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Dead Run: An Alex Wolfe Mysteries Short Story
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Written by Alison Naomi Holt
Chapter One
Just when things turned bad, I blacked out. Yes, I know detectives aren’t supposed to do that, but all the same, I did. Our lieutenant expected trouble at the funeral because Barney, the dead guy, was one of the most proficient con artists our city had ever known. He owed a lot of very dangerous people money, and the lieutenant didn’t want “bill collectors” using the funeral as an excuse to strong-arm members of Barney’s family. That probably had something to do with the fact that the dearly departed was the LT’s brother-in-law, but far be it from me to suggest that his actions were personally motivated.
My sergeant, Kate Brannigan, had assigned my partner, Casey Bowman, and me to the security detail since the LT and his wife, a detective in a neighboring department, would be attending the funeral as ordinary civilians. I’m Detective Alexandra Wolfe and Casey and I are detectives in the Special Crimes Unit of the Tucson Police Department.
We’d gotten to the cemetery early, and by the time the minister began the service, I was hot, grumpy, and ready to shovel dirt onto the guy myself if it meant we could leave sooner than later. At last, the minister made his way from the hearse to the gravesite, and once he started speaking, I don’t think he missed a single funereal cliché.
At least the towering oaks and pine trees provided some respite from the 110-degree, oven-like temperatures the powers that be were forcing us to endure. I suppose the lush, green grass helped keep a small portion of the blistering heat off the fifteen or so mourners who’d gathered to send Barney Rump to his final resting place.
To my count, seven other Rumps had been laid to rest before Barney showed up. The oldest tombstone read, “Mavis Rump. She fell from a ladder and died with a thump. Poor old Mavis Rump. May 3, 1898-August 23, 1963.” I motioned to the rough, grey granite and whispered to Casey, “At least the family has a sense of humor.”
Casey, who was taking the security detail seriously, had been busy watching the mourners instead of reading the tombstones. She broke off a minute to read Mavis’s epitaph and covered her nose with her fist so no one would see her smile.
When we read the next one in line, we both turned our backs and coughed to hide our amusement. “Mr. Digory Rump was really quite the chump. He choked on a pickle and left naught a nickel, Mr. Digory Rump. April 2, 1899-July 4, 1972.” The others were much the same, and I couldn’t help wondering what Barney’s headstone would say about him.
Anyway, the minister didn’t have one clever or personal thing to say about poor old Barney. I tuned back in and began counting the cliches. “And as our dearly departed throws off this mortal coil, his song is ended, but the melody lingers on.”
I leaned in again and whispered, “Old Barney wasn’t a musician. He played the spoons for cripes’ sake.”
Casey shushed me.
“It’s not how long our lives are but how good they are that matters. Barney was a man among men, a true leader who gave more of himself than he received in return. We all loved the dearly departed, and grief is the price we must pay.”
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the old lady in front of me passed the most noxious gas I’ve ever had the misfortune to smell. I began coughing in earnest then and had to step back two rows of tombstones just to catch my breath. When I returned, I made it a point to stand on the other side of my partner. I definitely didn’t have Casey’s back when it came to standing in the way of Grandma Rump’s baked bean and asparagus casserole.
The minister’s raised voice brought my attention back to his onslaught of cliches until I heard Casey mutter, “Oh shit.”
I turned my attention to where she was looking. Two men dressed in black suits and wearing gas masks stood near the hearse. I looked behind us and saw two more similarly adorned bad guys standing next to a black SUV. Then, I got a whiff of something foul. I glanced suspiciously at Grandma Rump, and, as I said before, just when things turned bad, I blacked out.
CHAPTER TWO
I came to, staring at the top of an oak tree, its stately branches stretching up into the bright blue sky. Kate’s irritated face swam in front of me as she waved a nasty-smelling cue tip next to my left nostril. I gagged and pushed it away before sitting up and trying to get my bearings.
Casey had fallen beside me, and she didn’t look happy.
Nate Drewery, a twenty-something detective in our unit, had the misfortune to be the one to wave the cue tip beneath her nose.
