The Indigo Brothers Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  Raine examined both faces. “I think they’re at least related.”

  Anniston nodded. “Bingo. The percentage is very high that the two men are brothers.”

  Mitch took a slug of his beer. “Define very high.”

  “Eighty-five percent.”

  “Wouldn’t it be more if they were twins?” Raine speculated.

  “That remaining fifteen percent discrepancy is explained away by the real fact that one led a life of luxury while the other was a virtual pauper, life of wealth and privilege versus off the grid kind of thing.”

  “Maybe that accounted for the animosity between the two, obviously it existed. Somewhere along the way one branched off with the money and left the other destitute. But somehow Hugo managed to get the documents away from his brother,” Mitch pointed out.

  Raine dug into her pasta salad. “Definitely a story there so deep that we may never know the whole truth of it.”

  Anniston sat down with her own plate. “Garret, do you still have all the images of those contracts you found in Dietrich’s safe?”

  “They’re still on my phone. Why?”

  “Because we need to go through all of them to learn as much as we can about Dietrich’s shady business dealings with Sinclair, Baskin, Dandridge, etc., and find anything we can to bring them down that way. The more charges we’re able to pile on, the greater chance we have of getting something solid to stick. I should start a spreadsheet.”

  Garret cut her a look. “Don’t forget one of those people involved in the shady crap is your buddy Royce Buchanan. Maybe you should warn him we’re about to use the contracts to put the squeeze on his pals.”

  “And maybe you should start thinking about utilizing Royce Buchanan more in all this,” Anniston fired back. “That man is hurting every bit as much as anyone else. He’s motivated to find who killed Walker. It makes more sense to employ that anger to bring the bad guys down than to ignore it.” She pointed her fork at him. “And before you say another word, I realize Royce is shady. I read his background just like you did that tells me his business dealings are less than open and honest.”

  Tanner brought over a platter piled high with burgers, put it down on the table. “You might be right, Anniston. So far, the only thing I see Royce guilty of is greed and dubious business practices.”

  “I’ve said all along Royce is a land grabber, a greedy developer, maybe even considers himself a bit of an elitist, but I don’t think he had a hand in killing his own son.” Turning to Garret, she let out a huge sigh. “If you could just put aside how you feel about him long enough to look at the situation from my point of view, you’d see I’m knocking heads with you because I truly believe Royce wants the same thing we do. Who knows Baskin and Oakerson and the rest better than Royce does?”

  “But once we let him in the door, can we trust him completely?” Garret shot back. He looked around the table. “That’s the thing that bothers me the most. If you think your spreadsheet will turn up anything in Royce’s favor, you’re delusional. But you guys do what you want. I’ll sit here on the fence, happy to echo I told you so.”

  “I tell you what,” Tanner began, angling toward Anniston. “You do your database thing about Royce’s dealings with Baskin and the like. Then you set up a meeting with him to confront him about all his crap. Then we’ll see if you still think he’s someone we can bring to the table. How’s that sound?”

  Anniston’s lips curved. “A challenge? I like it. Okay, you’re on. Tonight, I’ll go back to Royce’s early days and get everything on him I can find, business-wise. If he’s lying about bringing all these felons to town back in the ’90s, then I’ll be able to see a pattern.”

  But Garret persisted. “You’re ignoring the fact that Royce routinely hands out cash to them—business loans to Frawley, political donations to Oakerson, a regular paycheck to Baskin as his chauffeur and God knows what else, and then outright cash to Dandridge through the church. The only one who slips through the money machine seems to be Sinclair. Is that because there’s something you haven’t uncovered about our chief of police yet? Why are all these people on Royce’s payroll in one capacity or another, if his hands are so clean?”

  Anniston patted his face. “You always were a tougher sell. But I can work with that. I still say if you give me twenty-four hours I’ll be able to decide one way or another if Royce is worth trusting.”

  Garret looked over at Mitch, picked up his beer. “What do you say?”

  “Go for it. But know this, if Royce is in any way part of what happened, he’s going down just like all the rest.”

