Too Many Secrets

by E B Corbin

  “We’ll handle it.” Callahan’s voice held more confidence than Roxanne felt. “Besides, the chief had to realize Luke was twisted. His file is full of complaints from citizens about brutality, extortion, and a foul temper. The chief will come around.”

  “You saw his file?”

  “The State Department has a lot of resources.”

  “I’ll bet they do,” Roxanne said. “How on Earth did you get a document from the Attorney General?”

  “Gramps did it. He called in some favors.”

  “Please, thank Chester for me.”

  “You can do it yourself. Gramps wants me to bring you to the farm. He doesn’t like you staying at Roxy’s place all alone. Besides, he has something to tell you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  They stopped at Roxy’s house before heading to Chester’s farm so Roxanne could shower and change her rank clothing. She debated between tossing the garments into the trash or burning them. She ended up dumping them into the hamper in the bathroom instead. Roxy had a washer and dryer, and most important, plenty of high-powered detergent. She might need more clean clothes before she got out of this mess, so she couldn’t afford to pitch any of them yet— except her parka, it was a lost cause. Good thing she’d brought her peacoat as backup.

  As the piping hot water poured over her in the large shower, she washed her hair twice taking care around the still tender bump at the back of her head. She considered a third time hoping to erase any lingering rank odor but dismissed it as overkill.

  The room turned into a steam bath before she stepped out, but she felt clean for the first time since yesterday morning. She pulled on a pair of jeans, a long-sleeve white shirt, then added a tan sweater and clean wool socks. That should be enough to keep her warm, at least for a while. She had no choice but to put her sock-clad feet into her fur-lined North Face boots, a bit bulky for walking around inside but at least they didn’t reek from the filthy cabin.

  She needed coffee, even though it was nearly three in the afternoon. Callahan glanced up from his phone when she entered the kitchen, nodded and resumed his conversation.

  Once the haze cleared, her mind worked at a frantic pace. Realizing it was foolish to let pride get in the way when she could be arrested, she decided to phone Richard. He was a criminal attorney, a good one, she could use his help to find a competent colleague. It wouldn’t hurt to obtain a recommendation before it was too late.

  She searched her messenger bag for her phone and walked into the living area to make the call so as not to distract Callahan from whatever his call involved. With one deep breath to calm her anxiety, she hoped he hadn’t changed his number when he changed jobs and pushed #1 on her speed dial before she changed her mind. She made a mental note to remove him as the number one contact and relegate him to the general contact list. Richard no longer deserved to be number one on her phone or in her life.

  “Richard speaking.”

  “Uh, Richard, hi.”

  Cool and professional, he asked, “What can I do for you, Roxanne?” His tone showed not a hint of surprise at her call.

  “Well, uh, I’m in a bit of trouble here, and, um, I need advice.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Yeah, uh, I… I think I might be charged with murder.”

  “Murder! Jesus Christ, what happened?”

  “I, um, I shot a man.”

  “You shot someone? Hell, Roxanne that’s not a bit of trouble, that’s big trouble.”

  “It was self-defense, I swear. The thing is… he was a deputy with the local police here in Oilville, and the rest of the force doesn’t want to believe me.” She walked to the window, looking out at the quiet street. The plow had left grey snow dotted with pieces of asphalt piled high along the curb. Captivated by the depressing scene, her death grip on the phone loosened.

  “You shot a cop? Holy shit!” Richard’s astonished voice brought her back to reality. “Where the hell is Oilville, and what are you doing there?”

  “It’s a long story. Listen, I need a referral to a criminal attorney, preferably close by, and I hoped you might be able recommend someone. I realize it’s a lot to ask under the circumstances, but you’re my best option for advice— actually my only option at this time.”

  “Let me pull up a map.” After a pause, Richard asked, “Is Oilville in Pennsylvania?”

  “Yes, north of Pittsburgh, south of Erie.”

