Count On Me: Baytown Boys

by Maryann Jordan

  They had made it through a week with nothing else untoward happening, but he feared it was possibly the calm before the storm. A knock on his door had him looking up, seeing Mrs. Markham escorting Gareth into his office. Thanking her, he watched as Gareth sat down in the seat across from his desk, and his stomach clenched, wondering what his friend had to say.

  “I know I’m grabbing at straws,” Gareth began, “but I came across something that was interesting.” Opening the envelope in his hand, he pulled out a picture and handed it to Scott. “I found this in a local newspaper a few months ago. It was an Eastern Shore business meeting, and look who’s standing together, front and center.”

  Scott looked at the newspaper clipping and spied Careena Giardano and Paul Dugan standing next to each other, wide smiles on their faces. Looking back up at Gareth, he tilted his head slightly to the side as he said, “Okay… I see that they know each other, but this is nothing more than a group of businesspeople at a luncheon having their picture taken.”

  Nodding, Gareth said, “I agree. Now, look at the next picture that was taken at the same luncheon.”

  Scott looked at the next picture, which showed several other people standing close together smiling at the camera. He recognized a few but still did not see any connection. Scrunching his brow, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Gareth, maybe I’m just tired or being thick, but I’m not seeing anything.”

  Chuckling, Gareth leaned over and tapped the picture with his forefinger. “Took me a while to see it, too. Look at the bottom left corner.”

  In the background of the picture, easily ignored by anyone not looking, was a picture of a couple sitting at a table, their heads bent close in conversation. Careena and Paul.

  Shaking his head slightly, he said, “I don’t get it. Granted, it’s too much of a coincidence that the two people that are after Lizzie’s farm look like they’re in cahoots. But I don’t see how they can be working together. Careena wants the farm to prove to her father that she can bring the deal to closure and should have more say in the running of the business. Paul wants the farm so that he can pop up cheap houses.”

  Nodding, Gareth said, “I agree, Scott. It doesn’t make sense. But I’ve been looking into the Giordanos and Paul Dugan individually, and this is the first time I’ve found a connection between the two.”

  Possibilities began to slam into Scott, but for each consideration, he could not see why Careena and Paul would be able to work against Lizzie in a way that would be advantageous for both of them. “This is why you’re in the private investigation business and I’m an accountant,” he said. “I want everything to add up, and this is just as confusing as ever.”

  “I’m still checking, but I have to tell you, Scott, I’m not coming up with anything suspicious on Luca, and so far, while I don’t care for Paul’s construction shortcuts, he’s stayed on the right side of the law. Whoever’s been threatening Lizzie’s farm is getting desperate. That’s why they’ve escalated their actions.”

  Shoving back into his chair, Scott threw his hands up to his side and grumbled, “That’s why this whole mess is killing me. I don’t want someone to escalate to the extent of harming her.”

  “Maybe with the security lights and cameras up we scared someone off.”

  “I hope so, but I’m not going to take that chance. I think it’s time I paid a visit to Paul Dugan.”

  Eyebrows lifted, Gareth said, “You need to be careful, Scott. You can’t start threatening someone without proof.”

  “I’m not going to threaten him. But I’d like him to know that I’m there now and plan on staying. So, if someone is messing with Lizzie, they’re messing with me.”

  A grin slipped across Gareth’s face. “I know the situation is fucked up, man, but I’m happy for you. She’s a great girl.”

  The two men stood and shook hands, and Scott walked Gareth out. Glancing at the clock on the wall behind Mrs. Markham, he thought about cutting out early when Lia rushed from the back.

  “Oh, Scott, I’m glad you’re here. I just got a call from the school, and Emily’s got a little fever so I have to pick her up. I was supposed to meet our new clients at the Sunset Restaurant for a late lunch. It’s the Whitley family. They’re new to town and live in one of those million-dollar homes at The Dunes Resort. I’ve called them to let them know that you will be meeting them instead.” She stopped at the door and turned quickly, her nose slightly scrunched. “I hope that’s okay. You didn’t have any other plans, did you?”