  “Goes without saying,” Anniston noted. Switching gears, she drew out her cell phone. “Sebastian texted me about his meeting with Willis Hartman’s daughter, Peggy. He spent an hour and a half with her going over what she remembered right before her father was murdered. She verified a couple of things and corrected us on a few more.”

  “Like what?” Raine asked.

  “First, Willis Hartman isn’t Boone Dandridge. Two entirely different people. But Reverend Hartman did apprentice a man who approached him in the summer of 1991 claiming he wanted to become a pastor. Peggy remembered his name, or rather the name he used at the time. It was Whitley Shepherd. Sebastian ran a background on the name. Turns out, Shepherd has a connection to Roland Wainwright from their days in Vancouver, British Columbia. The two went to school together until they both dropped out and became locally known as common grifters, guys to avoid, scammers. They were together in Oregon and were in trouble for running the same basic cons on the elderly. But then something happened and they split up.”

  “Does Shepherd more closely resemble Dandridge better than Wainwright,” Garret asked.

  “Yep. Peggy remembers a tall, gangly guy. And when Sebastian showed her the photo we have of Dandridge, she identified him as Shepherd, older of course, but with the same basic features. So Shepherd is Dandridge.”

  “Then these two guys obviously intersected again at some point after they left Oregon,” Garret surmised.

  “Maybe. That’s one way to look at it. But there’s another possibility. One of the men died, which would be Wainwright, while the survivor, which would be Dandridge, took over the con games of the other, used them for several years after their time in the Pacific Northwest was up. Sebastian discovered that even the authorities got the two men mixed up in their system a time or two. It isn’t unheard of. Dack caught the height difference. I didn’t. While Wainwright is listed at five-nine, Shepherd/Dandridge is the right height at six feet. It might explain a few things. It bears checking out further.”

  “And might solve a cold case in Port Saint Lucie,” Raine prompted. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could bring Shepherd, or rather Dandridge in for that?”

  “That’s the plan. Anyway, according to Peggy, Reverend Hartman tutored this Whitley Shepherd guy toward the goal of becoming his own pastor at his own church. That was the story and apparently Hartman believed Shepherd was serious about learning the ropes. But after the reverend was found in his parsonage with a bullet through his head on the Friday morning of March 20th, 1992, Shepherd disappeared, vanished without a trace. At the time Reverend Hartman had been working on his Sunday sermon, reportedly with his young apprentice nearby.”

  Lenore let out a gasp, put a hand over her mouth. “So Shepherd shows up here in our little town less than a month later as Boone Dandridge?”

  Tanner pushed his plate away. “To think, all this time…we hired a murderer and a con artist and have dutifully followed him in prayer. I may never trust anyone again.”

  “Peggy confirmed that her father came up with the saying ‘faith is belief that turns into bravery.’ I think the reverend, the real one, trusted the wrong guy. Hartman was murdered for his trouble.”

  “Dandridge shows up here in Indigo Key, probably thinking it’s too small for anyone to ask questions,” Mitch noted. “That might serve as a nail in Boone’s coffin right there.”

  “Want ano
ther nail?” Anniston said, dangling the nugget like bait on a fishing line. “I think Garret discovered a biggie. Go ahead, tell them.”

  Garret put down his burger so he could talk. “I’ve had some time on my hands since we got back. Last night Anniston and I went back and forth on it.”

  “That’s code for a big discussion ensued where we exchanged our differences of opinion using our very loud voices,” she admitted with a grin. “He won. That’s why I was up so early and stopped by your place this morning, Raine. I had to leave him alone to…make the best use of his computer.”

  Tessa took a long gulp of iced tea. “And she dragged me with her. But since I got breakfast out of the deal, I’m not complaining. You’ll have to give me your recipe for waffles, Raine. They were delicious.”

  The lighthearted banter made Mitch grow impatient. “Could we agree to exchange recipes later, ladies?”

  Raine smiled. “Sure. Go on, Garret.”

