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

by Linda L. Dunlap

  For a minute Maude thought she might have gone too far. Brian mentally retreated for a minute, saying nothing. Then he changed, and a kind of light came to his eyes. “My pocket in my blue jeans. Find them.”

  She was confused, believing the child had another toy in his clothing and was asking for it. “You have a toy in your pocket and you want me to get it?”

  He nodded his head vigorously. “Get my blue jeans.”

  Looking in the drawers behind her that lined the lower cabinet took a minute but she soon found a plastic bag with the boy’s polo shirt and an old pair of blue jeans. “Here you go,” she said, hoping to give the child a little more pleasure.

  The boy dug through his front pocket and brought out a handful of folded paper. “Here, my mama said it was a secret. But you can have it.”

  Maude was dumbfounded. The folded papers were a map of a body of water and handwritten notes with a list of actions to be performed at certain times, information she and the assassin had both been searching for at the house, something that would tie Carl Spillar to the Edwards Bay murders and thus to the man who killed him.

  “Thank you Brian,” she whispered, overcome by the boy’s trust. “You’ve been a big help, and I know your mama would approve.”

  She was careful to keep the papers away from her fingers, pulling on the thin gloves from the pouch she kept on her belt.

  When the boy saw her with the gloves, he thought about it a while, then later asked, “Why you got gloves on?”

  “To keep your mama’s secret from getting messed up.”

  The boy sat for a moment then said, “I heard the pizza man come to the door and Mama looked outside. She got scared and put me in with the groceries.” She said, “No noise, Brian. No noise. So I was real quiet. The pizza man made a lot of noise. I didn’t see him, but he scared me. Then I heard some loud noise like balloon’s popping, and my mama crying. I started crying then I remembered my mama said, “No noise.” I got real quiet. The pizza man opened the door, but I was real still so he didn’t see me, cause the flour was there.”

  The little guy was crying, his nose running, snuffing for his mama. She sat with him a bit and told him how his mama was a hero and had saved his life because she loved him so much. He leaned into her and cried for a while longer until the nurse came in and brought him some food.

  “You be good now, Brian. Maybe your grandma will be here soon to take you home.” She hugged him one last time and left the child engrossed in the mashed potatoes and macaroni-and-cheese. Her kind of food

  Later, after leaving the hospital, Maude began wondering what kind of life the child would have with his grandmother. She hoped it would be better than living in fear while a man tried to kill his parents. The boy would have been cut off from all socialization with other children during those days. His mama must have been afraid for all of them, keeping the one piece of evidence that might save them in Brian’s pocket.

  Maude called Joe and told him about the new information, giving him heads-up that she would be at the lab for a while, waiting for the fingerprint report to prove that Carl Spillar was involved in the murders on Edwards Bay. She didn’t have long to wait for Spillar’s jacket held a previous incarceration for assault. His prints were available immediately. The comparison by the technicians showed a flawless index fingerprint on the inside picture of the lake and it was definitely Carl Spillar who had held the folded paper and studied it.

  The detectives felt vindicated, believing all along that the shooting of Sheriff Jack was done by Carl Spillar. The connecting of Spillar to the killing crew cinched their earlier belief. Now all that was needed was to find the men who had raped and stabbed the woman then pulled the trigger on Aaron Dennis.

  Chapter 16

  The motel bed looked inviting after a very long day, and Maude plopped down on its surface intending to rest just for a while. Two hours later she awoke feeling very rested but needing a cigarette. She had missed her after-lunch unfiltered and it was almost time for the dinner smoke. Yea, she thought. I can smoke two in succession.

  She had no idea where Joe was working, but she assumed he was with the deputies who worked for Jack Fuller. There were more cases than just the murder on Edwards Bay and the Spillar murders. Maude was content to stick with the big cases, letting the young men do the running for traffic and burglaries. The coffee pot was ready to plug into the wall because each time it was emptied of coffee she refilled it with water and fresh grounds. While it was brewing, she decided to use the phone and call a fast-food place that delivered.