  Shaking his head, he smiled. “No, it’s fine. Go on and get Emily. I’ll take care of the Whitleys. I know it’s just an initial meeting anyway, but I can find out who their former accountant was.” He waved as she rushed out the door and sighed slightly. Turning toward Mrs. Markham, he offered her a rueful smile. “Guess I better get to lunch.”

  Walking into the Sunset Restaurant, Scott caught a glimpse of Careena standing next to her Mercedes, talking to a man. From the back, the man looked like Paul, and it appeared the two were arguing. Wishing he could get closer, he scooted around a tall clump of ornamental grass.

  “If you’ll just be patient, we can make this happen,” he heard Careena say. Unable to discern the man’s answer, he heard car doors slam shut. Stepping from behind the bush, he observed the two of them now in her vehicle. Careena wasted no time in speeding out of the parking lot. Desperate to follow them, he watched them leave, knowing there was nothing he could do right now.

  Two hours later, Scott was grateful the lunch with the Whitleys had come to an end. They were a pleasant couple, having retired from Chicago, delighted with their large home on the Eastern Shore. They had filled the conversation with pictures of their grandchildren, pets, and vacations. He found there was very little that the couple talked about that their accounting firm needed to know but knew that sometimes business lunches were the best way to get to know clients informally.

  Shaking their hands goodbye, he waved as they walked away before he hustled to his car. Time to pay Paul Dugan a little visit.

  PD Development was in a small, nondescript brick building just off of Highway 13 in North Heron County. Parking in the front, Scott spied the large black pickup truck with the company’s logo on the side. Glad that it appeared Paul was in, he parked in the front of the building and walked in.

  Not certain what he expected, he was a little surprised to see a neat reception area, not unlike Mrs. Markham’s. A young woman sat behind a desk, and as soon as her eyes lit upon him, her smile widened broadly as her gaze moved from his head to his toes and back again.

  “Hi! Welcome to PD Development, where houses are built to fit your needs and dreams come true!”

  He blinked at her enthusiastic greeting, and the consideration that he might have to punch Paul to make his point to leave Lizzie alone dimmed with the young receptionist’s presence.

  “I’m here to see Paul Dugan.”

  Her smile remained although a crinkle formed between her eyebrows as she continued to look up at him. “Did you have an appointment?”

  Shaking his head, he replied, “No. But I think he’ll want to see me. Tell him that Scott Redding is here to talk to him about the Weston Farm.”

  She offered a little shrug as she stood and moved toward the back, her mannerisms indicating that she did not recognize the significance of the Weston farm. A moment later, she popped her head out of an office in the back and said, “Mr. Redding, you can come on in.”

  As he passed her in the hall, she looked up and whispered, “I get off at four, if you want to get drinks sometime.” She winked and headed back to her desk, leaving him to shake his head slightly in surprise. Quickly forgetting her, he headed into Paul’s office, shutting the door behind him.

  He recognized Paul from the pictures he had seen. Medium height, brown hair that was shot with gray. Not a large man, he definitely had some weight around his middle. What struck Scott the most was his eyes. His ruddy cheeks made his eyes appear small, but they darted a
round as though taking in everything quickly. Dressed in jeans with a denim shirt with his company’s logo embroidered over the pocket, he looked exactly as Scott expected, and yet, not at all like the type of man Careena Giordano would have for a partner… unless he was simply a means to an end.

  He shook Paul’s hand and took the seat that was offered. Having no desire to mince words, he began, “Mr. Dugan, I’m a personal friend of Elizabeth Weston and considered it an honor to be a friend to her grandfather as well—”

  “A better man I’ve never met in my life,” Paul interjected, his head nodding up and down rapidly.

  Tilting his head, he held Paul’s stare until the other man shifted slightly in his seat. “If that’s true, then I find it strange that you would attempt to coerce Ms. Weston into selling her farm when surely, you know that it’s the last thing her grandfather would’ve wanted.”

