“Try to convince them there is no gold in the lake, or any place around there,” Mark explained.
"But the computer says there is."
"Not really. First, it says there are stories that say a wagonload of gold was pushed off a cliff into a lake. The computer does not say it is a real, factual occurrence. And second, it does not say it was Eula's lake. That's just what JT came up with."
"But I saw all them stories. They all said the same thing."
"But they were just that: stories."
Eddie pursed his lips and shook his head.
Mark searched his brain. “Okay, Eddie. You've heard about the Loch Ness Monster that's supposed to be in a lake in Scotland? Well, this is sort of like that. A good folk tale."
"But I seen pictures of that monster on TV. It's there, all right.” Eddie nodded to reinforce the existence of the monster. "They just ain't found it yet. Like the gold. And you know, I been figuring. That gold'd be worth three or four million dollars. Even havin' to split it, I still got a million bucks."
Mark let that pass. No point making things worse. "Eddie, there is no gold. You've got to believe that so we can convince Joe and Al to back off."
Eddie Ray’s forehead wrinkled and his brows furrowed as he puzzled over that. After a minute, he brightened. "Oh, I get it.” A smile spread across his face. "We tell 'em that so's they go away. Then we go find it.” He chuckled for a moment, then stopped. "Won't work. They're too smart for that. ‘Sides, I showed ‘em the computer stuff. They know it's there."
Mark waited for a car to pass, then turned left. "Let me do the talking when we get to the part about the gold. Okay? Introduce us, and then just answer any questions I ask you. Nothing more. Okay?"
"What if they ask me something?"
"I'll answer."
#
By the time they reached The Longneck Bar, the sun had dropped below the horizon and darkness colored the city. Mark drove around the block twice looking for the fire-breathing black car. It was nowhere to be seen.
He turned into a side street and parked. Mark changed into Eddie Ray’s shirt, then reached behind the seat, found a pair of mud-caked boots and pulled them on. They walked back to the corner and turned on to Elm Street.
Now, it was Eddie Ray's turn to give advice. "Don't order no Coors and no Heiny beer, either. They ain’t gonna have it and it'll make you look like a slummer."
"Slummer? What’s that?"
"Some highfalutin’ guy getting his kicks by going out and slumming."
"I guess that means no Dr Pepper, either."
Eddie Ray laughed. "Damn straight."
"I'll let you order for me."
Inside, Eddie Ray ordered two Lone Stars and carried them over to an empty pool table. "Know how to play Eight Ball?"
"You can give me some tips."
Mark had played many a game of Eight Ball, but never in a place quite like this. A bar covered most of one wall. The bartender reminded him of those in movies who kept a baseball bat under the counter. Most of the barstools were occupied, the mix of men and women about even. The room was painted, or more likely simply turned, dark brown. In fact, every surface seemed to be either brown or black. A heavy layer of smoke hung in the air and the lights reminded Mark of San Francisco street lamps in a heavy fog.
After a while, his eyes adjusted and Mark began to study the crowd. He felt certain he was the only one not smoking something. Occasionally, the heady, sweet scent of marijuana drifted his way.
Customers filled about half of the tables and booths. Not bad for a Tuesday night, Mark surmised. The men were uniformly dressed in jeans, boots, and knit shirts. The women, on the other hand, presented many different looks. There were skin-tight jeans with midriff tops, culottes and western shirts, dirndl skirts with off-the-shoulder blouses, handkerchief skirts, minis, country gingham dresses, and one young woman wore a granny dress.
The restroom reeked as if it hadn't been cleaned in a month, and Mark vowed they would leave before he needed to visit that filthy place again. Graffiti filled all available space, promising everything from a good time to superior weed to cheap auto body repair.
Every time the door to the street opened, Eddie Ray turned to check out the newcomers. Mark ignored them. Eddie Ray would alert him, and undoubtedly Joe and Al would seek out Eddie Ray.
After six games, Eddie Ray slammed his cue back in the rack. "What the hell was that crap, 'you can give me some tips'? You cleaned my plow six straight games."
Mark grinned. "People act logically, Eddie Ray. I was willing to put up money on these games. Logic tells you that I already knew something about Eight Ball, regardless of what I said."