  “I won the argument, which is what it was, because I wanted to hack into the phone records for Dandridge.” He glanced toward his dad. “And yes, I know it’s illegal. And thanks to Mom’s excellent memory as to which phone service Dandridge mentioned using, I knew where to start.”

  “I’ve got my retirement savings, not much mind you, but it’d be enough to put it toward your legal fees if it comes to that,” Tanner offered with a wink.

  Garret grinned. “Thanks. I knew I could count on you. The thing is after Dack told us about the traffic stop on the way to the Tampa airport, I needed to know for myself if we could put Boone, not a lookalike, but Boone himself, in that general vicinity. Turns out, we can. On September 24th at 3:30 a.m. Boone’s phone hits several towers going up Interstate 75. Remember when Anniston told us a cell phone trail was better than DNA. I wasn’t sure I bought it back then, but I’m getting the gist of it now. If you follow the trail that Boone’s cell phone made heading north, it goes straight to the airport and back to Indigo Key. That’s the ‘ah-ha’ moment everyone’s been waiting for…”

  “Otherwise known as the smoking gun,” Anniston concluded, beaming. She leaned over and kissed Garret on the mouth. “His hacking skills make me proud. But he isn’t finished quite yet.”

  “Thanks to Anniston getting an up close and personal view of Baskin’s phone bill—left out in plain sight on the counter at his repair shop—I also hacked into his cell records for that night. His cell phone never left town, not Wednesday night or Thursday morning. In fact, during both nights, his phone pings off the tower in town closest to the repair center and body shop.”

  Mitch swung his feet up, propping them on the nearest empty spot on the picnic bench. “So Baskin will probably be the tougher bastard to bring down. He’s not as stupid as some of the others. Let’s refigure the math. Dietrich and Nathan have been eliminated. We don’t have to waste time on them. If Sebastian nails Sinclair with that video of Raine’s abduction, we can bring him down for that until we figure out the murder angle. Then there’s Dandridge. If using his cell phone records connects him to the murders, that leaves us with Baskin, Oakerson and Frawley to deal with. I’m okay with those odds. Am I leaving anyone out?”

  “Wendy,” Jackson tossed out from the end of the table. “Don’t forget Nathan’s wife. Wendy could be our second weakest link. The question is, do we make her a deal? I have an idea on that.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Mitch prompted.

  “Once we nail Oakerson, Wendy will talk if given the right incentive.”

  “Ah, I see dollar signs.”

  “So will she. But not the way you think.”

  Mitch cocked a brow and kicked his feet off the bench. “You're planning on blackmailing Wendy?”

  Jackson smiled and shrugged. “Not at all. I’m just eliminating most of her options and taking them off the table.”

  “I like it. And has Mrs. Hollister inquired about her loving hubby yet?” Garret asked.

  “Not so you’d notice. She’s too busy spending time with Oakerson to care about what happened to Nathan.”

  Raine laughed. “It’s a shame really. I saw her on Oakerson’s yacht after you guys left to go get Nathan. She was laughing it up, drunk, and dancing her way across the deck. I never noticed before how much time Oakerson spends away from his office. Anyone could be mayor.” She glanced at Mitch. “Even you.”

  “Not my style,” Mitch muttered.

  “The point is, the voting public may not understand how frivolous Oakerson is with the town’s time and money. That could be the nail in his coffin.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Raine swallowed down her last bite of salad and stood up. “I hate to eat and run like this but I really do need to go relieve Charlotte for a bit. If we’re done here, I need to check on things at the restaurant.”

  Mitch got to his feet, as well. “Okay. Let’s do it. I’ll help.”

  “You’ve been very agreeable all day.”

  “Turns out, I like serving up tacos and bussing tables. Who knew? I could take a turn cooking in the kitchen just like I do on board the boat. You know Mom taught us all to handle the basics.”

  “You bet I did,” Lenore offered. “That’s why I tried my best to push off fixing the appetizers on him this afternoon.”

  “I’m on to you, Mom,” Mitch admitted with a kiss to her cheek.

