Chapter 8 Erik
EIGHT
ERIK
Erik breathed a sigh of relief when they left police headquarters and saw Ben relax as well.
“Now what?” Ben asked.
“I’d like to take a drive past Weston Hall and a couple of other abandoned properties to throw anyone watching us off the scent,” Erik replied.
“I leveraged as much online information as I could, including drone footage and floor plans. But most of it wasn’t recent.
I’d like to get a look in daylight at what we’re walking into after dark. ”
“Because you don’t feel safe with just a witch, necromancer, and vampire?” Ben snickered.
“It would help to know whether they can drive a truck close enough to get the crates into it, if we find them,” Erik replied. “Not to mention fences and gates. I’m not planning to get out of the car.”
“It’s the inside that worries me, if the place has been left to rot. Is Weston Hall truly abandoned, or just unused?” Ben asked.
“From everything I found, it’s not being actively maintained,” Erik said.
“I gather that Bartolo’s murder left his affairs in disarray, and there were legal battles that might still be going on.
With no clear owner, a murky title, and no money or proxy dedicated to oversight, it’s been truly abandoned. ”
“If they ever clear up the ownership, they’ll have to tear it down,” Ben observed. “There won’t be anything worth salvaging.”
“Except the stained glass,” Erik said wistfully.
“Wait, it’s got a dome too?”
“Different shape than the one from the Commodore Wilson. That was round. The one from Weston Hall arched over a hallway, long and narrow. It was pretty, but it wasn’t said to be by Tiffany. It’s a shame that it’s been left there, but it’s not our property or our problem,” Erik said.
The sunny day was perfect for a drive. They opened the windows and turned up the radio, enjoying the road trip.
Cape May’s tourism had been good to the hotels and restaurants in the area. Although there had been ups and downs, the number of historic and Victorian homes and hotels that survived were part of the town’s appeal. When a big hotel struggled, it was usually bought by investors and renovated.
During some of the lean times in the town’s economy, there had been a couple of notable exceptions that didn’t find an angel investor. Weston Hall was one of those, deemed too old, needing too much remodeling to be profitable.
Erik headed first to the Sea Queen Hotel, which started as a private mansion and was turned into a bed and breakfast before falling on hard times.
Tucked down a quiet street without an ocean view and not especially close to modern restaurants and attractions, investors hadn’t been in a hurry to tear it down, even for the land.
Now the once-opulent Victorian building sat behind a chain-link fence, paint peeling, roof sagging, and yard overgrown.
“It’s always sad to see places like that,” Ben said as they drove past the Sea Queen. “It was someone’s dream, and lots of things can go wrong that aren’t the owner’s fault.”
“The hospitality industry is notoriously fickle,” Erik replied. “We hear about the people who make it big and create an empire, but lots of people lose their shirts.”
Next came Weston Hall, a sprawling Second Empire building that rivaled the Inn at Cape May’s architecture, even in decline. Erik could imagine how it must have looked before it fell on hard times.
“Probably safer going into the storage building than the attic,” Ben observed. The property wasn’t fenced, although weeds choked the land around it. “I see a back driveway for deliveries. Let’s hope it has a way in that doesn’t require stairs.”
“If the Tiffany dome is there, someone got it inside in the first place, so there has to be a way to get it out.” Erik didn’t want to linger too long in case they were being watched, but he also wanted to get any details clear in his mind that the drone footage hadn’t confirmed.
“If all else fails, I’ll get Haley to ask the ghosts. ”
The last property, another red herring, the McGill House, had once been the home of a wealthy sea captain and ended up as a restaurant that fell on hard times.
“I’m amazed that these were originally private homes,” Ben said. “It’s just sad that they didn’t get taken care of properly.”
They did their best to get a feel for how vulnerable they might be going back to Weston Hall that night.
Erik checked his rearview mirror over and over throughout their drive, worried that not all of the mobsters who had been sent after them were dealt with.
When they drove away from the McGill house, he spotted the same sedan that he had seen after the prior house and knew it couldn’t be a coincidence.
Unfortunately, he also knew it wasn’t the undercover cop who’d been shadowing them.
“Shit. We’ve picked up a tail,” Erik said. “Buckle up and hold on.”
Erik knew his way around Cape May’s streets, unlike their pursuers. The narrow thoroughfares in the older residential sections were often one lane and one-way. Traffic was light this time of day, which meant less chance of involving an innocent bystander in the encounter.
