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

by Linda L. Dunlap

  Joe had researched the website of the hospital already and found that everything was intact, no reported escapes or unusual activity. The information that Maude had obtained on her own in Flagstaff had to be recorded along with other case facts. She used the term information for her report, making it short with observations but no personal bias; business as usual.

  When they came into the office, Joe took a left into the Patterson’s office and stayed a few minutes, then returned with a silly grin. Maude raised her eyebrows, wondering what could be funny in James Patterson’s office early in the morning. “Taking some vacation days, that’s all.” He said.

  “Going somewhere?” she asked him.

  “I’m thinking about taking a trip down past Rhodes County toward Ellison. Maybe spend some time with your niece, get some fishing done too. Want to come?”

  “No, you two don’t need me around. I’m going to get with Jack and make a trip to Houston to check out B&G Transport. When are you leaving?”

  “Friday, be back Tuesday. I don’t want to run out on you for too long. Lieutenant put me on desk duty today, got to catch up with my expense reports and some paperwork from the trip. Sorry I can’t go with you to see Dawson.”

  “I’m going to clear with the Lieutenant and maybe leave in the morning for a day or so to Houston. Maybe back the same day, but I kind of doubt it. That’s a long trip. I could go by and see if our friend Jesus Jones is still turning over rocks. I also want to put in a word for him with Jack, maybe make the man an honorary deputy. We owe a debt to the man for spotting Leroy.” Maude was thinking about the trip already, hoping to wrap up the rest of the Edwards Bay murder case.

  “You want to go where?” Patterson asked. “What have you lost in Houston?”

  “We didn’t get to finish the investigation, the man who organized the hit hasn’t been found yet. If we go to Houston, there’s connection with a transport company that owns the van one of the killers drove. I don’t need to do Jack’s work for him, I want to help find the man who had those people killed. I’m willing to take a couple of vacation days to do it.”

  Patterson looked around his office and out in the big room full of cubicles that were occupied by detectives doing their paperwork and waiting for lunch.

  “Two days, Maude. That’s all I can give you, but your partner has to stay. I need one of you on duty here.”

  “Great, Lieutenant, I’ll give Jack a call. Then I’m taking a drive out to the hospital. Would you like to ride along? “I think I would, Maude, I wouldn’t mind getting out, seeing the city.”

  Sheriff Jack Fuller was in the middle of eating a sandwich bag of Captain Crunch when the phone rang. Most of his department was slow that morning and it seemed slower because of the hectic pace of the previous two weeks. The Prosecution was all set to bring Leroy and Ginger to trial for the murders, but rumor was his defense attorney was going to try to get Leroy’s confession thrown out. It wasn’t looking good since Harry Charles was dead and his testimony unheard.

  The idea of going to Houston and finding the Boss was a good one. Jack was ready, and he would be ready the next morning. The ride to Houston would be long and interesting with Maude Rogers along. He figured they would take his county car, it was unmarked and comfortable.

  The trip with James Patterson opened a whole new window for Maude. He tended to talk very little in the office, but in the car, it was difficult to get a word in. He was wound up, glad to be back on a police call, even if it was no more than a handshake with other officials. The hospital for the criminally insane didn’t offer much that a person could take home as news, but it had been a while since Patterson made the rounds with any of his detectives. He didn’t have a sergeant in Homicide, just the four detectives, which made him the go-to guy in all situations.

  A big building loomed ahead, a surprise to the first-time visitor. The surrounding scenery was mostly hill country grass and trees. A Madrone or two stood near a group of cedars, their evergreen beauty always a wonder. Light colored stone covered the huge building, the latest addition to the Madison-MacArthur cooperative effort. The City of McArthur was much smaller than Madison but their tax base was huge, with large industrial companies moving into the area. The city could afford to purchase the stone.

  Maude glanced over at her lieutenant, hearing him rattling off, wondering if his wife ever let him talk at home.

  “When did you last visit this place?” she asked him when he finally gave her an opening.

  “The day they had the grand opening; that was the one and only time I’ve been here. To tell you the truth, these places give me the creeps.”

  “I know what you mean. I wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t feel I had to do it. We’ll be going to the 22nd floor, that’s where the violent and aggressive ones are housed. On Dawson’s one year anniversary an inmate was killed here. The killer was never discovered. Some thought it might be Dawson, but he was catatonic, also he’s locked in his cell most of the time. I guess there are some hours he gets out for therapy, or some kind of activity, but the security staff were certain he was incapable of the killing.

  “Makes me feel better knowing a guy like him will be here forever.” Patterson said, a small shiver running down his arms in the big elevator.

  “Hey, she said, after the long trip into the building. “We’re here. This is the twenty second floor.”

  The two police officers walked through the wide bullet-proof glass door, observing the rooms with locked entrances. A planned parade of soft colors had every door a different shade, the rainbow broken down into peaceful pastels.

  “Nice looking place. This isn’t the room where Dawson is housed. These people are temporary residents. The facility tries to make the short stays very pleasant.” Maude had been there before.