Eddie Ray grumbled as he fished out his wallet. "Don't know nothing about logic, but I think you conned me."
"Yes, I did. Get to know people before you get into money discussions. And don't brag until you know what the other guy is holding. Your four kings just might lose to four aces.”
Two men walked up to the table. Involuntarily, Mark stiffened.
"Finished?" the redheaded one asked.
"Yeah," Eddie Ray said, hardly looking at them. "I've had enough.” He held out six dollars to Mark.
"Use that to buy us another round," Mark said. "I'll grab a table. Ask the bartenders if Joe and Al have been in today."
Mark and Eddie Ray lounged at the table, trying to find something to talk about. Eddie Ray wanted to talk about the gold, a topic Mark felt best to avoid in the bar. Finally, Mark said something about The Dallas Cowboys. Eddie Ray became animated and eager to explain why they lost their last game and what their prospects for the rest of the season were.
An hour passed. "You said they usually came in earlier?" asked Mark.
"Yeah. They've always been here by nine or so."
"And the bartender hadn't seen either one today?"
"Said he don't know no Joe or Al.” Eddie Ray turned up his bottle for another drink, but it was empty.
"It's 9:30. Let's stick around another half hour."
"Suits me. I hate to go face Juanita.” He stood up. "Want another round?"
"No. I'm . . ."
The door opened and two men walked in. They scanned the room and one of them stopped to stare openly at Mark. He took a step in Mark's direction and stopped. Eddie Ray was fumbling with his wallet and hadn't seen them. Finally getting his money out, he turned toward the bar, his gaze taking in the two newcomers. He looked at them and they at him. After a moment, he continued on to the bar. The two men wandered across the room and found an empty pool table.
The whole incident had taken no more than twenty seconds, but Mark felt drained. Rigid as a board, he took a deep breath and tried to relax his muscles. Eddie Ray returned with his beer and slumped down as if nothing had happened.
"Did you recognize those two who just came in?" Mark asked.
Eddie turned to look at them again. "Naw. Never seen 'em before."
"How often did you see Joe and Al here?"
"Like I told you, after that first time, they was here every time I was. Usually, I was here first. Then after awhile, they come in. Like I said.” He tipped the bottle up for a long drink.
At ten-fifteen, they left. The drive back to IRS was quiet, Mark trying to decide what to do next, Eddie Ray staring out the window.
Mark stopped beside JT’s car. “Eddie Ray, be careful. Joe and Al are criminals. They’re dangerous. Try to stay away from them. And make sure JT takes Luis to her mother’s—or some place.” Eddie Ray got out and trudged over to unlock JT’s car. Mark called out to him. “Good luck with JT. Hope I didn’t get you in too much trouble keeping you out this late.”
Eddie Ray gave a weak smile and got in the car.
Mark believed his story about Joe and Al. Somehow, this big, macho man looked more like a little boy on his way to see the principal than like a criminal.
Chapter 30
CRYSTAL came in, slammed the door and threw her purse across the room at the couch.
B
randi watched with fascination. “Well, I see you had a good day at work.”
“Let’s fix dinner. I’m starved.”
The two women went into the kitchen and began preparing food.
“We had a breakthrough. On Nana’s problems.” Crystal furiously shredded cheese for quesadillas as she related Eddie Ray’s story and the legend of the gold.
Brandi was appalled. “Poor JT. They threatened to kidnap her son.”
“She brought it on herself.”
“Crystal! You don’t mean that. No way she could have known what would happen.”
“Well, she started this whole thing that almost got Nana killed. And it isn’t over yet.” Crystal pursed her lips and closed her eyes for a moment, then looked back at her roommate. “You’re right, of course. I do feel sorry for her. I really do. I’ve never seen such a frightened look as she had when Eddie Ray told her about the kidnap threat. I’m just so upset about Nana. And those hoodlums, Joe and Al, are still out there. I wish we could find them.”
“Where’d you say Eddie Ray met them?”
“At some bar. I think he called it Longneck, or something.”
“There’s a Longneck Bar down in Deep Elum.”
