“I am so sorry I don’t have any money, Honey. I’ve been such a drain on you. I promise I’ll get a job just as soon as we get back from London.”
“We’re not going to London. I’m going to exchange those English pounds for cash, but, just out of curiosity, where is it you are planning on working?”
She gave me a serious answer. “Waffle House, I think. I’ve been practicing saying ‘Do you want cream with your coffee?’ and I think I’ve got it down pat. And of course, we have to go to London. Both of us. Four eyes work better than two. You can’t get your money back for those tickets. And if what you said is true, Harry is somehow tied up with Steven Bondesky. And they are both missing and we have to find them. Not just for their sake, heaven knows, but for ours, too. No Bondesky, no money. No Harry, no peace of mind. And . . .”
Before she could go on with her ands, I stopped her. “I can’t deal with that right now. First things first. First we find Kantor. You read the map to me. You know how lost I get when I’m not on a familiar route. I really need to concentrate on driving. I bet my car insurance has lapsed, too.”
Janie rose to the occasion and six hours later navigated me through Austin’s traffic to the turn-off to Fredericksburg, the one we had passed before in our pursuit by Sledge Hamra. Just reaching that point in the highway made both of us think of the man. “Wonder where he is now?” Janie said in an idle query.
I thought I knew where he had been, but I didn’t have an answer for her now. Who was the man who died in the knee-high surf outside the bookstore? And was the man I saw attack him really Sledge Hamra or another bald-headed man? And had he actually killed the stranger in front of my eyes or had he been trying to help him? And, of course, there had been a gun. Maybe I should have said more to the Coast Guard about what I saw.
Nahhh.
My experience with police — and their military counterparts, I was sure, were of the same ilk — was that they only tied you up in red tape and never solved a thing. My prime example was my police friend, Lieutenant Silas Sampson of the Fort Worth Police Department. He meant well. I knew that. He was just so limited when it came to creative ideas pertaining to catching murderers. I really liked Silas — he was the first one to crack the shell of isolation I had lived in for years — and we had even had a flirty non-flirtatious relationship for a while. Now we were good friends and sometimes lunch buddies. I hadn’t called him about Bondesky’s disappearance, and I certainly wasn’t going to tell him about something I might have seen in the middle of a hurricane. So there.
“Here,” said Janie.
“What?”
“Here is where you turn off for Fredericksburg. Coming up, that is. Wouldn’t it have been easier to do this from San Antonio?”
“I only know one way to go, and this is the way I usually go. And yes, now that you’ve asked, it might have been easier from San Antonio, but we’re doing it from Austin.”
I quit my musings and focused on the situation at hand. “Now we’ll get some answers. That is, if Evelyn Potter really is with Kantor. Maybe we won’t even have to worry about gas money home.”
“Honey, I’ve been thinking. You know when those men at the bookstore — those Red Cross people, insurance people — whatever they were . . .”
“Yes, I know who you mean.”
“Well, you know when they said that they were sending that dead man to Austin? For identification?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“They were lying.”
“I’m not following you. Lying about what?”
Janie turned in her seat to face me with a dead-serious look. “They don’t do it that way. Small towns like South Padre Island or even Port Isabel don’t have the lab facilities to do the fingerprint or dental detecting, you know?”
I nodded. “That makes sense. That’s why they send the body to cities like Austin.”
She lowered her voice to a whisper, “That’s just it. They don’t send the body. They send the fingers. Well, they send the whole hand.”
“Get outta here,” I screeched. “No way. You’re making that up.”
“Seriously. I went to this crime seminar. I told them I was writing a mystery, and they let me in, and they told us all kinds of interesting things. They cut the hand off at the wrist and put it in a bag and . . .”
“Stop it,” I demanded. “That’s enough. Next you’ll be telling me that they cut the head off to get the dental records identified.”
“Well . . .” she said.
“Don’t even go there,” I warned.
“Okay, but let’s just say I don’t think you should apply for a job in the mailroom of a big city crime lab.”