Her hand shot up and grabbed Nate’s forearm in a steel grip honed by years of mending fences and grabbing critters in her three-acre backyard.
His yelp echoed off the tombstones moments before he thudded onto his back with his breath rushing out with a loud “Ooof.”
Kate called out, “Casey, that’s Nate! Let him go.”
The cue tip he’d been holding ended up on the ground. Casey grabbed it and straddled him. She held the thing close to his face and growled, “What the hell, Nate? What the fucking hell?”
Our sergeant was about the only one brave enough to grab Casey when she was in this kind of a murderous mood.
Casey knew a bad guy had one-upped her, and nothing pissed her off more. Well, nothing except animal and child abuse and rape. Those things pissed her off a lot more.
Kate seized Casey’s shirt by the shoulders and pulled her off Nate, who was struggling to keep the cue tip out of his nostril. “I said, let him go.”
I’d stayed on the ground because I was a little confused about what had happened.
Uniformed police were cordoning off the gravesite, and other detectives from our unit, along with some paramedics, were helping the remaining mourners. The LT was helping his wife to her feet, and the look he sent me spelled trouble with a capital T.
Kate glared down at me. “What the hell happened?”
I climbed to my feet and stared around. “Well, I remember staring at Grandma Rump’s butt, and then I smelled something foul…no, wait, it was the other way around. I smelled something foul and then looked at her butt because she’d just about killed me a few minutes before with her baked bean casserole….”
I stopped when Kate let go of Casey and rounded on me. She spoke in a very soft voice, which was never a good sign. “Alex. Could we have a rational report, or did the knockout gas do more damage to your brain than we thought?”
I glowered at her before continuing. “I’m telling you what happened, Boss. That lady over there let off a lethal stinker—” I pointed to the older woman in the floral dress so Kate would know who I was talking about. I guess I was speaking louder than I realized because the lady turned toward me with her brows so low that they almost completely obscured the dark, angry eyes that bored into me with the same intensity I’d seen on bulls moving in for the kill.
I turned my back to the lady and lowered my voice, “Well, she did. Anyway, a few clichés later,” I glanced at the minister and shook my head. “Honestly, you’d think the man could have come up with at least one original thought about poor old Barney.” At Kate’s low growl, I waved my hand in front of my face to erase what I’d just said, “What I meant was I smelled something noxious that turned my stomach, so I glanced over at the lady, thinking she’d let loose with another one, and then I blacked out.”
Kate, Nate, and Casey all looked toward the woman, and then Kate asked Casey, “And what do you remember?”
“I saw two men in black suits and gas masks over by the hearse—”
I piped up, “Oh yeah, I forgot about them….”
Sighing, Kate motioned for Casey to continue.
“I said something to Alex—”
“Oh, shit.” They all looked at me, and I clarified, “Casey said, ‘Oh, shit.’ When I looked where she was looking, I saw those two guys, and when I looked behind us, I saw two more.”
Kate glanced at the ground and scratched her forehead. “And you didn’t think that was more important than reporting on that woman’s flatulence?”
I spread my arms wide. “I forgot, okay? I just woke up with you waving a nasty cue tip in my face. What happened, anyway?” I stepped over to the grave. The lid on Barney’s coffin stood open, and the only thing inside was the cushy purple satin lining the bottom, sides, and top. “Nice.”
A woman walked up next to me. “We didn’t spare any expense.” She turned to me and held out her hand. “Barbara Anglesey. Barney was my father.”
I smiled and nodded, “No offense, but I don’t usually shake hands when I’m on duty, Ms. Anglesey.”
Kate appeared next to Barbara. “I’m Sergeant Brannigan. Has someone taken your statement yet, Ms. Anglesey?”
The woman dabbed her eye, which seemed remarkably dry to me. She’d just lost her father…twice…and didn’t appear to be all that broken up about it. “Not yet. But I don’t know much. One minute, I was taking a handful of sand from that tray over there to toss on the coffin, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up.”
