Murder on the Ropes Page 2

  “Leo’s been good to me, but…”

  “But, he’s in big time debt and things aren’t looking so secure around here.”

  Sledgehammer shook his head.

  Suddenly things were becoming clear to me.

  “And Triple is throwing the story line to hurt sales—maybe even trying to injure some of the key wrestlers to put the hurt on Leo. Why isn’t Leo doing something about it?”

  Sledge shrugged. “I think he was getting ready to throw him out. Triple and Leo had a contract, so Leo probably had to take care of the legal stuff first.”

  I mulled this over for a second. “And what about this Buck Lynn? Where’s he getting enough money to start a new promotion?”

  “You know that shopping network on TV?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s married into that family—Lydia Aldridge. It’s his third wife. He’s moved up a notch or two.”

  I whistled. “Wow. So he’s got the money, he just needs the wrestlers.”

  “He’s lazy. He doesn’t want to take the time to train his own people. It’s easier to come in here and take over what someone else has built.”

  “I see.” And I did. Leo was starting to look like the person with the most to gain with Triple P out of the way. And, I might even believe that he could have been desperate enough to kill Triple, but I just couldn’t see Leo letting Dad take the fall. No, something wasn’t adding up. I also needed to check into Benny the Loan Shark. Maybe he found out about Triple’s antics. If Triple hurt Leo’s show, Benny wasn’t going to get his money.

  My next stop was Triple’s dressing room. More than likely, the police had already done a thorough search, but I had to eliminate the possibility that they overlooked something—something that would clear my father.

  I found Triple’s dressing room door slightly ajar. I pushed it open wider and peered inside. A man was tearing through Triple’s stuff, leaving a disaster in his wake.

  I cleared my throat. The man whipped around, a startled look on his lined face. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I might ask you the same question. And what are you doing searching through Triple’s stuff?”

  “I’m looking for something that belongs to me. I was his manager.”

  So this was the infamous Buck Lynn. He sure didn’t look like much—just an average, middle-aged guy—soft around the middle and shiny on top. He was wearing a polyester button-down shirt accented with a couple of ballpoint pens in the breast pocket. “And what might that be?”

  “None of your damn business.”

  This little nerd didn’t intimidate me. “Well then, would it happen to be police business?”

  With one giant step, he closed the distance between us, his face so close that I could almost count the pores on his nose. Buck could use a good exfoliation. “You’re MacKay’s daughter, aren’t you?”

  I swallowed tightly. “That’s right.”

  If bulging eyes, throbbing neck veins, and heavy breathing were any indications of stress, then Buck was completely strung out. Plus, he was invading my personal space. In fact, I could smell his stinky breath as he spoke. Apparently he’d just finished a cup of coffee. Like this guy needed a caffeine rush.

  “I hope your father rots in jail. He took out my star wrestler,” he hissed.

  I backed up a little. “My Dad didn’t murder Triple P,” I said defiantly. “In fact, I’m starting to find that there are quite a few other people that had reason to want Triple dead.”

  If he weren’t such a nerdy-looking man, I wouldn’t have been so caught off by his next action. In one swift move, I found myself pinned up against the wall, his hand at my throat, my feet dangling.

  “What are you suggesting, bitch? You think I had something to do with it?”

  Actually, before now, I hadn’t considered Buck as a suspect. After all, what would he gain from losing his star wrestler? I was quickly changing my theory though.

  “Put her down!” boomed a voice from behind.

  Buck obeyed. I slumped to the floor, sucking in fresh air and rubbing my neck.

  It was Leo. “What are you doing in here? I told you to get out.”

  Buck stumbled away from me, transforming back into a nervous little nerd. “I was just going to pack up some of Triple’s stuff for his family.”

  “No need. I’ll have it shipped to his next of kin. You just get out of here. I better never see you back here again.”

  After Buck made his exit, I started to tell Leo all about my close encounter with death, but he shut me down. “You know, Delaney, playing detective is not such a good idea.”

  “But I need to find Triple’s real killer.”

  “I think we already know who that is.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “And, who’s that, Leo? It seems to me that you’re the biggest winner now that Triple’s out of the way. You don’t have to worry about breaking a contract with a dead guy.”

  Leo’s face reddened.

  “And with the buzz his death has created…well…maybe you’ll actually be able to get that loan shark off your back,” I added.

  That did it. Leo whipped his arm around, pointing a shaking finger at the door. “Get out of here, Delaney,” he exploded.

  * * *

  After leaving the arena, I went directly to the police station; but try as I might, I couldn’t convince the cops to consider any other suspects. I even explained to them that Buck Lynn had practically killed me, but they seemed unimpressed. I was the daughter of the accused, so they figured I’d say anything to get them to look elsewhere. Besides, they were sure they had the case wrapped up. Things were looking grim for my father.

