The day was running out on Andy, and there was still much to do. Next on his agenda was to pick up Moses Custer at the hospital and make sure he got home safely. Then he had that waterproof suitcase to deliver to Canal Street, where Captain Bonny-a. k. a. Major Trader-had agreed through e-mail to show up so he could get what was coming to him.
You'll get what's coming to you, all right, Andy thought as he packed an old, battered aluminum suitcase full of weights from his cramped, makeshift gym in the basement of his row house. How about getting your ass arrested for murder, attempted murder, conspiracy to murder, obstruction of justice, and whatever else I can think of, you son of a bitch?
Andy threw the suitcase, a disguise, and fishing gear into the trunk of his car and hurried downtown to the hospital.
"I'm sorry I took so long to get here, " he apologized as he walked into Moses Custer's room, a large private one the governor had ordered him moved to, even though Moses was on his way out.
"He's all ready to go, and it's about time you showed up, because we need the room, " said a nurse whose nametag read A. CARLESS.
"Do you pronounce your name Careless or Car-less?" Andy politely inquired of the woman, who was built like a wrestler and had eyes that looked in two directions at once.
"People pronounce it both ways, " she replied as she began to help Custer out of the bed and into a wheelchair.
"I don't need no wheelchair, " Custer nervously said. "Ouch! You just hit my mouth with your elbow! Hold on. My gown ain't closed in the back! Lord help me, Mr. Trooper! Please get this woman away from me! I'm more banged up now than when I got here!"
Moses Custer was a pitiful sight. His head was black and blue, one eye was swollen shut, and he was missing teeth, although it was unclear how much of it was related to the assault. One arm was in a cast that Nurse Carless managed to knock against the bedside table as she tried to force him from beneath the covers into the wheelchair that she had forgotten to secure with the brakes. Before Andy could intervene, she lifted Custer off the bed and set him down hard in the wheelchair, which took off on its own and crashed into a chest of drawers. Custer shrieked as the chair bounced backward and slammed into the bed, his bandaged right foot catching the handle of the bedpan on the floor and sending it flying as the chair spun uncontrollably and threw Moses out.
"Don't touch me!" he screamed as the nurse lifted him up by the front of his gown, thereby exposing his backside and other parts that were nobody's business but his own.
"Whoa!" Andy said, gently taking Custer by the elbow, closing the gown and blocking Nurse Carless to prevent further physical harm to the patient. "Where are your clothes, so you can get dressed?"
"My son brought me over some. In that drawer there, " Moses said. "Don't you get them!" he snapped at the nurse. "Let the trooper get them!"
Andy helped Moses dress over the protests and attempted interventions of Nurse Carless, and then helped him into the wheelchair.
"I'll wheel you out to the car, " Andy said. "We don't need your help, " he warned the nurse, who was getting put out and more aggressive.
"It's hospital policy that a nurse must roll the patient out, " she protested.
"And it's state police policy that someone in protective custody will be transported by an officer of the law, " Andy replied. "I suggest you don't interfere, Nurse Care-less. "
"It's Car-less!" she declared, defiantly putting her hands on her big hips.
Big nurse's shoes sounded after them as Andy rolled Moses swiftly through the hallway.
"I'm reporting you to my supervisor!" Nurse Carless called out as she shoved an intern out of her way and caused another nurse to swerve and almost crash an IV stand that rolled precariously into a potted corn plant.
Major Trader was not the sort to ride the bus unless he was desperate. But when he read the latest
Trooper Truth essay, he thought it might be a good idea to stop by the Trailways station and get a one-way ticket to Key West, where he had relatives who shared his pirate heritage and would never turn him in to authorities. Clearly, an intensive investigation was underway that would reveal many facts that would not serve Trader well.
Governor Crimm would be no friend when he learned for a fact that Trader had been poisoning him for years. Nor would the governor be happy to learn that Trader had, as a matter of course, lied, withheld and blocked information, forged notes when needed, been lazy, framed colleagues, manipulated news releases to his egotistical and financial advantage, used an Internet alias to conduct illegal business with pirates, was in fact born of pirate stock, was a pyromaniac as a child, and had murdered the fisherman on Canal Street, to mention but a few of Trader's failings.
