.

  Linda met me at the door. I don't know how she knew when I'd be there.

  "You solved it?" I asked as I followed her into the kitchen.

  "Almost," she said. "I'm close, but there are a couple of answers missing. Since I believe this is about you, I thought you might be able to help."

  The puzzle was mostly filled in. All but three of the highlighted boxes now had letters in them. The margins of the puzzle were filled with words, some crossed out.

  She pointed to a string of letters on the bottom. "This is what I have so far."

  There were a lot of letters in random order across the bottom and a few numbers spelled out.

  "What are the ones you can't figure out?"

  Linda handed me the puzzle, and we sat down at the table. "I marked them for you. Would you like some hot cocoa?"

  I nodded eagerly since I didn't get dessert. Dessert i
s very important.

  Three prompts stared back at me. Might as well get this over with. The first one said, Tolstoy. That was easy. There were seven blanks. Ice pick. Leonid Tolstoy was killed in Mexico by an ice pick. That might not be the right answer, but if it was aimed at me, this was what a spy would think of.

  The second prompt was Moscow. Hmmm…trickier. Could they be referring to the Moscow Rules? There were ten of those. Written during the Cold War for spies in the Soviet Union, they were ten things to remember when working in Moscow. Based on common sense, if you followed these rules, you might avoid capture. I had them memorized, like the spies of old did, because they were cool and good common sense:

  1) Assume nothing.

  2) Never go against your gut.

  3) Everyone is potentially under opposition control.

  4) Do not look back; you are never completely alone.

  5) Go with the flow, blend in.

  6) Vary your pattern and stay within your cover.

  7) Lull them into a sense of complacency.

  8) Do not harass the opposition.

  9) Pick the time and place for action.

  10) Keep your options open.

  I counted the number of squares and found thirteen. There was only one that was that short, Assume nothing. I carefully plugged in those letters. That gave us two more highlighted squares. These were certainly spy related, which made me think Lana and Leiko, who knew me as a former spy, were behind this.

  There was only one more prompt: Marco. I froze. Forcing myself to count the open squares made my lungs constrict.

  "That one really stumped me," Linda said as she joined me. "With five letters, you'd think it would be Polo, right? But that's only four letters."

  One clue intersected, but I knew what that letter was before I looked at it.

  No. It can't be.

  "Are you okay, Merry?" Linda looked alarmed.

  The answer to that question was no. I knew the solution, but I was afraid to put it down.

  "It's manic," I whispered.

  Seeing that I'd been rendered useless, Linda gently took the puzzle from me and filled it in.

  My old teacher sat down and with a new piece of paper, wrote out all the highlighted letters, and went to work.

  I could barely breathe. Marco Manic. It was a code name for a very classified mission. The only one I ever failed. It was even before Riley's time, so he wouldn't know it.

  Marco Manic was the one case where I'd lost my contact.

  This was definitely about me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  My second mission with the CIA took place in Istanbul. My handler was a man we'll call Frank. He was retiring after this mission and had already phoned it in. I got no guidance from him. He spent all of his time drinking in whatever dive bar was closest.

  But I was young and an idiot and thought I could do this myself. After all, it was a simple case. I had to turn an assistant to the assistant of the deputy prime minister. No problem.

  The guy's name was Marco. Well, that was the name we assigned him. He was young, fresh out of college, and eager. Turning him wasn't that hard. He felt that Turkey was heading down the wrong path, and I'd convinced him that if he stole one or two files, we could change things for the better.

  The lies we tell…

  Because I was young and stupid, I gave reckless advice. Marco was discovered floating in the river, a bullet hole in his head. I found Frank in a cheap bar, sobered him up, and got him out of the country.

  He was immediately retired and got his full pension. The last I'd heard, he still hung out in bars, just better ones

  I got sent back to the Farm for more training. Marco got a shameful burial in a pauper's grave. I never forgot it.

  "How long has she been like this?" I heard Kelly whisper.

  "Two hours," Linda replied. "Do you know what's wrong?"

  I felt a hard thump on my back between my shoulder blades. It shook me out of my dreamlike trance.

  "Did you just Heimlich me?" I asked my best friend.

  Kelly nodded. "She's back. And for your information, the Heimlich maneuver is totally different."

  "Oh good." Linda smiled. "Because I've solved the puzzle."

  "What is it?" I was a little shaken from my trip down bad memory lane.

  "It's an address." Kelly frowned.

  "Let's go," I said as I raced out the door. I ran back in because I'd forgotten my keys, coat, and purse. I collected the two women and the clue and got into the van.

  "1221 Titmouse Street," Kelly read from the backseat as I drove like a maniac.

