A Ton of Gold (Crystal Moore Suspense Book 1)

by James R. Callan

  Eula craned her neck to look up at him. “Sure as you can be when you're dealing with the phone company.”

  “It was working Thursday,” Crystal said and then almost bit her tongue, forgetting Eula didn’t know Crystal had been out to The Park. Fortunately, her grandmother did not pick up on the statement. Crystal’s blouse, with a three-quarter-length sleeve, hid the bandage on her arm.

  When Rod climbed down, he brought two wires, which he carefully fixed to the side of the pole opposite the drive.

  In the meantime, Mark hid a small wooden box under the bush. He stacked rocks around its sides, then gathered another small pile of branches and rocks a few feet away.

  “How’s it gonna do whatever it’s gonna do?” Eula asked Crystal.

  "Well, see that knothole in the log?" Crystal pointed. “Actually, that’s the lens to a small digital camera. It’s focused on the drive. When it sees a car come by, it’ll send the picture to the computer in that box Mark put over there. The computer will analyze the picture, pick out the license plate number, and call my computer with the information.”

  “How’s it know when to take pictures?”

  “There’s a motion sensor in there.”

  “How’s it going to call your computer?”

  “Rod has hooked the computer up to your phone line. So the computer can dial out just like you would. Except it will call my computer at the office, and also Mark’s computer at his house.”

  “This the kind of stuff you do at work?”

  Crystal laughed. “Not exactly. But we do some pretty amazing things.”

  Rod and Mark puttered around in the box a few minutes, then completely covered the box with branches.

  “That ought to do it,” Rod announced.

  “Near’s I can tell, Rod looks like he ought to be the boss," Eula said. "You think this contraption’ll work?”

  Rod grinned. “Well, ma'am, we’re going to try it out in just a minute.”

  Mark and Rod checked the area, making sure the computer and camera would not be detected. When they were satisfied, Mark said, “Let’s test it.”

  They all got in the truck, drove past the area covered by the camera, then turned around and drove back down to the county road, where Bill Glothe sat waiting. Mark pulled up next to Glothe’s car.

  “It’s all in, Bill,” Mark said. “Let’s see if it works.”

  Mark punched in a number on his cell phone. After one ring, a voice said, “Yes?”

  “This is Mark. Any messages from Cam two?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation. “One. 14:46, today. License IRS INC2. It belongs to . . .” Another hesitation. “. . . You, Mark. Full picture available.”

  “Good-bye.” Mark ended the call. “It identified us, our license number, and sent a picture to my computer.”

  “How do you know that?” Eula asked.

  “The number I called is to one of my computers at home. When I asked that computer if it had gotten any messages from the computer we just put in by your bridge, it said yes and told me it had seen our license go by at 2:46 today.”

  “Humph.”

  “Well, hope this does the job,” the sheriff said. “Call me whenever you hear anything. Got one quick chore to do, then I’ll head over to Melva’s.” He started the patrol car, gave a short wave and drove south on the county road.

  “Lot of wildlife here. Is it gonna call you two every time a deer prances by?” Eula asked, sounding skeptical.

  “No, Nana. The computer can tell the difference between deer or other animals and a car or truck.”

  “Or van?”

  "Or van. And if a person walks down the drive, it will send us a picture of the person,” Crystal answered.

  Eula was looking for something wrong with the system. “Will it tell you if the truck is puce?”

  Mark looked puzzled.

  “Nana thinks the truck was painted puce,” Crystal explained.

  “The computer won’t tell us it’s puce,” Mark said. A big grin broke out on Eula’s face. “But it will display a full color picture. And since I don’t know what color puce is, I’ll show it to you and let you decide.”

  “Humph.”

  #

  The front door to Melva Larsen's home opened directly into a large area that served as both living room and dining room. To the left was a comfortable area with a camel back sofa, a love seat (that did not match the sofa), two overstuffed chairs and a coffee table. To the right was a dining table, white with periwinkles painted at each corner, and six matching chairs. Crystal, Eula, Mark and Rod settled in to wait for Bill Glothe to arrive.

