A Ton of Gold (Crystal Moore Suspense Book 1)

by James R. Callan

  #

  "What’s your take on Eddie Ray?" Mark was standing in the doorway to Crystal’s office.

  Crystal turned her head slightly and looked away from Mark. She didn't know where to put Eddie Ray in all this. It should be clear, but it seemed pretty hazy to her. "He’s the wild card. When we talked with him, he seemed sincere. But he tried to kill my grandmother—twice. What did he say about that when you guys went to the Longneck?"

  Mark dropped into the chair in front of Crystal’s desk. "He claimed he had no intention of really hurting her. He wouldn't have hit her with his truck; he just wanted to scare her. Maybe get her to move into town."

  “Why would that make her move? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “I agree. But it did to Eddie Ray. He thought she might decide driving out in the country was too dangerous.”

  "And driving in the city would be safer? What about the brakes? If she hadn't run off the road, she could have gotten hit plunging through the stop sign.” Crystal’s voice was rising. “And if she didn’t get hit, she would have ended up in ten feet of water."

  "I'm not taking his side. I'm just telling you what he told me."

  "Sorry. Didn't mean to jump down your throat. Go on. What did he say about the brakes?"

  "He figured she’d notice she didn't have any brakes while she drove down her own road. Not too steep and she would be going slowly."

  "Not Nana. She really zooms down the drive. She scares me on it.” Crystal thought about the autopsy report. “And Bessie?"

  "He seemed surprised. And genuinely sorry someone was killed. No, that's not right. More than sorry; maybe sad. It's hard to tell with Eddie Ray. He tries to project this image of a real macho tough guy, but I don't think he is.” He rubbed his nose. “Anyway, he claimed he didn't know about Bessie, until we told him. Joe and Al said they had burned the house and now the old woman, as they called her, would have to live somewhere else. I don't think any of them even knew her name. They just wanted to search her lake without anybody knowing about it. And if they found the gold, take it for themselves."

  Crystal shook her head. "All this because of a folk tale."

  "I don’t know what to think either. Eddie Ray’s gone. Did he run, afraid the police would tie him to the murder? Did he, in fact, commit the murder? I don't think so. Did he go over to Joe and Al? He certainly wanted the gold. Of course, I don't think Joe and Al had any intention of sharing the gold with Eddie Ray. Did he run from Joe and Al, once he knew they didn't mind killing anybody who got in their way?” He sighed and stared into near space. "And on and on."

  "Do you think he’s connected to the firebomb?"

  Mark's head came up sharply to look into Crystal's eyes. "You haven’t mentioned a firebomb to anybody else, have you? I don’t want to panic everybody."

  "No, I didn’t. But when I came in this morning, they were all discussing it. Phil said it looked like a firebomb to him. He'd seen them in the army."

  "What else did the coffee klatch come up with?” His tone mirrored the look of disgust on his face.

  Crystal straightened up in her chair, a glint of fire in her eyes. "What did you think? They'd come in, find the office had been burned and not talk about it? Of course they did. And with everything else that's been going on, speculation ran amok."

  Mark's voice took on a more conciliatory tone. "You’re right. Sorry if I sounded harsh. It was a very short night—for both of us. I know that's no excuse. And if I didn’t tell you thanks for the call, thanks. I’ve already asked Pam to get us a sign with an emergency phone number. That way, only one of us loses sleep. Anyway, back to the coffee klatch.”

  "They decided it probably had something to do with Nana's problems."

  "Same as Tom Hawkins."

  "Yes."

  "Where did you meet Tom?”

  “He's a friend of Brandi’s; well, she goes with him.” Crystal explained. “That arson investigator seemed pretty certain it was a firebomb and all the police there felt strongly it was not random."

  "So, we agree Eddie Ray is the link.” Mark leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a minute, saying "The link" several times. “And he’s on the run.”

  “I don’t think so. I think JT is right; they’ve kidnapped him.”

  Mark arched his eyebrows. “You buy that story?”

  “Not entirely. I don’t know.” Crystal rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m confused about Eddie Ray. But I don’t think he would have left like he did. I think he would have talked to JT. And he wouldn’t have left Luis.” She hunched her shoulders. “Look, I don’t like the man for what he did to Nana. But in this case, I think he’s been forced to leave, whether we call it kidnapping or not.”