  Someone was likely dead at this address. But maybe, just maybe, they'd be alive. It wouldn't be Rex. Linda had convinced me that we had two more clues coming. But someone was there. Someone new.

  My mind raced as I considered the possibilities. But my mind was so jumbled I could barely focus on driving.

  "There it is!" Kelly pointed over my shoulder.

  It was four thirty, so it would be dark very soon. I took the flashlights out of the car and handed them to the other women. Then I turned on my cell's flashlight.

  The address was that of a small craftsman cottage. It was small and sweet and had a lot more character than my little ranch house. And now, like my house had had many times in the past, there was probably a dead body somewhere on the grounds.

  "Should we go in?" Kelly asked.

  "Ladies?" Linda said from my right. "I can see something through the window. There's someone sleeping on the couch."

  That was all she needed to say. I raced up to the door and beat on it with my fists. Then I looked at Linda.

  She shook her head. "No movement at all."

  I slipped on my gloves and turned the knob. To my surprise, it was unlocked. The three of us stepped into an elegant art deco hallway with hand-crafted hardwood floors. Ignoring the plastic boot tray – placed there so visitors or thoughtful killers wouldn't track snow inside - we made our way to the room where Linda had seen the body.

  Sitting up and sightless, on a beautiful, brown velvet couch, was a young man I'd never seen before. Ligature marks ringed his neck, but there was no murder weapon present. I stepped forward to study him, and Kelly called 9-1-1.

  The man was young, maybe twenty-five. He had short brown hair and brown eyes. I closed them. Yes, I know you aren't supposed to do that, but I couldn't have him staring at me like that, could I?

  The victim was dressed in a dark gray three-piece suit and a royal blue tie. It looked tailored. His shoes were more than one year's salary for me. I was pretty sure they were custom made.

  "Who is he?" Kelly asked.

  I shook my head. "No idea. You don't recognize him?"

  Both women shook their heads.

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  That woke me up. "We have to look around the room, take in everything. There's not much time."

  The three of us wandered around, noting anything we could. The room was a study, and it was immaculate. Was this the victim's home? He must've been new to town. That was why the new clue.

  But who was he, and why was he killed?

  The door burst open, and Officer Weir, accompanied by Dr. Body, walked into the room. Ted took several pictures with his cell phone and then nodded to Soo Jin, who carefully examined the deceased.

  "Do you know him?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "None of us do. But he was our clue."

  The man looked confused, so Linda took him aside and patiently explained, like a good teacher did, what happened to bring us here. I was waiting for a lecture on how I should've called the police first, but to be fair, none of us really knew what we'd find.

  "Ms. Wrath?" Officer Weir spoke up. "I understand that this is personal, but please include me when you get the next clue. I can help." His voice was pleading, and I kind of felt bad.

  Soo Jin held out a wallet. Ted put on gloves and opened it.

  "Marco Jones. Says he's from Virginia."

&nbs
p; Marco? Alarm bells sounded in my head. Maybe this was just a coincidence.

  "What's going on?" Riley was standing in the hallway, looking in at us. He must've seen my car and stopped.

  "The clue told us to come here," I said.

  Riley looked at the man on the couch, and he slumped against the wall, his face in his hands. I walked over to him.

  "You know this man."

  He nodded. "I know this man."

  "And his name is Marco?" I asked.

  Riley shook his head. "That's one of his covers. His name is Bobby Ray Pratt. He was your replacement at Langley."

  "He's CIA?" I asked weakly.

  "He is." Riley glanced at the corpse. "Was."

  "How did you know to find us here?" Kelly asked. "Did you follow us?"

  Riley responded, "No. I found you because"—he took a deep breath—"this is my house."

  CHAPTER TEN

  "So this really is about me," I mumbled for the third time.

  Kelly introduced Linda Willard around to everyone and then explained to her that I'd been a spy. The woman listened carefully then nodded. Kelly had forgotten that she'd followed my situation in the papers and knew I was ex-CIA. But because she was a classy lady, Linda never corrected her.

  "That's why this fits," she said. "Something new. Mr. Pratt was your replacement, so he's new. As in, Something New."

  "I'm going to remove the body," Soo Jin told Ted. "Is there anything else you need?"

  The officer shook his head. He looked confused and frustrated. I felt a little sorry for him. He wasn't a detective and was in way over his head.

  "Sheriff Carnack had given me permission to investigate, but I think I'm stepping on your toes here."

  Ted shook his head. "You aren't. I'm pretty new here. You have far more knowledge and experience."

  "Thanks." I felt a little better.

  "But." Isn't there always a but? "We are all running around here like chickens with our heads cut off. We need to communicate and work together."