He left the bus station, the ticket in his pocket assigned to an assumed name, flagged down a taxi, and headed to Canal Street. Realizing time was running short, Andy had asked Moses if he minded riding along with him on an assignment.
"That nurse slowed us up, " Andy explained. "And I'm supposed to meet a suspect at two-thirty, which is just fifteen minutes away. "
"I'll be glad to go with you, " Moses replied. "I been cooped up for what seems like a month. A little fresh air and activity would do me good. Can I help with anything?"
"Can you remember anything else about being assaulted?"
"Nope. All I recollect is an angel saying her car broke down and promising me something unique. "
"Unique?" Andy puzzled.
"That what she say. "
"Do you know how to fish?" Andy then asked.
"Is a pig's ass made of pork?" Moses replied.
Andy parked several streets down from the predetermined location, which just happened to be the place where Trader had murdered Caesar Fender. When the so-called Captain Bonny had exchanged e-mails with Andy, who was really signed on with Possum's screen name (although Andy didn't even know Possum's real identity yet], Andy had suggested the location of the drop. He thought it might add insult to injury if he not only lured Trader back to the scene of his crime, but rewarded his evil deeds with a suitcase full of iron and a free ride to the city lockup. Andy popped the trunk and lifted out the suitcase. He put on the same fake beard, ponytail wig, and frumpy clothes he'd worn undercover on Tangier Island and handed Moses a fishing pole.
"All you got to do is fish, " he told Moses as they walked in the direction of the retaining wall at the river's edge. "You just fish and don't pay any attention to me. What will happen is a man will show up and try to pick up this suitcase, as if it belongs to him. He won't be able to move it an inch and will struggle with it. I'll volunteer to help him, and next thing he knows, he'll have on handcuffs and will be on his way to jail. "
"Uh huh. Sound good to me, " Moses said.
"Then I'll get you home safe and sound. "
"Yeah. " Moses limped along. "That sound fine. "
Tatters of yellow crime-scene tape fluttered in a stiff cold wind and Moses looked around a bit uneasily and stared at a burn mark on the concrete and an overturned plastic bucket.
"Well, look at that, " Andy said in annoyance as he picked up the bucket. "Yeah, real good policing. I can't believe they just left this thing lying around out here. "
He set the bucket on the wall and placed the heavy suitcase several feet away. Moses tied a plastic worm on his fishing line and attached a bobber.
"This ain't where that fisherman blowed up, is it?" he worried.
"As a matter of fact, it is, " Andy replied, preparing his own fishing gear.
"I hope you ain't meeting no killer here, " Moses said. "I had my share of mean people for a while. "
"Don't be alarmed, " Andy assured him. "Just mind your own business and fish. The person who'll show up isn't going to do anything to you. All he wants is to grab this suitcase and run. "
"Got to admit, no one would ever recognize you in that getup, " Moses said, smoothly casting his line into the sluggish, rocky river. "You look like a leftover hippie, one of them types that drives an old VW with big flowers stuck all over it. "
"Good. And make sure you don't call me Andy or Trooper when this dude shows up. "
"Not me, " Moses said. "I ain't tipping my hand with no killer around. Why'd he blow up that poor black fisherman, and what makes you so sure he won't take one look at me and decide to do the same thing? You gonna need to put a bobber on or your worm's gonna sink straight to the bottom and get hung on a rock. "
"This guy just wants to take the money and get the hell out of Dodge, " Andy said as he clipped a bobber on his line and cast it into the river. "Besides, I'm here, and if he tries anything, he'll have a big problem on his hands. "
"You packing?"
"Got my friend right here in the back of my waistband, " Andy said as he felt a slight tug on his line.
Major Trader rolled up in a Blue Bird taxi and told the driver to wait or he wouldn't get paid. Trader spied two bums fishing on the wall and a beat-up aluminum suitcase sitting all by itself. His loaded flare gun was in his coat pocket just in case anybody tried to give him a hard time, and he strode right up to the suitcase.
"This belong to either of you fellows?" Trader asked.
"Never seen it before in my life, " Andy replied, because it was perfectly acceptable to be deceptive when one was undercover.