  The room phone had to go through the operator, or Jesus Jones, an inconvenient necessity, but Maude was in no hurry. She was content to wait for a while, even though when the coffee was made, she would stop whatever was going on and get a cup.

  Jesus spoke cryptically, “Miss M, you remember that thing we talked about, you know with your truck?”

  “No, Jesus, I don’t remember. But I want to order food.”

  “Yes ma’am, I’m glad you remember. Yes, I can be right there and I’m glad you’re still interested.”

  “Jesus, are you crazy? You’re talking in circles. I called you to order food!”

  “Yes ma’am, I’m on my way.”

  A knock on the door came quickly and there stood Jesus Jones, looking over his shoulder. He ran into the room, breathing hard from his exertions. “Jesus,” she said, “You need to get more exercise.”

  “Miss Maude,” the man croaked, “I was trying to get out of the office and talk to you before he left.”

  “Before who left, Jesus? Has that young man with the blue Chevy been back?”

  “Uh no, not him. This is somebody else. Something is wrong about this man that checked in after lunch. He’s not right.”

  “Okay, Jesus. Tell me what you think, but I’m having my coffee while you do that, and I’m opening a window and smoking a cigarette, unless you think it’s safe to go outside?”

  Jesus Jones was very nervous. The big man, the new resident, was in the office looking at brochures of clubs in town. Jesus had made up an excuse to leave the office and told him to go ahead and look at all the leaflets, that he would be right back. He told the big man, Leroy Thomas, that an old lady had trouble with her truck and he needed to look at it for her. That was why the phone call had seemed so strange.

  Maude nodded her head, agreeing with Jesus that sometimes police had to use subterfuge to get the job done.

  “Tell me what there is about this man that upsets you Jesus.”

  “Well, he’s sneaky-looking, got those eyes, you know, the kind that don’t have no sympathy for anyone, just pretends to care. And he’s so big, at least 6 feet 6 inches tall.”

  “Wait, he’s that big?” Jesus was drawing her interest fast.

  “Yes Ma’am, and he was asking me about the police and what time they make their rounds in the parking lot.”

  Maude sat up straight, thinking once again how she never believed in coincidences. The man they were looking for was big, and would be interested in police schedules, trying to avoid any run-ins with them, possibly hiding out from some active warrants.

  “Jesus, you think you could point out whatever he drives, and keep him busy while I get his tag number?”

  “Sure can, but he had to write it down on the registration paper this morning.”

  “I have a few bucks that says he wrote down a bogus number. You didn’t check it, did you?”

  “No. I don’t usually, I just expect people to write it down like they are supposed to do.”

  “Well, if he’s a bad guy, he’s depending on that attitude from you, so don’t challenge him. Okay?”

  “Uh, sure, I won’t say anything.”

  “Well, meanwhile, I’m going to go out there and write the numbers down. Since I have no reason to hold him, I can’t stop him from leaving, so we’ll have to work fast. What’s this guy’s name?”

  “Leroy Thomas, ma’am,” Jesus said, leaving the room, heading bac
k to the motel office. “Oh yeah,” he said, turning back inside the door, “It’s that white Econoline van at the end of the parking lot, back there under the trees close to his room.”

  “Of course it would be,” she said, “If he’s trying to hide out in plain sight.”

  Maude forgot all about food, but she lit up her unfiltered, took a couple of drags off the burning tobacco, inhaled deeply then crushed the flame.

  “I’ll be back,” she told her ashtray.

  The window on the back side of the motel room had a loose screen, and with only a small amount of discomfort, Maude managed to scoot out the window and land on her feet. She looked around, wondering what people thought about her breaking out of a motel. It was almost enough to make her chuckle. She stayed low at the windows and made it to the end, headed toward the parking lot. Ducking behind cars and trucks she was grateful that Jesus Jones had a large clientele who parked in the lot every day.

