Murder on Edwards Bay (The Maude Rogers Crime Novels Book 2)

by Linda L. Dunlap

  The years afterward were filled with high profile murder cases, especially the one that was finally brought to rest with the imprisonment of Robert Dawson, aka, The Heartless Killer, an insane killer who butchered young men and women across several states, and was finally brought down in Texas.

  Looking back did no good, Maude thought. There was too much to do to start on that slippery trail. Dawson was locked up ‘good and tight’ in the Madison-MacArthur prison for the criminally insane. Now there was another murder, and Maude was stuck right in the middle of it since Sheriff Jack Fuller was unable to perform his duties safely.

  “Lieutenant Patterson, please,” she told the dispatcher after calling the Cop Shop and being put through.

  “Patterson here. Maude, is that you? Aren’t you on vacation on the coast?”

  “Sure, just reporting in. I have a few more days, but I wanted you to know that I got right into a stinking murder down here, and the sheriff who runs things has a wounded shoulder. Some snake in the grass ambushed him, and darn near killed him. Came real close.”

  “So what does that have to do with you?”

  “I was investigating off-duty for my niece, looking for a friend of hers that disappeared, when the man turned up dead. Kind of got into it.”

  “Are you sure you have the authority, Maude?” Patterson seemed more concerned with the legal details than the case itself.

  “Yes Sir. Sheriff Jack Fuller has given me the authority to be his designee. Can’t get more legal than that.”

  “You talking about Jack Fuller, the man who almost single-handedly brought down the Machito Gomez drug cartel in 1999? That man is a hero of mine. Heck of a guy. I’d like to be working with him myself. Look here Maude, I’ll authorize time for you but-a week is all I can do, so you better get going and get the job done, chop-chop.”

  Maude had to clear her head for a minute. James Patterson was actually agreeing to spend money from his budget for her to work in another county?

  “What gives Lieutenant? Did you get a heart transplant this week?”

  “No need being rude, detective. Fact is, Rhodes County has helped us in the past, that drug cartel was moving up around here and across to Austin before Jack Fuller brought them down. We owe him.”

  “Do we owe him enough that Joe could make his way down here for a few days?”

  “Don’t push your luck, Detective Rogers. On second thought, I’ll send him down for a few days. Just tell Sheriff Jack that I said hello, and many thanks for the work he has done in the past. Tell him I hope he’s better soon.”

  The phone went dead and Maude stood in silence. After a couple of minutes wondering what in the world was going on with Patterson, she decided to go to the Tylers, thank them for their hospitality, and explain that it was not necessary for them to put her up any longer.

  A trip by the hospital showed Maude that she was dealing with a stubborn man. Jack Fuller didn’t get to be sheriff by sitting on his laurels. He was fit to be tied.

  “Staying in the hospital bed while the murderers of Aaron Dennis and that little girl go free is just an abomination, but I’ll abide by what the doctors say. Just don’t get me wrong, I’ll hate every minute of it.”

  “Jack, I’ll keep you up on all the details, and you can run the show from your hospital bed. But old boy, the Reaper is waiting if that artery busts loose in your shoulder, and you’re three feet away from a doctor.”

  Sheriff Jack grumbled, issuing a sound that was more like a groan, his thick neck stiff in the effort of agreeing without liking it.

  “I know Maude, and I’m grateful. Truth is, I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here. Call in the Highway patrol I guess. I just have a hard time with doing nothing.”

  “My partner and I have been loaned to you by Lieutenant Patterson, my boss. Can’t understand his attitude though; he isn’t usually so unselfish.”

  “Patterson, James Patterson?”

  “Yeah, you act like you know him.” Maude was curious about the connection between Jack Fuller and James Patterson.

  “Well,” Jack said, lost in thought , “It was in ’99, I was chasing some drug scum that had packed a load of meth into an apartment, and it blew, killing five kids and two adults in the adjoining apartment. I had a bead on the ringleaders then about the time I was ready with a task force to take them out, they skipped town. We had a leak, a direct line of information from a fellow that worked in the warrant section. He was brother-in-law to one of the Machito gang. It was real bad after that.

