Weddings & Weapons

by Laina Turner

  “What do you mean another outlet? Has this been going on for a while?” asked Sheldon.

  Eric nodded. “They’ve been distributing to Milwaukee for years, mostly to the colleges. The police were getting a little too close to their operations recently and they decided to back off for a while and expand somewhere else. And that’s where I came in.”

  “So was Juan Valdez your contact in Chicago?” I asked and Sheldon looked at me. I think he was getting annoyed I kept asking questions, but I didn’t care. We were getting answers and that was all that mattered.

  “Who?”

  “The person who was murdered a few days ago. Before Roger. Presley found the body.”

  Eric frowned. “Why would you think I’d know him?”

  I hadn’t expected that answer and Eric seemed genuinely confused. I don’t think he knew what we were talking about.

  “He’s from Chicago and involved in the drug scene there. We just assumed…” Sheldon trailed off.

  Eric shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t know the guy.”

  “Do you think this Juan guy is unrelated to Glen and the things he’s doing?” I said to Sheldon.

  “Maybe and there was never any reason for him and Eric to meet.”

  I turned back to Eric. “Do you know anything else they were involved with?”

  “No. I rarely interacted with them. My grandmother handled all that. She wanted as much distance between us as possible. She’s devastated this has happened.”

  Not devastated enough to stop, I couldn’t help but think, even though I immediately felt guilty. We all had our share of problems.

  This certainly explained Janet’s behavior.

  “If your grandmother was the go between, why were you talking to Roger the other night?” I asked.

  “I’d been stalling them and they knew it. I was trying to find a way to get the money without selling drugs,” he paused. “I didn’t want to get mixed up in that life again.”

  The door opened. “Eric?” said Elle, peering out, giving Sheldon, and me this time, dirty looks.

  “They were just leaving,” he said and went back inside with her without saying any more. Not even goodbye. He just left us standing on the porch.

  “What do you think?” I said to Sheldon.

  “Well, I didn’t expect to hear that about Janet but it confirms that Glen’s group is involved in illegal activity that got Roger killed. Maybe Juan Vasquez was another distributor like Eric.”

  I frowned. “So that’s it? You think the murders are all centered around selling mushrooms?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. While I realized it was an illegal drug, I just couldn’t see how it would cause this level of collateral damage. I guess it was possible. I’d just never heard anything in the news before about mushroom trafficking related deaths.

  Chapter 12

  Sheldon and I went our separate ways after talking to Eric and I was on my way home when I heard my phone ringing on the seat next to me.

  “Presley, it’s Will.”

  “Hold on a sec,” I said, digging my ear buds out of my purse and connecting them to my phone so it would be easier to talk and drive. At the same time I realized I’d forgot to mention the tunnels to Sheldon.

  “I did some digging. I’m much better at research than I am at the actual writing, I’m finding. But that’s OK, I like looking for hidden information and…”

  “Will. What did you find?” I said impatiently.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I had to go way back, but it looks as if Janet had involvement with the militia back in the day. And by that, I mean her day. I mean when she was young,” he stumbled over his words.

  Well that would explain how she got involved with Glen in the first place. “In what way?”

  “I found some old news articles. She participated in a few protests, had a few arrests for trespassing. Nothing major. Kid’s stuff. It looked like she might have been Glen’s girlfriend.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that either. I’ve never heard that rumor around town. There were several photos of her, Glen and some woman named Sarah Pritchard. And before you ask, I tried to track down Sarah Pritchard. Nothing. Soon after the last clipping I found dated almost forty years ago, neither her nor Janet showed up in any more pictures.”

  “Thanks, Will.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll let you know if I come across anything else.”

  As I set the phone down in the cup holder, I spotted what looked like Harley’s truck out of the corner of my eye in the parking lot of the diner. I slowed down. Maybe it was worth trying to talk to him again. But then I noticed he was already talking to someone. He was talking to Allison. What? How did he know her?

  I kept driving, more confused than ever.

  Chapter 13

  The doorbell rang and I walked over to open it, wondering who it could be. I certainly wasn’t expecting anyone. I looked out the side window before opening the door to find the Sheriff standing there. Except he wasn’t in uniform. Did he feel he needed to check up on me on his day off?

  I opened the door, slightly leaning against it. “Hi there. What brings you by?”

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. See how you were. If anything else unusual had happened.”

  I shook my head, wanting to find it nice he came by, but still paranoid enough I was suspicious about his motives.

  “Everything is fine.”

  “OK, well good. Then I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing,” he said and started to turn and walk away.

  “I do have a question.”

  He turned back and faced me, raising his eyebrows curiously.

  “Did you tell Allison and Paul about someone breaking into my house?”

  His expression changed to one of confusion.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He seemed to be telling the truth, but then how did Allison find out? Unless… I quickly dismissed that idea. She was here to get married. She would have no reason to break into this house. A socialite like her would not be involved in petty drug activity. Though that would explain why she was talking to Harley. Especially if he wasn’t as innocent as Sheldon seemed to think he was.

