by Terry Shames
He moves back toward my desk. “You think somebody was out there?”
“If you didn’t kill him—and I’m willing to go along with you when you say you didn’t—then somebody was out there waiting for Dellmore.”
He stares at me and slowly shakes his head. “I wish I could help you, but I was pretty riled up and didn’t pay any attention to my surroundings.”
“Where was Dellmore when you left him?”
“He was standing there by the side of the building where we’d been talking. By the time I got to my car, everyone else was gone, and his car was the only one left parked out there.”
“So his car was there.”
“Yes.” He shakes a finger. “I remember something else. As I was driving away, something made me look back, and the American Legion Hall had gone dark. I figured he had gone inside, turned out the lights, and was locking up.”
“Did you see any cars parked out on the street near the entrance or anybody walking along there?” It would have been hard for someone to park there without being noticed, since the street has a deep dropout into a culvert for a block.
“Not that I recall.” A ghost passes across his face. He must be picturing someone waiting out there in the dark for Gary Dellmore.
Bill Odum and I are mostly quiet on the drive out to the McClusky resort. Odum talks a little about his mother and how she fusses over his dad and drives everybody a little crazy, including his wife.
We stop by Cooper’s Barbecue in Spicewood for supper and make short work of ribs and sausage with all the trimmings. I get them to fill up my thermos and they tell me it’s on the house. And then we’re back on the road.
A half hour later we stop at the entrance to the resort to check on the gate. It’s still closed and locked. I’ve tried calling McClusky several times and gotten no answer. Even if he isn’t out here, something tells me there’s information here that will solve this puzzle. McClusky doesn’t want me to see something inside the main building. Is he running guns or drugs? Has he kidnapped somebody and is holding them hostage? Is he hiding fugitives? Everything I think of seems too outlandish. I’ve brought Odum along to help me snoop around and find out some answers.
The main road is narrow along here, and we have to drive several hundred feet before we find a spot wide enough to leave the squad car. We’ve just started walking back along the road toward the gate when a light-colored car slows down and turns into the driveway. We’re far enough away that whoever it is probably hasn’t seen us. We step off into the shadow of some trees next to the fence and wait. After a time I hear the clank of the chain on the gate. The gate squeaks as it swings open, and then the chain clanks again, when the gate is locked back up.
“Who could that be?” Odum says.
“Let’s go find out.”
As we approach the entrance, I’m wondering if I can climb over that fence. Before I had my knee surgery, I would have said forget it, but every day the knee seems stronger and more willing to do what needs to be done. Walking along the verge, our soft shoes crunch on the gravel. I don’t wear tennis shoes often, preferring my boots to any other kind of footwear, but I figured it’d be easier to stay quiet wearing soft-soled shoes. I told Odum to wear shoes he’d be willing to throw out once we’re done here. I haven’t verified if McClusky’s place was hit with foot-and-mouth disease, but I’m not prepared to take a chance either way.
The fence is meant to keep out cars, but it turns out not to be particularly hard for a person to climb across it. I hook my foot onto an iron bar across the middle and hoist myself up and over, more pleased than I should be at not having to ask for a hand.
“They don’t have a dog, do they?” Odum asks. He sounds nervous. It’s not good for a lawman to be scared of dogs. I’ll have to tell him so.
“I didn’t see one when I was out here.” I’m hoping they don’t have a dog. Both Odum and I are armed, and if we had to, we could take down a dog, but I’d prefer not to have to go that way.
He squares up to me, hands on his hips. “You sure this is a good idea? We’re breaking the law, trespassing. If we get shot, it’s on us.”
“Then we have to make sure we don’t get shot. I told you that you didn’t have to come. You can go on back to the car and I won’t think any the worse of you. But something’s going on out here and I want to know what it is.” He’s right, of course. We are trespassing, but I don’t know any other way to find out what I want to know. McClusky is avoiding me, and there’s no way I’d get a warrant to come in here and search the place—I don’t have anything to go on but my gut feeling that he’s hiding something.
