Chapter 24: The Game Is Up-Or Is It?

Richards hadn’t been the only party to skip that meeting between Blackwell’s top villain and Blackwell’s top “villain.”  Auburn had skipped it as well.  She’d been at home, sleeping—though nightmares kept waking her up throughout the night.  By six, she was so tense that she couldn’t get back to sleep, and it was with relief that she watched her mom back out of the driveway and head to work a little before eight.  Without waiting around, Auburn darted straight down to the Conoco.

Brittany smiled when she ran in.  “It went great last night!” she said.

“Did Richards come?”

“Nope.  You were right that he probably wouldn’t show, but the police got those two goons of his, Hardaway and Olson—that was the other’s name.  They both have records, but Hardaway’s is the longest.  Hardaway tried to shoot that detective they hired—Valentine—but I warned him just in time.  Both men were taken down to the jail.”

“Nice!” said Auburn.  “Now, Richards is the only threat left for us to worry about.”

“Do you think Hardaway and Olson told who their boss is?” Brittany asked.

Auburn shrugged.  “They might’ve, but I doubt the police would believe them, even if we did.  We need to find that out, though,” she said.  “If they did confess, the police might start an investigation anyway to see if their allegations are true—”

“Or, they might not,” said Brittany.  “Tell you what.  Porter will be dropping in around 2:30—you’ll remember that well.  Maybe I can coax some information out of him.”

“That’d be great!” said Auburn.  “We need to know what’s been going on at headquarters.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I find out,” said Brittany.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chief Morris looked up from his desk around ten o’clock, and a smile of relief spread over his face as he saw he had a visitor.  “Richards!” he said.  “Come on in!”

Richards had his usual stiff smile plastered to his face.  “Some congratulations are in order,” he said, taking the chief’s hand.  “The radio informs me that you caught the Purple Porcupine last night.”

“Well, not exactly,” said the chief.

“Oh?” said Richards, raising an eyebrow questioningly.  “They got the story wrong then?”

“Well, it’s like this,” the chief said.  “I don’t give out many details, but I know I can trust you with this information.  We caught two seasoned criminals: Joseph Hardaway and Brad Olson.  Hardaway matches the description we thought we’d gotten of the Porcupine that night.  However, we’ve found absolutely no evidence so far tying them in with those disappearances.”

“No?” said Richards.  “What about the attempted kidnapping, where you got Hardaway’s description—”

“Oh, he admits to being there, alright,” said the chief, “but you’ll never believe his story.  He says he was waiting for the Porcupine to kidnap Leila so he could catch him in the act.”

“Catch him in the act?” said Richards.  “Why, I was under the impression that Hardaway was working for the Purple Porcupine—”

“He does seem to be working for somebody,” admitted the chief, “but he won’t tell us who.”

“Oh, I see,” said Richards.  “Shuts up like a clam when you ask him?”

“Not exactly,” said the chief.  He bit his lip.  “This part’s a bit embarrassing for me to tell.  You see, Hardaway says he was working for you!”

Surprise crossed Richards’s face.  “For me?” he said.

“Don’t worry,” said the chief.  “I’ve known Hardaway for quite some time.  He’s a chronic liar.  No doubt the real boss is someone who scares him so deeply that he doesn’t dare give out his real name.  Apparently, the Purple Porcupine hates your guts.  For instance, have you noticed that each disappearance has been a relative of someone in your club?”

“Really?” said Richards.  “By golly, you’re right!  And then that sign on my theater—”

“I’ve figured out why that was there,” said the chief.  “Clever little trick.  The porcupine didn’t put it up to show your innocence; he put it up to try to get people wondering if it really was you.  The question is why?  How could anybody assume we’d be stupid enough to start suspecting you?”

“That is a toughie,” said Richards, straightening.  He shook hands with the chief.  “I’d like to thank you for your faith in me, really,” he said.  “Growing up in Philadelphia, well—folks there weren’t always so trusting.”

