Flower Girl: A Burton Family Mystery by David Marshall Hunt Page B
Authors: David Marshall Hunt
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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 RVPDâs 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 bastard?"
"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 amassed 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 assignment."
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
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 RVPDâs 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 bastard?"
"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 amassed 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 assignment."
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
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