It takes us twenty minutes to walk up to the resort, staying to the side of the rutted road and then the pavement. It looks spooky in the dark. There’s not much moon to speak of, and the main building looms up like some kind of haunted castle. The light-colored car we saw coming in is parked next to Slate’s SUV and Angel’s Cadillac.
Odum and I decided in advance to check out some of the surrounding cabins first. Those might tell us what we need to know, and we could avoid trying to navigate the porch without alerting anybody to our presence.
I motion for Odum to go down to the farthest cabin. There are no lights on in any of them, but we’ve each brought a penlight.
I ease along until I find one with the curtains open. First I peer inside, but it’s pitch-black, so I can’t see anything. I shine my light inside and am so startled that I jump back and almost drop the flashlight. Eyes were staring back at me. My heart bangs in my chest. I wait, but I don’t hear any movement inside so I shine the light in again. I laugh silently. There must be twenty or thirty stuffed animal heads stacked in the room, some of them turned to face me, their eyes glittering in the light.
On high alert from that encounter, I move to the next cabin. The curtains are closed, so I ease around to the back and find one window with curtains parted enough for me to shine my light into it. This room is full of armchairs piled high, all of them upholstered in plaid fabric.
I step back and think. Maybe Slate’s brother was telling the truth. Maybe they are doing renovations and all the furniture has been moved out here in preparation for the work to be done.
I hear Odum moving and I hiss to alert him that I’m there. He comes over and we confer. It turns out he’s seen a cabin full of beach umbrellas and lounge chairs. We creep along the back of the cabins to the one closest to the main lodge and move along the side of it until we can peer around to see the front door.
I’m eyeing the car sitting in front of the lodge, wondering who drove it out here and how we’re going to get a look inside the lodge, when the front door swings open. Silhouetted in the light from inside, Darla Rodriguez steps onto the porch. She says, “You’re going to have to find someone else to do your dirty work. I’m done.”
I can’t hear the reply from inside.
“It’s not my fault Gary’s dead. And without him, it’s not going to work anyway.”
Slate McClusky appears in the doorway. He reaches out and catches Darla’s arm. “Come on, now. Don’t be that way. We can find some way to work it out.”
“I can’t stand another minute of Gabe LoPresto,” she whines. “And I think he’s smarter than you and Gary thought he was.”
“Darla, I’m going to give you a little time to get your thinking straight so you’ll realize it’s in your best interest to help me.” He puts his arm around her shoulders and steers her down the steps.
“But Slate, I don’t know how it’s going to work without Gary.” She sounds close to tears.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit. I’m sure you’ll be able to get LoPresto on board. You’ve done the biggest part of the job. I hate for you to quit now.”
She puts her hands to her face, shaking her head. “Oh, all right. But we’ve got to think of some way to sweeten the deal. As it is now, he’s not going to buy.”
She unlocks her car and he gives her shoulders a squeeze. “I’m countin
g on you, honey. And remember, you’re going to make a lot of money on this deal. And if you quit now…”
Her voice is harsh. “I sure better make some money. That puny diamond necklace he gave me isn’t worth nearly enough for all I’ve had to go through.”
We wait for a while after Slate goes back inside. The whole time I’m wondering where Angel is. Her car is here. More than ever I want to get a look inside that lodge. I thought when Slate and Angel lied to me about where they were staying, they just didn’t want me to know the name of the motel. I hadn’t expected to find them here. It seemed like it was going to be easy—I would either knock on the door and find Harold here and talk my way inside, or no one would be here and I would shine a light inside to get the lay of the place.
I suppose we could just walk up, bang on the door, and ask to come inside. But I can’t think of an excuse for why we climbed over the fence to get onto the property. And if we sneak up there and for some reason McClusky catches us, he would be within his rights to shoot us for trespassing, just as Odum said.
We scout around back to see if there’s a window we can get to more easily than walking onto the wide front porch. Also, I’d like to see if there’s a light on anywhere else, since I don’t know if Harold is inside the big house or if he has quarters elsewhere.