Chief Morris laughed.  “I’ve got a friend in the Philly department,” he said.  “They won’t even trust their own mother over there!  You’re good to go, Richards.”

“Thank you,” said Richards.  “Best of luck finding the actual crook.”

As he walked out of the office, though, Richards knew his days were numbered.  His pawns were falling, his queen was gone.  Now, it was just a matter of time before it became checkmate.

But the chess analogy only went so far.  In chess, the pieces are stuck on the board, with nowhere to run when they’re cornered.  In real life, their action is much less limited.  Richards couldn’t be trapped if an escape route was available…and he’d had one planned, ever since the beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brittany found herself growing quite restless as the day went on, and few customers streamed into her place.  By 2:30, she was washing the counter for the fourth time that day when she heard a car pull into the pumps.  She glanced up, and a huge smile crossed her face as she saw who it was.

Officer Porter slipped into the store, whistling his favorite tune.  He winked at Brittany as he wandered to the refrigerator to grab his usual Cherry-Lime Pepsi.  Brittany smiled back, already to start probing him for information.

“I’m gonna need this caffeine this afternoon,” remarked Porter, winking at her.  “Big day last night.”

“Oh?” said Brittany.

“You’ll never believe what happened,” said Porter, telling her the story about the arrests.  Brittany tried to smile as he elaborated on his own role, telling how he’d thrown Hardaway over his shoulder and levelled Olson with a nifty judo trick.  “The town’s a safer place now, thanks to our work last night.”

“Did you catch the Porcupine, then?”

“Well, not exactly,” said Olson.

“Oh?” said Brittany, raising an eyebrow questioningly.  “That’s not what I heard on the radio.”

“Well, it’s like this,” Porter said.  “I don’t give out many details, but I know I can trust you with this information.  Last night...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, they’re not,” said Brittany, over the phone.  “They trust Richards too much to take Hardaway and Olson’s stories seriously.”

Auburn kicked the side of her desk angrily.  “Figures,” she said.  “Richards’s standing in this town is his greatest weapon.  If only there was a way to turn the police against him at once.  We’ve got half the club ready to testify—”

“They will, too,” said Brittany.  “Minus his goons, there’s only so much Richards can do.”

“We’ve got to show the police his true character.  That way, the witnesses can testify knowing that the cops’ll—”

Brittany snapped her fingers.  “There might be a way!” she said.  “Didn’t you say you eavesdropped on one of the club meetings?”

“Yes,” said Auburn, “just a—goodness, that was two weeks ago!  Time flies!”

“But you heard the meeting,” said Brittany.  “Do you remember the part where he said to put on headphones?”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Auburn.  “He was having you watch some sort of film?  I mentioned it to Jimmy once; it made him quite upset—”

“It’s ghastly,” said Brittany.  “Awful.  Terrible.  Horrible.  The most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m not exaggerating.  Richards uses it as a torture technique, I guess.  To show he’s serious when he threatens us individually with all those awful crimes.”

“What is it?” said Auburn.

Brittany shook her head.  “Don’t ask me to describe it,” she said.  “It’s too painful.  But listen!  Richards plays it twenty minutes into our meetings, right on the dot.  He’s extremely punctual about it.  The film itself lasts for six-and-a-half minutes.  If the police entered in the middle of it, they’d see Richards for who he really was.  Then, with me and the other six ready to testify, we’d have a case against him immediately.”

Auburn listened to Brittany, a smile beaming over her face.  “You realize what you’re saying?” she asked.  “We’ve reached it, Brittany.  The end of the line for Richards.  If your plan works, the club’ll be over as soon as the next meeting—”

“Tomorrow at six!” exclaimed Brittany.  “We’ve done it!”