"Me neither, " Moses echoed. "Was sitting there just like it is when we come here to fish. "
"Someone stole my car and my suitcase was in it, which is why I had to take a taxi, " Trader lied. "I had a feeling whoever the culprit was, he'd probably dump the suitcase somewhere because there's nothing in it but clothes and a few books. "
"Help yourself, " Andy said.
Trader took a good look at the two fishermen to make sure they weren't paying him any mind and would not be able to identify him later, should they ever get questioned. Both of them were obviously losers and probably had never held a real job in their lives. Why else would they be out fishing on a Friday afternoon while decent people were at work? Trader grabbed the suitcase handle and his shoulder practically came out of the socket as he yanked.
"Shit!" he muttered in surprise.
The damn thing must weigh two hundred pounds! He imagined hundreds of silver dollars and stacks of bills and maybe gold. The pirates must have made quite a score. He tried to lift the suitcase again and couldn't get it an inch off the ground. Then he tried to open it, but the combination was set and the locks wouldn't budge. While he was deliberating what to do and furtively glancing about and starting to sweat, the old black fisherman, who looked as if he had been in a bad car wreck, jerked up his pole and started reeling hard.
"Got me one, " Moses announced for all to hear. "Yes sir, this baby ain't long for the water. "
"How do you always do that?" Andy played his role. "Every time I come out here with you, you catch a bucket of fish and I go home with nothing. "
It was then that Trader noticed the familiar white plastic bucket, and his adrenalin kicked in and an internal alarm went off.
"That your bucket?" Trader asked as he tried different lock combinations.
"Sure is, " Moses replied.
"Then how is it the bucket has Parks Seafood on it, which is a Tangier Island fish shop?" Trader was getting suspicious and felt for his flare gun. "That bucket came from the governor's mansion, so don't be telling me it belongs to you. "
"Wouldn't know. Never been to the gov'ner's mansion, but I'm going tomorrow 'cause the gov'ner taking me to the NASCAR race. Someone left that bucket out here, " Moses said, reeling in a fish. "Didn't seem like nobody wanted it. And I don't mind returning it to the mansion when I get there. "
"Well, if it's yours now, " Trader said, walking over to get a closer look, "then why is it you have no water in it? Seems to me, if you intended to use it for the fish you catch, you would have bothered to fill it with water. And I know for a fact you're not going to the race with the governor!"
The fish broke the surface of the river as it fought for its life, and Andy thought it looked familiar.
"A trout?" he asked Moses as Trader frantically tried to lift the suitcase again and groaned in exertion.
"Sure is, " Moses said. "A nice one, too. "
Becoming more desperate and a little wary of the two ragged fishermen, Trader tried to drag the suitcase and began cursing. Moses held up the flapping trout, and Andy noticed an old hook wound in its lower lip. The trout looked at Trader and played dead.
"Let it go, " Andy said to Moses. "We don't need a fish or crabs or anything else to ID this big fat piece of lying shit. "
He pulled off his fake beard and ponytail wig and whipped out his pistol.
"Hands up in the air, Trader, " Andy fiercely ordered as Moses worked the hook out of the trout's mouth and tossed him back into the river.
"Free at last, " Moses said to the trout as it swam away.
"You're under arrest!" Andy shouted.
Regina was giving orders and shouting as well, and not having a good result. Trip the minihorse had been delivered to the mansion an hour earlier, and Regina had paid little attention to the trainer's instructions and had not bothered to watch the training videotape. How hard could it be to tell a tiny horse to turn right, left, sit, come, or lie down? But she had been barking commands at the guide animal nonstop and Trip just stood in the middle of the ballroom and stared at her.
"Move, " Regina said, snapping her fingers and stamping her foot.
Trip blinked and didn't budge.
"Come here right this minute, " Regina tried again in a harsh tone as the First Lady hurried down the winding staircase, clutching a box of trivets that she intended to stash in the butler's pantry.
"You stupid pony!" Regina yelled.
"Regina!" Mrs. Crimm paused, panting hard from exertion. "You know not to talk to the help that way!"
"Oh, she isn't talking to me, ma'am, " Pony said as he appeared in his starchy white coat. "Can I assist you with that box?"