  Paul pinched his lips together which only served to puff his cheeks out further, giving him a somewhat comical expression. “Now, now, coerce is not the right word,” he protested. “That girl has got more than she can handle out there, and I don’t mind taking that property off her hands.”

  Brows lifted, he countered, “Well, how neighborly of you. Seems like several people are wanting to help Ms. Weston. But from what she tells me, you lied to her face about what Beau wanted her to do.”

  Throwing his hands up, Paul defended himself. “Now, that’s just business, Mr. Redding. Good business. A businessman who wants to make it in this day and time should know who they’re dealing with and use that to their advantage. I figured if she thought her granddaddy and I had come to an understanding, it would help her make the right decision. That’s all I was doing.”

  “I don’t care for your business tactics, nor do I care for your threats against Ms. Weston.”

  Paul reared back in his seat, his small eyes wide and said, “Threats? I never once made a threat against Ms. Weston. You might not like my business tactics, but I assure you I’ve never resorted to threats!”

  Leaning forward, his voice barely above a growl, Scott bit out, “I know what you and Careena Giordano are doing. I don’t understand why, but I’m here to tell you right now—it’s going to stop.”

  Paul blinked, his mouth opening and closing several times before snapping shut as his head quickly shook back and forth. “Careena Giordano?” His eyes narrowed as he huffed, “Mr. Redding, you’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick. I can’t tell you what Careena is up to, but I can assure you I’m not in cahoots with her on anything. If there’s something going on with Ms. Weston, it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

  “So, you know nothing about the incidences that have been happening at Weston Farms? Fence lines cut? Animals poisoned—”

  “Animals poisoned!” Paul all but roared. Shaking his head so quickly his jowls shook, he reiterated, “I’m telling you right now, that’s got nothing to do with me!”

  Leaning back in his seat, he considered the other man carefully. “Tell me about your relationship with Careena.” He knew it was a push since, obviously, Paul was under no obligation to answer any questions Scott might put to him, but since the man appeared genuinely rattled, he wanted to press his advantage.

  “Relationship? Hell, I barely know the woman. We don’t exactly hang out in the same social circle, if you get my meaning. About the only time I’ve ever seen her is at the Eastern Shore Business meetings.” He glanced down at his fists resting on the desk and grumbled, “She’s a tough bitch, I’ll give you that.” Lifting his head, he pinned Scott with his glare. “If there’s something going on with Weston Farm, I’d bet my business she’s got something to do with it.”

  “There was a picture in the newspaper recently of you and her together at a recent meeting. The two of you were sitting rather closely, appearing to have an intimate conversation.”

  Paul’s brow furrowed for a moment as he appeared to search his memory banks before his eyes opened wide. “I remember that. She had some cockamamie plan about me building a bunch of small, one-bedroom houses that Giardano Farms could rent out to migrant workers. Hell, I can build cheap, but she wanted them for practically nothing. Honest to God, that was the last conversation I’ve had with her.”

  “What about lunch today at the Sunset Restaurant?”

  “What the hell are you talking about Mr. Redding? I was at The Diner for lunch today. You can ask anybody who was there.”

  Even though it was late afternoon, the sun was still beaming down on Lizzie as she finished her afternoon milking. Jack had been over earlier and cleaned out the stalls and fed the animals. Carrie had just picked him up, and Lizzie grinned at the memory of Jack showing his appreciation when she’d handed him his first paycheck. It was not much, but she was so pleased with the extra help, she was glad he was excited.

  It was too early to put most of the animals in their pens near the barn, but with a couple of pregnant goats, she decided to move them inside. Once they were secure, she walked to the house with the goat milk. She wanted to get it into the refrigerator to keep it fresh, deciding she would make lotion the next day.

  She had not received a text from Scott, which was unusual. Recently, he had been checking with her often throughout the day. Sometimes the messages were detailed notes of his activities or asking about hers, and sometimes they were simple heart emojis. Both brought smiles every time she looked at one.