We make our way through the trees that line one side of the property and into the back area. In the back I see the spa buildings, totally dark, at the end of a long path that leads past a fenced-in structure I imagine is a swimming pool. We walk over to look. The pool is white concrete that gleams, even in this low light. It’s empty. At the end of the other path are a couple of small buildings. One of them has a light on. I’m going to bet that’s where Harold stays.
The porch extends all the way around from front to back. One way or another, I’m going to have to walk up onto it. At least one piece of luck is with me—the curtains are open enough that I can peek inside. Light spills out onto the porch.
“I’m going to go up there and take a look,” I whisper. “I want you down here with your gun out in case anybody comes out and decides to shoot me.”
Odum takes his Colt out of its holster, and when he nods to me that he’s ready I start up the steps. It’s slow going, testing each footstep to make sure none of the stairs creak. A couple of them groan a bit, but I doubt it’s loud enough to alarm anyone. I’m grateful once again that there isn’t a dog around. By now he’d have started up a racket.
I make straight for the nearest window, hoping I only need one glimpse. I peer into a huge room that extends from the front to the back. Elegant wooden staircases leading up to the second floor flank the room, one on each end. The sight takes me a minute to process. In the middle of the room a fire is blazing in the massive fireplace. There are two big armchairs in front of the fireplace, each with a small end table. Aside from that the room is almost bare.
Across the room from the fireplace, up against one wall, is what puzzles and interests me most. Two foldout beds are set up, complete with bedding, as if two people are sleeping here. I don’t see Slate or Angel, but as I watch, Angel comes down the stairs closest to me, dressed in a sweat suit. She’s carrying a towel and a toiletry bag. She walks to one of the beds and sets the bag down on a little stand next to it. Slate follows her, in a bathrobe.
“Jesus, it’s cold up there,” he says. I’m surprised I can hear him with the windows closed up tight, but there is no furniture in the room to muffle the sound and it echoes off the walls.
“You don’t have to tell me.” Angel’s voice is surly. “I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this.”
“You’ll put up with it as long as I say we have to,” Slate says. “Unless you’ve suddenly come up with the money for the Ritz-Carlton.”
“I can sleep back at the house.”
“Not much longer you can’t.”
I ease to one side of the window and stand there a few minutes longer listening to hear if they say anything of importance, but it’s only the last bits of conversation before two people go to bed. “At least that fireplace keeps it warm,” Slate says. He goes over and adjusts the screen and then he slumps down into one of the armchairs. “I’m going to sit here a little longer.”
I move down the porch steps, and Odum and I take off walking down the driveway. I’ve seen what I came to see, and it’s not like anything I thought. I’ve seen two people who are flat broke, making do. From what I heard Darla say, she’s been talked into trying to get Gabe LoPresto to buy the place. LoPresto acts like a buffoon most of the time, which must have led them to believe he’d be an easy mark. They’ve found out different. But what this has to do with Gary Dellmore’s death is a connection I have yet to make.
McClusky has always had the reputation of being the richest man in town. I don’t know what took him down, but it’s pretty clear that his empire has toppled. He’s doing everything he can to scrabble together something of the remains.
Desperate men will take desperate measures. I’d be tempted to think that desperation might have led McClusky to kill Gary Dellmore, but from what I overheard Darla say, without Dellmore the scheme they’ve hatched up is in trouble. Now I need to find out more about the scheme. And for that I’ll be talking to Gabe LoPresto.
Thursday morning Loretta seems to sense that I’m in no mood for a chat. She hands off a fresh slab of coffee cake and says she’s not going to stay. “Now don’t work too hard. You’re not getting any younger.”
“I don’t need you to remind me of that. My bones are doing a fine job of keeping me informed.”
