Gone With The Sin (Book 8) (A Harley and Davidson Mystery)

by Hart, Liliana

  “Why would anyone agree to that?” Coil asked.

  “They didn’t at first,” Agatha said. “But then things got aggressive. Livestock started being slaughtered, then a family pet or two. Then one of the farm houses burned to the ground with a family of five inside. None of them made it out, and neighbors described the fire as having started everywhere at once. People were scared and they eventually did what they were told.”

  “The key is in that empty coffin,” Jakes said.

  “Bingo,” Hank said, touching his nose. “And I think we’re going to need Lawrence if we’re going to figure it out.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Jakes mentioned you brought up Salt,” Hank said a little later as they were walking back to the sheriff’s office. The others had gone on ahead, so it was just the two of them.

  “Yeah,” she said. “It was weird. I didn’t mean to. I just had other things on my mind, and he was the first thing I thought of.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “No, I think it answered a question for me,” she said. “I’m going to sell my house. For sure. I called a realtor and she’s coming out today.”

  He was silent for a couple of minutes. “You know you’re welcome to stay with me, until…”

  “Until I find a place of my own?” Agatha said.

  “That’s not it,” he said, drawing her closer. “I don’t think you’re the live-in type. I’m not either. We’re more…permanent kind of people.”

  She waited to hear what she wanted him to say, but the words didn’t come. She shook her head and took his hand. Hopefully, he could learn to say the words sometime before she moved into a nursing home.

  “Come on,” she said. “We’ll be late.”

  They were, but the others, including Lawrence were waiting on them. Lawrence was sporting one heck of a shiner, but he was showered and shaved, and he was back in one of his expensive suits, this one charcoal gray.

  “Before we start,” he said. “I’d like to apologize. My behavior was inappropriate. I promise it’ll be all business from this point forward. Now, to business. We’ve discovered that Ruth Anne Wilkerson was indeed the personal secretary to the Texas Rangers superintendent,” Lawrence said. “She was an exemplary employee, as was reflected in her quarterly evaluations. But she was young, and that was how they tempted her.”

  “Who is they?” Hank asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Lawrence replied. “There are no recorded intelligence reports of mafia activity or enterprise in the area. I don’t believe it was mob related at all, despite similar circumstances happening in some of the bigger crime cities.

  “The Rangers’ investigation showed that she first violated their integrity and morality code of conduct when a photograph of her surfaced while she was doing one of her dances. She became the weak link in the chain. Once the Rangers got hold of the photograph and saw the illegal activities taking place in the background, they began an undercover sting operation into her activities, and soon discovered straw-man assets that included…”

  “Let me guess,” Agatha said. “Oil and mineral rights.”

  “Yes,” he said. “But they were all legal transactions, so there was nothing the Rangers could do except fire her for violating their morality clause. Records showed that, following her termination, police raids began to target speakeasies throughout San Antonio. One report that was classified, and a little tricky to get my hands on, detailed that Elliot Ness himself was coordinating a visit to Texas,” Lawrence said. “Although it didn’t say specifically where he was going to raid, the report referred to San Antonio and the Nun.”

  “Back to the nun,” Hank said. The Nun is who was supposed to be in that fifth casket.”

  “Any of those police reports about the raids mention a nun or church or anything like that?” Jakes asked.

  “Not yet,” Lawrence replied.

  “Was Ruth Anne ever arrested in one of those raids?” Coil asked.

  “Good question,” Agatha said. “But why haven’t we been asking the bigger question?

  The room went silent.

  “Which is?” Lawrence asked.

  “Who made off with the contents from the first two coffins?”

  “What makes you think there was contents taken from the first two coffins?” Jakes asked.

  “Why wouldn’t there be?” Agatha replied.

  “I think that’s being a bit presumptuous,” Jakes said.

  “I think it’s absolutely reasonable.”

  “Don’t you think we’re busy working on that?” Jakes snapped, his frustration clear.

  “I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t,” she said, “but it’s never come up in these briefings.”

  “That would be my error,” he said. “We’ve split the case into two separate investigations. Because of your knowledge and connection to the locals, you’ve been allowed to participate in identifying the remains, while other field agents are tracking down the thefts.”

  “Allowed?” she said under her breath, her brows raising.

  Hank nudged her with his elbow. She knew she had no official authority, but there was no reason to be a jerk.

  “So, what’s the progress on the missing coffins?” she asked

  “Classified,” Jakes replied. “We’re dismissed.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out.

  Agatha and Hank remained in the conference room as the others went about their duties. She didn’t want to talk inside, so she tugged Hank’s hand so he’d follow. They walked across Main Street and she ran her arm through Hank’s arm as she led him window shopping along the strip.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

  “Hank, I’ve got a bad feeling. Something’s not right. It’s been days and there’s not been a peep about the first two caskets. Somebody walked away with millions in diamonds and gold, and the lead investigator is camped out here like it’s going to fall into his lap instead of actually investigating.”

  Hank pulled her into his arms and held her close.

  “Hank?” she asked.

  “Since we’re being watched, we might as well give them something to talk about,” he said.