  Glancing at the clock, she moved to the refrigerator and peered inside, deciding on what to fix for supper. The pork chops she had taken from the freezer yesterday looked enticing. Looking down at Rufus, she asked, “What do you think? Would you and Scott like pork chops tonight?” Rufus’ dark, soulful eyes looked up at her, and she laughed. “I get the feeling that you would like anything for dinner.” Rubbing his head, she went back to her preparations.

  Once the chops were unwrapped, she placed them in a bowl to marinate and set them back into the refrigerator. Mashed potatoes and a salad would complete the meal, so she grabbed those ingredients and began chopping.

  Rufus suddenly came to his feet, barking at the back door. Leaning around the counter so that she could see if someone was standing there, she saw nothing. Looking down, she asked, “Hey, Rufus. What is it?”

  He continued barking so she stepped to the kitchen sink to wash her hands before going outside to see if there was a fox near the henhouse or another dog in the yard. Staring through the window in front of her, her heart jumped as she spied a man slipping into her barn, a red gasoline can in his hand.

  Grabbing her phone, she dialed 9-1-1. “There’s a man going into my barn with a gas can,” she cried out as the dispatcher answered. “I’m Lizzie Weston at the Weston Farm on Route 231, south of Easton. He’s wearing blue jeans and a blue shirt. Darkish gray hair. That’s all I can see, but it looks like Paul Dugan. Please, let Sheriff Hudson or Detective Sims know. They’re aware of what’s going on!”

  She knew she should stay on the line but disconnected, trying to get to her work boots near the door while battling Rufus who was still barking and jumping around. Heedless of the possible danger, her mind was filled with getting to the barn to save her goats.

  28

  Standing, Scott speared Paul with a pointed glare and said, “As of right now, Elizabeth Weston and Weston Farms do not exist for you. You do not contact her in any way. And if I find out you’re lying about not threatening her, you won’t have to worry about the law coming after you. You’ll have to worry about me.”

  Not waiting to hear Paul’s sputtering defense, he stormed out of the office, heading to his car. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out, surprised to see Colt’s name on his screen. Connecting, he barely had a chance to say hello before Colt began speaking.

  “Lizzie called in a 9-1-1. Reported there’s a man going into her barn with a gasoline can. She said she thought it was Paul Dugan. I’ve got units heading there now, and Hunter and I are on our way. Where are you?”

&n
bsp; Heart pounding, he started his SUV and screeched out of Paul’s parking lot. “It can’t be Paul. I was just talking to him. Leaving now and heading to Lizzie’s. I’m about ten minutes away.”

  His mind raced as fast as the wheels of his SUV. He had been sure that Paul was the one working with Careena but now was not certain of anything. Maybe Careena isn’t involved. Whoever was in the barn could have been hired by anyone. Jesus, they had a gas can. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he hoped Lizzie had not put any of the animals in the barn yet. If someone destroyed her barn, it could be rebuilt. If someone destroyed more of her animals, he was afraid it would destroy her. If someone harmed her...

  His tires squealed as he turned a corner too sharply, now just a few minutes away from the farm. Please, Lizzie, stay in the house with Rufus!

  Not wanting Rufus to dart away, Lizzie snapped the leash to his collar. “Rufus, quiet,” she commanded. He stopped barking but quivered as she opened the back door, jumping forward, pulling at the leash.

  Hurrying toward the barn, she eschewed the gravel path and stayed on the grass, keeping her footsteps silent. Slipping around to the side, she held onto Rufus’ leash as she tiptoed around the front and peeked into the barn. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the darker interior, but a noise from the back captured her attention.

  The man was facing away from her, but she was sure it was Paul. Same build. Same clothes. Same hair color. The gas can was set to the side, and he had a rake in his hand, dragging it through some loose straw, piling it into a small mound.

  The two pregnant goats were bleating, and she reacted, no plan in mind other than to halt his progress. Stepping into the doorway, her hands still holding onto Rufus’ leash, she shouted, “What the hell are you doing in my barn?”