  “Is there a reason you’re asking?” The Sheriff said, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Um. Nothing. I must have misheard.”

  “Did Allison say I told her?” he questioned.

  Not wanting to tell him that yes, she had, I forced a laugh. “Sorry, I was confused for a minute. Now that I think about it, she said she heard it at the florist’s. Probably someone with a police scanner gossiping.”

  The look he gave me told me he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t push it.

  “OK, then. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Later I was out on the deck keeping an eye on Allison and Paul’s when I saw a car slow down as it drove by. It was the same Mercedes I’d seen parked outside the newspaper office. The one I’d thought was looking at me. I strained to get a look at the driver, and it looked to be a Hispanic male. I think that was the same person I saw last time as well. It was so far away it was hard to tell. The car finally made its way out of my sight but when I saw it come back around a few minutes later I knew this wasn’t just a coincidence. Whoever was driving that car was checking out this house. Or looking for me. Neither scenario was one I wanted to consider.

  This time as the car passed the house, I lifted up my phone and zoomed in on the license plate, snapping a picture. I then texted it to my friend Willie, who was a detective in Chicago, along with a text asking him to do me a favor and see who this car belonged to. About two seconds later my phone rang. It was Willie and I couldn’t help but smile. I knew he wouldn’t just give me the information I was looking for without grilling me first.

  “Took you long enough,” I laughed as I answered the phone.

  “What the hell is going on?” he said, not sounding at all a
mused.

  “I just need a favor.”

  “I don’t think I want to know what you’ve got yourself mixed up in, but I have to ask.”

  “It’s nothing. Really. There’s this car I’ve seen a few times around town where I’m staying and I’m probably being paranoid, but I want to know who it belongs to.”

  “Is someone bothering you?” he asked, and I could tell he was worried. “If someone is harassing you, you need to go to the local police. Do you want me to make a call?”

  “No, no. It’s really nothing,” I said, thinking the last thing I needed was for him to call Sheriff Travis. I should have known this wouldn’t be easy. He was very overprotective. Much like Cooper. They were so annoying sometimes, but I knew they had my best interest at heart.

  “Presley. I’m not running this plate until you tell me what is going on!” he said in such a tone that I knew he meant it.

  I sighed. “I swear it’s nothing. I don’t think anyway. Listen, if I tell you, you have to promise not to freak out.”

  “Presley,” he said is a low, controlled tone that I knew well. It was his “I’m trying not to explode” tone. I wasn’t going to get out of telling him.

  I proceeded to fill him in and, to his credit, he didn’t say a word until I finished my story. But after a few more seconds went by and he still didn’t say anything I started to get nervous. “See. Not a big deal,” I said glibly to break the silence.

  “Not a big deal!” he exploded, and I winced. Here it came. “You found a dead body on the beach and then there was another murder soon after that one that you’ve decided to investigate with some guy you just met and you think that’s not a big deal? It’s a huge deal. I can’t believe you didn’t call me. I can’t believe you’re acting so stupid!”

  “Hey!” I took offense at being called stupid. Friends or not.

  He said, “I can’t believe you’re using such poor judgment. Is that better? What are you thinking?”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” I heard him take in a deep breath and realized a little too late I should have kept that little opinion to myself. “You know what I mean. You worry too much. It’s really…”

  “I know, I know. It’s really nothing,” he said in a very sarcastic tone.

  “So, does this mean you won’t run that plate?” I said stubbornly.

  Willie sighed. “I will, but only if you promise to keep me in the loop and if I don’t like what I’m hearing I have the right to get involved in whatever way I see fit.”

  “Fine.” I didn’t want him hovering over me, but I did want to know who was driving around spying on me. I guess it was a small price to pay for information I wouldn’t have access to otherwise.

  “I’ll call you back as soon as I know something. What’s this guy’s name you’re mixed up with?” he asked.

  “It’s this guy named Sheldon. He works at the local paper. He’s harmless.” I hung up and hoped it wouldn’t take long for him to get me that information. I’d thought about asking him to check out Juan Vasquez and Roger Barrett, but I didn’t want to have him react like he just did. Though now he was already mad so maybe I should. I sent him another text asking him and he didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. I hoped he didn’t take it upon himself to call the Sheriff, or even worse Cooper. That’s the last thing I needed.

  Chapter 14

  I watched as Allison and Paul pulled out of the driveway. I’d been waiting for them to leave so I could seize my opportunity to sneak over and once and for all see where the tunnel led. There had to be a reason Glen and his guys had been down there and the only way to find it out was to look. I wasn’t convinced this was all about illegal mushrooms. I waited an extra five minutes to make sure they hadn’t forgot something and had to come back, which happened to me about one out of every three times I left the house, and I headed up the drive.

  Obviously, getting in the house was my biggest concern but it was old and while the front doors were sturdy and looked to have solid locks, when I’d been in the house the other day I’d noticed the kitchen door was a regular door and lock. I was hoping it was one that had a lock mechanism easily depressed by the flathead screwdriver I had in my hand, which I’d brought to also double as protection. I was beginning to feel like quite the burglar.