  Next thing you know, I heard from some folks up around Madison that a new cartel had moved in there and all the way across to Austin. The word was out that there were gang killings in the takeover of the meth market. Because I knew that scum, knew them on sight, I called and volunteered to come up and help put them all away. Your lieutenant was a sergeant back then, still wet behind the ears, overcome with the crime that had hit the streets.

  Well, since I could identify the Machito gang leader, your lieutenant and me worked together some, caught them drug pushing murderers, killed most of them; locked a few up for a long time. I reckon that is what James Patterson is remembering.”

  “I guess that would explain it,” Maude said with fervor. “It was a few years later when I showed up, then even later when I finally made it to Homicide. Makes me feel even more inclined to find the murderers of those two on the lake. If my remembrance is right, the kind of killers we’re dealing with now don’t just step back and wait. They clear all the obstacles out of their trail. We may be seeing some more of their work before we catch the polecats.”

  “Maude, you are a picture to see when you get mad. I hope I’m never in your gun sights.”

  “If that should happen, Jack, it’s because one of us has jumped the fence, a situation that I don’t expect to happen. Those Machitos stay locked up?”

  “Last I heard all but one was killed on the exercise yard at the Rusk unit. Made it all the way there with good behavior. Guess the others didn’t like meth makers playing nice.”

  “Think you could check into his whereabouts? See what he’s doing, maybe he got out early.”

  “I can do that, Maude. Give me something to do besides pick my behind.”

  Maude had a sudden picture of that activity, and shut it down as fast as possible. She preferred to see Jack in a better light.

  It was late morning when she left the hospital on her way back to the Tyler’s home. Weariness seemed her constant companion, too many hours spent without sleep taking its toll, filling her head with fuzz. The bedroom offered her rest, and she slept soundly for five hours, got up, showered and changed clothing. Her bag took only a few minutes to put together, and she loaded it in the car, trying to be as quiet as possible.

  Chapter 7

  The local motel around Edwards Bay was a sleazy number, set up for canal workers, delivery men, and the low income bracket that couldn’t afford the resort. Maude stopped in and asked to see the rooms, she wasn’t about to rent a roach haven or a dive. The owner/manager lived on the property, and showed her around, eager to get her business. She did her usual check of the beds, and found them to be serviceable, if not the most comfortable. The owner said he would provide the newest mattresses from storage. The small refrigerator in the corner of the room chugged along, cooling the inside, and a coffee pot was available if she wanted it.

  The room for Joe was a duplicate, and so were the manager’s promises. Maude let him know quickly and quietly if anything was less than acceptable, he would suffer her wrath. The man was nervous after that, walking more on his toes in Maude’s presence. She noticed his demeanor, and wondered why people behaved that way around her. The newer, gentler Maude Rogers was trying to be less intimidating, but no matter what she did; small men usually reacted the same. It wouldn’t surprise me, she thought, if he starts flirting next.

  The Tyler’s home was about three miles from the motel, and the Sheriff’s Office was about the same distance on t
he other side of town. Maude locked the door to the motel room, trusting the owner to see that the new mattress was on the bed when she came back. Joe’s flight would be arriving in about three hours, which gave her time to go to the local florist shop and pick up flowers for Andrea.

  A blue Chevy sat outside the motel, its motor running, the driver waiting for someone. Maude wasn’t paying attention to the car, but the owner of the motel, Jesus Jones was watching anything that had to do with his new resident. He observed the blue Chevy, a model about ten years old, with dirt on the sides, as though its owner was not concerned with automobile cleanliness. In most circumstances, the vehicle would go unnoticed by people. The license plate was from Arizona and dirty, but the man in the motel office took the time to read it. He made a note to inform his new tenant about the car. He did so like to help the police.

