Escapes Can Be Murder

by Connie Shelton

  The ones I’d encountered recently weren’t exactly tops on my list, especially for criminal defense, but I finally pulled a name out of my hat—a guy who’d helped a friend a few years ago. I gave Christine the name and she said she would look him up and call right away.

  “Fergus will be arraigned in the morning and the attorney needs to be there. Don’t wait on this.”

  She assured me and said she would call me later, if that was okay. Feeling as righteous as a person can who’s failed her client (but at least I did the right thing in the eyes of the law this time), I left the police station and got a ride back to the garage where I’d left my Jeep.

  I had lied. The intention was pure, to go right back to work for Fergus and Rory, but suddenly I couldn’t face a night at the office. It had been way too long a day and my brain was numb.

  Fergus was a guest of the city jail for the night and Christine was doing all she could to get legal representation for him. I had done my duty, for now, and would be much fresher to consider the options tomorrow. Right now, all I wanted was my husband and my dog and a hot meal, in that order.

  Chapter 33

  I attended the arraignment at ten o’clock the next morning. On his attorney’s advice, Fergus kept his mouth shut except to utter the words “not guilty” at the appropriate time. The attorney made the very logical argument that his client was in no shape to leave the city, and was under doctor’s orders to move into a nursing home because of his ongoing need for medical care. The judge, a stern-looking woman with short black hair, banged her gavel and ordered it so. Trial would begin January fifteenth.

  Christine and I looked at each other. It was the judge’s kindly way of letting Fergus go away to die in peace.

  The old man sputtered in protest about the nursing home. “I’m perfectly fine to go home. That lady judge, she don’t know nothin’ about me.”

  “Whatever you say, Dad. Let’s get in the car.”

  A chilly wind funneled between the buildings, raising goosebumps on my arms despite my jacket. Knowing about the doctor’s orders ahead of time, Christine had called me early this morning to ask my help in getting Fergus settled. She had brought basic clothing and his medications from his trailer; a packed bag was in the back seat of her car. I would follow along to raise the voice of authority if the father refused to listen to the daughter.

  By the time we arrived at Mountainview Elder Care, some of the steam had gone out of Fergus. His night in detention had to have been rough on him. Dark, puffy circles under his eyes and a gaunt look to his jawline gave it away. One burst of stubbornness appeared when Christine opened the passenger side car door and he refused to get out. I stepped over.

  “Fergus, come on. It’s getting colder out here, and they’ve got a really comfy bed in here for you. Rest up for a while and then there will be some lunch.”

  “I want my own bed and my own pajamas.”

  Christine had reached in the back seat and she held up the suitcase. “Got your PJs right here.”

  I had my hand on his elbow and gave a lift upward. The bones jutted through his shirt and jacket. At least he didn’t resist.

  “Okay, let’s get inside and see about that lunch.” I made sure he had his feet under him, but I wasn’t about to let go of my grip. The old guy still had a gleam in his eye that told me he was thinking of making a dash for it.

  We’d no sooner gone through the front double doors than a woman in a brightly flowered pullover top and coordinating pants came forward with a beaming smile.

  “Mr. McNab! We are so happy you’re here.” She gave a flirty wink and showed some dimples. “The ladies will be so eager to meet you. There aren’t many men here and the women love to dote on you guys.”

  He made a grumpy sound but I noticed his eyes had quickly scanned the foyer.

  “We’re going to take a little tour. I’m Bunny, by the way.” She took his arm. “Your daughters can sign the papers and meet us in room 114.”

  Bunny and Fergus headed into a large room, very reminiscent of the common area at the rehab facility where Gram was. This whole nursing home scene began to trigger the same feelings I’d had about taking her there after her hospital stay.

  Christine told me Fergus’s doctors had arranged everything. She handed the suitcase to me while she read and signed a few forms, then we headed down a hallway where we located Room 114 on the right.

  “Let’s just put his things out where he’ll see them,” she suggested. “Maybe he’ll see this as a fait accompli if it appears he’s already moved in.”

