Too Many Secrets

by E B Corbin

  “Sorry, sorry,” Roxanne apologized. “I’m looking for the office.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Roxanne Boudreaux, Roxy’s niece. You must be Leonard, the chef.”

  “Chief cook and bottle washer’s more like it.” He nodded to his right. “Second door.”

  The small, drab room needed organization. Orders for supplies overflowed a tray on the desk while three file cabinets lined the back wall holding more papers on top waiting to be filed. With no other windows in the room, it would have been too dark to see anything without the half-window in the door leading outside. The gray light coming in at this hour didn’t illuminate the space enough for any kind of search.

  Roxanne flipped a switch bathing the room in a harsh fluorescent glow.

  Not much in there. Aside from the file cabinets and desk drawers, the office had too little space for storage. A small refrigerator sat next to the file cabinets, with a laser printer in the corner. The printer stand had two doors, probably holding toner and paper. Not a likely place for a copy of the will.

  A safe would be the smartest place to keep important papers but it would be hard to get open unless one knew the combination. Roxanne glanced around once more. She saw nothing resembling a floor safe, so she looked behind the calendar and a painting on the wall. Nothing there, either.

  At least the cabinets were unlocked. She chose the one on the far left, starting at the top, thumbing through the folders, finding nothing relevant. Receipts, orders, paid bills, to-be-paid folders, nothing hinted at private paperwork.

  Roxanne gave up individual scrutiny of the folders. She opened the second drawer, glanced at the folders, then slammed it shut. Since the neatly printed labels on front showed the year of the folders inside, she moved to the far right cabinet. The bottom two drawers, labeled before 1999, were stuffed so full it proved difficult to open them, let alone dig through the contents.

  With a sigh, Roxanne banged the file drawer shut slumping onto the desk chair. This was getting her nowhere. Tiny pricks of pain marched across her head, reminding her that, twenty-four hours ago, she was attacked while alone at another desk. She searched through the desk for pain relievers discovering a half-full bottle of Advil in the second drawer on the right. Never a fan of swallowing pills dry, Roxanne went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

  Most of the frenetic activity had died down. While Leonard prepared a grilled cheese sandwich to fill a last-minute order, Patti came through the swinging doors, stopping when she saw Roxanne. She held up a finger asking her to wait, then turned around calling, “Hey, Snukie, cover me for a few?”

  “Sure, be glad to.” Snukie gave Roxanne a curious once-over as she moved to retrieve the order.

  Roxanne offered a friendly smile. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Roxanne Boudreaux.”

  “Yeah, I figured. Snukie Taylor, nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” Roxanne held out her hand.

  Snukie pushed it away coming in close to give Roxanne a hug. “We miss Roxy so much. I’m so sorry to meet you like this.”

  “Now, Snukie, don’t go fallin’ apart.” Patti admonished the spirited waitress. “Roxanne an’ I have some business matters to talk over. I’ll be in the office if ya need me.”

  Snukie sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I’d better get back out there. Gloria’ll be wondering what happened to her dinner.” She lifted the sandwich plate in a farewell salute.

  Roxanne followed Patti into the small room.

  The waitress plunked down on the desk chair, leaving a wooden straight-back for Roxanne. Before Roxanne settled into the uncomfortable chair, Patti started, “So I’ve been meanin’ to tell ya, I found the will.”

  “You did? Great!”

  “Well, not so great for you. As near as I can tell, since I’m no fancy lawyer or anything, Roxy left me the diner and all her cash. It looks like you got the farm.” Patti sat back crossing her arms over her chest barely able to hide a telltale smirk.

  Roxanne took a minute to let the news sink in. She cared little about the diner—couldn’t imagine what she would do with it if it were hers. The farm, on the other hand, was worth a lot, thanks to Judge Walters offer. Still, why did Ralph Patterson lead her to believe she was the sole heir if it wasn’t true?