But the fact is, although I’m tired from the late-night activity, I also feel alert and ready to roll. I’m pretty sure that by finding out the magnitude of McClusky’s financial problems I’m closer to finding out what led to Gary Dellmore’s murder. The only bad part is that the dire straits the McCluskys are in makes me doubt that the town will be able to get back any of the money put up for the fraudulent water park project. It looks like McClusky has lost whatever money he had.
As soon as Loretta leaves, I call Bill Odum. When he picks up, there’s a lot of noise in the background. “Hold on,” he hollers into the phone.
He comes on the line again, and the sound is muffled in the background. “We’re finishing up shredding the crop from last fall. What’s up?”
I ask him when he’ll be able to do the testing on the bullet casings. “I know we were out late last night, but I wondered if you’d have any time today.”
He groans. “This shredding operation is going to take the rest of the day. I’ll spend some time testing the casing this evening, and tomorrow I’ll get over to the college to take a look at the markings under the microscope. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
I stop by the café on the way to the station for some eggs and coffee. Alton Coldwater is getting out of his car as I drive up, so I invite him to have breakfast with me.
After we order, I say, “Alton, who was it who decided to get a loan from Dellmore’s bank for that water park? Seems to me those guys from Houston would have had their own bank connections.”
Coldwater looks gloomy, as if yesterday’s meeting brought back to him all the trouble that had happened on his watch. “Let me try to remember exactly how it happened.”
Our breakfast comes, and we fall quiet and start eating. After a minute, Coldwater says, “I believe if I’m not mistaken Fontaine and Kestler said they liked to get local banks involved when they could. And they said somebody had suggested they talk to Dellmore. Now I figure it was probably McClusky who did that. I introduced them to Dellmore, and they took it from there.”
“Who came up with the idea that it would be a good thing to put city money into it?”
“That’s easy. That was Dellmore.” He wipes his face with his napkin and then puts his hands on his thighs, as if girding himself. “But like I said, McClusky had already primed the pump. I can’t put all the blame on those two, though, even if they a
re crooks. I thought it was a good chance to take care of our financial problems. Nobody needed to push me. I should’ve been more careful.” He looks like he’s eaten a sour plum. It’s a hard admission for him to make.
“Did anybody try to talk you out of it?”
“Oh sure, a couple of people on the city council. I thought it was the same old thing, though—there’s always people who are against progress. I hate to admit they were right.”
Back at the station, I start making phone calls and within an hour have more information than I ever wanted about Slate McClusky’s slide from prosperity into desperation. He is the sole owner of the water park business, and it’s on the verge of bankruptcy. He had to walk away from his multimillion-dollar house in Vail, and if I read between the vague lines the real estate broker in Dallas told me, McClusky is behind on payments on his house in Dallas, too. The place in Jarrett Creek is being spruced up to put on the market, which is why Slate and Angel are camping out at the resort.
Thinking about the resort, I need to make one more call, this time to the Texas Animal Health Commission. What I find out confirms everything I’d heard. Of all the things that have happened to McClusky, finding out that he did have an outbreak of foot-and-mouth at the resort and that it’s quarantined hits me the hardest. It’s a piece of bad luck, pure simple. That kind of thing could strike anyone.
Adding everything up, I understand why McClusky is trying desperately to unload the resort onto Gabe LoPresto.
But why was Gary Dellmore helping him to get LoPresto to buy it? Dellmore went to a lot of trouble to set LoPresto up with Darla Rodriguez’s help. What did McClusky promise the two of them if they succeeded? Or, was it what he promised he wouldn’t do: tell anybody about the kickback he must have given Dellmore. One way or another, this will all come out. What I have to figure out is what it has to do with Dellmore’s murder.
LoPresto’s office manager gives me the address of the job he’s working on today. As I turn the corner, I recognize the place. The house is one I’ve always liked. It used to be an elegant home, a fine two-story brown shingle with a nice wide porch. When the elderly woman who owned it died, her sons got into a big squabble, and neither wanted the other to have the benefit of money from the sale of it. The result was that the house went vacant without upkeep for twenty years until it was a mess. Finally one of the brothers died and the other one sold it a couple of months ago.