  Shades of a few days ago, when I’d set Gram’s toothbrush and combs in a different bathroom with the same look. With two of us unpacking, it took less than five minutes. She had set Fergus’s favorite picture of himself and Rory on the nightstand.

  “Well, I should leave you and your dad alone,” I said.

  “Can you hang around a little while? We need to talk about getting Rory back here before it’s too late. You and your husband are the only ones who know where he is.”

  “Your dad won’t tell you?”

  “Not on a bet. I tried.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as we heard Bunny’s voice approaching. “I’ll spend a minute here. Meet me in the lobby.”

  Since my job was to reunite father and son before it was too late, I couldn’t very well refuse. I kept myself occupied by listening to the residents beg to go home. All I could do was to hope with everything in me that Gram would do well enough to stay in her own home with a caretaker or visiting nurse. When tears threatened to overtake me, I stepped out to the front porch and let the wind mask the sad emotions.

  Christine joined me about five minutes later. “Sorry. He’s confused, doesn’t understand why he can’t be home alone.”

  “If we can get Rory to return, do you think the doctor would allow Fergus to leave here?”

  She shook her head. “He really needs medical care. The last forty-eight hours were rough. I think he used the last of his spunkiness ration with that stunt at the park. I wish he’d just stayed home and kept his opinions about Herman Quinto to himself.” She rummaged in her purse and came up with her keys, and we started toward the parking lot. “I can stay in Albuquerque today, but by tomorrow I need to be on the road for Denver. My boss is squawking—loud.”

  “Okay, so you need to reach Rory.”

  “He’s somewhere in Maine? Honestly, yesterday was the first I’d heard of that.”

  “Yeah. Apparently he and your dad have stayed in touch.”

  “How do I find him? And how on earth will he get back here?”

  “There are cell phones in a kitchen drawer at Fergus’s place. The last I knew, the red one was active. Apparently he and Rory get untraceable ones and just buy minutes for them. My guess is Rory’s number is the only one programmed into it. Give that a try. If you reach him, there’s a flight out of Portland that got me back here. It’s one very long day of flying with a couple of connections, but I imagine Rory will find a way to do it. Those two are close.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, they are. Dad would bust his ass to be with Rory—I just hope my self-centered brother will do the same for our father.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. “Let me know. I can meet with him, take him to Fergus since you’re leaving.”

  “Thanks for everything, Charlie. I’ll be back. I’m sorry to say, it will probably be fairly soon.”

  “Yeah.” We hugged out there in the parking lot, and I headed to the office where my plan was a little hazy.

  With the hoopla surrounding Judge Blackman’s death, the surprise of meeting Christine, and Fergus’s rather ill-conceived plan to take out Herman Quinto, I’d lost track of where I was in the investigation to find exonerating evidence for Rory. I could always go back to the trial transcript and look for more clues. I picked up fast food and planned to eat at my desk while filling Ron in on the latest.

  But Ron was out for the rest of the day, Sally informed me, so I used the few remainin
g minutes before she was due to go home to ask what was being said on the news about the judge and the election.

  “”The judge’s funeral is day after tomorrow,” she said. “They’ve been talking about the tragedy of his death, but a friend at the daycare center told me his wife was in Clarice’s Boutique yesterday buying a whole new wardrobe of resort wear. Quinto is running way ahead in the polls. I guess he was a big hit at the rally in the park.”

  “Nothing about an attempt on Quinto’s life?”

  She shook her shaggy blonde head. “Not a thing.”

  Poor Fergus. Not even a mention of what he’d thought would be a blaze of glory. Well, I didn’t plan on being the one to break that news to him.

  My phone rang as I was walking up the stairs and I glanced at the screen. Christine, already.

  “Rory’s coming home tomorrow,” she said. “I still have to leave, so I won’t see him, but I gave him your number. I hope that was okay.”

  “Sure. I need to talk to him. So the cell phone in Fergus’s kitchen worked to reach him?”

  “Yeah. You want Rory’s number?”

