Sedona Law 3

by Dave Daren

  “Well,” Joowon said. “They seem friendly.”

  “Nice people,” I said and avoided mentioning that they live on a commune. My mother didn’t get that memo, though.

  “They have a commune outside of town,” she said. “It’s a lovely place, and they grow their own herbs and vegetables.”

  I cringed and rubbed my face, but Seoyon surprised me.

  “The home grown herbs and vegetables are the best,” she said. “I only buy at the farmer’s market, because the markets and commercial farmers put so much into the vegetables that they are not good for you anymore.”

  “I know,” my mother gushed.

  “That’s right,” Joowon said. “There is evidence that certain pesticides cause degenerative brain disease. And if you eat organic vegetables, you can actually reverse those effects.”

  The four of them suddenly excluded us from the conversation by stepping all over each other with their mutual enthusiasm for home grown herbs and vegetables. Vicki and I looked at each other, and I took a bite of my preservative-laden enchilada.

  “Who would have thought?” I said.

  She laughed. “Who would have thought?”

  We wrapped up dinner just in time for me to meet Bill for drinks. I bid the dinner party adieu, and my parents left. Joowon and Seoyon lingered out on the sidewalk with us.

  “We leave in the morning,” Seoyon said. “I see now what a difference you are making in this town. The people of Sedona are lucky to have you.”

  They both nodded and then got in their car. Vicki and I looked at each other.

  “I think hell just froze over,” she said.

  “I think you’re right,” I laughed back.

  I said goodbye to Vicki and headed across town for drinks with the biggest, baddest bounty hunter Sedona had ever seen.

  Chapter 14

  I left to meet Bill at Slinger’s Saloon directly after dinner. It took all my considerable powers of persuasion to convince Vicki to stay home for this adventure. She made me promise to take her there at some point in the future.

  “You haven’t lived until you’ve been somewhere named Slinger’s Saloon,” she said.

  “That’s one way to put it,” I laughed as I left.

  Slinger’s Saloon was the cowboy themed bar version of the no-tell-motel. Cowboys, bikers, rebels, outlaws, roughnecks, and anyone else with secrets to hide came to drown their sorrows--or consciences-- under the dark blanket of dismal camaraderie.

  I drove into the parking lot and noticed that the sign outside hadn’t been fixed since the last time I had been there. Three letters on the sign were burnt out, and one of the decorative pistols flickered.

  The first time I was here was after I had just met AJ. The place had scared her pretty bad, especially considering a bar fight broke out that night. It had been between two men. One was Horace, who later became a client, and the other was Bill, the man I was coming here to meet.

  I walked through the saloon style doors into the dimly lit room. The first thing I noticed were two men in plaid shirts, large belt buckles, and southwestern bolas cranking out melancholy Neil Young covers on twangy guitars. My dad went through a Neil Young phase at one time, and I shocked myself at being able to place the song quickly.

  They had a different bouncer on duty from the last time I had been here. This one was a tall, muscular man, with balding white hair, a silver handlebar mustache, and a severe look. He wore a black t-shirt with so much patriotic art, it was hard to distinguish one image of an eagle from another. He leaned on the bar and casually sipped a beer while he talked to a pretty young bartender in uniform as an old time bar wench.

  I nodded at the bouncer, and he looked me over and nodded back with a reserved look. I must have passed muster for now, but he had his eye on me. I smirked and searched the room for Bill.

  I found his massive frame at the bar and held back a laugh. He had faded black jeans with a studded belt, and a leather cowboy vest with matching silver stars worn over a denim button-down shirt with shiny snaps. He had a dark brown cowboy hat, and a red paisley bandana around his neck.

  “Hey, Bill,” I said as I eased myself onto a bar stool.

  “Hey, Irving,” he greeted me and sipped whatever it was he was drinking.

  I ordered something from the bar wench who looked as irritated at her degrading overly buxom uniform as I would have expected any of the women in my life to be.