  “Can I see it?” Roxanne asked. “The will.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. I stuck it back in the secret drawer when I found it this mornin’.” Patti opened the middle drawer and poked around the back corner. “This damned thing is so hard to open. I don’t know why I didn’t just stick it in another drawer.” Finally, with a low click, the bottom of drawer lifted. Patti reached in to pull out the will. She handed it Roxanne with a self-satisfied grin.

  Roxanne took her time before studying Patti’s discovery. What was Roxy’s thing for secret compartments? So far, every desk Roxanne found had a hidden space—even Ralph Patterson’s desk had a drawer with a false bottom. What made a hiding place so important to these people?

  She shook off her wandering thoughts while she stared at the will. A faded blue cover with a torn top corner, unlike the pristine condition of the one Roxanne vaguely recalled. When Roxanne read the date, a synapse fired in her foggy memory. The will she held in her hand showed December 31, 2012 on the front. The one from yesterday was drawn up on June 15, 2016.

  “This is an old will,” Roxanne informed Patti.

  “What? Whadda ya mean? It’s the will Roxy had hidden here in the desk. What makes you think it’s old? Do wills have expiration dates?”

  “No. But the one I saw yesterday had a newer date on it.”

  Patti frowned. “You sure? I thought ya didn’t get a chance to read it?”

  “How do you know I didn’t read it?” Roxanne asked, feeling uncomfortable.

  Patti grew flustered. “You told me! This morning when ya came in.”

  “I don’t think so.” Her suspicions of Patti surged back. “The only person I told was Luke.”

  “Well, that’s it then. Luke musta told me.” Patti sat back against the chair.

  Roxanne wondered why Luke would talk to Patti about the will, but instinct warned her to back off any further accusations. She held the sheets with their faded blue cover in her hand as her befuddled mind reconstructed her memory of the contents she’d partially read before the blow to her head.

  She remembered Roxy had left the diner, the house in town, along with the farm, and all the cash in trust to Roxanne Boudreaux. Of course, now Roxanne knew she wasn’t Roxy’s niece, but her daughter, so it made more sense. She didn’t bother to hide the skepticism creeping into her voice. “This is definitely not the latest will.”

  “Well, I say it is, an’ unless you got some other will, this one stands.” Patti folded her arms.

  “The one I found yesterday is missing. That one supersedes this.” Roxanne dropped the old will on the desk. “I’ll keep looking until I find the newer version.”

  “You’re tryin’ to cheat me out of my money with all that fancy talk.” Patti leaned forward, her hands fisted on the desktop. “We’ll see about that!”

  “I’m not trying—”

  Luke walked into the small office, crowding the space. “Is there a problem here?”

  “Yeah, there’s a problem. A big problem. This bitch is tryin’ to tell me this will is no good.” Patti stood up, flinging her arms in Roxanne’s direction. “She’s tryin’ to cheat me.”

  Luke looked from Patti to Roxanne. “That so?”

  “Of course not.” Roxanne had a feeling the situation could deteriorate quickly if she didn’t relieve the growing tension in the room. “I merely told her there is a newer will.”

  “You told me you didn’t read it,” Luke said. “How’d you know it was newer?”

  “I remembered the date. Plus I know the terms differed from this one.”

  Luke blew out a breath looking to Patti. “Well, what do ya wanna do?”

  “What do ya think I wanna do? Get rid of h
er. If nobody finds the other will and nobody ‘cept little miss goody-two-shoes here has seen it, then this here will’s good.”

  Roxanne sat stunned.

  “Could start a whole passel of trouble.” Luke stroked his chin. “If she goes missin’, Callahan or her parents will kick up a fuss.”

  “Wait just a minute!” Roxanne’s heart thumped in her throat. “You don’t want to do anything crazy!”

  Patti’s smile broadened as she turned to Roxanne. “No, it makes perfect sense. Sides from Patterson, who’s no longer a problem, you’re the only one who knows about the other will. If you turn up missin’, I’ll take this over to that quack Oldinger. I’ll get him to do whatever needs done to put the diner in my name. He’s so old, he’ll never even remember doing it.”

  “You’re nuts!” Roxanne blurted. “Do you think no one will come looking for me? Do you really think you can get away with it?”

