The Guard's Last Watch (A Bexley Squires Mystery)

by Quinn Avery

  While Bexley was relieved she wouldn’t be making a trip to Halliwell’s mansion in the near future, she realized that without having the ability to speak with Redding, she wasn’t sure how she’d track down the drug kingpin. A trip to Iowa—as painful as it sounded—seemed unavoidable.

  “Hope you like a good cuppa cinnamon,” Mrs. Beers announced, waddling into the room with two steaming porcelain floral cups.

  “Thank you,” Bexley replied, accepting one. She took a tentative sip, surprised how much she enjoyed the dark liquid with a cinnamon kick. As Mrs. Beers settled into a gold arm chair, Bexley cleared her throat. “What can you tell me about Travis Paxton?”

  The woman’s face lit up with a smile. “Oh, he was a lovely tenant. Always paid his rent before it was due, kept the house immaculate, never had parties or played horrendous music.” She folded her hands in her lap. “You know one time, on my eighty-seventh birthday, he brought me a large bouquet of red roses. It was almost as big as my kitchen table! Another time, he paid to have a team of gentleman landscape my yard. They put in a new sidewalk that goes all the way around the house, and filled in beautiful rocks around my prized lilac bushes.” She leaned forward and lifted a hand to her mouth. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone this, but he even had a little fountain installed in the backyard featuring a sculpture of my late husband!” Leaning back, she laughed quietly. “That Travis has a big heart, I tell you. He’s given me so many presents over the years, and he insists I don’t have to worry about paying him back. I was so sad to see him move away, but he promised he’d come back and visit me often.”

  So Travis hadn’t been evicted as Simone believed, and he’d showered his landlord with extravagant gifts. With every second the woman spoke, Bexley was convinced the annoying stoner everyone else knew Travis to be was a carefully executed act. “Did he keep his promise to stop by for visits?”

  Mrs. Beers nodded, her smile growing. “Oh yes. Every Tuesday evening after his afternoon shift, he brings me a fresh gourmet dinner from the restaurant. That boy can cook, I tell you.”

  “And does he still bring you presents? Like maybe that Caddy in the driveway?”

  “The car was just one of many extravagant presents I’ve received. He’s sent me on trips with my family, and paid off my mortgage.” Tucking her chin, she flashed an adorably shy smile. “He makes me feel like Priscilla Presley.”

  Except Travis was no Elvis. “Mrs. Beers, are you aware if Travis works anywhere other than La Belle’s?”

  Once again, the woman cupped her hand around her mouth, eyes sparkling as if she was about to share a scandalous secret. “He sells a little bit of the marijuana on the side. He tells me it’s perfectly legal because they can get it from stores now, but the rich college kids aren’t all of legal age.”

  It would take a helluva lot of weed to pay for a new Caddy, Bexley decided. “Anything else?”

  “Why are you asking so many questions?” The old woman’s expression hardened. “Travis isn’t in some sort of trouble, is he?”

  “Oh no, it’s nothing like that,” Bexley lied. She set the teacup on the coffee table and stood. “I’m sorry to leave so soon, but I’m afraid I have other matters that require my attention.”

  “Come back anytime, my dear! I always welcome visitors!”

  Even though she wasn’t there for a social call, Bexley felt a twinge of guilt for leaving the old woman. Before starting her Explorer, she fired a text off to Grayson. She needed him to convince Craig Roth to reach out to his resources with a specific description of a perp. She included the picture she’d taken on her phone of Mrs. Beers with Travis beside the Caddy.

  Bexley caught Simone as she was locking her apartment door. Despite the cool fall weather, the model wore a gauze white shirt over a scoop-cut bikini top the same color as her bubble gum pink nails, paired with torn jeans shorts. Her dog was tucked under one arm, and a beach bag under the other. Sensing Bexley before its owner, the dog yipped.

  When the slender model whirled around, Bexley flashed a cheery smile. “Simone, hi! I was hoping you’d answer a couple more questions about the earrings.”

  “I don’t have time,” Simone snapped, slipping past Bexley. “I’m on my way to the beach.”