The woman’s black dress had splotches of brown dust and dirt sticking to it. Her body and face had Barney’s elongated features, and there was a smear of dirt running from her ear down to her jaw. That was when I noticed her left eye beginning to swell. “Did you hit your eye on something? Do you need one of the paramedics to come take a look?”
She reached up and gingerly felt her face. “I don’t know. It’s a bit sore, but I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
We all stood over the open grave, staring into the empty coffin. A breeze picked up and swirled some dust down onto the silk interior, and I finally asked, “What do you think happened, Ms. Anglesey? Why would anyone want to steal your father’s body?”
To my surprise, she smiled, opened her purse—a Louise Vuitton knockoff—and pulled out a cigarette. “Did you know my father, Detective?” She fished around in her bag, looking for a lighter.
Before she pulled her hand out, I reached over and pinched the top of the bag closed on her arm.
Startled, she looked up at me with the cigarette hanging between loose lips.
I shrugged, “I don’t allow people to pull random things out of their purses when I’m talking to them for the same reason I don’t shake hands.”
Her eyes sparkled, and she took the cigarette from her mouth with her free hand. “I don’t have a gun or knife if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I shook my head. “Not worried, just cautious.” I held onto her wrist and pulled the purse off her hand. When I saw she was holding an old-style flint lighter, I smiled and took it from her. After checking inside the bag, I handed it back to her. When she put the cigarette between her lips again, I flicked the lighter to life.
She puffed until a line of smoke drifted skyward. That done, she smoothly retrieved her lighter with fingers sporting delicately manicured pink fingernails.
I waved my hand in front of my face because I hated the smell of tobacco. “To answer your question, yes, I not only arrested your father several times, but I also liked him very much. He was funny and self-deprecating, always admitting to what he’d done. He’d say if I caught him, I earned the collar.”
Casey, who’d come up to check out the empty coffin, nodded, “Fancy. I’ll bet Mr. Rump would have liked that one.”
Everyone except Kate stared at the casket appreciatively. My sergeant, never one for small talk, said, “You didn’t answer Detective Wolfe’s question, Ms. Anglesey. Why would someone steal your father’s body?”
Barney’s daughter glanced to the other side of the grave where our lieutenant stood watching us.
Lieutenant Lane rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Look, Babs, we all know your dad was trying to pull off one last con to finance his retirement. Is this body-snatching business related to his latest scam?”
She crossed her arms. “Maybe. The day before Dad died, he was at my house boasting that he’d just scammed the scammer. When I asked him what he meant, he smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and that was the last time I ever saw him alive.”
When she said, “scammed the scammer,” silent alarm bells went off in my head. I knew something that no one else did for the simple reason that I’m good friends with Gianina Angelino, the head of the most powerful mafia family west of the Mississippi. A couple of weeks before the funeral, Gia had thrown a high-profile party for the city’s elite. What no one except a very pissed-off Gia and a few select people knew was that someone had taken, or had scammed, one of her guests out of a three-hundred-thousand-dollar diamond and ruby ring. Not only had the mayor been there, but so were a couple of congressmen and other high-ranking government officials. It had been a party where invitations were highly coveted and ardently pursued.
If word got out that Gia couldn’t protect her guests during one of her “events,” or worse, that she couldn’t recover the stolen ring and bring the thief to gangland justice—something I didn’t care to know about—then her reputation would suffer. In her line of work, if people lost confidence in her ability to rule her kingdom, the consequences could be deadly.
I rubbed my temples, trying to work out what might have happened. One thing was certain. I needed to talk to Gia before this thing got too far out of hand. I stepped back and said, “I’ve got a bit of a headache, Boss. Do you mind if I—”
Before I could finish my sentence, Kate grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening and said, “I know that look, Alex. Spill.”
“What look?”
Her eyes narrowed, and she waited.
“I just need to check something out, okay? And it’s probably better if I did it on my own…when I’m off duty…with a headache.” I shrugged. “I might be able to put this whole thing to rest.” I looked at the empty coffin. “So to speak.”
The media had begun to gather on the outskirts of the cemetery, and Kate sent a cursory glance in their direction. “You call me the instant you know anything. In the meantime, Casey and I will try to figure out what the hell happened here.”