"What's all the commotion about?" the governor inquired as he stepped out of a parlor, peering through his magnifying glass, obviously befuddled. "Where am I? I walked into my office and I couldn't find my desk. Did someone move my desk? What are you carrying, Maude?"
"Just some things that need to be tossed, " she quickly made up a story. "I was cleaning out one of my closets and came across that revolving shoe tree I bought on an information commercial. I don't suppose you know which one I mean, but it's never served a useful purpose, and most of the shoes on it are out of style anyway. "
"Your desk is in the same spot, " Pony told the governor. "May I help you upstairs, sir?"
"What's this?" The governor spied the minihorse and was instantly smitten. "What a pretty little fellow you are! And such a handsome harness with a nice little leather handle, and my goodness, he even has shoes!"
"He has to have shoes or he'll slide all over the hardwood floor, " Regina impatiently explained as the First Lady dashed downstairs to hide the trivets. "But he's worthless. He won't do a thing I say, so I certainly can't see what good he's going to do, Papa. Come here!" Regina clapped her hands at the indifferent tiny horse. "You idiot, get here right this minute or I'm sending you back and you can just go live with some other blind person who probably lives in a dump and has no household staff or limousines or cooks or important people visiting!"
"Perhaps you're not saying the right words to him, " the governor considered as he moved closer to Trip and patted his thick red mane. "Sit, " he said.
Trip did nothing.
"Fetch. " The governor tossed an imaginary stick across the Oriental rug. "Well, leave it then. "
Trip did.
"Sir, " Pony said. "What would you like for your midafternoon snack?"
"I believe two eggs and a piece of toast would be nice, " the governor replied as his magnified cloudy eye scanned his new guide horse.
"Over or under?" Pony politely asked.
"Under, " the governor decided, and Trip suddenly crawled under an inlaid mahogany Federal card table.
"Now isn't that strange, " the governor commented as he got down on his knees and tried to coax Trip back out. "I think there's something wrong with this, horse. Or maybe you've confused the poor thing and intimidated him with your rude voice, " he said to Regina.
"Right, " she said sarcastically, and Trip backed out from under the table, turned right, and started walking across the ballroom in his Velcro-fastened tennis shoes. "Everything's always my fault. I'm so sick and tired of being blamed for whatever goes wrong. I'm an excellent supervisor, and it's the retarded horse who's screwing up, not me…!"
"Wait, " the governor snapped at his daughter, because he had heard quite enough.
Trip stopped.
"Sir?" Pony was back. "Would you like hollandaise sauce, butter, salt, pepper, or anything else on your eggs?"
Crimm paused to check on his submarine, which had been blissfully still in the water since he had stopped eating Major Trader's sweets. Well, maybe he didn't need such a bland diet anymore. Dear Lord, wouldn't that be a blessing?
"I might even try ham again, " he thought out loud.
"I can put ham on the eggs, as well, " Pony suggested as Trip continued to walk across the ballroom, his driverless harness flopping.
"Well, why not?" the governor happily said. "Load up!"
Trip stopped in his tracks and then headed toward the elevator.
"Look at that, " Pony marveled. "That horse is headed right toward the… where's he going? He's going to the… "
"Lift!" the governor interrupted with excitement, finishing Pony's sentence and using the English word for elevator, because he preferred all things English and always had.
Trip stopped and lifted a hoof.
"I believe there's a pattern developing, " the governor announced as he went to Trip and patted his head. "You can put your foot down, little fellow. "
Trip didn't move.
"Seems like to me he only listens to one or two words, " Pony observed. "Load up, " he said to Trip.
The horse lowered his hoof and headed to the elevator again. Intrigued and challenged, Pony followed and pushed the down button. The doors opened and Trip boarded.
"We'll just ride along with him and see what he does, " the governor said, enjoying himself more than he had in quite a long time.
He and Pony rode the elevator with Trip, and when the doors opened on the kitchen level of the mansion, the minihorse stood still, waiting.
"Let me see, " the governor pondered. "I suppose the opposite of load up would be unload. Unload, " he said to Trip.
Trip clomped off the elevator.