  That’s why, around midnight, I decided to return to the arena. The show had finished at ten, so I knew that most of the crew would be at Hell’s Kitchen doing their usual after-show thing.

  I didn’t have much trouble finding an open window to crawl through. Once in, I couldn’t believe how eerily quiet it was. The old school had a slightly haunted feeling. No doubt, if I was one of those paranormal investigators with a thermal cam and an EMF meter, I’d detect a ghost or two lurking about the deserted hallways. I shuddered.

  I headed straight back to Triple’s dressing room. It was identical to my father’s—a twelve-by-twelve beige room, with a mirrored vanity and a set of drawers. There was also a small closet and standard-sized loveseat. All the wrestlers shared a common area with bathrooms and showers; the dressing room was just where they kept their props and changed into costume.

  The first thing I noticed was that the room was still a mess. Buck had left no stone unturned. I had no doubt that whatever he was looking for was tied into Triple’s murder. Leo and Benny aside, Buck was starting to look like the key suspect.

  I started with the drawers. Apparently, by the stash of toys I was finding, Triple liked his sex kinky. Of course, he was dating Nikki, and I could only imagine what type of weird stuff she was into. I mean a female wrestler? It would only make sense that she was a little…um…diverse.

  I moved on to searching the furniture, removing all the cushions and cramming my hands down into the crevices. The only thing I came up with was a little loose change and a lot of dust bunnies.

  Next, I got down on all fours and started feeling under the loveseat frame.

  Bingo. There was something taped to the underside. I ripped it free. It was a manila envelope.

  With anxious fingers, I undid the clasp and extracted several photos of a couple caught in a compromising situation. The woman, a bleached blonde, was on top. Her face was turned away from the camera and her torso completely bare except for a small tattoo of a butterfly on her left shoulder. The man’s face was visible though. I’d know that nerdy little lunatic anywhere. It was none other than Buck. No wonder he was tearing through this place earlier. It didn’t take much of a guess to figure the blonde was not his rich wife Lydia. That cinched it—it had to be Buck. Geez, I couldn’t believe that I had actually suspected
Leo.

  Hearing a noise from behind, I jumped, dropping the stack of pictures, which scattered across the floor.

  Then I relaxed. It was just Nikki. “Oh, it’s you. Actually, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty spooky here alone.” I squinted. “Nice outfit,” I commented. She was wearing tight black leather pants and an off-shoulder black blouse that reminded me of the outfit Olivia Newton John wore in that final scene of Grease. Only, Nikki with her long black hair, and black lacquered nails put a definite Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, twist on the ensemble. “It’s sort of Olivia Newton John, isn’t it?” I added.

  “Yeah, it was Triple’s favorite. He liked me in leather.”

  My eyes involuntarily slid toward the drawers. I tried not to gag. “Why are you here anyway? The guys said you were going to take a couple of days off to…uh…mourn.”

  She sighed. “I just…I don’t know. I just needed to come here and be around Triple’s things, you know?”

  She seemed so sad. “I’m sorry, Nikki. I really am.”

  She was staring at the photos on the floor, a strange look on her face.

  “Gross, aren’t they?” I said, and then remembering who I was talking to, I shrugged it off. Gross was subjective. I bent down and started scooping up the photos. I could hardly wait to get them to the cops. “I don’t know who the woman is, but the man is Buck Lynn—Triple’s manager.”

  She nodded.

  “This is the proof that I need to prove my Dad’s innocence.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes, don’t you see? Triple must have been blackmailing Buck with these pictures. Buck killed him so he wouldn’t show them to his wife. You do know who Buck’s married to, don’t you?”

  She shrugged.

  “Lydia Aldridge. She’s from the—”

  I stopped mid-sentence. In the reflection of the mirror, I spotted a butterfly tattoo on Nikki’s shoulder. The same butterfly tattoo as the woman in the photo. I did a double take, glancing at the photos and then back at her reflection. I took out my phone and quickly moved toward the door.

  I wasn’t fast enough.

  She snatched the phone from my hand. “I can’t have you making that call, Delaney,” she said, her harshly lined eyes looked menacing.

  “What? What do you mean?” I stammered.

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t be able to recognize me from the photos.” She was giving me that look. The same look I’d seen her give her opponents right before she annihilated them in the ring.

  “But, this girl’s….”

  “Blonde? Yeah, well Buck likes me to change things up every once in a while.”

  I wasn’t getting it. “You and Buck?”

  “Yup. That’s right. Buck and I were having an affair.” She tossed my phone down and stepped on it, using her stiletto to grind it to a pulp. I watched, knowing that my face was about to meet the same fate.

  “But I thought...”