“You got it, Boss.” The media saw me heading for my car, and they converged on me as soon as I opened my door. “Hey, Detective Wolfe. What can you tell us about what happened? Why are the paramedics here at Barney Rump’s funeral? What’s all the fuss about?”
I gave them my best, pitiful “I have a headache” look and rubbed my temples. “Sorry, guys. You’ll have to ask the sarge. I have a splitting headache, and she sent me home for the rest of the day.”
“Why is there even a police presence here? What’s—”
I pulled my door closed and tried not to run any of them over as I slowly pulled away from the curb.
Chapter Three
I parked several blocks away from Gia’s house in the parking lot of one of the city’s larger shopping malls. I went inside and waited, watching to see if any of the media had followed. After about ten minutes, I decided they hadn’t. I still wasn’t going to take any chances, so I walked to the other end of the mall, wound my way through all the parked cars, and headed into Gia’s upscale neighborhood.
Urban sprawl had overtaken this once-isolated enclave, and now urban expansion had surrounded the multi-million-dollar homes. The little community had beautifully landscaped yards and streets named after Tucson’s early movers and shakers. By the time I reached Gia’s walled-in courtyard, sweat had plastered my shirt to my body.
Gabe, Gia’s majordomo and Italian Stallion look-alike, answered the door. He took in my red, sweaty face and dirt-stained pants and drawled, “You look like shit, Alex.”
He didn’t move to let me in, so I growled, “If you don’t let me into the air-conditioned house, I’m going to shoot your big toe off and feed it to the dogs.”
His brows came down, “Pretty lame threat. Ya gotta do better ‘n that.”
I leaned in and upped the ante. “Fine. I’ll tell Gia you bet against Credo’s Hope in the last sweepstakes.” Credo’s Hope was one of Gia’s racehorses, and none of her people would ever bet against their boss.
His brows descended even lower. “I never.”
“Prove it.”
He thought a moment and then stepped back. “Ms. G’s in the library.”
The front door opened onto a long hallway that led to the rest of the home. This was where Gia enjoyed displaying whatever paintings she was investing in at the time. Currently, she’s into Romanticism. She’d given me a tour of her latest acquisitions several weeks earlier, where she explained that this period opposes everything that interferes with man’s freedom of creativity.
Whatever the hell that means.
Some of the art she’d collected over the years was just plain weird, and I told her so. That always seems to amuse her. She says she enjoys broadening my education, and even though I wouldn’t admit it, I enjoy learning about things I’d never even consider studying on my own.
The door at the end of the hall opened onto the library, which I always thought should be part of a museum. Three entire walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with leather-bound copies of rare and valuable books. She owned many of the originals, but those she kept in a fireproof vault under lock and key.
The fourth wall held a fully stocked bar, and when I walked through the door, I didn’t stop to greet Gia or anyone else, for that matter. Walking several blocks in the blistering sun after spending hours outside at the cemetery had given me a dehydration headache, one I knew would go away once I got enough fluids into me.
I grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and drank the whole thing in one long series of gulps. I refilled it, drank another full glass, then grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge beneath the bar and sprawled on Gia’s sofa. I held the cold can to my cheek and said, “Hey. How’s it goin’?”
She didn’t respond, so I finally turned to look at her.
When she had my full attention, she raised her brows, toasted me with a tumbler of Glenlivet, and took a sip.
Typically, the only part of Gia’s face that gives away any emotion is her grey eyes. I saw definite amusement in them before I realized we weren’t the only ones in the room. A third person sat in a high-backed wingchair, grinning at me like a fool.
I jumped to my feet, unfortunately spilling Diet Coke on my shirt in the process. A dead man was lounging about in Gia’s library. “What the fuck?” I looked down at Gia. “Gia? What the—”
She raised a finger and stopped me mid-sentence. She didn’t mind me swearing. She just took exception to me swearing at her. “Have a seat, Alex.” After I growled my displeasure and plopped back down on the sofa, she cocked her head and gave me the briefest of smiles. “I see you got Barbara’s message.”