“We’ve almost done it,” cautioned Auburn.  “I know how to get the police there, but pray that this works.  Richards is pretty clever, and it would be just like him to wriggle his way out somehow—”

“Don’t I know that!” said Brittany, and her face fell.  “It’s like the night before the Super Bowl.  You think your team’s good enough to win it, and yet, you’re worried that the other team might have some little trick up their sleeve that’ll be just enough to—”

“Exactly like that,” said Auburn, nodding.  “But in the Super Bowl, both teams are good.  In our situation, we’re the only ones that are.  We can’t allow Richards to win, and we’re going to stop him, no matter what it takes!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was 6:10 that evening, and in the Blackwell Police Station downtown, a bleary-eyed Chief Morris was slumped over his desk.  Seated across from him was an equally bleary-eyed man named Olson.  On the couch at one end of the office, Valentine snoozed, having dreams quite reminiscent of famous action movies—only, Valentine was the star.

“Why do you insist on this pretense?” said the chief.  “You realize, once we have your boss in jail, you’ll have nothing to fear from him?  He’s not going to be able to get you out; chances are, he’s not even interested in it.”

Olson yawned.  “Fine.  I’ll tell you my boss’s real name.”

“Yes?” said the chief.

“John,” said Olson.

“John,” repeated the chief.  “Last name?”

“Doe.”

“John Doe, John Doe,” the chief ran the name mechanically through his head.  “It rings a bell.”

“While you’re thinking about it, can I go back to my cell?”

“Sure, only the name’s just coming back to—”  The chief snapped back to full consciousness and glared across at his prisoner.  “You’ll stay here all night if we have to until you tell me the name of your boss!”

“It’s Richards,” said Olson.  “Jack Richards, the guy that runs the—”

“Will you quit with your awful story already?” the chief barked, exasperated.  “I’ve had quite enough of—”

Brring!  Brring!

With a sigh, the chief picked up the phone.  “Blackwell Police Department.”

A voice he had never heard before greeted his ears.  “You’ve got to come quickly!” it said.  “The Purple Porcupine forced his way into the Rivoli, and he’s holding the Brotherhood Club hostage!”

“WHAT!!!!”  The chief had trouble processing this extraordinary statement.  “Say that again!”

“The Purple Porcupine forced his way into the Rivoli, and he’s holding the Brotherhood Club hostage!”  Auburn smiled as she continued.  “I barely managed to get out without being noticed.”

“We’ll be right—”

“HOLD ON A MINUTE!!!” yelled Auburn.  She glanced across the street at the building, glowing in the evening sun.  “I’ll meet you right out front and show you how to get in without being noticed.  Don’t use the siren, and please, hurry!”

With that, the line went dead.

“Hello?  HELLO!!!” yelled the chief.  “Valentine!  Wake up!”

“Yes, Mr. President?”

The chief through a small paperweight straight at the sleeping detective, then hit the ground as Valentine flew across the room in a karate maneuver.  He took out a lamp and twisted his ankle as he landed.

“Ohhhh!”

“Hurry up, Valentine!  The Purple Porcupine’s at the Theater downtown!”  Chief Morris started for the door, then remembered Olson and came back and got him.  As he led the prisoner back to the cell, he gloated:

“Now, we’ll find out who your boss really is, Olson!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Auburn glanced at her watch.  6:21.  Hurry up! she thought to herself.  We don’t have all night—

Two patrol cars came tearing around the corner, skidding to a stop right in front of the theater.  The doors opened, and Blackwell’s four policemen, plus the private detective, hopped out.  Frantically, they looked around to see who called.

“Thank goodness you’ve come!” Auburn said.  “Your suspect is right inside!”

The chief was the first one to notice her.  “You called?” he asked.

“Sure!” said Auburn.  “I was the only one able to get out.  Follow me, and I’ll show you how you can take him.”  She tugged open the door at the front and wandered into the lobby.

The five men from the police station followed, each thinking the same thing.  I’ve never seen that girl before.  Where did she come from?  At the center of the lobby, Auburn stopped, then motioned to the theater doors on either side.

“Three of you cover the one, and the rest of you cover the other,” she said.  “Then, rush the theater at the same time.  You’ll find your criminal in there, and believe me, you’ll be shocked when you do!”