  “Found it. Not very big, I almost missed it.” A few seconds later, he spoke again. “There’s a guy in Erie, but I haven’t spoken to him in a couple of years and I’m not sure if he’s still in the area or not.”

  “Erie’s close enough. What’s his number?”

  “I’ll call him first and have him call you if he’s interested and available.”

  “Thanks, I really appreciate this. I hate to bother you with your new job and all. How’s it going by the way?” She wanted to sound interested. Even though she cared little about his situation, she appreciated his willingness to help.

  “It’s good so far. I’ve only been here a few days, but it’s nice to work with kindred spirits. All the guys in the firm are criminal attorneys. I’m not the odd man out.” Richard’s voice had the same condescending tone she recognized from their years together. It never troubled her before, but now she grimaced at the sound of it. “If my guy in Erie doesn’t work out for you, we have some high-powered people here who might be willing to take on your case. Of course, it will cost more and it might take extra time with travel and all, but still… ”

  “I’ll keep it in mind. At present, I’m not sure where things stand. I’m taking it one day at a time.” She paused, uncertain where to go from there. “Glad your new job is going well for you.”

  “What about you? I heard you were offered the partnership.” The question sounded half-hearted, posed out of politeness more than caring.

  “Yeah, well, that was before I became a murder suspect.” It surprised her he knew about the partnership; more so that he even bothered to mention it.

  “I know how much you wanted it. If you’re innocent, they’ll understand.” For a change, Richard seemed sincere.

  She held back a snort. “Do you really think that?”

  “They’re mainly bastards, but you never can tell.”

  “That’s the truth. Anyway, I’m not sure I want to be a partner anymore. A lot has happened in the past few days.”

  “Sounds that way. Are you all right? Anything I can do besides get you a defense attorney?”

  “No, thanks again. I’m sorry things didn’t work between us. You sound happy though.”

  “I feel better about myself now. And I’m sorry about us too. I should have handled things differently,” Richard told her.

  “Well, we both could have. I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks a million for this. If you ever need anything…”

  “I’ll let you know.” Richard hesitated. “Good talking to you.”

  “Same here,” Her words were lost to dead air.

  When she turned, she almost ran into Callahan who stood in the doorway to the living room.

  “What was that all about?” he asked.

  “Just trying to keep my butt out of jail. I talked to a guy who might know a guy—”

  “Hey, this will all work out; you’ll see.” Callahan moved closer pulling her into his arms. “I’m not going to let Chief Walters railroad you.”

  His embrace felt so comforting, she rested her head on his shoulder. “You’ll try, but it can’t hurt to be prepared with an attorney, in case things don’t go as planned.”

  “I’m an attorney,” Callahan informed her.

  “You are?” Roxanne pulled back to look at him. “I thought you were a federal agent of some kind.”

  “Federal agents can be attorneys too.”

  “So you’re not just all brawn and a pretty face.”

  “Not by a long shot.” He released her from his embrace and stepped back, his hands sliding to her elbo
ws. “Now, are you ready? You smell a lot better.”

  Roxanne fought off the urge to move closer and took a step away instead. She had to get over this attraction. They could be friends; the most she was able to accept at this time in her life. “I will be. Give me a few minutes.” She kept her voice light. “Are you sure Chester won’t mind me hanging around?”

  “Are you kidding? He’ll be thrilled.”

  “I’ll follow you in Roxy’s truck in case I need it.”

  “Where do you think you might need to go?”

  “You never know. I just don’t like to be without transportation. Speaking of that, do you know when the shop will finish repairing my car?”

  “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. They’re waiting for some parts. Not too many Lexuses up here. It should be ready by next Monday.”

  “Shit, I’d hoped sooner.”

  “If you were driving a Chevy, you’d have it back already. That’s what you get for owning one of those fancy cars.” He snickered. “In the meantime you’re stuck with a good ole boy pickup.”

  “Oh, shut up.” She walked up the stairs to grab her duffel containing the last clean change of clothes she’d brought along. This had to be over soon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  At Chester’s farm, they found the old man gathering eggs in the chicken house. “Glad you came.”