  “My soft-hearted project leader,” Mark said with a smile. “Tom was right. You are naive.”

  “He said we were naive, not just me.”

  “Well, I now believe he ran with the jackals. He wants the gold more than he wants JT.”

  “Did he say that?” Crystal arched her eyebrows.

  “No. But he sounded like that. I’m sure Joe and Al came to see him. I just think he went voluntarily. And if he didn’t go with Joe and Al, I think he ran from them.”

  “I don’t.”

  Mark pressed his lips together and thought for a moment. "Is JT here?"

  "No. I sent her to get Luis and take him away. Some place not easily traceable."

  "Expect her back today?"

  "I doubt it. I don't know where she's going, maybe Fort Worth. But she had to go get Luis, most likely go home and pack clothes, take him to wherever, probably Fort Worth, and then come back."

  "If she comes in, I want to see her. I'll tell Pam. I guess I’d better mention it to Sally, just in case Pam doesn't see her.”

  #

  Crystal stopped to check with her people on what progress they were making on the demo. Then she went into her office and closed the door. She knew she should be working on the presentation for the venture capitalists, but she couldn’t get her mind off Eddie Ray.

  She sat down and placed her forehead on her desk. The more she thought about it, the more she believed Eddie Ray did not go willingly with Joe and Al. She and Mark did agree on one thing: Eddie Ray formed the link between the attacks on Nana and the firebombing of IRS. But he was also the link between these acts and Joe and Al. So, it was through Eddie Ray that the police had their best chance to find Joe and Al. And then maybe Big Man, whoever he was.

  Now, Eddie Ray is missing. If you don't want something traced to you, what do you do? You break any links to you. Were there any other links besides Eddie Ray?

  Crystal brought up the IRS phone list on her computer and punched JT's number into her phone. She let it ring a dozen times. No answer. Was JT on the way to her mother's house, or in the trunk of the fire-breathing car? Eddie Ray had a foot in both camps. A definite link. JT was the source of information. The thugs would be interested in her as well.

  She consulted the telephone directory, picked up the phone and dialed again. After seven rings, she started to hang up just as a sleepy voice answered.

  "Guess I woke you up, huh? As long as you’re up, can you check on something for me? This is Crystal."

  Tom sighed. "Good grief, Crystal. I haven't been asleep more'n an hour. What do you want?"

  "Can you check on any John Doe they might have at the morgue?"

  "Yeah. Got anybody in particular in mind?"

  Crystal laughed. "You really are still asleep. Eddie Ray Dollar. He's the only link between us and the murder."

  "And the firebomb."

  "Right, and the firebomb. He's about six two, maybe two hundred pounds, curly light brown hair, blue eyes, and more tattoos than a chief boatswain’s mate."

  "What do you know about boatswain's mates and their tattoos?"

  "Had two dates too many with a guy who served as one. His arms and Eddie Ray's looked a lot alike."

  Crystal could hear Tom yawning. "Okay. I'll see what I can
find. Call you back when I know something. Maybe an hour."

  Crystal hung up the phone. I will work on the IPPI presentation until he calls. I promise I will work on the IPPI presentation until he calls. She punched the intercom. “Come give me a status report. And a plan of action. Say, thirty minutes.”

  #

  Crystal tried to work, but her mind kept jumping out of IPPI demo plans and into the fires at Eula's and IRS. At one point, she checked the DPS database for cars with flames painted on the hood. There was none listed. She didn’t expect to find any. Not the kind of information they captured, but she was grasping at any small straw in sight.

  She replayed in her mind everything she could remember of her meeting with Eddie Ray, and everything Mark had said about the visit to the Longneck, trying to sift out any information about Joe and Al. They had a boss, but “Big Man” didn’t help her much. She found it disheartening that perhaps her best information came from her own view, through waterlogged eyes, of them shooting at her from the other side of the lake.

  She was still thinking about hoodlums when the three members of her group appeared at her door.

  Chapter 39

  MARK was facing similar problems in his office. He finally finished reviewing a new contract, then walked it over to Phil's office and asked him to check it out, before it went to the lawyers. "They'll tell me if we are protected, etc., but you can tell me if I've promised anything we can't deliver. And make a profit on it."