  Bexley jogged to keep up with the model’s long strides. “I hope you packed a big blanket. Wouldn’t want sand getting in all the wrong places during your tryst with Nick.”

  Gasping, Simone spun around. “How’d you know about us? Did he tell you?”

  Satisfied with herself for being right about them, Bexley crossed her arms and smirked. “Unless the two of you were involved in the disappearance of the emerald earrings, I honestly don’t care what you’re doing in the sand.” Then she threw Simone a stern look. “But I’ll only promise not to tell his wife about his proclivity to young models if you’ll answer my questions.”

  Simone’s shoulders dropped. “I swear I didn’t have anything to do with those earrings. I was just as surprised as everyone else. And I was dead serious when I said Nick isn’t smart enough to pull something like that off. The man might be great in the sack, but there’s not a lot going on upstairs. I’m only sleeping with him because I’m bored, and he’s hot.”

  Rather than pointing out how Simone’s “boredom” could break up a family, Bexley physically shook the annoyance from her head. “Is there any way your brother would’ve known about the earrings before the fashion show?”

  “You think Travis stole them.” From the tone of her voice and her even expression, Bexley wasn’t sure how Simone felt about the accusation.

  “Do you think it’s possible?”

  “Probably,” Simone said with a shrug. “He can be super smart when he’s not actively killing brain cells with weed.”

  “Did you maybe tell him about the earrings, or show him a picture?”

  Simone dragged her bottom lip through her teeth while petting her dog’s head. “I totally forgot until now…he took a picture of me wearing them. The day I went in for the initial fitting, he showed up early to give me a ride home. He said he was sending a snap of his hot sister to his friends.”

  Adrenaline spiked Bexley’s core. Her instincts had to be right. “Where is he now?”

  “He left for work, like, an hour ago.”

  Bexley darted back in the direction of the parking lot.

  “Wait!” Simone called after her. “Are you going to arrest Trav because of what I said?”

  Before Bexley reached her SUV, her phone pinged with a reply text.

  Roth’s contact made a positive ID on Travis Paxton

  He’s our guy, Bex

  On her way to La Belle’s, Bexley called Brewer. He answered the burner phone with a deep, grunted, “What?” It was hard to say if he was tired, or merely irritated from being caged up.

  “I’m going to confront Redding in Iowa.”

  “He won’t talk to you unless I’m there.”

  She’d begun to suspect Brewer would insist on coming along. Still, he was a wanted man. “How’s that going to work? You won’t last five minutes in the airport before you’re arrested, and it’s an entire day’s drive. We don’t have that kind of time.”

  “Give me a couple hours. I can easily get my hands on a new ID, and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Are you sure you want to risk it?”

  “I need to know who had Stinger killed.”

  It was a dangerous confession—one that implied consequences would follow—but Bexley understood where he was coming from. And she was grateful he wasn’t joining her because he was worried about her safety.

  La Belle’s parking lot was packed, forcing Bexley to park in the alley behind the restaurant. Heidi Steele, the waitress who had found Temperance’s dog after it’d been kidnapped, just happened to be smoking a cigarette by the back door.

  Heidi let out a high giggle as Bexley started for her. “Should’a known I’d be seeing you again.”

  “How have you been, Heidi?” Bexley as
ked, stopping a few feet away. “How’s your daughter?”

  The lanky brunette stretched her arms out at her sides. “As you can see I’m still livin’ the dream. I had to take on more shifts after I kicked Davis out.” She sucked on the cigarette, momentarily deep in thought. “The last time he knocked me around, his fist missed the baby by an inch. I decided Casey couldn’t grow up in a home like that.”

  “That must’ve been hard,” Bexley told her, relieved to hear she’d taken a stand. Maybe there’d be hope for little Casey to grow up in a safe environment.

  Heidi didn’t say anything as she tossed the cigarette onto the concrete, stomping it out with a worn ballet flat. “I suppose you’re here to see Travis.”

  “Can you get him for me?”

  “No can do. He up and quit about a half an hour ago. Didn’t give a notice or explanation. Just gave me a hug and told me to take good care of myself and Casey.”