  “I’m happy to accept your invitation,” She stepped closer to check out the birds. “Although it might be inconvenient for you.”

  He didn’t look up as he reached under another hen. “It’s good to be able to help. I have plenty of space. You may take the front bedroom until this is over.”

  “I feel like such a nuisance.”

  “Not at all.” Chester smiled at her with a twinkle in his eye. “Have you ever gathered eggs?”

  “Never, but how hard can it be?”

  “Give it a try.” Chester winked. “And I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you agreed to join us here. I doubt it will get too crowded with both you and John around the house, but in case that happens, we’ll make other arrangements. In the meantime, thank you for humoring a helpless old man.”

  “Somehow I don’t think you’re so helpless.”

  He laughed. “Maybe not, but I am old.”

  She grinned at him and bent to pluck an egg from under the closest chicken. The hen pecked her hard enough to draw blood. “Ow.” She yanked her hand back with the brown oval in her palm. “Nasty little creatures, aren’t they?”

  “Sometimes.” Chester dropped the one egg she'd retrieved into a basket. “Why don’t you clean that. I’ll be in shortly.”

  Smiling, Callahan inspected her injury. “It’s nothing. Just a nick.”

  “It hurts,” she whined “And I’m bleeding.”

  “Not much,” he teased. “C’mon, let’s take care of it.”

  She followed him in the back door to the kitchen. Without the other agents, it seemed larger. “Where are Gabe and Ron?”

  “One of them is at the hospital to keep an eye on Taggart. The other is in a motel sleeping. I’m not privy to who caught first watch—they drew straws for the pleasure. When Taggart’s released today or tomorrow, they’ll escort him to DC for further questioning.” Callahan held her hand under the cool water, making her flinch. Once he patted it dry, he grabbed a tube of ointment from a drawer and rubbed a dab over the nick on her finger.

  “What if he keeps insisting they didn’t want to kill me? That he shot back in self-defense?”

  “We have ways to get to the truth.”

  “Like what…? Waterboarding?” Stupid, but it popped out before she stopped it.

  Callahan laughed as he applied a small Band-Aid to the tiny break in her skin. “No, nothing so drastic. We’ll offer him a deal: tell us about the plans for the money, or ship him back to Ireland where Interpol awaits. Once on Irish soil, he’ll also be closer to his so-called friends in the IRA. He’s a threat to them now, so he needs our protection. As part of the bargain, we’ll get the truth about what happened at the cabin. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m glad you’re so sure.” She huffed. “But I’ll worry just the same, if you don’t mind. It is my life after all. At least, I think it is. I’m not so sure anymore.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” Callahan smiled. “Here, take a seat. You hungry?”

  Roxanne wished she felt as confident about the situation. She had no desire for food, but she had nothing to eat all day. The few cups of coffee she’d managed only soured her stomach. She nodded. “I guess I could nibble on something.”

  Callahan poked through the refrigerator, coming out with ham wrapped in aluminum foil, a hunk of cheddar cheese, lettuce, and a tomato. He cut slices from a loaf of crusty bread and put together the best sandwich she’d tasted in a long time.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled between bites.

  As she finished the last crumb, Chester came in. He sat a wire basket of eggs on the counter. “Glad to see my grandson remembers his manners. Would you like something else? There’s homemade chocolate chip cookies in the Pillsbury Doughboy over here.” Chester pointed to the cookie jar with a grinning, roly-poly face.

  “I would love a cookie,” she said. “I really appreciate you thinking about my safety, but I don’t want to put you out.”

  “Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all. It’s nice to have this big, old house filled with people for a change.” He handed her two cookies. “John, get her something to wash those cookies down.”

  “Thanks, just water,” mumbled Roxanne as she bit into the cookie with relish.

  “Besides,” Chester announced, “I realized after you left yesterday, that there were things you should hear.” His serious tone took her by surprise.