  Maude was so intent on being stealthy she didn’t see the round gravel rocks under her boots and began skating on them as they rolled causing her knees to buckle. She moved frantically, arms akimbo trying to keep from falling. A four-by-four pick-up was in her path, the fancy vintage hood ornament sticking up, waiting for her to grab onto it. She began toppling forward, the ground threatening to come up and meet her, but, at the last minute, she grabbed the ram’s head, breaking it off the fancy truck.

  “Oh well, I’ll make this good later, but no time now,” she said, leaning against the vehicle. Laying the shiny plastic down on the truck window, Maude silently apologized to the absent owner then continued on her way. The white van was in the shadows, the body of it covered with bird crap and dirt, not the van of an assassin. But then on the other hand, what better way to hide a vehicle.

  Her small notebook was in easy reach, a thin pen attached to it for convenience. Maude wrote the numbers down, catching her breath before she eased her way to the van’s windshield. The inspection and registration stickers were faded but she managed to get some of the information down before glancing up to find that the door to the motel office was slowly opening. She moved back , keeping her head down until she was behind the van and could escape by using another large vehicle’s cover.

  Jesus was right. Leroy Thomas was very large with wide shoulders and steroid driven muscles lining his arms and neck. He was bald, his head shiny in the sun, a turn-on to many women but usually a cover-up by younger men for an early receding hairline. The man’s expression was dogged, his determination to succeed in the current errand obvious to onlookers. Maude hoped he wasn’t suspicious of the motel owner.

  Leroy Thomas had been a big guy since he was twelve, learning at an early age that he could bully his way through many life circumstances getting what he wanted by force without expending a large amount of energy. Now he took his time, never seeing the detective who was standing nearby in the cover of an oleander bush. He was mighty pissed at the scrawny half-breed who had kept him waiting to go mess around with some old lady’s truck. It if happens again, he said to himself, he’s gone from this world.

  Priding himself for being smart, even a genius, Leroy often missed seeing the forest for the trees. Had he seen Maude nearby, he might have figured out that his van was targeted; at that he could have acquired another vehicle or blown away the old lady detective.

  To Maude’s relief, the man was involved with an inner struggle and passed her by, not seeing her departing shadow as she scooted away behind another vehicle. She silently gave herself a point and the big man zero. She hoped her good fortune remained until the man drove away.

  As fate often jumps in and changes luck, the big man climbed behind the wheel of the van and saw Maude out of the corner of his eye as she was bent over near the front door of the beige Mazda sports car next to him. He met her eyes for a moment and realized danger lay there, but the genius within Leroy Thompson was sleeping and the idiot that was awake saw an older woman with a bent back, trying to get in her car. He smirked and gave her the bird, the traditional three-fingered salute that nasty people sling at nice guys. Maude straightened, stared at the big man’s departing back and thought, some people seek an early death, and that bald fellow looks like a man who is ready to go. She thought she might oblige him if she didn’t have the shield and star in her pocket.

  Later, she called Joe and asked, “Want a beer? I’m buying. Over at the Water Dog, that big fellow is holding court with the local folks, and I’m standing at the bar, keeping my eyes on him.”

  “Maude, if he’s part of the crew that killed those two people, he’s a dangerous man.”

  “That’s why I called my partner instead of my boyfriend to keep me company.”

  “I’ll be right there Maude. Ernest can drop me off.”

  The vacation she had hoped to take had been interrupted by Lilly Ann’s request for a favor, but originally, the idea of going fishing had prompted Maude to add to her traveling wardrobe a large brimmed cap with a Seagram’s Gin logo, a button up oversized flannel shirt, and some sweat pants with paint across the front.

  Tucking her hair under the cap was the piece de resistance, compelling her to look into the bar mirror and see herself as others did.

  “Lord, what an ugly, skinny man,” she said, shrugging her flannel-clad shoulders. “But if it works, what the heck; it’s all for the glory of the job.”

  “Excuse me, sir, but have you seen a good-looking woman with long legs and a bad attitude around here?” Joe asked, his eyes twinkling.