Crystal brightened. “That’s it. He said it was on Elm Street.” She turned the stove on and placed a skillet on it. “You know where that place is?”
“Yeah.” Brandi brought tortillas from the refrigerator. “I went there once, oh, a year or more ago.”
Unbidden, a thought popped into Crystal’s mind: if you want to make bread, you have to get your hands in the dough. “Let’s go.”
“To The Longneck? Now?”
“Yeah. Let’s go see if we can find Joe and Al.”
Brandi looked skeptical. “It’s a pretty seedy bar. Would you even recognize Joe or Al if they were there?”
“If they’re the ones who tried to kill me.”
“You understand, I’ve been there, and I don’t mind going back. But it’s not a nice place. I doubt you’ve ever been to a bar like The Longneck.”
Without thinking, Crystal touched her sleeve just over the gunshot wound. “I can handle it.”
Her roommate looked at the clock. “ Okay. It’s a little early. Things don’t get going down there ‘til 10 or 10:30. After we eat, we’ll see what you have to wear.”
#
At 9:55, Brandi yelled. “Have you seen my pliers?”
Crystal came to the door, dressed in blue jeans and a plaid shirt that Brandi judged too nice for The Longneck, but the closest thing she could find in Crystal’s wardrobe. A tiny cactus swung from each of Crystal’s ears. “I thought you always kept them on your dresser.”
“I do and ... and here they are. Well, they were hiding a minute ago.” She lay down on the bed and used the pliers to pull up the zipper on her jeans.
“I don’t understand why they have to be that tight.”
Brandi laughed. “That way, guys can’t pinch you. Or get your pants off if you pass out.”
“Well, I’m not planning to pass out.”
“Neither am I. Just a precaution.” She giggled. “I once considered just painting myself blue. But I couldn’t get the right color.”
Crystal just shook her head.
“No. Really, I just like the way they look when they fit really tight. And I’ll turn a few heads.”
“That beautiful hair will do the trick.”
“Mom gave me mousy brown hair. L’oreal gave me this auburn masterpiece.”
“Well, you certainly look good.”
“A planned community. You hear about self-made men. I’m a self re-made woman. Dad named me Bertha; can you believe that? So, when I was eighteen, I had it legally changed to Brandi. Considered Kristi. Still not sure if that wouldn’t have been better.”
“You changed your name?”
“Yeah. Never liked Bertha. Would you? Decided, why should I keep the name of one of Dad’s old girlfriends? I didn’t like it. And I’m sure Mom didn’t either. So, poof, it was gone.” She grinned. “Took off twenty pounds, changed the hair, the eyes. I got washed-out blue from Dad. Accuvue gave me these aqua beauties. Decided the nose was fine. Wore braces for two years.”
“You just decided to . . .”
“To look the way I wanted to. Oh, and I took a course in make-up. Best money I ever spent. Even the contacts didn’t do as much for my eyes as knowing how to put on eye shadow, and eyeliner, and eyebrow pencil. ‘Course now, I just have my brows and lashes dyed.”
“But I still see you putting on mascara?”
“For body and fullness, gal. Why should only guys have good lashes?” Brandi checked once more in the mirror. “I’ll do.” She scanned her roommate from head to toe. “And so will you. Let’s go wow ‘em.”
Chapter 31
BRANDI was right. Crystal had never been in a place like this. She thought she had gone to some seedy bars while in college. She was wrong. They weren’t even in the same league with The Longneck. It was loud and so smoky you couldn’t see across the room. Must not be any ventilation at all.
She asked for a Coors, and the waiter roared. “That’s a good one. Want a Coors, try the Crescent,” he said, referring to an exclusive hotel a few miles away. “Have a Bud Light. You’ll never know the difference.”
When he came back, he slammed the bottle down so hard beer splashed out and onto Crystal’s arm. “Sorry.” He reached over and wiped her arm with a beer-soaked rag.
“Get any on your shirt?” he asked, rag ready to wipe down more of the beautiful, black-haired young woman.
“No,” Crystal said quickly. “I’m okay.”
“Just call for Rick if you need anything. Anything at all.” He left, laughing at his own cleverness.