  Melva came through the door to the kitchen carrying a large pitcher of lemonade and an array of glasses on a tray. She set the tray on the coffee table and began filling the glasses.

  Eula took one of the tall, cool glasses and tasted the drink. "Good job, Melva.” Then, she turned her attention to Mark. “I don’t understand any of this stuff, but I’m sure having a computer keep an eye on The Park is a great idea. ‘Preciate it,” she said, her skepticism finally relenting.

  “I do too. It was Crystal’s idea,” he answered.

  “Well, she never said she thought it up. You know, before she went out to California, ‘mong them West Coast people, she was different.”

  “Nana, don’t bore Mark and Rod talking about your granddaughter.” Crystal was wary of the direction the conversation was taking.

  “She would have said to me, ‘Isn’t this a good idea I came up with?’ She was confident, maybe a little cocky. When she got back, she sure wasn’t cocky. Maybe why she didn’t finish her Ph.D. or whatever.”

  “I just sort of burned out, Nana. Now, let’s move on to some other topic, please.”

  “Never did buy that burnout thing,” Eula said.

  “I certainly know one thing,” Mark said. “She’s smart enough. If she weren’t here listening, I’d tell you she’s brilliant at times.”

  Crystal got up to leave the room. No, she thought. That won’t stop this conversation. I’ve simply got to change the topic. Get someone else on the hot seat. She smirked. “Nana, you said Mark was a so-so roper. Why so-so?”

  Mark almost choked on his drink. “Let’s not get into that.”

  “It’s a fair question. I did say that.” Eula stared at the ceiling and cocked her head to one side, then the other and back again, all the while pursing her lips. The conversation stopped and all eyes focused on Eula. “Well, to be a good roper, you need three things: rhythm, good timing, and an eye for distance. It’s been a long time since I watched him, but my recollection is, Bull was a little shy on the rhythm side.”

  Rod leaned back and roared with laughter. “That’s him; Mr. No Rhythm.”

  Mark scowled at Rod. “That’s ‘he.’ Not 'him.' Didn’t they teach English at A&M?”

  “Him. He. Makes no difference. It’s you, old buddy.”

  Just then, the doorbell rang and Melva went to let Bill in. Rod was still laughing.

  “I miss a good joke or something?” Bill asked.

  Mark jumped in. “Didn’t miss a thing. Grab a lemonade and let’s decide how we’re going to tell Sam it was Bessie and not Eula.”

  Bill picked up one of the chairs at the dining table, brought it over and sat in it. Melva handed him a glass. The sheriff took a long drink of the lemonade, looked at the group and said, "Well, how're we going to handle this?”

  Eula had the first suggestion. "I could just call him up and say 'Hi, I'm back.'"

  "Nana! That’d be like dropping a cold egg into boiling water. I veto that one."

  "Then suggest something else."

  "Write him a thank you note for his eulogy," suggested Melva.

  "Too slow," said Eula. "Now, if he was on that whatever net thing, Crystal could send him a net-mail or something from me."

  Crystal turned to Bill. "I hate to do this to you, especially since you were against not telling him in the first place, but I think you ought to be the
one."

  Glothe took a toothpick out of his shirt pocket and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. "I 'spose you've figured out how to go about it, too."

  "I have a suggestion," said Crystal.

  “Well, let's hear it."

  "You just got the written report on Bessie from Dr. Haas. You can start by giving him that to read. That will sort of ease him into the fact that Eula was not the victim."

  "And when he asks how long I've known?"

  "The truth. And the truth is, you knew only after the Gazette was printed. He couldn't change it. Tell him the reasons.” Crystal hunched her shoulders. "It's the best we can do."

  After another five minutes of discussion, Bill called Teeter and asked him to come over to Melva Larson's house. Eula and Crystal made more lemonade for everyone except Mark, who opted for a Dr Pepper.

  Mark suggested they go over what they would say to Sam, and how. “No.” Bill shook his head. “If you gotta practice to make it sound sincere, it won't. I’m in deep enough as it is.”