  “Oh?” Roxanne stopped chewing, eager to listen to what he had to say as Callahan handed her a glass of sparkling water with a piece of lime. Who knew he was such a decent host?

  “You don’t know the whole story. I was there the day Roxy was shot—standing just a few feet away.”

  “I knew you found her. I had no idea you saw it happen.”

  Chester nodded. “She fell not ten feet in front of me. There was nothing I could do to stop it. At least I can answer any questions you might have.”

  Roxanne held her breath and shook her head. “Apparently I haven’t heard the whole story. I’m not even sure what to ask.”

  Chester took a seat next to her at the table. “Roxy grew to be a great friend of mine. I knew her since the day your grandparents brought her home from the hospital and watched her grow into a fine woman.” His grin broadened. “Of course, I also watched her and your mother tease my boys incessantly…”

  “I’m aware Roxy is my mother,” Roxanne interrupted, hoping to speed up the story.

  Chester let out a small gasp. “Oh, well, that makes things easier. Anyway, I felt terrible when my ambassadorship was over since I left Roxy in Ireland to fend for herself, even though she didn’t want or need my help after you and Maureen returned to the States.”

  Roxanne wiggled in her seat. She wanted to tell him to cut to the chase, to Roxy’s death, instead she sat without saying a word and let him carry on with the tale in his own way.

  Noticing her impatience, Chester added, “I’ll get to the point in due time, but first you need some background. Roxy returned to Oilville about twenty-five years ago—disillusioned. She found a few of her father’s relatives in Belfast, although only one or two of them remembered him and didn’t exactly welcome her with open arms. Plus she wasn’t happy with how most of the IRA members escaped punishment for their many crimes. She considered herself a failure though I tried to convince her that one woman could do little against an organization such as the IRA.

  “She moved into the cabin and kept Tom Johnson on running the farm and animals. I lent her the money to purchase the diner to take her mind off the past and so she wouldn’t have to mortgage the farm for the new business. That’s how I’m certain Roxy use
d none of that damned IRA cash. Gabe is way off base if he’s thinking it’s a possibility.”

  Roxanne nodded. “It’s good to hear Roxy had nothing to do with the missing funds. It was also kind of you to make such a loan.”

  Chester squirmed at her compliment, uncomfortable with the praise. He grabbed a cookie from the jar, took a bite, and swallowed. “Not necessarily kind, just smart. Back then, women were considered second-rate risks for bank loans in this area. Still are for that matter. But I knew Roxy and knew if she set her mind to it, she’d have the best diner around here. She paid me back every cent plus interest I never asked for.”

  She took a drink of water and sat back in the chair, waiting for him to continue with all the patience she could gather. Her aunt sounded like an honorable woman. Roxanne shook her head: her mother, not her aunt. She had to stop thinking of Roxy as her aunt, even though the modification to her mindset didn’t come easy.

  “I’m giving you the history so you can appreciate how we grew to trust each other. We were more than neighbors. She helped me on the farm when she had time, and we had dinner once a week for years.” Chester stopped, lost in thought. “The night before she was shot, she called me in a tither. She’d been working late in her office at the diner when she overheard an argument between Luke and Patti about money. She waited until Luke left to ask Patti about it. Patti claimed to not understand what Roxy was talking about at first, but she finally admitted that they stashed a bag of IRA money in the walk-in freezer. Roxy did a slow burn. She ordered Patti to leave and told her not to come back until Luke was no longer in the picture.”

  “My God!” Roxanne blew out a breath. “Luke knew what happened to the missing cash the whole time. He stood there and listened to Taggart threaten all of them and never said a word.”

  “Well, that’s just it. He had no idea where it was. He assumed Roxy took the money but he didn’t know what she did with it. She hoped I might find a worthwhile cause in Ireland to donate it and keep it out of the hands of any remnants of the IRA. I agreed to do what I could and asked her to breakfast in the morning to work out a plan on what to do with the cash.” Chester gazed out the window. “I never thought she intended to bring it with her until I found the bag of money hidden under her parka.”