  “Watched?” she asked. “By who, the Feds?”

  “Dot Williams,” he said, chuckling.

  “Stop that, I’m being serious.”

  “I figured everyone works a case in their own way,” Hank explained. “I wasn’t going to ask because we’d been so active in tracking down the families of the deceased. But his reaction to your questions made me realize that we’ve been given busy work to keep us away from the real investigation.”

  “You saw Coil’s reaction,” she said. “He knows more than he’s shared. And there’s something else that struck me as odd earlier in the café.”

  “Besides the eggs?”

  “I’m being serious.”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “When Jakes and I were talking he started the conversation by apologizing and saying he was coming back. I said, Salt? And Jakes knew who I was talking about. How and why would he know about Salt?”

  “Good question,” he said, squeezing her arm in warning not to say too much. “Good question.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hank heard the knock on Agatha’s front door, but she was sprawled out on the chaise and looked like she had no plans to go anywhere. Hank waved at her to relax and went to answer the door.

  “Heard Agatha had come home sick,” Coil said. “Thought I’d stop in and check on her.”

  “She’s in the war room,” Hank said.

  They walked back through the house, and Hank had been right. Agatha hadn’t moved a muscle.

  “Hey, Agatha,” Coil said. “Feeling okay?”

  “Not really,” she said.

  “Think you caught a bug?” he asked. “I can call Shelly to bring over some comfort food.”

  “You know what would make me feel a whole lot better?” she asked.
<
br />   “What’s that?”

  “The truth.”

  Hank had moved across the room so he could watch Coil’s reaction. The man never flinched.

  “Truth about what?”

  “We’ve been friends a long time,” Hank said. “Now isn’t the time to start trying to be a good liar.”

  “I’m an excellent liar,” Coil said. “I worked undercover.”

  “You’re only an excellent liar to people who don’t know you inside and out.”

  Coil blew out a breath. “It’s complicated, and my hands are tied.”

  “No problem,” Agatha said. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  “Come on y’all. Don’t act this way. You know I’m an open book on cases, but this is out of my hands.”

  “I said we understand,” she said. “But there’s no reason for you to be here. Hank and I have been jerked around in this thing from the start. We’re kicked off the scene, and then all of a sudden, we’re essential to the team. Which is bull, because all we’re good for is running around like chickens with their heads cut off doing busy work and gathering details. I’m not a fan of being used by anyone.”

  Coil looked at Hank.

  “Don’t look at me,” Hank said. “She’s right, and you know it. There’s no reason for you to be here right now.”

  Coil’s face tightened and Agatha could see the war raging there. But ultimately, he decided to nod stiffly and walk out the door. She locked it behind him.

  “How about a motorcycle ride?” Hank asked.

  “What? Now?”

  “I’m going with my gut. I’m going to grab my bike. Be ready when I get back.”

  “Go where?”

  “Just be ready,” he said.

  It wasn’t twenty minutes before Hank rolled back in front of Agatha’s house on his big Harley. The November sun was bright, but it was still leather wearing weather. He smiled as Agatha rushed out the door. He loved seeing her in the all black leather outfit.

  “Where are we going?” she demanded.

  “We need a little wind therapy to clear our heads.”

  Hank knew it was time to color outside the lines. It wasn’t like he was still working with the FBI. And he was only a volunteer detective for Coil. There was nothing that said he couldn’t get on his bike and take a ride.

  He throttled it wide open at the Waco exit sign and leaned back until he felt the connection with Agatha. That was the joy of the open road, and he loved sharing it with her.

  Half an hour later they rolled into the parking lot of Reverend Graham’s Harley Davidson store. Hank rode back toward the service section. As expected, there was Sully.

  “Hank?” Sully said, once Hank had cut the engine. “That you?”

  Hank lifted the tinted shield on his full-faced helmet to show Sully it was him.

  “Hey, man,” Hank said. “Can you take a look at my bike? I think I lost something along the road back near a cemetery.”

  Sully shook his head and came toward him. “Rookie.”

  Hank towered over the five-foot seven-inch biker. Sully’s long, salt and pepper matted hair was held back by a black bandana, and a Houston Astro’s baseball cap.

  “I’ll look at it,” Sully said as he nodded to Agatha and knelt next to the v-twin engine.

  Agatha climbed off the other side and walked into the store to watch out for anyone paying too much attention to Hank and Sully.

  “Have any idea what’s missing?” Hank whispered.

  Sully stiffened, but there was no mistaking that he understood Hank was talking about the coffins and not the bike. “I think I can help you out with this,” Sully said, fiddling with the kickstand.

  Agatha loses. His gut had said from the beginning that the Rattlers were involved.

  “Really?” he asked.

  “It’s complicated,” Sully said, continuing to whisper. “I could lose my job permanently, if you know what I mean.” He swiped a finger across his throat.

  “Can we talk here?” Hank asked.

  “Tonight would be better.”

  That was too big of a risk. Hank might’ve jeopardized Sully’s life just by showing up, but they could pass this meeting off. Going away and coming back would definitely bring suspicion and unwanted attention for both of them.

  “Old buddy,” Hank said, moving in close. “I really need to know now.”