  “So what’s the scam?” Bill asked as soon as she was gone.

  “My client’s been kidnapped,” I said. “There’s a substantial reward for bringing them in.”

  “A kidnapping?” he asked. “Who was kidnapped?”

  I sighed and shot him a winning smile and dropped my bombshell. “Not who, but what,” I said. “A zebra.”

  “A zebra?” he asked. ”Wait, now I remember, I heard you’re in charge of Alister O’Brien’s zebra. You’re the zebra guy.”

  “The zebra guy?” I asked, not too enthused with the moniker.

  “Yeah,” Bill’s face lit up and he grinned. “Shit yeah! Do you know what a zebra would do for my career?”

  I smirked. “More than it’s doing for mine, I assume.”

  He didn’t hear me. “Those network guys will shit a brick if I got a zebra in my show!”

  “Hold on a sec,” I said. “I just need you to find the zebra. No one said anything about a show, we--”

  “No, no,” he said. “Alls I want is a photo shoot, me and the zebra.”

  “A photo shoot?” I said. “That’s all?”

  “Well,” he said. “In addition to my regular fees, that is.”

  “Right,” I agreed.

  “Times two for hazard conditions,” he declared.

  “I can work with that,” I said. Although I wasn’t sure how much more hazardous a zebra was than his usual fare of armed sociopaths and escaped inmates. But the zebra had all the money in the world to burn, so whatever.

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “One last thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s m’bonus,” he said. “Once I find this thing, I want to ride it.”

  “Well,” I said. “You do realize that the last guy that rode that zebra died?”

  “And your point is?” he replied.

  I shrugged. “Well, you have yourself a deal, Bill.”

  “Alright,” he slammed his hand on the bar for emphasis. “We got a deal. Barkeep, get a drink for m’pardner here. We start work tomorrow.”

  The bar wench rolled her eyes and approached us. “What’ll be it, gentlemen?”

  I snickered and ordered another drink. Someone had to get that poor girl out of there.

  By the time I arrived home, Vicki was already asleep. I slipped in beside her in the dark. She moaned softly as I pecked her cheek.

  “Did we get him?” she mumbled.

  “Oh, we got him,” I answered.

  She groaned happily and curled tighter in the covers and fell back asleep. I wasn’t far behind her.

  In the morning, I arrived at the office to find AJ had typed up a twenty page manual on zebra behavior, habitat and ultimately, their care. Vicki had to take her parents to the airport, so she wouldn’t be in until the afternoon. It was just AJ and I again for the morning.

  “I sent the file over to Manuel as well,” she said.

  “Nice work,” I said as I flipped through it. I skimmed the section on feed and noticed that zebras can be fed hay and alfalfa similar to a horse. This explained how the kidnappers were able to keep feeding it.

  “I have a feeling Manuel isn’t going to stay with us much longer,” I said.

  “Why is that?” AJ asked.

  “I think selling the zoo was a bit of a blow for him,” I said. “I don’t blame him. He worked hard to maintain those animals, and now they’re gone.”

  “What will you do if he leaves?” she asked.

  “I haven’t decided,” I said. “But it will be
tough to replace a well-trained zebra handler.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “How do you take an employment ad for that?”

  “Hmm…” I thought. “Maybe I can sweeten the benefits package. What does Manuel want?”

  “I suspect you would have to ask Manuel that,” AJ said.

  “Wisdom beyond your years,” I quipped. “Fortunately enough, I’ve got so much money to burn on this zebra, he could literally have whatever he wanted.”

  “And he knows it too,” she said.

  “How long do zebras live?” I asked as I flipped through her manual. “In captivity,” she answered, “they can live up to forty years.”

  I groaned loudly and collapsed my head on my desk. “I have to put up with this zebra for the bulk of my career?”

  “Well, how old is he now?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Ten, maybe?”

  “It will grow on you,” she said. “When it dies, you’ll be crushed.”