I jumped back up. “What? You played me? What the fuck, Gia?” I didn’t back down from her glare this time. “And yes, I mean, what the fuck? You played Casey and Kate and me, and not only that, you gassed us and left Casey and me lying unconscious and unprotected in the friggin’ cemetery!”
“There’s no need to be so crude, Alex.” Gia glanced at Gabe, who’d come in and was standing guard in his usual place next to the library door. “Gabe had strict orders to guard you until the police arrived.” She picked up a diamond and ruby ring from the coffee table and held it between two fingers. “And, as you can see, Mr. Rump has,” she looked at Rump while searching for the right word, “…procured the ring from the man who stole it from my guest. That man works for a very powerful Russian oligarch known for his inventive and terrifying punishments for those who oppose him. That’s why our entire operation had to remain secret, even from you.”
Still grumbling, I sat, placed the can of Coke on the coffee table, and grabbed the tumbler out of Gia’s hand. I downed every drop of the Glenlivet, set the tumbler on the table, and took a fistful of peanuts from an antique bowl that I knew from previous visits had belonged to a seventeenth-century French earl.
Gia picked up the tumbler and nodded at Gabe, who retrieved the bottle from the bar and refilled her glass. “I understand your anger, Alex. But Mr. Rump had to die, be autopsied, and certified dead. It was the only way to convince the Russian that Mr. Rump was, indeed, gone.”
I looked at Barney, who shrugged. Then I pinned Gia with a glare I hoped she understood to mean I was pissed off. Majorly pissed off. “So, you paid off the undertaker? He was in on it, too?”
“She. Yes. Now, she’ll certify another body, very similar to Barney’s, as having been found, and Barney will once again be buried next to his ancestors. Only this time, the poor man’s face will be badly disfigured and unrecognizable. Word will go out that what happened to him, even after death, will happen in life to anyone else who dares oppose one of my business associates. Only the person won’t be dead when it happens.”
“Why go to all this trouble? Why steal the body in the first place?” I studied Barney’s face for a moment. “Wait a minute. That really was you in the casket, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “When word got out that I had the ring, a photographer came and took pictures to prove I’d really checked out. We knew he would, so Ms. Angelino got hold of some drug that made it seem like I was dead. Now the story goes out that when I heard there was a hit out on me for stealing the ring back, I told people I was gonna take the ring to my grave, and then I killed myself to keep from being tortured to death. Ms. Angelino publicly gives the ring back to the guy who was originally conned, and the oligarch believes she grabbed my body to retrieve the ring.”
Gia lit one of her signature slim cigars, pulled in a lungful of smoke, and slowly blew it away from my face. “And I will provide Mr. Rump with a new identity. Our bargain was that if he could retrieve the ring, I would take care of him for the rest of his life and provide for his daughter and grandchildren. Ring recovered, and war between the two families averted. For now.”
I sat back on the sofa and asked the question I didn’t want answered, “And the body that will be buried in his place?” When no one answered, I filled in the blanks myself. No one steals from one of Gia’s guests and lives to tell the tale. Especially not someone working for a rival family. I held up a hand. “Never mind. I don’t even want to know.” I glared at Gia again. “I need to tell Kate, you know.”
She shrugged. “Do what you need to do, Alex, but I think, for her sake, the less she knows, the better.”
I stood, shaking my head and smiling down at my good friend, one of the most powerful mafia dons in the country. “You once told me you don’t follow the rules very well, either. You weren’t kidding, were you?”
Her grey eyes sparkled as she put the cigar to her lips. “Take care, Alex.”
As I left the room, I pulled out my phone to call my sergeant, not really sure how to break the news that I’d just spoken to a corpse and that life would be a whole lot easier if she didn’t ask any questions.
As if…
©Alison Naomi Holt 2025
12 comments
You keep writing ‘em and I’ll keep reading ‘em. I see I’m not alone in wanting Alex and Gia together even though that could get very ugly for both of them.
Love this series. Alex and cast are wonderful to spend time with.
I love Alex and the team. One of my favourite series to re read.
Alex and Gia – always a great combo!
Nice twist!