  I took down the number, although it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if Rory changed phones again before coming to New Mexico. I had a feeling he would still be doing all he could to keep a low profile.

  Chapter 34

  Ron always tells me a big part of investigative work involves sitting quietly and thinking, putting together the evidence he has gathered. I used that as my justification for sitting at my desk for the next two hours, doing nothing at all. Well, I can’t really say nothing. I paid some bills and got my invoicing up to date, while my mind ran through the various witness interviews—too many—and the list of suspects I’d discovered—too few.

  I had a strong feeling the judge’s death was related in some way to his philandering, but I couldn’t put together a scenario that felt right. If the wife was packing for a cruise, I could see her on the suspect list, but how her activities related to Rory’s conviction for jury tampering was completely beyond me.

  Quinto was still a key player I hadn’t spoken to, but when I phoned his office again for an appointment, all I received for the effort was another rude brush-off. I tamped down my increasing frustration.

  By four o’clock, I decided an evening without any reference to this case might be the thing to clear my head and show me a fresh angle. I called Drake and asked him out for a movie date and we met at the theater.

  We lingered in bed the next morning the way we used to do, happy and satiated until well after nine. A shower together, breakfast out at our favorite place for Eggs Benedict, and it was approaching noon before I showed up at the office. Sally teased me and Ron got a knowing look on his face. I ignored them both and my ringing phone saved me from making excuses.

  “Is this Charlie Parker?” asked an unfamiliar male voice.

  “Speaking.”

  “Christine said I should call you when I got to town.”

  “Rory?”

  “Let’s say it’s Rudy.”

  I calculated the flight time and couldn’t imagine how he’d arrived so early in the day. “Okay … Rudy. You’re here now? Where are you staying?”

  “We’ll get to that later. I’m going to visit my dad now.”

  “Do you want to come by my office afterward? I can give you directions. I’ll get you caught up on the investigation as it stands right now.”

  “Maybe.” A sound like a hand rubbing over whiskers. “I’ll call. I’m staying invisible, you know.”

  “Okay, I get that. So, yeah. Call me.” I hung up wondering if I would actually ever hear from him, or whether the one perfunctory call was only because his sister had insisted.

  Well, Fergus was my client so it didn’t really matter what Rory thought. On the other hand, Rory was the one person who probably knew what was going on ten years ago. He’d certainly been frightened enough to believe he had to get out of state. I needed to talk to him more in-depth than these one-word sentences over the phone.

  I arrived at Mountainview Elder Care fifteen minutes later. All the cars in the parking lot had New Mexico plates but I made a slow pass through to see if any carried obvious signs of being rentals. There was one with a tiny sticker from Budget on the back bumper. Fergus’s room didn’t face the parking lot so I doubted Rory would get a warning of my arrival. I parked near the rental car and went inside.

  Lucky me, I was greeted by Bunny at the front door.

  “Hi again. I came to visit with Fergus McNab for a little while,” I said.

  She fell in step beside me. “Popular man today,” she said with a perky lilt to her voice. “I’m glad. The poor man …” Her voice dropped a notch. “It’s hard to watch them fade this quickly, even when … you know … the outcome is certain.”

  I nodded. Room 114 came up right away. “Well, thanks, Bunny. I’ll just …” I gave a vague wave toward the door.

  Bunny was right. Fergus was visibly dwindling, even in the past twenty-four hours. He lay in the bed, his skin gray against the white sheets, his thin arms and bony hands resting on top of the covers. Except for the two bright spots on his cheeks, I would have thought he was unconscious. His eyelids fluttered open when he realized I was there. I looked around the room.

  “Didn’t your son come by?” I asked.

  A crooked smile twisted the old man’s face. “Okay, Rory, come on out,” he said.

  The closet door opened and a younger, fitter, dark-haired version of Fergus stepped out.

  “Rory, I’m Charlie.” I extended a hand and after a moment he shook it.

  “Sorry. I heard voices in the hall. Have to be cautious.”