  Simone must’ve given him a heads up. “Do you know where he was headed?”

  “No, but I have something for you.” Heidi pulled a sealed white envelope out from her pants pocket. “He told me to give this to the hot detective lady that would come around asking questions about him. I should’ve figured it’d be you.”

  Bexley took the envelope. “Thanks, Heidi. Take care.”

  Once she was back inside her SUV, she eagerly tore the envelope open.

  Dear hot detective lady,

  Though I’m impressed by your adroitness, you’re still a day too late and a dollar too short.

  You forced me to split town earlier than planned.

  No one in Papaya Springs would move the earrings once you started sniffing around, so I suppose the $5M I’ve already swindled will have to suffice.

  I left the earrings at my sister’s. They’re underneath the couch cushions (she never cleans the place). I figured you seem nice enough, so I wanted to help you by placing another solved case under your belt.

  Simone was 100% uninvolved in the heist. She’s really as dense as she appears. No need to drag her into my shenanigans. Between our shitty parents and a string of old men using her, she’s been through enough.

  Don’t waste your valuable time looking for me. Once you came around, I decided to get my affairs in order, and prepared a foolproof plan to flee the country if you were to get too close. I’m off to live the kind of footloose and fancy-free life I’ve dreamed of for as long as I can remember. One that’s filled with adventure, love, and unbridled happiness. I’m done with this work-yourself-to-an-early-grave bullshit this country has drilled into our heads.

  As Socrates once said, “It is not living that matters, but living rightly.”

  I hope you do the same.

  A slow smile crept across Bexley’s face. Though she would’ve preferred to put someone behind bars for the theft, she couldn’t help but feel satisfied. His confession lifted the heavy weight from her conscience. Not only would she be able to return the earrings to Kiersten, essentially saving her best friend’s career, but her time was freed up for a trip out of state.

  16

  By the time the golden crop fields of rural Iowa rolled past, sunrise peaking in beautiful pastel tones across the horizon, Bexley was grateful for the sleep she’d caught on the flight over. She’d never seen a highway as quiet as the one that led them to Otis Welder’s family acreage, and it was imperative that she stay alert. Several times she was forced to slow down for enormous machines that took up three quarters of the asphalt. She knew the alternating green and red monstrosities must be used for some type of farming purpose, but couldn’t imagine what was involved.

  While Brewer secured a false identification, Bexley retrieved the earrings from Simone and returned them to Kiersten. Both women were moved to tears with the news. Simone was certain Bexley was going to call the police and have her arrested. Kiersten was so excited to have the genuine emeralds back in her possession that she’d been on the verge of passing out.

  Because of the trip to Iowa, Bexley refused Kiersten’s offer to take her out for dinner “somewhere fabulous” to celebrate. Instead Bexley reluctantly agreed to Kiersten’s second offer that involved ridiculously frivolous activities like massages and manicures the following weekend.

  Bexley reached out to Grayson next, wanting to thank him for all he’d done, but the call went straight to his voicemail. He’d never rejected her calls before, and she wasn’t quite sure how it made her feel.

  With a handful of miles to go, Brewer stirred awake in the compact car’s passenger seat, rubbing both hands over his face. Bexley agreed it was necessary to alter his appearance, but she doubted she’d ever adjust to seeing him clean-shaven with uniformly short hair. His lips were fuller, jaw thicker. Even his eyes suddenly seemed a clearer hue of chestnut brown, and their golden flecks danced. The stroke of a razor had amplified everything that made him attractive. It felt as if a stranger was sitting beside her. Most eerie was the way he’d covered his inked skin with a concealer—an idea he copied from an ex-girlfriend who taught at a strict daycare—and wore a chambray button-down. Bexley had never seen him appear so…straight-laced. He could’ve passed for an investment banker or lawyer.

  It irritated Bexley to no end the way the new look completely stole her ability to breathe. Especially when she actually missed his tattoos.

  “Stop looking at me like that, Squires,” he grumbled behind his hands. “I’m self-conscious enough already. I’ve never felt so damn naked.”