  Chapter 20

  EULA hid in the kitchen when Sam Teeter drove up.

  After the pleasantries, Sam settled into an overstuffed chair, raised his eyebrows and looked from Melva to Glothe.

  Bill got right to the point. "Afraid I haven't been completely honest with you, Sam, and for that I apologize. Hope my reasons for it will satisfy you a mite. First off, let me tell you that I got a report back from Wilcox. He’s an arson investigator with the State Fire Marshall’s office in Tyler. He confirmed what Crystal and Mark thought: the fire was deliberately set. Used diesel to start it.”

  “Can I see the report?”

  “I’ll get you a copy today. Now, here’s a report I got yesterday from Dr. Haas, down in Tyler. Says what I suspected. We got a murder on our hands.” He handed a copy of the report to Sam and waited.

  Sam read the report.

  Autopsy Report on Bessie Mae Longson

  The victim suffered a depressed skull fracture, caused by a hard, cylindrical instrument, approximately 1/2" to 5/8" in diameter——possibly an iron pipe or the barrel of a gun. The length of the impact area was approximately 2 and 3/4" long, starting from the hairline above the left eye continuing toward the back of the head. This resulted in skull-bone fragments cutting the dura membrane and brain tissue, and lacerating an artery. CSF leaked. Death was the result of an acute subdural hematoma. The victim was dead before being burned.

  When he finished, he fixed a level stare on Bill. "Bessie? What about Eula? You told me Eula was killed in the fire."

  Bill swallowed but maintained eye contact with Sam. "When I told you that, I believed it was the truth. We all did. By the time I found out different, the paper was printed and on the stands."

  "Then, where is Eula?"

  "Right here," Eula said as she came out of the kitchen.

  No one said anything. No one moved. Eula just stood in the doorway looking at Sam. Crystal thought the tough newspaperman was on the verge of tears. Slowly, he got up and walked over to Eula, his limp more pronounced than when he had entered the house. He put his arms around her and whispered something to her.

  After a few moments, Teeter turned to Bill, still keeping one arm close around Eula. "The funeral? Everybody thought it was Eula's. What's going on?” His voice sounded weak.

  "Now, Sam," Eula said quietly. "Don't set your plow too deep. They finally came around to what I've been telling ‘em. Somebody's trying to kill me. Maybe if they think I’m dead, they'll quit trying."

  "It was my idea," said Mark. "I convinced them to let everybody continue to think Eula was dead. I believe someone has tried to kill her three times in the last two weeks. And the only reason they didn't succeed this last time is because Eula went camping. They killed someone they thought was Eula. I didn't want them to keep trying. They're getting closer every time."

  Sam sank into a chair and gazed at the floor. His great relief at seeing Eula alive was tempered by the feeling he had let his readers down. He’d been in the newspaper business for more than forty years. He’d never printed a gross inaccuracy before. Sometimes a small mistake got in, or a misinterpretation. But never an out-and-out, absolutely wrong story. He thought of his bumper sticker: “Truth is all we’ve got.” Maybe he should rip it off. Maybe it was time to throw in the towel.

  Eula knelt beside his chair. "I should have called and told you. I'm truly sorry I didn't. Wasn't thinking straight. But I've already got one person killed because some bums were trying to get me. Better to let ‘em think they did."

  "I gave my readers the wrong information."

  "You gave them the best you had. You did the best you could.” Eula patted his arm. "And if you do the best you can, you are the best."

  Eula’s voice was as soothing as if she were comforting an injured child.

  "Who else knew?" asked Sam.

  "Just us.” Eula swept her arm around, indicating all those in the room. "Except Rod. Crystal and Mark were there when Melva and I got back from camping. We called Bill."

  "Why are you telling me now? You still haven't caught the killers. Or have you?” His voice had regained some of its usual strength, but was tinged with an odd mixture of relief and dissatisfaction.