  “Sure. I understand.” Although I didn’t. Surely he didn’t believe everyone in Albuquerque would still recognize him, especially since he’d lost close to forty pounds and was much more muscular and trim than his younger self. “So, did you have a good flight? You made great time.”

  “I took one leg of it last night, into another city, then did the second half this morning.”

  The caution again. He was much more soft spoken than I’d expected, in fact, a gentler manner all around. I saw nothing of the brash young attorney who had appeared in the photos I’d been studying recently. It might have been the effect of what Gram would call ‘being taken down a peg’ or it could be that time and living alone in the woods had changed and mellowed him.

  “I would really like the chance to talk about what your dad hired us for. I know you are leery of strangers and all that.”

  Fergus waved a hand back and forth, as if to say ‘Hey you, I’m still here.’ Rory turned to him.

  “Trust her, kid. She’s a pain in the butt—stopped me from ridding the world of Herman Quinto—but she’s honest and she’s trying to make things right so you can come back to stay.”

  I laughed at his description. He wasn’t at all the first person to call me a pain. The mood lightened.

  Rory looked at me. “I’m staying with Dad for a few hours, but I’ll call you later.”

  I thanked him, wished Fergus well and squeezed his hand before I left. Less than two hours later, I got the call.

  “He’s sleeping a lot,” Rory said. “I didn’t figure there was much point in sitting there. I need to settle in but I don’t think I dare go stay at his place. I’m still not trusting that Quinto wouldn’t go to some lengths to put me away.”

  “He’s running on a law-and-order ticket, so yeah. This would be the time to impress the voters by bringing in a fugitive.”

  “I don’t feel like I know the city very well any more. So much has changed. I was thinking of one of those little motels on Central.”

  “Um … they can be pretty unsavory. Lots of gang activity in those neighborhoods these days.” I gave him the name of a weekly inn on Menaul, the kind of place mostly used by businessmen who wanted a little studio where they could reheat a meal and stay in when restaurant food got tiresome.

  “Why don’t you check in and get
settled, then you can come down to my office, or—”

  “I’ll call again. Give me an hour.”

  It felt frustrating, getting the brush-off every time I tried to suggest a plan, but I understood his reluctance to trust. Not to mention ten years of hiding out—he’d developed survival instincts beyond anything I’d ever had to deal with myself.

  I went home, fed Freckles, and snacked on some sliced ham and a few chunks of cheese. I had no idea how long a meeting Rory would tolerate. I might get to ask two questions before he flitted away again, or I might have the chance for a real discussion of his case. I was considering which would be the most important of the topics to get out of the way first when he called back.

  “Right up the street from the motel is a bar. Meet me there in twenty minutes.” He hung up so quickly I couldn’t be certain he’d heard my response.

  Drake came home and I told him the situation. “This guy is jumpier than a cat at the dog pound, but I really need to meet with him.” I gave him the name of the bar and told him I would call or get a text to him when I got there and again when I left.

  “Are you that worried, hon? I can follow you and sit outside …”

  “Probably better if you don’t. I tell you, he’s used to being on the run and any hint that he’s being watched would probably send him rushing back off to Maine. It would break Fergus’s heart to lose touch with his son again so quickly. I’ll be fine. It’s not like the place I’m going is a dive.”

  “I’m going to send you a text each hour. If all is okay, just send me a smiley face back.”

  I laughed at his cute idea of clandestine tricks but agreed to the plan. I had to admit it felt good to have someone watching my back.

  Assuring Drake the bar wasn’t a dive might have been a little generous. It turned out to be a hole-in-the-wall place, but I could see why Rory chose it. It had the right amount of noise and seemed to be filled with blue-collar neighborhood locals. The atmosphere was dark and smoky with a laughing crowd at the one pool table in the far corner, while seats at the long bar were occupied by people in chambray shirts and ball caps who were sharing stories and glancing at the TV mounted above the bar. A jukebox played country music and quite a few of the patrons got up and danced. I spotted Rory in a small booth at the back where the lighting was dimmest.