  He wandered back into the computer room to check Bobby Don’s progress. He still felt a small catch in his throat when he saw the damage, followed quickly by anger over such senseless waste. The firebomb benefited no one, not even the criminals.

  Two men were measuring, with Bobby Don watching and answering an occasional question. One worked on the ceiling; the other on the floor. Two other workers were repairing windows.

  "The technician should be here by 1:30 to start on the RAID and the server," Bobby Don told Mark. "Between he and I, we ought to be back on-line tomorrow. Day after, at the latest. I hope.” Bobby Don displayed his usual, positive attitude.

  “Between him and me.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I meant. Swanners thinks they can replace the ceiling tomorrow. The vinyl depends on what we want. If they have it in stock, ought to go in Monday. I told them we had the big cheese coming Tuesday and we sure could use a floor before then. You want the same stuff that was in here, or something different?”

  Mark looked at the floor near the wall. “Same stuff. Or as near as you can get. I’ll leave it to your judgment.”

  “Most of the damaged furniture and stuff will get carted out this afternoon."

  Mark looked at his original chair. "See if they can repair this chair."

  Bobby Don raised his eyebrows. "Cheaper to toss it and buy a new one. Actually, it looked ready for the dump before the fire."

  "See if they can repair it, Bobby Don."

  "You got it, Dr. O'Malley."

  Mark nodded. Bobby Don did an excellent job and he kept everybody upbeat. Maybe IRS could pay for college for him. He deserved it, Mark decided.

  #

  The phone startled Crystal. She was so absorbed in her IRS work it took a second to identify the annoying sound. Absently she picked up the phone and identified herself.

  "They’ve got a John Doe fits your description. Drunk and drowned in White Rock Lake."

  "No ID?"

  "None found. Probably came out in the water."

  Crystal's mind raced through several scenarios. "They're sure he drowned?"

  "Water in the lungs. Alcohol in the blood. He drowned. They know what they're doing."

  "That doesn't rule out murder. Could have been tossed in when he was too drunk to swim."

  "Thank you for the lesson. They found the body near the shore. He could have walked out. Or crawled. You said he drank a lot. Looks like he got drunk, maybe after a fight with his girlfriend, or maybe after you told him about the murder. Fell in the lake and drowned. Every death is not a murder. There are accidents."

  "His truck there?"

  "No mention of it. I'll check that out. Got a description?"

  Crystal tapped a few keys on her computer and then read the license plate number to Tom.

  "Hey, you're faster than my contacts at DPS. Can I call you whenever I need a vehicle ID?"

  "Solve this case before it gets worse and you can call anytime. They're sure he drowned in shallow water? Didn't drift up there?"

  "No drifting."

  “No other bruises, cuts, anything?”

  Tom sighed slightly. “One bruise on his forehead. Not sufficient to cause death, or even to knock him out.”

  "Check on the truck. If it wasn't there, then how did he get there? It's not like he lived near White Rock."

  "It’s not my case.” He paused a minute. When Crystal said nothing, Tom added, “Okay, I’ll check. How 'bout you going down and ID’ing the body?"

  Crystal’s head jerked back. "What? Ah, shouldn't that be a relative?"

  "That'd be best. Got the name of a relative?"

  Crystal thought about JT. She couldn't be located right now, and Crystal wasn’t aware of any other person who knew Eddie Ray, except Joe and Al with no last names. Maybe she could put an ad in the paper: "Joe and/or Al. Please stop by morgue to make formal ID of man you drowned."

  Tom could wait until JT showed up.

  In Crystal’s mind, a picture of JT materialized, so fragile, so distraught, so terrified for her son, so convinced that Eddie Ray had been kidnapped. Going down to ID a body, even if it weren’t Eddie Ray, might push her over the edge.

  Mark could do it but he wouldn't want the job anymore than she did. " Okay. Mark or I will go down there right away."

  "Good. And thanks; I know it isn’t easy. I owe you."

  "Hold it. Where do I go?"