  “I’ll cook up a cover story.” Patti's expression turned stoic. “Just need some time to come up with a workable explanation. I can do it; I’m good at that kind of thing.”

  Luke seemed hesitant. “Maybe we should think this over. We could get in a lotta trouble if somethin’ goes wrong.”

  Patti replied, “Then make sure nothin’ goes wrong.”

  Luke gave up on changing Patti's mind. He motioned to Roxanne. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” She clung to the rickety chair. “If you try to force me, I’ll scream.”

  “Then I guess I’ll knock you out again,” Luke said with a shrug. “Or maybe just shoot you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “How will you explain my gunshot wound?” Roxanne asked, sounding more confident than she felt.

  Luke paused a moment, then focused on the back door. “Easy, someone wearing gloves broke the window, unlocked the door, and tried to rob the place. You got shot by resistin’.”

  “With your gun?” She saw no reason to hide her skepticism. “With a roomful of witnesses a few feet away.”

  “No, by the gun your aunt kept in her desk.” Luke nodded to Patti, who opened the top right drawer pulling out a .32 while smirking at Roxanne. “‘Sides, no one said it had to happen now. I could tie ya up, stick a gag in your smart mouth, ’n wait ’till the diner closes. Your choice.”

  Roxanne needed another lump on her head like she needed a fly in her soup. She figured she’d been lucky the second time to come away with just a minor concussion. A third hit could be the end of her. Then again, so could getting shot in a fake robbery.

  “I have somewhere I need to be in fifteen minutes.” Luke looked at the old Coca-Cola clock on the wall. “I don’t want to leave ya here, since someone might find ya before we’re ready. You’re comin’ with me one way or another.”

  This entire situation felt ludicrous. Roxanne would have laughed if she wasn’t scared out of her boots. Even though they’d never get away with it, she’d still be dead.

  However, when dealing with psychos, it was probably best to go along with them. She had the Beretta in her bag, so if she could bide her time, she had a chance—a slight chance; better than nothing. With no other option, she marched in front of Luke to the exterior door while Patti remained at the desk toying with Roxy’s gun.

  “Bring her back later tonight,” Patti told him. “I like that break-in idea.”

  Luke nodded before shoving Roxanne out the door.

  Patti’s car sat alone in the rear lot. The old Ford Pinto had seen better days. Roxanne wondered if they’d make it out of the parking space as she followed Luke. Her trepidation grew with each step. “This is a stupid plan. You’ll both end up in jail.”

  “Shut the hell up,” Luke answered. He popped the trunk signaling for her to crawl in.

  “I’m not getting in there,” she protested. “I’ll never fit with all that junk.”

  Luke reached in, pulled out a bald tire with one hand tossing it toward the side of the building. He hit his palm several times with a jack handle. “I think this stays with me.”

  “Why can’t I sit up front with you? I won’t try anything.”

  “Yeah, right.” Luke snorted. “Jist get in ’n shut your mouth. I don’t have time to fool around.” He gave her another shove.

  The last thing she wanted to do was crawl in that dirty trunk. The rock salt spilt from an open bucket mixed with dried mud from the spare made her want to gag. She wanted to protest again but clamped her lips tight when she saw Patti’s evil smile in the office window. If she fumbled through her bag for her gun, both Patti and Luke would be on her before she located her father’s gift. Plus Luke still held the handle to the jack.

  She glanced around, hoping someone from the diner would notice them, but the rear of the building sheltered them from the customer parking lot. A field spread out as far as she could see in the other direction. The woods to the right were so thick, no one would see them from that side. The night sky offered little illumination as the new moon hid behind the gray clouds rolling in. No help in sight.

  With a sigh, she climbed into the space squirming to get comfortable. Before she could settle in, Luke slammed the lid on her shoulder. She wiggled around in the dark space, blindly feeling for a trunk release. No luck— Patti’s car was built long before they became a legal requirement.