I had to laugh at that despite the gory images her words conveyed. I tried to erase the conversation from my head, but one thought stuck. “Janie, I didn’t know you wanted to write a mystery.”
“Sure, someday. Hey, I figure I’ve read so many of them, I might as well write one. I do plots in my head all the time. Just never have had the nerve to sit down and put them on paper.”
I shuddered as I thought of what she had told me about crime labs. “I bet you’ve come up with doozie plots.”
“Not half as good as what we’ve been living through lately. Our lives seem to be stranger than fiction. One adventure — murder — after another. Now we’re off again. From one clue to another. I can’t wait to hear what Evelyn and Kantor have to add to this new plot.”
“We’re not in the middle of a murder mystery again, Janie. This is real life, and there’s bound to be a sensible explanation for all of it.” Lord, I could hear my mother’s voice echoing out of my head.
So could Janie. “Yes’m,” she said with a crooked smile.
I pulled up at a four-way stop. “Now which way to Kantor’s house?”
“You’ve been here before. I thought you knew.”
“Once. I’ve been here once. Before he built the cabin. When it was just property and a dream. Outside Fredericksburg, that’s all I know.”
“According to the map, it’s left. Make a left turn here.”
“Making left turn,” I announced. My spirits rose just thinking we might get answers soon.
“Honey, your way — the other left.”
“Left. Right. What’s a little turnaround among friends?” I was getting downright giddy with being so close to Evelyn Potter and the answers we needed.
Kantor’s dream/retirement cabin was a few miles down the road. A handmade sign announced our arrival: Kantor’s Kabin.
“So, he isn’t original or even creative. Main thing is we found it and, Janie, we’ve found Evelyn, too. Look there.”
Evelyn Potter’s sensible gray Ford Escort was parked next to Kantor’s maroon vintage sports car, and Evelyn herself was parked next to my old mentor Kantor on the front porch of the cabin that faced the small pond he called his lake. They were rocking side by side, drinking something that looked cool and inviting in glasses so cold I could see the frost on them from the road.
“We’ll take two of those,” I shouted to the couple as Janie and I got out of the van. I let Bailey out of the back, and he bounded away, happy to find dry ground and grass again.
“Are they alive?” asked Janie in a hissing whisper.
“What do you mean?” I turned from my protective watch over Bailey to look at the two on the porch. I could see what Janie meant. Steven Bondesky’s secretary, Evelyn Potter, and my good friend Kantor were stone still, staring at us as if they had seen ghosts.
I waved to shake them out of their trance. “Hey, guys. What’s going on?”
NINETEEN
Despite their looking as if they had seen the dead come to life, both Kantor and Evelyn rushed down the deck’s wooden steps to welcome us. That their effusive greetings didn’t quite make up for the first awkward reaction to our appearance was lost in the social exchanges and exclamations over our hurricane story.
“We had no idea you two were on the island,” said Evelyn. “I wo
uld have just died worrying about you.” She put a delicate hand to her throat to show her concern.
Reassured that she did indeed care about my welfare, I decided her initial reaction had been to our finding her alone at the cabin with Kantor. She was probably just embarrassed to be caught in a compromising situation.
Kantor covered his composure by pulling on the ends of his plum satin vest and asking, “What in the Sam Hill is that on your van? Did you drive through wet concrete?”
“It’s dog food,” I laughed. “Dried dog food.”
The little man herded us back to the deck as Janie and I told them about the garage and how Janie had swam in the dog mess and before I knew it, I found myself drinking a tall Tom Collins in my very own frosted glass, and Janie was off to the showers.
I tried to chat with Kantor, but he seemed so nervous to be with me that I was bamboozled. This was not the man I had known since I graduated from junior college and began working for Constant Books. This was not the man who had shown me how to mix the love of books with the life on the road. I couldn’t believe that his fidgety posturing was because Janie and I had found Evelyn and him alone in the cabin. It was like he was hiding something from me and knew he wasn’t very good at it. Like he was afraid he would spill the beans without Evelyn at his side; he kept glancing over his shoulder and calling out to her to join us, but she was busy with Janie.