  I snuck around the back to the kitchen door, heart pounding. I’d never be a good burglar. No matter how good I was at the actual break in part, I’d be a nervous wreck. There was no way to explain this if I got caught. I climbed the two steps leading up to the back door and slid the screwdriver in between the door and the jamb where the lock was and wiggled it around. I heard a click and felt the door open in. Yeah! I silently cheered. Step one accomplished. I softly closed the door, making sure it was unlocked for a quick getaway, and tiptoed across the kitchen to the cellar door. It was also unlocked. If I hadn’t already known Allison was lying about the door being locked, this would prove it.

  I peered down the dark hallway, glad I’d found this pocket-sized flashlight in a junk drawer back at the house. It didn’t give off much light, but there was more to it than my phone had, so I could see a little. I took a deep breath and headed down the stairs. It was just as creepy as it’d been the other night. Maybe even more so because it was totally quiet. I guess the upside to that was I’d be able to easily hear if someone came along. I was glad I’d had the foresight to wear tennis shoes that were much quieter on the stone steps than my heels had been the other night.

  My nervousness went away as I made my way back to the spot where I’d turned around earlier this week. The hallway went on about another ten feet, getting colder the farther I went and then it turned slightly to the right and opened to a small room. The room had cement walls with pallets on the floor. I assumed it was cold storage originally. Though it seemed weird there was such a long hallway to get to it and what were the wooden pallets for. The room was empty so what was the point of having a makeshift floor?

  There was a door at the opposite end of the opening I was standing in and I walked over to it assuming it must lead to the outside and this is how they’d disappeared. As I walked through the middle of the room, I could hear the sounds of my footsteps change. I stopped. Then took a couple steps back and then forward again. It was very subtle, but there was definitely a difference. It sounded hollow in the middle. I bent over and peered through the slats of the pallets I was standing on. I could just make out what looked like a crack in the stone floor. I followed the crack with my eyes and saw there was a small handle and that crack went around to make a square. This was a door.

  I backed off the pallet I was on and grabbed the edge of it to pull it out of the way. The thing was heavier than I thought. I reached down and got a better grip and pulled as hard as I could, and the side popped up almost causing me to tumble back. I pulled it over onto the pallet next to it and exposed the door in the floor about four feet by four feet. There was no way I was going to be able to life up a four-foot square piece of stone that had to be as heavy as hell. But I grabbed the handle to try anyway. To my surprise it came up easily. I then could see it wasn’t actual stone. It was a wooden frame with something that looked like the stone of the rest of the floor but was a composite of some sort, almost like Styrofoam.

  The hinges on the door had a locking mechanism, presumably to not accidently shut and trap someone, and I could see there was a room and stairs leading down to it. I couldn’t get a good idea what was down there, and I didn’t really want to go look. What if someone and shut the door? No one would find me. I’d die down here. That thought sent me in a bit of a panic. But I couldn’t leave without looking. That would kind of defeat the purpose of breaking in the house and coming down here. I sighed. I was starting to regret I hadn’t asked Sheldon to come with me, but he’d been acting so odd after his little disappearance that something was stopping me from telling him what I was doing.

  I needed to do this, make it fast, and get ou
t of here before Allison and Paul came back. Or worse, Glen. I sat on the edge of the opening and put my feet on the ladder and then leaned over and grabbed the top rung with my hands and carefully made my way down the ladder. I got to the last rung and stepped off on the dirt floor and looked around at what was a decent sized room considering it was under the basement. But what was being stored in the basement was much more of a shock. I don’t know what I’d expected to find. Drugs would have been my first guess, but it wasn’t drugs down here. It was guns. And while I didn’t know much about guns these looked to be rifles, the kind I’d seen in action flicks, something Sylvester Stallone would carry, and since the guns were hidden in a basement my guess is they weren’t down here waiting for someone to use them for skeet shooting.

  I wasn’t anti-gun or anything, but guns like these were for the express purpose of killing people. I took my phone out and snapped a few pictures for proof and then went back up the ladder. I wanted out of here. I closed the trap door and moved the pallet back so no one would be able to tell I’d been down here. I started to head back up when I realized I hadn’t checked to see where the door led on the other side of the room. I hurried over and tried to open it and it wouldn’t move. It must be locked from the outside. I rattled it a little bit and it didn’t budge. Then I heard voices through the door. Crap. Someone was coming. Well I wasn’t going to be here when they got here.

  I ran back the way I came, not caring if I made noise just wanting to get back to the house before they made it to the door. I got to the kitchen door and stopped. Listening. But all I could hear was my heart pounding. I hoped that meant Allison and Paul weren’t back yet. I slowly turned the knob and opened the door breathing a sigh of relief when I saw the kitchen was empty. I went back out the way I’d got in and practically ran all the way back to my house.

  I shut the front door behind me trying to catch my breath. Someone was hiding what I assumed were illegal guns in the basement of that house, but why?