  “I know what you thought. You thought that Triple and I had a thing. Well, we did for a while. Then, I figured out that the real prize was Buck. You see there’s not much of a future for a forty-something wrestler. I’m about washed up. I needed to make a new future for myself.”

  “And that future was going to be with Buck?”

  “Yeah, wrestling is all I know. Buck, he’s big. He’s the biggest thing that’s ever happened to me. And, he loves me.”

  I almost laughed out loud. How naive could she be? “You thought that Buck would leave his wife for you? She’s worth millions.”

  “Leave his wife? Are you nuts? That’s the last thing I wanted. Do I seem like the wife type to you?”

  I shrugged. Not really, but then again, there was supposed to be someone for everyone.

  Nikki continued, “I don’t want him to leave her. We need her money. Besides, she doesn’t mean anything to him. I’m the one he really loves. He was moving me down to Atlanta with him. I was going to be set up as his mistress. But, more importantly, he was cutting me in on a percentage of his new show. I was going to be his recruiter.” She paused, smiling a little. “I’d be a great recruiter. I know just what to look for in a wrestler.”

  That was true. I shook my head. Nikki was making the contract of a lifetime. “So, the pictures? You didn’t know they were being taken?” Maybe if I kept her talking, I’d figure a way out of this mess.

  “No. Triple found out about Buck and me. He was furious. He decided to get the photos and show them to Buck’s wife. He was going to ruin everything.”

  “So you—”

  “That’s right. I did what I had to do…just like I’m going to do now.”

  Nikki gritted her teeth, let out a little groan, and charged at me like an angry bull on the streets of Pamplona. I knew what was coming, but I was powerless to prevent it. I was about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of Nikki’s techniques.

  Before I could react, she flipped me around and slammed me face down onto the floor. Straddling my back, she started squeezing my neck. I struggled, flailing my arms, trying to get a hold of anything that would make her stop. Tiny black dots began taking over my peripheral vision. I could feel myself slipping. I had a few fleeting thoughts about what it would be like to be dead—stupid things. Why didn’t I go ahead and eat that entire bag of Cheetos? And, a more serious thought. Why didn’t I go to my father’s last show? All of a sudden, it was clear to me that all these years, the well-scripted, crowd-cheering antics of these pro wrestlers were masterfully held in check. And, now that Nikki was unleashing her real skill on me, I was about to be “checked” out for good. I would never get a chance to see another of my father’s shows again or to tell him—

  Out of nowhere came an ear-piercing crack. The squeezing stopped. Nikki recoiled, her hands gripping her head as she rolled on the floor in pain.

  “Yeehaw!

  I looked up and saw Bob the janitor wielding a broken broom above his head, sounding his peculiar battle cry. “Yeehaw!” he cried out again, tossing aside the broom and scooping up Nikki who was screaming enough obscenities to land her a lead role on Jersey Shore.

  For such a wiry guy, Bob sure was strong. He lifted her above his head and started spinning like a rotor blade, the flow of his long mullet adding almost an artistic slant to the move.

  Hillbilly Bob was back! And he still had it!

  I found myself cheering out loud as I watched in awe of his technique. This guy wasn’t a has-been. In fact, he was performing his signature move—the helicopter spin—just as well, maybe even better, than he did in his prime. And, if I remembered correctly, the helicopter spin always ended with… I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Nikki let out one last blood-curdling scream as Hillbilly Bob completed his sequence with a backbreaker to the knee.

  When I dared to open my eyes again, I saw Nikki on the ground, writhing with pain. Bob stood above her, wearing a look of satisfaction on his face. “I’ve still got it,” he said, raising clenched fists above his head and letting out one more battle cry.

  * * *

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the greatest wrestling event on earth”

  I took my seat just as the MC was announcing the lineup. Music began blasting from large speakers stacked at the base of the ring.

  “Tonight’s supernova of entertainment will feature the much-anticipated return of the masters of wrestling.”

  The MC was dancing around the ring, microphone in hand.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, can you feel it? Can you feel the electricity in the arena tonight?”

  The crowd roared.

  “Then put your hands together and help me welcome the Kings of the Ring, our very own Hillbilly Bob and The Highlander!”

  The arena broke into a crazed frenzy of screaming and applause.

  The media had been all over the story. It was a sold-out house. I was in the front row, seated between an overly enthused pre-puberty pop guz
zler and an extra-large version of Danny DeVito wearing a plaid shirt and a red bandana around his neck. He was obviously here to see Hillbilly Bob in action.

  I, on the other hand, was only here for one reason. I was the proud daughter of The Highlander—master wrestler and father extraordinaire. And, thanks to Hillbilly Bob, I planned to be at many more of his shows. After all, I was his biggest fan.