  When Maude pulled out of the drive, the blue Chevy followed her for a while, then fell back to keep her from noticing; but Jesus Jones was in his own car, tailing the tailer. When the blue Chevy fell back, the motel man almost ran into the bumper of the dirty blue car. Cursing as though it was no part his fault, the motel man began slinging his fists at the man ahead of him for stopping short, then after he got the attention he desired, he too fell back and stopped his vehicle.

  Jesus Jones was an organized man, thorough in his actions. He was cheap, because his tenants paid a lower rate than he wanted to charge, but the ambiance of the motel didn’t allow for higher rent. The sad truth was there was no ambiance at all.

  Jesus had always imagined himself to be more than a sleaze motel owner/manager. His ambition was to be popular, to have his name recognized by good and bad alike; to be ‘somebody.’ Being a sleuth was in his blood, because his wife’s mother’s brother had told him one time that ‘he, Jesus, was a sneaky bastard,’ and being Jesus, he took the description of his character as a compliment.

  Following the blue Chevy made Jesus Jones feel good, being a help to the police was a worthy side occupation. It was not the first time the man had been involved in police business, but the last time, he was almost run over in the parking lot by the officer who was chasing a thief. Jesus had tried to block the path of the thief and in turn almost became part of the parking lot. The police officer threatened to put him in jail for his reckless behavior, but nothing ever came of it.

  The blue Chevy picked up speed as did Jesus Jones, careening behind Maude Rogers, the police woman. A few more blocks down the street he noticed that his tenant pulled into a neighborhood, and parked her pickup truck at a residence inside the gated neighborhood. The blue Chevy parked on the side of the road, and Jesus Jones found a tree not too far away where he could sit and smoke his last joint. The windows were rolled up and the smell of the cheap pot filled his car, lulling him off to sleep.

  A few minutes later, or so it seemed to Jesus, someone was knocking on his window, telling him to roll it down. Maude stood there, amazed to see the motel owner, his car reeking of marijuana, and his eyes glazed over.

  “Mr. Motel Owner, are you following me?”

  “Jesus, Jesus Jones. That’s my name. No ma’am, I wasn’t following you. I was following him.” He said, looking across the road.

  “There’s no one across the road, Mr. Jones.” She said, leaning away from the car, trying to stay out of the smoke. “You’re about to put my eyes out. Do I need to arrest you?”

  “Oh no, Ma’am, I’m just trying to help.” Jesus was definitely slurring his words, taking time to pronounce each syllable correctly, but failing sadly.

  “Okay. Lock that car and I’ll give you a ride back to the motel. You’re in no shape to drive. Couldn’t you at least get some really good pot if you’re going to smoke? That stuff is foul.

  “Yes ma’am, I’m coming. Be there in a minute.”

  The little man climbed into Maude’s truck, a task that would have been difficult, even if the truck hadn’t been parked with the driver’s side wheels in a ditch.

  “Now what are you talking about helping me?”

  “The blue Chevy. He was following you, so I followed him, following you. He parked across the road when you went in the house.”

  “Someone was following me, Mr. Jones?”

  “Yes Ma’am, you can call me Jesus. Yes, the man was following you from the motel.”

  “Well, don’t suppose you got a license?”

  “Yes ma’am, I got it. PR7877 Arizona. Does that help?”

  “We’ll see. But don’t do that again. What if he had come across the road and shot you, Jesus. What would you have done then? And don’t call me ma’am again. I know I’m old, but don’t keep reminding me.”

  “No, I won’t,” the man said, blearily, falling asleep in the seat.

  Maude dropped Jesus off at the motel, gave him the address where his car was parked in case he didn’t remember then called the Sheriff’s Office and asked Ernest to run a check on the license. She knew it would take a while, but in the meantime she was hungry, and began looking for restaurants or fast food places near the motel. It was Wednesday afternoon and she hadn’t eaten since the evening before at Gandy’s. She still had to go to the airport, a trip that would take about fifteen minutes according to the Tylers.