  “When it dies,” I said. “I’ll be about ready to cash in my retirement plan.”

  “That too,” she added.

  Bloodhound Bill came in the office then. As usual, he was dressed to the nines in his street cred cowboy attire. He wore brown pants with a large brown double leather holster complete with nickel plated pistols on either side. He wore a navy blue and brown striped button-down shirt was topped with a light brown scarf tied loosely around his neck, and light brown suspenders. Brown western boots glimmered with a spit shine, and he wore a black cowboy hat.

  “Henry,” he nodded and I greeted him with a firm handshake.

  “Good to see you there, Bill,” he said. “You remember AJ.”

  AJ and Bill had worked together once upon a time during Harmony’s case. Bill smiled generously, “Yes, I do,” he said. “Hey, there girlie.”

  AJ smiled pleasantly, “Hello, Bill, nice to see you again. How your life?”

  Bill nodded. “Not bad. Although I hear it will be a hell of a lot better once I find this zebra and impress the networks with a kick ass video.”

  “There’s a video now?” I asked.

  “I was thinking about having a camera crew out there,” he said, “and we could film the ride. Maybe getting some lighting and sound techs for a real crisp shoot. We could do a green screen on a soundstage, until we get a perfect take, and then add in a sunset in post. Or maybe it would be better to shoot on a natural location. Whaddya think?”

  I laughed. “Well, I think you gotta find the zebra first.”

  He nodded and rubbed his hands together. “Alright, then, let’s get down to business.”

  “Yes, yes,” I said. “Let’s go over what we know. AJ, let’s all go into the conference room.”

  Our conference room was small and had a rectangular dining table and a large white board.

  “Let’s map out what we know,” I said to AJ.

  Bill and I both sat, and he took a pocket sized memo pad out of his shirt pocket.

  She uncapped a marker and made notations on the white board. “So, the client’s name in Neptune. Neptune the zebra.”

  He wrote this down. “Any special markings?” he said.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Black and white stripes.”

  Bill shot me a look, and I laughed. “Not that we know of, but how many zebras could there be in this area?”

  “Go on,” he said.

  “He was taken from the O’Brien mansion on Monday, between nine p.m. and eight a.m. We have tire tracks leading away from the pen, but they get lost a few yards away. We believe the animal was taken out the back gate of the O’Brien mansion and on to the road.”

  I opened my tablet and showed him the photos we had of the zebra and the tracks. He nodded seriously and looked them over.

  “Send those to me,” he said.

  I emailed the photos over and AJ continued.

  “The housekeeper, Elena, said around eleven p.m. she saw a blue pickup truck and a red horse trailer with a black star on it at the zebra pen.”

  “Wait,” he said. “Red trailer with a black star?”

  “That’s what she told us,” I said.

  “That sounds like the logo for Black Horse,” he chuckled. “It’s a horse breeding network.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded and searched his phone and then showed me a web photo of a red horse trailer with a black star. “Is that it?” he asked.

  “I wasn’t there,” I said. “Elena the housekeeper would know.”

  “Is she at the house now?” he asked.

  “She should be,” I answered. “I’ll send you over there to talk to Manuel anyway.”

  He nodded. “If Black Horse has the zebra, who knows what these guys are capable of. You got anything else?” he asked AJ.

  “A couple of other things,” she said.

  “Lay it on me,” he said.

  She slid the disposable phone across the table. “They sent us a ransom text from a blocked number to this phone. Anyway, long story short, we traced the GPS location of the phone they were texting from, to a Denny’s in Holbrook. Obviously it’s not a permanent location, but it gives us an idea of where to start.”

  Bill nodded and searched through the phone and made notes. He looked serious and on the job. I hadn’t seen him this focused, and his furrowed brow and intense green eyes reminded me of the earnest school boy he had once been.

  “So,” AJ said. “These are our prime suspects. She pulled out her tag board and set it against the whiteboard. She went through each person on the board and explained their role and potential connection to the crime.