  Raine smiled at the mother and son byplay. There’d been times over the years she’d watched the teen boy use those long lean fingers of his to crack eggs or dice veggies. And right this minute she knew he was trying to show her he cared. “Fine. But I don’t want to hear any bitching about it when I put you to work washing dishes or bussing tables at eleven o’clock at night.”

  “Hey, my mother also raised me to know the importance of keeping the galley tidy.”

  By the time they reached The Blue Taco, the place was still packed with hungry people. If he’d thought the lunch crowd had been busy, the dinner rush was more like bedlam.

  The dining room was bustling to capacity. The throng included several crying babies and little kids under six. The precocious youngsters had finished their meal and used the aisle next to the tables as their own personal football field. They ran back and forth tossing a Nerf ball around.

  “Doesn’t anybody cook at home anymore?” Mitch asked, glancing around at the pandemonium.

  “I’m grateful they don’t, although it does get a little hairy when it’s like this and parents let their toddlers run wild. Looks like we could have a food fight at any minute.”

  As soon as Charlotte spotted Raine, she waved her over to the counter. “Thank goodness you showed up. You’re both lifesavers,” the woman breathed out as she took another order. “We ran out of queso about an hour ago. I haven’t had a chance to make more. We ran out of the pork tamales around six, so I substituted the steak carnitas. I hope that’s okay?”

  “More than. I’ll take care of the queso,” Raine said as she moved through the swinging door. She pushed it back open again and aimed a wide smile at her assistant manager, thumbed a hand toward Mitch. “He’s your slave for the next three hours. He can deliver the food to the tables.”

  To get him started, Raine handed him a plate of enchiladas. “Table six.”

  Thrown into the mayhem, but willing to help, he asked, “Which one is that again?”

  “Center table next to all the screaming kids.”

  “Oh jeez, I have to wade into the middle of that?”

  “Yep.” She slapped him on the back, gave him a little push. “Welcome to the wonderful world of food service.”

  After that, Raine joined Maddie in the kitchen. “How’s it going?”

  “Been on my feet too long, girl. You gotta get us some help in here.”

  “You go on home now. I’ll take over from here.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Now shoo.” Raine deftly took over at the grill, searing up an order of shrimp for tacos. Mitch sauntered through the door and headed straight for Raine, pl
acing a kiss on her mouth. “How can I help? Point me in the direction of what you need me to do.”

  “Grab more sour cream out of the fridge and pick out some ripe avocados. In fact, you could throw together the guacamole.”

  Maddie yanked off her apron, but stood back curiously watching the two interact. She couldn’t believe her eyes when Mitch planted a smooch on the boss again like he’d done it every day for the past year. “Don’t think that just because you came in here three hours before closing time you saved the day,” Maddie scolded.

  “No ma’am. I won’t think that,” Raine said with a grin. “Tell me again how you managed without me for a day?”

  “That new girl you hired, Tessa, she slogged through here just fine. She’s got some moves in the kitchen. Maybe you could promote her and hire counter help. Between Tessa, Charlotte and me, we had things covered just fine while you were gone. Worried about you just the same, though.”

  “Well, I’m back now.”

  Unwilling to let it go, Maddie kept up her counsel. “But you need to put an ad in the paper, or online, wherever they do that these days and bring in the applicants, as many as you can coax in here, and look for another cook.”

  “Are you giving me your notice, Maddie?”

  “Naw, I didn’t say that. I’m just give out working double shifts is all. I want a life outside this place.”

  “Duly noted. Will you train someone if I hire a novice?” Raine teased.

  Maddie smiled and showed a set of perfect teeth. “Damn straight I will. You get me someone eager to learn and I’ll show them the ropes.”

  “It’s a deal,” Raine said right before Maddie walked out the back door.

  “She’s a tough one,” Mitch noted.

  “Maddie? She’s been singing that same old song and dance ever since she walked through that door ten years ago. But she’s right. It’s time I hired another cook. Charlotte is my backup at managing things, but I can’t expect everyone to consistently work two shifts like this on a regular basis. I’ve been putting it off too long now.”