“This weather is so unpredictable. That’s what Evelyn and I were doing out here on the deck. Trying to see if we could see the storms approaching. We’re under a tornado alert, you know.”
“Tornado alert?” I looked up at the blue sky.
“Yes, from the east. Remnants of Hurricane Charley. The storm traveled the same path you did from the valley. It was just off to the west. Now it’s turning east, they say on the television. I don’t know how safe you’re going to be here, either.”
So, what was he saying? That he wanted me to go?
Janie came outside. She was wrapped in what I guessed was Kantor’s striped terry bathrobe, her wet hair dripping on its collar. “Honey, you won’t believe this. Evelyn says we’re under a severe weather watch. There could be a tornado, even. What is it with us and weather?”
“Kantor was just telling me about it. I hate to admit this, but we forgot to listen to the radio again. Too lost in our thoughts, I guess.” I got up to give Janie the bag I had retrieved from the van. “Just put on your bathing suit,” I told her. “Looks like we’re never going to reach dry land.”
She went off to change, Evelyn clucking after her like a mother hen.
“Kantor,” I said seriously, “I really need to talk to Evelyn.”
“I’m sure she will join us in a minute.” Reluctantly, he added, “Anything I can help you with ?”
“I don’t know. It’s about Steven Bondesky. You know. My accountant? Of course, you do. Evelyn must have told you about him. Well, he’s missing, and I need to find him. There’s this problem with my money . . .” The words that bubbled out of my mouth seemed to make Kantor more nervous. I hushed my tirade about the money and said cautiously, “Maybe you can answer some questions for me? He disappeared with my money about the same time Evelyn came to work with you.” I saw the same strange flicker of fear in his eyes that I had seen when we first arrived.
Maybe it was just the weather.
Kantor’s salt-and-pepper mustache twitched on his face. In fact, I thought I saw his bow tie bobble above his white shirt collar, signaling deep distress. He suddenly jumped up from his deck chair next to mine and ran to the railing. “Honey, look there. Oh, I love this Hill Country. Can see forever. Wonder how far off that is? See how the blue meets the gray? Would you look at the size of that wall cloud? That’s a classic weather front moving in. We’d better get an update on the television. I’ll be right back.” And if I thought Evelyn Potter had scurried off like a mother hen, I’d have to say Kantor was acting like a scared rabbit.
I jumped up and followed him into the rabbit hole which, after a serious warning from the television weatherman, eventually led to an inner closet in Kantor’s Kabin peopled by two weather-wearied women, Steven Bondesky’s secretary Evelyn Potter, and a very nervous Labrador retriever. Kantor made it into the group just as the first hail hit the roof. He had scampered to the kitchen to rescue the gin and Tom Collins mix. He handed me an ice bucket as he closed the door to our improvised tornado shelter. Janie held the flashlight, and we all refurbished our drinks.
“Too bad I didn’t snatch up the playing cards,” Kantor joked as his knee hit my chin. I ducked from the blow and knocked heads with Janie. We all took a minute to get a feel of our own space. Elbows and hips vied for the most comfortable resting places in the cramped closet. Kantor sat squatted near the door, his knees drawn up under his chin. Evelyn’s shapely form just seemed to mold against the back of the closet while Janie and I fought it out for any remaining space. Bailey lay half on my lap and half on Janie’s. I rested my drink on his back.
Overhead, the storm gods played Star Wars with lightning rods and hail dice.
I had to shout to be heard. If I was going to die right here in the middle of Texas Hill Country, I by God was going to know the answers I wanted to hear. “Evelyn,” I shouted. “Where is Bondesky?”
Evelyn must have thought she was going straight to hell if she didn’t answer truthfully, and she screamed into the storm, “He’s in Mexico.”