  Pretending she hadn’t heard him say “naked” and that it hadn’t invoked an interesting visual, her eyes snapped back to the road. “You’ve missed out on all the fun. I’ve been playing Frogger with farm equipment the size of houses for the past hour.”

  He removed his hands from his face and arched a single eyebrow. “Why does it suddenly feel like we’re on the set of a horror movie?”

  She loved that his mind went to the same dark place. “That would explain all the chainsaw wielding psychos and possessed children I’ve passed.”

  With a chuckle, he motioned to her phone perched on the dashboard. “Looks like we’re almost there. I should be able to charm my way inside without any problem. The time Redding’s mom came out to visit us on base, she thought I was the best thing since sliced bread.”

  At the intersection, Bexley glanced over her left shoulder for oncoming traffic, and rolled her eyes to herself. “Don’t you mean the best thing since cat-nip was introduced to cougars?”

  “You afraid of losing me to an older woman, Squires?” Brewer teased.

  Too afraid of where the banter would lead, Bexley let the jab slide. GPS took them to a long driveway flanked with dried cornstalks twice as tall as the rental car. Bexley was certain the app was leading them to their untimely death until a grand, two-story farmhouse came into view. It was surrounded by barren fenced-in pastures and dilapidated buildings.

  A remodel had begun on the 18th century structure in which they’d started to add a Craftsman-style porch with exposed beams. Yet it was only partially complete, and there weren’t any tools or materials nearby to indicate the presence of a contractor.

  “Redding’s dad died a few years back,” Brewer commented bitterly. “You’d think he’d have the decency to use his drug money to hire someone to finish this place.”

  Bexley parked beside the only vehicle in the yard—a white sedan with Florida plates and a barcode at the base of the windshield.

  “Must be his rental,” she said. “Hopefully that means he’s here.”

  “It’s early enough…he’ll probably still be in bed.” Reaching for the door handle, Brewer glanced at her over his shoulder. “Follow my lead.”

  Slightly annoyed that he assumed he was in control of the situation, Bexley grumbled to herself as she grabbed her handbag and stepped out of the car. In a stark comparison to California, it was crisp outside—enough that she could see her breath, and she wished she’d brought more than her lightweight moto jacket. Huffing on her chilled han
ds, she met up with Brewer beneath the partially constructed porch when he rang the doorbell. As the ornate blue door began to swing open a few moments later, he slipped his arm around Bexley’s shoulders and pulled her close.

  A curvy, attractive woman in her mid-forties scowled back at them. She wore an oversized “Highly Suspect” band t-shirt over bare legs and tattooed arms. Her dark hair hung in tangled waves down to where her free nipples pressed against the thin cotton. “Can I help you?”

  “It’s me, Nic,” Brewer replied with a deep chuckle, “Brewer Hawkins. I know it’s been a few years, but—”

  “Oh my god, Hawk!” the woman squealed, pouncing on him with open arms. “It’s been ages! I’m so glad you’re here! Something’s not right with my O-man!”

  Bexley attempted to pull away from the awkward ambush, but Brewer’s strong hand slipped down to lock around her waist as he withdrew from the woman. “That’s why I came,” he lied, flashing one of his irresistible grins. “I figured he needed a friend.”

  “Oh, Hawk, you always were so sweet…and so handsome.” She ran her hand down his muscular arm, then threw Bexley a terse smile. “Who’s your friend?”

  “My girl-friend,” he corrected with an air of pride, squeezing Bexley against him. “Bexley, this is Redding’s mom, Nicole.”

  Girlfriend? Bexley would find a way to make him pay for the little charade. In the meantime, she’d play along. “It’s so nice to meet you, Nicole,” she told the woman, injecting honey into her voice. “Brewer had nothing but sweet things to say the time he met you in California.”

  Nicole’s smile warmed until it felt genuine. “Well, you got lucky with this one, Bexley. He’s the total package.” While throwing Brewer a sultry wink, she took a step back, holding the door open. “Come in! I’ll get breakfast going while you wake O. He’s in the last room on the right up on the second floor. He’ll be so surprised to see you here!”