Chapter 158

word count 1165

Mrs. Dunn sat in her oh-so-practical Ford in the Recovery Room parking lot watching events transpire. One-by-one, victims of the notorious Boa were carted off. When she first saw Frank standing with the others, gun drawn and ready for action, she couldn't have been more surprised. Algernon had never told her Frank, the raucous American of their association, was on this assignment. Just another example of Algie's total disregard for procedure! And for her! When she saw Priscilla being shoved into the Escalade, a terrible fear gripped the older woman's heart. She had to find Algernon right away! Priscilla wasn't her favorite person in this world, but she didn't stand a chance alone against these scoundrels.

Algernon's Edsel had readily drawn her to the lot. The auto stood out when gazing from the highway like an albino buffalo in a herd of dark. She'd spied it as soon as she walked out of hospital and lazily shot a glance across the road. Now assuming Algie must be inside, she scurried into the busy restaurant. Once her eyes adjusted to the dim light, it was easy to spy him sitting with Buzz and the others. Buzz was the first to notice her from across the room.

“What the hell? Mrs. Dunn?” he shot out of his chair and ran to her. “I thought you were in the hospital, dear!”

“I signed myself out. Well, I didn't really sign out. I just left. Oh, never mind! It doesn't matter. Detective Miller—Detective Bettencourt and Priscilla are both in grave danger, I fear. I just saw both of them abducted in the parking lot. You've got to do something.”

By this time, she was surrounded by the others. Algernon, on hearing about Priscilla, jerked in surprise being obviously alarmed. Mrs. Dunn leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Frank, too, has been taken.”

Algie nodded slightly to acknowledge her words as Buzz addressed him.

“Don't worry, Mr. English. We'll get your wife back...”

Mrs. Dunn looked to Algernon and mouthed, “Your wife?” Algie held one finger to his lips in a discreet way to tell her to shut up.

Back around the table, Hank and Buzz grilled the housekeeper while Algie listened in, keeping his observations and plans to himself. Mrs. Dunn had wisely jotted down license plate numbers and descriptions which help Buzz get started calling it in.

Trudy sat quietly, feeling left out. Her usual jealousy raged at the idea of Priscilla's abduction being so important to Buzz. She felt about ready to blow.

***
Frank opened his eyes to feel pain ricocheting from the back of his head to the front. Even lifting his eyelids required easing past stabs of agony and shooting stars. He was in the back of a van, completely enclosed. Dark metal walls encased the cargo area with no windows. Not a good place for the claustrophobic, which he was. It was also impossible to know who was in the cab driving, or where they were going.
Thinking back, whatever happened must have been connected to that dark, sexy siren holding the gun known as Boa from the underworld of organized crime. Her legendary status preceded her. What a piece of work that lady was, and if you were in trouble, a character like that was always at the root of it.

A bump and a rustle indicated something had just moved in the dark van. His resources went on high alert. But before he could react, he heard a moan. His pulse quickened. He needed to wake up more, to figure out what was up. Fighting back the shooting pain in his head, he turned in the dim light to see a man beside him struggling to sit up.

“I didn't realize I had company,” Frank murmured, faking friendliness while trying to bolster his resources to fight.

The guy looked at him in surprise. “Sorry I didn't see you. Someone shot me up with one hell of a sedative. I'm still pretty groggy.” The fellow rubbed the back of his neck and winced.

“What's your name?” Frank asked. This guy didn't seem any more prepared to fight than he did.

“Gil Bettencourt,” he paused to look over Frank, a good long observation. “Homicide, New Albany Police Department. What about yourself?”

“Frank McCord. Used to be FBI. Just sort of a free agent these days though.” Yeah, this guy looked like a cop. He could spot one a mile away.

Gil arched one eyebrow in interest. “Did you get drummed out?”

“Nah, just sort of a mutual parting of the ways. I do better work on my own anyway. Fewer restrictions.”

“So, what—you work for hire? Private investigations and that?”

“Yeah.” He kept his answers short and sweet. His head hurt, but he'd persevered in talking with this Gil guy because he needed to know what he had, an ally or an enemy, whichever applied.

“So what the hell happened?” Gil asked.

Frank didn't want to give anything away. “Beats me,” he said.

“Well, in any event, we need to get out of this van.”

* * *
It wasn't certain which boy said it first, but once the idea was out, they all agreed. The pressure was too much. Knowing the ring Elliot had swallowed was big and beautiful and probably valuable...then his taking ill and needing to be rushed to the hospital, having emergency surgery, it was all too much for the little boys to handle on their own.

When the ring was still not accounted for by the time Elliot got home from the hospital that afternoon, the boys got restless. Back on home turf, the magnitude of the problem stepped front and center and wouldn't go away. The boys met in the bedroom and all agreed it was time to bring in their parents.

When John heard, his jaw dropped in surprise.

“Let me see if I got this straight. Erik found a diamond ring at the dump the other day. And Elliot swallowed it so no one could take it. And you thought that was what made him sick. But it hasn't turned up.”

“That had to be what the doctor removed!” Lisa blurted out.

“That's what we thought,” little Elliot added.

“I'd like to know what the hell is going on here,” John murmured. “I'm going to call that doctor, no wait! I'm going to call the hospital administrator, and maybe my lawyer.”

“I'm going to call my dad,” Lisa said. “I think the police should know about this.” She paused, the cell phone still in her hand. “Elliot, honey, why was that ring so important to you guys. I mean, so what if someone took it. Wouldn't that be better than swallowing the thing?”

The little boy blushed. “It represented our brotherhood,” he said. “As long as we had the ring, we'd always be together. We swore on it.”

“Oh, I see,” Lisa replied, and shot John a tiny smile.