TWENTY
Huddled on the floor of Kantor’s closet, Evelyn Potter finally lost all her mystique for me. She screamed as loudly as any of us did, and it wasn’t just in response to my question about the whereabouts of Steven Bondesky. The fierce twister that took the roof off Kantor’s Kabin also blew away the weather angel that had hovered over our heads in South Padre Island.
Janie had a death grip on my arm, and Bailey was buried under my legs. I don’t know why they thought I was their anchor in the storm. Kantor was still standing, and Evelyn had both her arms thrown around his legs. I hadn’t been so scared since I had found myself in a locked room with a roomful of armed women. Only this time I wasn’t tied to my chair. There was no chair.
The tornado blew over in a New York minute, but it seemed that it lasted for a lifetime. The sky that we could now see over our heads grew lighter, and the rain slackened.
Kantor carefully opened the closet door. It was all that was left standing. Maybe the weather angel hadn’t flown so far from us after all.
The tornado blew away most of Kantor’s house, Evelyn’s Ford Escort, and all the hopes I had for getting a further answer to my question. With rain pelting in our roofless closet, Evelyn gaped at me through wide eyes and finished answering my question, just as if we were still sipping drinks on the deck: “He’s fine, Honey. Just fine.” She didn’t have a platinum hair out of place. I patted my frizz top, which had spun with the cyclone, and asked, “What hair spray do you use?”
That Kantor was also in a bit of a shock was not surprising. Ten minutes before the tornado hit, he had his dream house, his dream woman, and a long-wished-for book in production. Now all he had was a chilled pitcher of Tom Collins drink and three bedraggled women — well, two drenched women and one obviously covered with Teflon — and a dog. His lovely sports car was in the middle of his lake, which wasn’t as deep as it appeared but was deep enough to hold the classic car.
“Good closet,” Janie told Kantor as she patted him on the shoulder, edging her way out the door into a pile of rubble. “You know, that sounded more like an airplane landing than a freight train. Good lord, Kantor, would you look at this?”
I stepped over what used to be Kantor’s bed frame and asked, “Evelyn, if Bondesky is alive and well and in Mexico, then where is my money?” I wasn’t being insensitive to the situation; I happened to need answers, and I figured that my questions were going to get lost as soon as everyone came back to earth.
Evelyn actually snarled at me. “How can you think of money at a time like this? Kantor has just los
t everything.” That thought caused her arched, plucked eyebrows to swing in Kantor’s direction as she reassessed his market value.
Bless his little heart, Kantor raised the drink pitcher in a salute and took a long drink from the glass he still held in his hand. “God bless the USA!” His bow tie bobbled as he gulped back tears.
I thought he had lost his marbles in the twister, but Janie grinned and said, “You lucky dog.”
“Pardon? I don’t understand,” I said.
“Kantor is insured, Honey. And he had USA insurance with complete tornado coverage and he will come out looking like a rose.” Kantor tugged at the ends of his satin vest and nodded assent.
“That’s smelling like a rose,” I countered as I wondered how she had figured all that out from his outburst. I guessed it was from all those years of writing down shorthand notes in her omnipotent clue notebook. And selfishly I yelled, “Where is my money?” I kind of felt like Scarlett standing in the turnip field.
Fortunately, everyone ignored my foot-stamping and went about trying to collect bits and pieces of Kantor’s home. Evelyn was especially pleased to find her Lancôme makeup bag. We loaded the van with the remnants of Kantor’s life as Janie and Evelyn vied for giving directions on what to do now.
What to do involved driving to downtown Fredericksburg, where we encountered people bent over in the “tornado stoop,” picking up pictures and papers from sodden clumps of soaked gray matter strewn around the streets. I stopped the van, at Kantor’s order, by a man standing in the middle of the street wearing cutoffs and a tall Uncle Sam hat. Instead of enlisting in the army — as I had first thought — Kantor simply gave the man his name and policy number. After a quick call on the USA agent’s cell phone, the agent wrote out a check right then and there to cover Kantor’s initial recovery payment.
The Complete Honey Huckleberry Box Set Page 43