  Nice folks, she thought, didn’t want me to leave their house. Andrea had been very appreciative of the flowers and Bear was his usual gentle self. She assured them that she would be fine, she was accustomed to renting a room while working, besides, it wouldn’t do to stay in a nicer room than her partner. They seemed to understand, but insisted that she come back sometime when she wasn’t working. Maude could tell they wanted to know what was going on, so she gave them the bare bones of the truth. It was the same information she had given Lilly Ann when she called her earlier.

  Her niece had been very upset when she found out her friend was dead, but she promised Maude that she would keep it to herself until all family members of both victims had been notified. Maude told her that she would be making the trip to the university the next day, and that seemed to mollify her somewhat, even though she appeared to be on the brink of tears.

  Joe’s 8:00 PM flight was late, but so was Maude. The burger joint where she stopped was packed with teenagers ordering burgers, shakes, and loads of crisp fried potatoes. After she finally received her order, she ate on the road to save time, although eating in the car while driving was her least favorite dining choice.

  Finally, the door to the small airport opened, and the tall dark haired man loped across the grounds after seeing Maude’s truck. He leaned through the driver’s window and gave her a big hug, an action that embarrassed him after the fact.

  “Sorry, but I missed you Partner.”

  “Ditto, Joe. Missed you too, but don’t expect you’ll want any sloppy kisses. I smell like a wet hamburger; had to eat on the road.”

  “Bring me up to speed on the case, Maude. What’s happening down here that’s got you all in a tither?”

  She looked at him sharply to see if he was joking before saying anything.

  “It’s pretty bad. The Sheriff is bunged up from a .38 caliber bullet, two people are dead by what appears to be paid assassins, and the motel owner where we’re staying wants to help out with the investigation. So far, he’s found out more than all of us put together. He followed a man that was tailing me today. The license of the car came back on a white male from Flagstaff, Arizona, deceased since three years ago. As you can see, I am not making much headway. Glad you’re here, partner.”

  Joe let out a small whistle at the story. “Guess we have some work to do.”

  The motel’s neon sign was flashing a vacancy when they drove up, and Joe had to go inside the office to register so Madison PD could be billed for his stay. While he was there, he assessed the owner of the business who kept looking toward the door, hoping that Maude would walk through. Joe laughed to himself, thinking that he might use that information later, but he’d best leave it alone for now.

  Maude told Joe goodnig
ht, and went inside her room, stood in the shower, and relaxed in the hot water. She dressed in flannel pajamas; thinking all the while that her last unfiltered was still coming, smoking just before bed helped keep the nightmares at bay. Sometimes her dreams kept waking her, memories of the men and women she had arrested or killed visiting her sleep. Robert Dawson sometimes came as Bobby, crying as a woeful child, the bruises on his small body bright and terrible.

  Maude looked outside the window after the lights were out, gazing across the parking lot, wondering who was the driver of the blue Chevy and why was he following her? The mystery would probably right itself soon, they usually did. The thought was with her when she spotted the car parked in the far end of the lot, hidden among a group of other cars, but still visible in the light from the street.

  Jumping to her feet, she pulled on jeans, boots, and a sweatshirt in the dark, called Joe on her cell phone, and waited for him to answer. He spoke sleepily into the phone, but when she explained what they were about to do, he sharpened quickly, ready to go in a minute.

  Slipping out of their rooms, careful that the open doors didn’t cast a large shadow in the quarter moon’s light, they met outside where Maude motioned for Joe to go to the right side, as she took the other. Hoping to surprise whoever was watching her room, she acknowledged that the treeless lot provided little cover and was going to make hiding difficult.

  The gravel on the parking lot shone white in the street lights and the light of the small, but bright moon, crunching under their footfalls. When they were fifty feet from the car, it began to move, slowly at first then shot out of the parking lot, the light revealing the profile of a youngish man wearing glasses. Nothing else could be told and the lack of information exacted a few expletives from Maude about the man’s heritage. She wondered again who was watching her.