Brandi leaned over the table and still had to yell to be heard above the noise. “See ‘em?”
Crystal shook her head no.
They finished two more beers. Crystal went to the ladies room, but could not bring herself to use it. She had never seen a place so filthy. But the trip had given her another opportunity to look over the crowd. She wound through the room one way going and a different way back.
A young man, a big hole in the seat of his jeans, shirt unbuttoned and hanging open to reveal a mass of dark hair, sat on the corner of their table chatting up Brandi. As Crystal sat down, she heard Brandi saying, “... not even if you were as good as you say you are.”
On impulse, Crystal blurted out, “Besides, we’re waiting for Joe and Al.”
The man turned to inspect Crystal. “Joe and Al? Which one of you gets stuck with Joe? Come on, I’m better’n the two of ‘em together. I’ll take both of you. Besides, Joe and Al ain’t coming.”
“When I saw Al the other day, he said he’d be here,” Crystal said.
“Well he ain’t. Big Man’s got ‘em doing something up in Denton. Didn’t say when they was coming back.”
Crystal smiled for the first time since sitting down. Denton was north of Dallas, not even in the same direction as Wooden Nickel.
The man saw her smile and misread it. “Hey, I like those little cactuses.” He reached over to touch one of Crystal’s earrings. She resisted the urge to back away from him. “So, you and me?” He glanced at Brandi. “Or all three of us? What’s good for you?”
“Not you,” said Brandi. “Just cause Joe and Al ain’t coming don’t mean we’re reduced to taking swamp scum. Buzz off, Buster.”
The man looked surprised. “But you and me was——”
“Changed my mind. That’s a woman’s right.”
He left, muttering something about bitches.
“Let’s go sit at the bar for a beer and see if we can get anything out of the bartender,” Brandi said.
They perched on bar stools and ordered Bud Lights. The bartender was a big man and even so, his hands were too big for his body. He brought the beers over and said to Brandi, “Here’s your Bud Light. And I’m your Bud Heavy. You need any help or special ‘tention, call on Bud
Heavy.” He stayed there, grinning at Brandi, his eyes roaming over her.
Crystal spoke up. “Hey, Bud. Have you seen Joe or Al tonight?”
Without taking his eyes off Brandi, he said “No.”
“Funny. When I saw Joe the other day, he said he’d meet us here tonight.”
Bud turned his head toward Crystal. “You saw Joe? What was he wearing?”
Crystal’s pulse rate leaped up and her stomach twisted. Which one was Joe? She had a fifty-fifty chance. “Fatigues and a cap.”
“What’d the cap say?”
Crystal’s heart almost stopped. What was written on the cap? Something about a bar. And just when the pause had stretched too long, it popped into her mind. “I’d rather be in a bar.”
“Ain’t gonna be here tonight. Out of town.” He turned his attention back to Brandi.
Brandi gave him a big smile. “You got a phone number for ‘em, my Bud Heavy?”
Crystal wondered if Bud had x-ray vision. He seemed to be staring right through Brandi’s blouse.
“No,” Bud answered. “Tell you what. Give me your number and if I see them, I’ll have ‘em call you.”
“They’ve already got it,” Crystal interjected.
Again, his eyes didn’t stray off Brandi. “I know them. Can’t keep nothing. Lost it for sure. Give me your number, sweets.”
Brandi tilted her head back and hooted. “Not on your life, Bud Heavy. Last time I gave my number to a bartender, I ended up having to change it.” She leaned forward and looked into Bud’s eyes. “When do you expect them back?”
“Tomorrow.”
Brandi dropped some crumpled bills on the bar and got up. “See you then, Bud Heavy.” She fluttered her long eyelashes several times, and still looking at the burly man, said to Crystal, “Let’s buzz off.”
Outside, the two women moved quickly to the car, and once inside, locked the doors and left immediately.
“Wow,” Crystal said. “You were right. I’ve never been to a place like that before. Don’t care if I never do again.”
“I’ve been to worse. We got out without being pawed. First dibs on the shower.”
“You went to places like that?”
A Ton of Gold (Crystal Moore Suspense Book 1) Page 14