  “None here but geezers and polecats,” she said slinging back a gin and tonic. “I’m about to light one of my two remaining cigarettes. Why don’t you find us a table?”

  “Where is he?” Joe said, turning toward an empty table near the wall.

  “That’s him over there in the corner, sitting with two working girls. He’s spending a lot of cash.”

  “And by the looks of his company; he’s about to spend a lot more.” Joe added, sitting down with his back to a wall.

  Quickly Maude brought him up on the latest about the big man. She found her partner to be a fast responder to new information. He didn’t waste time asking unnecessary questions.

  “Maude,” he said, “you ran the plates, what did you find out?”

  “Plates belongs to B&G Transport Service in Houston, a large import/export company; lots of money, power, influence. The van our boy is driving was recently sold by B&G to a contractor along with five other older model vans. The Highway Department knows nothing of the sale, so the tags haven’t been changed, but B&G have no dog in the hunt. Nothing illegal we can use to arrest the big man; we haven’t been able to get in touch with the contractor to determine anything about the drivers of the vans. She’s out of town at a business conference.

  Driver’s name is Leroy Thomas, served time in the Harris County jail for assault, but the victims dropped the charges. They said in the beginning that Thomas was abusive, had slapped them around in bed. Later, they let him off. Maybe he scared them quiet.”

  “So we have to do this the hard way.” Joe had his mouth full of beer but his brain was working overtime. “Sooner or later, he’ll slip up,” he said, swallowing, “we just have to be there to catch him.”

  At about 11:00 o’clock, the bar was jumping, and Maude was getting weary. The bald guy was getting drunker by the minute and the women who sat at his table took full advantage of his generosity with drinks. It was easy pickings for the two and they came through like champs.

  The two detectives had just about decided to leave, and drive by later when the bald man made his move, rising from the table signaling for the tab. Both women got up to leave with the big man but he pushed one back, refusing her company. Maude became alerted to the man’s roughness with the woman at the table, but the working girl only laughed, knowing the killing she had already made from the drinks.

  The other woman was blonde and pretty, in a petite baby doll sort of way, and kept her shoulder under his arm supporting him.
They moved on outside, toward the van. The man hailed a cab and left the parking lot, leaving the van behind.

  “Joe, I hope he’s going back to the motel where we can keep up with him. Too bad he didn’t get in the van and start the engine. We could have taken him to jail.” Maude was thankful she had quit drinking after the first gin and tonic. Driving sober was a necessity, even when following a criminal.

  “I wish those lab reports would come back on the victims.” She said, offhandedly.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. They did. Haven’t see them, but they’re at the sheriff’s office. Sometimes hard to know who should be taking charge of evidence with us down here, visiting, but needing to know when the new stuff comes in. Don’t feel right taking over.”

  Maude nodded, understanding the dilemma Joe was having. She had it too, but it was easier for her because barriers had never meant much unless they were holding back water. When a report came in to the Rhodes County Sheriff, Maude claimed it, making sure it went to Jack Fuller after she read it. If the information had nothing to do with the recent murders, she backed off and left it all for the deputies to sort out.

  “Do you see that cab, Joe?”

  “No, sorry. I lost it back there.” he said, pointing behind them.

  “Darn, keep your eyes open. Did you get the cab number?”

  “Yeah, number 339. I’ll call the company and see where the driver posted his drop-off.”

  Revving her truck up, Maude began a faster pace, searching the streets for cab 339, believing the man inside was trying to lose them, possibly compromising the driver into cooperating.

  “Cab dispatch reports that the driver of the cab hasn’t been in touch after leaving the bar. Their GPS shows the car is in the 500 block of Jones Road, and it isn’t moving.”

  “Let’s see if we can sneak up on Leroy Thomas before he gets away.” Maude was getting really pissed off having to chase the big man. She felt like such a fool believing him drunk when all the time he must have been aware he was under surveillance. Maybe he wasn’t as big an idiot as he acted.