  Sully’s weathered face looked like it had been set on fire and extinguished with a barbed wire baseball bat. He’d lived a rough life along America’s highways and back alleys. And it showed. But the expression of dread carved deep into the outlaw twisted Hank’s gut.

  Sully nodded and then scribbled something onto an old receipt and handed it to Hank.

  “What’s this?” Hank asked.

  “My sister’s number,” Sully said. “She’s down in Laredo. You know, just in case.”

  “Will do, my friend,” Hank said.

  “Ever heard of Elliot Ness?” Sully asked.

  Hank was caught off guard by the question, but he nodded.

  “There was an old syndicate back in the day, when the government outlawed booze.”

  “During Prohibition?” Hank asked.

  “Yep, that’s the word,” Sully said. “This syndicate ran most of the moonshine operations across Texas. They were unstoppable. Rattler history says we entered into a deal with them.”

  “Y’all have history books?”

  “Yeah, goes back a couple hundred years,” Sully said.

  “So, the Rattlers were in bed with the mafia during Prohibition?” Hank asked, just so he was clear.

  But Sully just chuckled. “There wasn’t no mafia in Texas, son. Them speakeasies were run by The Church.”

  “The church?” Hank asked.

  “Yes, siree,” said Sully.

  “What’s Elliot Ness have to do with a church?”

  “Not a church,” Sully said. “The Church.”.

  “What religion is the church?” agitated, Hank pressed.

  Sully wheezed out a laugh. “The church of what feels good now.”

  “Can we get serious?” Hank asked. “Look, the police know you were in the area of that cemetery, so if you want me to help you, you have to lay it out for me.”

  Sully stood up and limped away from Hank.

  “I had nothing to do with them cats getting smoked,” Sully said.

  It was everything Hank could do to not let the surprise show on his face. He could’ve strangled Jakes. If Sully was talking murder, then Jakes had really left them in the dark.

  “You need to play straight with me,” Hank told him. “You think the FBI won’t throw you under the bus for a couple of murders just to see the case closed?

  “Fine,” Sully said. “But I’m starting to think retirement on a tropical island is starting to sound pretty good.”

  “I’ll come visit,” Hank said. “Now tell me.”

  “The Church was a crime syndicate during the twenties. They weren’t around for long, but they were very powerful. And evil. Their head honcho was a nun.”

  “You remember her name?” Hank asked.

  “Everyone just called her Sister Rosa.”

  “Sister Rosa Anita Immaculate?” Hank asked.

  “That sounds right. She ran the church’s finances for years, then eventually skimmed enough to go out on her own. She created The Church, and her and a few of her friends built an underground empire.”

  “Were the other four girls nuns?” Hank asked.

  “I don’t think so, but that’s how they dressed when they were hauling white lightning. Everyone knew, even the local police, but they’d been bought off, so they looked the other way.”

  “What happened?” Hank asked.

  “One of them got busted.”

  “The one who worked for the Texas Rangers?”

  “Yep,” he said. “That was real smart to have an insider in there. The Rangers worked a lot of Prohibition busts, and she’d have known when and where they were
planning to raid. But she was found out, and they started following her. Word was, Elliot Ness was coming down himself to raid The Church’s underground headquarters just outside of San Antonio.”

  “There was never a raid,” Hank said. “Not that we can find. What happened?”

  Sully swallowed. “The nun hired the Rattlers to help her clean house.

  “What else do you know?” Hank looked around at the increased people milling around.

  “I know that the Nun hired the Rattlers to help her do a little house cleaning.”

  “Your history books have all the details?” Hank asked.

  “A lot of people would like to see into our archives,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “The Nun shot her four partners and buried them in caskets filled with a fortune. And then she hired the Rattlers to dig the five graves and bury the bodies of her friends. Of course, we didn’t know about all the treasure inside. Thought it was just the bodies. But word is the caskets were real nice, expensive, and sealed well. Gotta figure that kind of casket is protecting something valuable.”

  “Why dig five graves?” Hank asked. “The fifth casket we dug up was empty.”

  “The Nun said that the empty coffin was a sign to anyone who tried to rob her. She’d bury them in there herself. My Rattler brothers who’d dug the graves were getting suspicious at that point, and they planned to go back and dig up the graves.”

  “Why didn’t they?”

  “Because she shot and killed the only ones who knew where the treasure was buried. We’ve been looking for it ever since,” he said, grinning.

  “How come Sister Rosa never came back and reclaimed her gold?” Hank asked.

  “Rumor was that while she was hiding from the law, she came across a church on the other side of the border. She apparently found God and took a vow of poverty to atone for all the wrongs she’d done.

  “Wow,” Hank said. “So how did you guys finally figure out where the treasure was buried after all this time? And why’d the Rattlers only dig up two of the graves?

  Sully scoffed. “The Rattlers didn’t steal that money. The Feds did.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hank sped through town. He wasn’t worried whether Coil saw him or not. Agatha hadn’t said a word since the conversation with Sully, but he knew she was processing everything she’d heard. They needed to get back to the war room and see if they could substantiate any of the Rattler’s history.