  Bill snapped a phone photo of the board and said, “You guys have been doing your homework. Well let me see what I can find, and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Thanks, Bill,” I said and saw him out the door.

  “Think he’ll find anything?” AJ asked.

  “I sure hope so,” I said. “Otherwise we’re screwed.”

  “Next we need to get a full property map of the estate,” I told AJ, “if we’re going to find out how a person could get on and off the property without being detected. I have a pretty good idea, but we need to know all possible ways.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Where would I get that?”

  “The property tax appraiser’s office,” I said. “You’ll need a bit of paperwork, but you should be able to get it. Find out what you need.”

  “Great,” she said. She jumped on the phone, and I started looking at the intricacies of the suit against the estate.

  To challenge the will, the plaintiffs would have to prove that the testator was incompetent and not of sound mind. One of the most important pieces of evidence in that respect was the testator’s medical records.

  A quick search into the records from Thomas produced the name of Alister’s primary care physician, Dr. Wallis. One of the first things the plaintiff would do was subpoena the records and the doctor. The burden of proof was entirely on the plaintiff, but I wanted to know what they had, so I called Dr. Wallis’ office.

  “Dr. Wallis’ office, this is Brenda.” The young woman on the other end had more than a slight twang.

  “Hi, Brenda,” I said. “My name is Henry Irving. I was the attorney for Alister O’Brien. I had some questions for Dr. Wallis. Is he available?”

  She hesitated, and then I heard her muffled voice, “Doc, there’s some lawyer on the phone wants to talk to you about Alister.”

  I couldn’t make out the response, but then Brenda returned. “Dr. Wallis has a patient right now. He said if you want to make an appointment he would be happy to talk to you.”

  “Great,” I chirped. “When is his next availability?”

  “Ummm,” she said, “He had a cancellation at 2:30 if you want to come in then.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “I will see him then.” I gave her my contact information and ended the call.

  Vicki walked in at that point. “Hey,” she greeted me.

  “Did your parents ge
t off alright?” I asked.

  She sighed. “They are in the air.”

  I mouthed, “Thank God.”

  She laughed. “Hopefully they won’t be in for another visit anytime soon.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Your dad was talking about getting a vacation house out here.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “You are so not funny, Henry.”

  “I’m so serious,” I said. “He was asking me about property values and everything.

  She looked at me wide-eyed, and then AJ got off the phone.

  “Alright,” she said. “I’m off to the permits office.”

  Once she left, Vicki shook her head. “We should get her a gold medal or something.”

  “Right?” I said, “I’ve got a meeting with Alister’s doctor this afternoon.”

  “Good thinking,” Vicki responded. “We should also talk to Thomas. He’d be able to testify as to the conditions of the will and whether he thought Alister unsound.”

  “Great,” I said.

  She got on the phone and made an appointment to meet with Thomas and then spent the day doing tedious paperwork. Finally AJ arrived with the blueprints, and we rolled them out onto the table in the conference room. It showed the innards of what I thought was a three-story house. As it turns out, there were actually four stories and an underground wine cellar.

  “A wine collector?” Vicki said. “We should have guessed.

  “Yeah,” I said. “He’s got a collection worth over two million.”

  “We’ve got to auction that off,” she said.

  “What can I say?” I said. “It’s a sophisticated zebra.”

  The blueprints laid out the zoo areas, as well as a golf course and a winding garden maze.

  “Okay,” I said. “What we need to do is identify all the security exits and entrances. We need to know where all the cameras are. We know they weren’t at the tiger enclosure, but we need to find where the nearest one to the zebra enclosure is.”

  AJ and Vicki looked over the maps and nodded.

  “Okay,” Vicki said. “We need to call whoever is running the security cams and mark their locations and coverage area on this map. Do we have a security guard?”

  “I haven’t met one if they do,” I said. “Earnie never mentioned one to me.”