He wound around, doubling back more than once in an attempt to shake their pursuer. Since the Mob knew where to find their shop, he guessed that the car following them meant to hurt or kill them to throw them off the case.
The mobsters behind them could ram their car, shoot them, or blow out the tires, all of which could be fatal.
“Fuck that,” he muttered. He glanced at Ben. “I’ve got an idea. Sit tight.”
Erik remembered a speed trap where the Cape May cops often lay in wait to discourage fast driving in the old neighborhoods. He mentally crossed his fingers and hoped they were lying in wait as he sped up and watched the car behind them keep pace.
“Yes!” he said under his breath as he saw the squad car tucked into a hidden driveway. Erik revved the motor, floored the pedal, and laid on the horn as they zoomed past.
Before sirens had a chance to blare, the mobsters fired twice. Erik had been doing his best to weave back and forth from curb to curb, hoping to be difficult to hit. The shots missed, but Erik didn’t trust that luck to hold forever.
If their speed and the horn didn’t wake up the cop in his hideout, the gunfire certainly did. The squad car burned rubber pulling out of its hiding place, turned on the siren, and closed in on the mobsters’ vehicle.
Erik cut the wheel hard to the right, sending them up on the curb but getting out from in front of the mobsters.
Both the other vehicles sped by in a blur, and Erik hoped that no one got hurt.
He knew the cop’s camera had recorded his license plate and expected a call from the chief.
Though at this point he wouldn’t be surprised if all the cops in Cape May knew his Highlander and Ben’s Mustang on sight.
“You, okay?” Ben asked, and Erik realized how hard his heart was pounding. “Nice driving.”
“Yeah, I’m all right. You?”
Ben nodded. “I might have a bruise from the seatbelt on my shoulder, but that beats hell out of a gunshot wound.”
Erik and Ben kept a close eye on the rearview mirrors for the rest of the drive, but no other pursuers surfaced. Erik drove around the block three times when they got to the shop and apartment, making sure none of the parked cars were occupied or suspicious.
If they really want us gone, they’ll try to blow up the building. We’re warded up the wazoo, so it won’t work, but they can try.
He realized that Ben had drawn his gun, keeping it in hand but out of sight as Erik parked the SUV and they hurried to the door. No one approached them, and no shots rang out, although the mobsters certainly had the address.
Once they were inside and away from the windows, both men breathed a sigh of relief.
“Wasn’t really expecting needing to out-drive an assassin,” Erik said once they were inside the apartment with the door locked. His voice and his hands shook, but he figured he had earned it.
“Nice driving.” Ben sounded equally shaken. “My super-spy saves the day.”
Erik acknowledged the endearment with a rueful smile.
“I’m just trying to figure out what the hell that was all about.
I get following us. They figure we know where the window is, and they want us to lead them to it.
But shooting us is messy. It draws attention from the authorities and complicates their getting to the prize. ”
“Want to bet that was an overachieving underling wanting to score points?” Ben replied. “In my experience, the foot soldiers weren’t always the brightest.”
Erik made them both hot tea and sat in the kitchen for a while to lose the jitters. His phone rang half an hour after they got back.
“Mitchell, Nolan, what the hell just happened?” Chief Hendricks barked.
“We went out for a drive, and someone followed us and tried to shoot us,” Erik replied, pleased he managed to sound calm, even blasé.
“I got that much. Who and why?” the chief snapped.
“We’re guessing one of the bosses put a tail on us to lead them to the missing dome from the Commodore Wilson,” Erik said. “And when we didn’t, they improvised and shot at us.”
“Jesus. Do you know where the dome is?” the chief returned.
“No,” Erik replied, which was technically the truth, despite their suspicions. “And if we did, we’d tell you.” After our team removed it to a supernatural supermax.
Hendricks made a skeptical noise but didn’t argue. “I want to be kept in the loop, Mitchell. You hear me?”
Erik appreciated Hendricks’s tenacity, but he also knew that while the cops might be able to go up against regular gangsters, the supernatural aspect of this case was out of their league. There would be plenty of time for the cops to help with the cleanup that was less likely to get anyone hexed.
“We hear you,” Ben replied, making sure the chief knew he had them both paying attention. “And we appreciated the squad car coming to the rescue. Did they catch the shooters?”