"Right!" Pony exclaimed, hoping that the governor had figured out the pattern of commands.
Pony turned right and walked through an open door, where the First Lady was struggling to set the heavy box of trivets on a shelf. When she heard the minihorse's sneakers and glanced around and saw her husband, she shrieked and the box crashed to the floor. Trivets clanked and banged and scattered across centuries-old heart of pine.
"Wait!" Mrs. Crimm tried to explain as her thoughts and fears tumbled together nonsensically.
Trip stopped.
"What are all these?" the governor asked her, perplexed, as he eyed the trivets through his magnifying glass. "Okay, " he said.
Released from the wait command, Trip stood inside the pantry surrounded by trivets and listened for what he was supposed to do next.
"So that's what this is all about!" the governor declared. "Shopping. Huh. You've been hiding trivets again, and all the while I thought you were entertaining immoral men in the mansion. "
"How could you think such a thing?" the First Lady cried out as she stooped to gather up her beloved trivets, or at least the most recent batch of them she had ordered over the Internet. "Why Bedford! I would never cheat on you!"
"Leave it, " the governor ordered her to stop picking up the trivets, and Trip obeyed the command by not bothering to do anything, not that he was doing much at the moment anyway.
"What do you mean, again?" Mrs. Crimm asked in amazement. "You know I've been hiding trivets?"
She gave Pony an accusing look, and he shrugged as if to say, He didn't find out from me.
"Oh, I've run into your trivets here and there, " the governor explained. "Frankly, I just thought they were junk, possibly left by previous governors in the last century. "
"They most certainly aren't junk, " Mrs. Crimm said indignantly. "And they're very expensive, " she unwisely added.
"Send them back, " the governor ordered.
"Back? Back!" the First Lady raised her voice angrily and Trip took a step back inside the pantry, clanking a horseshoe trivet into a lacy one that featured a dog.
"Goodness me!" Pony was startled. "You think he recognized the horseshoe and that's why he decided to step on it? That's one smart little horse! Maybe he recognized the dog, too. Maybe that's his way of saying he wants to knock Frisky out of the way and be your only pet. "
"We must keep them separated, " Mrs. Crimm said, dismayed that she had yet one more thing to worry about. "Oh, poor Frisky. He'll be heartbroken if we pay more attention to this little pony than to him. "
It was unfortunate that she planted this thought in her husband's head, because from that point on, he began to refer to the minihorse as the pony, which was very confusing to Pony the butler.
"Come here, pony, " the governor tried to coax Trip out of the pantry, and Pony responded by stepping inside the pantry, where he, Trip, the First Lady, and the governor crowded one another and began to step on trivets. "Be good, pony, and come on out of here, " the governor said as if Trip were Frisky and might expect a biscuit.
Pony stepped back out of the pantry, and Trip didn't budge.
"You're being very obstinate, pony, " the governor said rather sharply.
"I'm sorry, sir, " Pony said, and by now he was thoroughly confused. "I didn't mean to do nothing to upset you. I guess you want your eggs under. And let me see. Load up? I believe that's what you said. "
"Right, " the governor abstractedly answered as he peered through his magnifying glass at Trip as the mini-horse walked out of the pantry and under a harvest table before he headed to the elevator and took a right, which led him into the kitchen.
"That's the most amazing horse I ever seen!" Pony marveled. "Look at that, sir. I think he's going to fix your eggs. Now listen up, " he said to Trip. "Under. And load up. That's how your master wants his eggs. "
Trip walked under a butcher's block and headed back to the elevator.
"I was just having a little fun, " Pony sheepishly said to the First Couple. "I know there ain't no horse on this planet that can cook. If there was, you could just have all these little horses in the mansion and you wouldn't need inmates no more. "
"I, for one, wouldn't eat anything a horse cooked, " Mrs. Crimm said with disapproval. "Think how unsanitary that would be. "
"That reminds me, " the governor said, following Trip. "We need to get you straight with the Department of Corrections. I'll give them a call. "
"So you must've read that nice thing Trooper Truth said about helping me out, " Pony remarked with joy and amazement. "I sure do wish I knew who he was, 'cause I'd like to show my 'preciation. "