  Roxanne initially planned to track their journey by the motion of the vehicle but she soon realized she wasn’t familiar enough with Oilville to guess their destination. The car slowed as Luke pulled onto the main road from the parking lot. Even though it felt as if they turned in the opposite direction from town, it didn’t matter. They could go anywhere. All these country back roads looked alike to her and even if she sat in the front passenger seat, with wide open eyes, she’d have no idea where they were.

  Her gun, her ace in the hole, lay in the jumble of her messenger bag. She twisted until she managed to reach into her bag. After a few minutes, she found the pistol nestled in the bottom corner. She settled it at her right side resting her left hand near the rock salt, another potential weapon, and waited.

  They made a few turns: left, right, right. She gave up trying to remember them. It seemed like forever before the car took a sharp turn, creeping along a bumpy road.

  They came to a stop after about five minutes on the rutted path. Roxanne tensed, waiting for her chance to attack. Luke called out to someone. One voice answered—then a second. Dammit, it would be hard to aim her little Beretta at three different guys at the same time. And on the off chance she blinded Luke with rock salt, she had at least two other men to deal with. Not good odds. She slipped the gun into her jacket pocket while releasing the salt she clutched in her left hand.

  Someone groused, “It’s about time you got here.”

  “I ran into a little problem,” Luke told them.

  The third voice chimed in. “Jesus Christ! What is it now?”

  “Nothin’ you need to worry about.” Luke opened the trunk, grabbing Roxanne’s arm to haul her out. While she tried to get her balance on legs that tingled from being bent in an awkward position for too long, the other men gaped at her.

  “What the hell?” A big guy asked. Roxane recognized him as the larger of the two men who broke into her condo. In an attempt to maintain a neutral expression, she lowered her head, pretending to study the rocky ground while checking out the others with her peripheral vision.

  The shorter intruder stood off to the side, hanging back as if he regretted his participation in whatever they had planned.

  Another man with a full bushy beard stood with his arms crossed, his feet spread. She counted four men including Luke. They formed a circle surrounding her. Thinking there could be others, Roxanne remained still, barely breathing, glaring at Luke.

  The bearded man demanded in a gruff voice, “What’s goin’ on? What’s she doin’ here?”

  “Pretend she isn’t here,” Luke said, grabbing her arm. “It’s just temporary.” He pulled her up two steps onto a shaky
porch with unpainted wood planks, some sticking up randomly. In a few places, the floorboards were missing altogether. With his foot, he kicked open the sagging door.

  A strident voice protested, “Hey, now, no need to be attackin’ our door, here. My da’ll not be too happy ’bout that.”

  “Shut up,” Luke commanded without looking back.

  He pushed Roxanne into a room which seemed to be in only slightly better shape than the porch. A lumpy, faded green couch sat underneath a cracked window, tilting forward on the unfinished, dirty, wood-plank flooring. A table surrounded by four battered chairs with peeling paint took up the center of the cabin. Three somber deer heads hung from the side wall, staring with empty eyes at a rusty refrigerator and grease-covered stove across the room. Roxanne tried to avoid looking at any of it.

  The place reeked of smoke, sweat, and some foul musk she couldn’t identify. She held her breath to keep from gagging, but that wouldn’t work for long, maybe a minute if she were lucky. When she tripped over a muddy dog toy on the floor, she caught herself on one of the rickety chairs. She scanned a few feet ahead, keeping her eyes cast down, certain she didn’t want to see, or smell, any more of this sty than necessary.

  Luke gave her another shove toward a door at the back of the cabin. This door had a large bolt lock attached at about eye level. Her breath whooshed out causing her to inhale the putrid air. She hesitated, the bile rising in her throat and swallowed several times to keep from throwing up. No way did she want to go in there.

  “Move,” Luke growled.

  She stepped with snail-like speed, wondering if she had enough time to draw the gun from her pocket. She hesitated, fighting off doubts. Even if she whipped the pistol out, did she have the guts to pull the trigger? Then what would she do?

  As she slid her hand into her pocket, another man stomped into the room. “You better tell us what the hell you’re doin’. We didn’t sign on for nothin’ like this.”

  “It don’t have nothin’ to do with you,” Luke snarled. “Get back outside.”