  #

  Crystal put the phone down and sat staring at her desk. Until last week, she hadn't seen a dead body since her grandfather died. This would be her second in ten days. A soft tap at her door brought her head up.

  "Heard anything?" Mark asked.

  "I was just about to call you. JT hasn't checked in, has she?”

  Mark shook his head.

  "Tom Hawkins just called. Wants me, ah, one of us, to go to the morgue and ID a John Doe that is probably Eddie Ray."

  He winced and a small groan escaped his lips. “Poor Eddie Ray.” Mark held up a hand. “I know. He got himself into this. But I don't think he was a bad guy. He did something a little dumb, and it may have cost him his life. Pretty expensive mistake."

  “Poor JT.”

  "Yeah. How'd he die?"

  "Drowned. They said he was drunk and drowned near the shore in White Rock. They're treating it as an accident, but I'm not convinced. Tom said they found him in just a foot or two of water. You want to go ID the body?"

  “Tom didn’t call me.”

  She didn’t move or say anything, just looked at her boss.

  He sighed. “Okay. Let’s go get it over with. Maybe we’ll find the venture capitalists there, too.”

  “Mark! That’s not funny.” For an instant, though, she pictured Dr. Krupe lying on a white slab.

  He picked up Crystal’s phone and punched the intercom for Pam. “Hi. I’m going to be out of the office for a while. Contact everybody—everybody—and tell them we will have a meeting at nine in the morning. Topic: the Tuesday presentations. Everybody should be there. No excuses.” He listened for a moment. “In the conference room.” He hung up the phone and turned to Crystal. “Meet you in reception in five minutes.”

  He left, and Crystal tried JT’s phone number again. Still no answer. She punched Pam’s number. “Pam? Crystal. I’m going to the –.” She stopped. “I’m going to be out of the office with Mark. Will you call JT’s house every ten minutes until you get her? If I’m back, pass her to me. Otherwise, give her to Sally. I’ll check in when we get back.”

  Next, she calle
d Sally. They talked for a few minutes. Crystal wondered if she were being melodramatic. Then she remembered Bessie, a completely unthreatening woman in her seventies. And she pictured the computer room at 3:30 this morning. It would be foolish to try to predict what these guys would do next.

  “Of course, I don’t know, but prudence says she should not stay in that house. Do whatever it takes, but get her out of her house. It’s not safe. Have her come over to IRS instantly.” She listened for a few seconds. “If it’s close to quitting time, have her meet me here. I’ll be back and I want to talk to her. But don’t let her talk her way out of it. Convince her. I can hear her saying, 'I've caused enough trouble. I'll be okay at home.’ Remember, that’s what she told us this morning when we wanted her to get Luis out of town.”

  Chapter 40

  THE city morgue occupied a neat, four-story, molded-concrete building behind Parkland Hospital on Harry Hines Boulevard, just a ten-minute drive from the IRS offices. The name on the building said it was the Dallas County Institute of Forensic Science. Certainly makes it sound more impressive than just a plain morgue, Crystal thought. She and Mark went in and immediately saw Tom.

  “What are you doing here?” She asked.

  “Soft-hearted, I guess. Decided it was a bunch to put on you. Hi, Mark. Glad you came along.”

  They found an assistant whose nametag read “Hamilton” and he and Tom had a brief discussion. Finally, Hamilton shook his head in disgust and led the way downstairs to the basement. He carried probably fifty pounds more than a man his height should, and his slow waddle indicated his feet resented the extra load.

  “What was that all about?” Crystal asked.

  “Oh, he wanted to do the ID by photo, or video--that’s the way they do most of it nowadays. Easier on the family. No health risks. I convinced him we’d just go have a look. The advantage of being a policeman.”

  “Photo ID sounds okay to me,” Crystal said.

  Tom just snickered.

  They entered a large room, which Crystal guessed must have been thirty feet square. At first glance, she thought the floor was marble, but then decided it was highly polished terrazzo. Florescent lights illuminated the room, but she also noted a light fixture in the center of the ceiling that looked like one from an operating room. Stainless steel sinks lined one entire wall. Surgical tools hung in racks. The room was clean and mostly empty, but still it gave Crystal a chill. In her mind she saw autopsies taking place, and the floor wasn’t shiny clean any more.