Valentine gasped.  “It was the mayor, then.”

“Uh-uh,” said Auburn.  “Someone much more famous as of late!”

She joined Porter and Lauderdale at the door on the right; Morris, Evans, and Valentine took the door on the left.  The chief glanced over at the door on the right and mouthed, “On three.”  Motioning with his fingers, he said, “One, Two—

—THREE!!!” he shouted.  The six of them burst into the room, five ready for a fight.  Instead, they stopped, and their jaws dropped as they saw the screen.  Even without sound, it was all Auburn could do to keep from screaming.

There, displayed in all-too-terrible color before them, was Richards, in the process of committing one of the most horrible crimes ever conceived.  It was one of the evilest, ghastliest, grimmest, grittiest, most frightening, most terrible things any of them had ever seen in their lives.  The utter heartlessness displayed by the man on the screen as he went about his work stood in stark contrast to the goodwill Richards spoke of so often.

Yet, as they stared in astonishment, Porter was the first to speak.

“It’s a magic trick!” he yelled.

All eyes turned to stare at him, including those of the youths in the Brotherhood Club, most of whom had not been expecting the police tonight.

“I saw it in Wichita once,” he said.  “They pick the ‘volunteer’ ahead of time, then make sure they’re wearing the correct pants, socks, and shoes at the end of it.  They shove them into this box, and the legs pop out at the end, like they’re lying full length across the box.  Only, it’s not the real legs—it’s fake ones, with the same clothes as the real ones.  The person’s really squished into the first box, safely confined in the front half.  Then, when the magician starts sawing, he’s really cutting through empty space, not flesh.  Richards isn’t really sawing a girl in half—he’s doing the magic trick with an actress.  That logo on the bottom right of the box is from a magic company.  Though, why he’s making her scream so much and using all that fake blood on the saw is something I can’t understand—”

“It’s his racket!” shrieked Brittany, standing up from her seat.  “Richards isn’t interested in community service!  He’s built a network of organized crime for juveniles!  And he forces us into it by threatening to kill our families!”

To her delight, she saw a look of horrified realization spreading over the officers’ faces.

“She’s right!” shouted Jimmy, standing up as well.  “There were no midget bandits—that was us.  I only robbed those banks ‘cause he made me.  He threatened to kill my sister if he didn’t.”

“He was going to murder my grandmother!” shrieked Anna, bursting into tears.  “I had to do whatever he said, no matter how horrible, for her sake!”

More voices chimed in, admitting to various crimes and telling what their link was.  Auburn found the lightswitch and turned on the theater lights, mercifully dimming the horror on screen.  “They’re telling the truth,” she said.  “The list is in a drawer in Richards’s office.  It’s got all their names on it, plus their relatives, and what he’ll do to them if they don’t do what he asks.  I can show you if you want!”

“Let’s see this,” said the chief.  “I still don’t believe it.”

As if in a trance, he followed Auburn out of the theater, down the dimly lit hall on the left.  When she reached the door, she tugged on the handle.  Nothing happened.

“Locked,” she said, then sniffed the air.  “Something smells funny inside.”

The chief took a whiff.  “Smells like smoke!” he explained.  He backed to the edge of the hall, then rushed the door.

It teetered weakly on his first rush, cracked on his second, and splintered open on his third.

Inside, that was smoke.  Flames leapt from a small fire on the desk, started by a small match that could still be faintly seen in the center.

“The evidence!” shrieked Auburn.  “It’s in that drawer on the top right!”

She rushed forward and yanked open the compartment, knowing full well that the document she sought most would be—

To her surprise, there was the list, still intact!  She yanked it out, then backed away as the chief attempted to smother the flames with a jacket.  All three pages were there, but there was a sticky note on top of it now, with a handwritten message.  Auburn read it aloud, heart racing.

“You may have figured out my secret,” the note read, “but it’s too late!  I’ve got one more going-away present, then I’ll be gone for good!  Permit me to thank you heartily for all the support you’ve given me!

The note was signed, JR.