  Bill shook his head. "No. But we all agreed that you had to be able to correct the story this week. Last week's paper was already printed by the time we knew. Couldn't change that. But we can get it straight this week. And we can't keep Eula hid out forever. So, we wanted you to break the story. We don’t want anyone to know until your paper comes out. That gives us a few more days to try and find the killers before they find Eula. And now we know for certain it wasn't an accident. It was murder."

  Sam regarded his feet, as if he were wondering where they came from. At length, he patted Eula's hand, then pulled his tape recorder out of his pocket and said to Bill, "Will you give me everything you have by my deadline?"

  Bill nodded.

  Sam looked at Eula.

  “Exclusively,” she said.

  Sam’s voice was firm and commanding again. "Let's start with the first attempt on your life," he said, pushing the “Record” button.

  Chapter 21

  THE rest of the weekend passed with no calls from Cam 2.

  Monday, Crystal was in the office when her computer signaled that Cam 2 had registered a car entering The Park. She dialed Mark’s extension. “We’ve got a hit; I’m downloading the picture now. Want to come see it?”

  By the time her computer had received the picture, Mark was there. “Open it up. Let’s see what we’ve captured.”

  Crystal pressed a few keys on her computer and a car materialized on the screen.

  “Well, it worked.” Crystal sounded positive.

  “Yeah. Worked perfectly.” There on the monitor was a perfect picture of Bill Glothe's police cruiser. "Guess I’d better program it to ignore the sheriff's car. I don’t want to get all excited every time the sheriff or his deputy goes out to check.” Mark started to leave, then sat down instead. “How’s the project going?”

  “Good, in spite of the interruptions last week. Actually, they got a lot done while I was gone.” Crystal cocked her head to one side. “I still don’t know why Rooney’s people are coming. Don’t they keep up with what we’re doing?”

  “They do. They have seats on the board, so they get an update each quarter. Rooney had some tough questions at the last meeting. I guess he didn’t like my answers.”

  Crystal scrunched up her nose. “What kind of questions?”

  “Wanted to know why projects got behind. He wanted strict timetables. I tried to tell him this was a research outfit.” Mark grinned. “I reminded him of the sign in my office. ‘Research is what I’m doing when I don’t know what I’m doing.’ He was not amused. I said, when we know all the outcomes, we’re doing engineering, not research.” Mark chuckled softly. “I think he wants more engineering and less research.”

  “Can he just refuse to ante up the next round?”<
br />
  “You bet he can. There are several ways he can go. He could bring in another VC firm. That’s a mixed bag. He spreads out the risk, but he loses some control. If we do well, he doesn’t want to be the big dog, he wants to be the only dog.” Mark picked up a pencil and began playing with it. “He could convince the board to sell the company. That’s risky for Rooney, and for me. But he could do it.”

  “Don’t you still have controlling interest in IRS?”

  “Yes, I do. But I don’t control the board.”

  “Then you could get a new board. You have the votes.”

  “It’s not that easy. First, it could happen before I could replace the board. Second, you can’t dump the board just because you don’t like the way they vote.”

  “Of course you can.”

  Mark laughed. “Well, I can’t get Rooney’s two seats. And he does wield a lot of influence. At any rate, I don’t see that as an option.”

  Crystal furrowed her brows and closed her eyes for a few seconds. “Could you go out and get other money?”

  Mark nodded several times. “That is an option. Not a good one, in my opinion. I would give up more of the company and then, Rooney and the new investors would have a controlling interest.” He paused and pursed his lips. “But I’d do that before I’d let it go under. Of course, here again, Rooney could exert a lot of influence. Any new investor would contact Rooney first.”

  “It wouldn’t be good for Rooney to just let it fold.”

  “Not the way you and I, and most people, look at things. We don’t think like these investment guys do. I’m told that sometimes losing money is good.” He shrugged. “I’m thirsty. Shall we walk down to the coffee room and get a soda?”

  “Sure.” As they walked down the hall, Crystal asked, “How’d Rooney get two seats on the board?” She turned her head to the side and wiggled it, shaking her earrings in front of Mark. Today, her earrings were large question marks. She smiled demurely. “You know how curious I am.”