  Identification was required at the desk by security personnel who also took their weapons and deposited them in a locked safety area. It was awkward for Maude to give up her Glock for it was a part of her daily uniform.

  “We’re here to see Robert Dawson #73, police business. We want a visual of the inmate and would like to speak to his personal physician.”

  “Please, be seated, Detective. We’ll call Doctor Hopkins.” The first officer told them.

  Maude began to want a cigarette in the worst way-the thought of having to see Dawson again had triggered the nicotine urge. She held her thoughts, observing the staff and their routines.

  “Where are they? Patterson asked. “They in cells or rooms?”

  “The men and women on this floor have iron bars to keep them in. Rooms are for those who have never killed for pleasure.”

  “Excuse me. Sorry to keep you waiting, I am Doctor Ian Hopkins. I understand you need proof of Number 73’s welfare?”

  Maude and her lieutenant introduced themselves and showed the doctor their badges. “You could call it that. Do you have some time, Doctor?”

  He looked at his watch and frowned. “Yes,” he said, “but only for a few minutes.”

  “Is there somewhere we can talk besides this corridor?” Patterson asked, his phobia getting the better of him.

  “Of course, please step into my office,” Hopkins said, opening one of the locked pastel doors. He seated himself in the chair behind the desk and asked what they wanted to know.

  “Has Robert Dawson’s condition changed since he has been incarcerated here?”

  “Why, what do you mean? Our job is to help him heal, to realize the wrongness of the actions he performed. We always hope our clients have become less burdened during their stay.”

  “How much do you know about this man, Doctor Hopkins?” Maude responded.

  “A great deal, I’m afraid. He was a very troubled man when he arrived. His mental condition, I am sorry to say has not changed much.”

  “When Dawson was first admitted, he was in very critical condition from a bicycle/motor vehicle accident. He was catatonic as well. That’s what I want to know, does Dawson have his wits about him?”<
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  “No, I’m afraid not.” Hopkins ruefully admitted. “Too much happened to his brain, the damage can’t be undone.”

  “How sure are you of that, Doctor Hopkins? Would you bet your kid’s life on it?”

  Hopkins sat still for a minute then nodded. “Yes, I would.”

  “May we see him?”

  “I’m sorry, but it is water-therapy time, and Mr. Dawson is not available. If you want to schedule an appointment, we can make sure he is in his room. He has never had a visitor.”

  “Sorry to bother you Doctor Hopkins. We’ll be on our way. You’ve answered our questions.” Patterson said, his phobia getting the better of him. He turned and left the room, in a hurry to retrieve his weapon and leave the building.

  “Thank you, Doctor, for your help. I will call and make an appointment.” Maude said.

  He looked surprised for a moment, then nodded. “Here is my card. Please call me for the scheduling.”

  A while later when the car was moving away from the parking lot, James Patterson apologized, but Maude told him there was no need, that they all had booger bears of one kind or another in their closets

  “Are you satisfied about him now?” Patterson asked.

  “I guess I am, but that means someone is using Dawson’s information.”

  “For what purpose, do you think?” Patterson asked.

  “I don’t know Lieutenant, but you can believe I’ll find out.” She said, guiding the car away from the grounds of the hospital.

  Later, much later, after the gin bottle ran out, Maude acknowledged that she might not find the perpetrator who abducted Lilly Ann; someone had set it up and the blonde man from the Chevy had done the work, but the person calling the shots was a mystery. The girl wouldn’t be so easy a target again, although Maude had an idea that the whole ordeal had been an elaborate game for attention and would not be played again. She shivered a moment, thinking of how much worse it could have been.

  Chapter 25

  Driving was as comfortable as an old hat to Maude, especially on roads she had travelled before. She got most of her thinking done behind the wheel. Her truck was a fairly new model, with a lot of conveniences, making driving a pleasure, and she used it for hauling things for her house and garden, that wouldn’t fit into a car trunk. It was also good to have a carry place for equipment for work, when the need arose. The trip to Houston required nothing other than her wits.

  The road to Jack Fuller’s place was fairly straight and ran a 70 mph speed limit, a quick trip actually. She drove for three hours and pulled into his driveway to find him sitting on the porch, enjoying the brief respite from the cold wet weather that had plagued the area for quite some time.

  “Howdy Jack, Sarah.” Maude said, stepping onto the porch. Nice weather, don’t blame you for sitting out.

  “Hello Maude,” Sarah said, her eyes worried. “You’ll be alright today?”

  It wasn’t a reassurance, it was a question, and Sarah had just given Maude an instruction to bring her husband back the way she found him.

  “Yes,” she said, “I hope so. Keep us in your prayers, Sarah.”

  “I do,” she said, “All the time.”

  Later, Jack was driving the county car and Maude was riding along, sipping on a cup of black coffee from a thermos.

  “Good coffee. Thank Sarah, for me,” she said. “She seemed upset this morning.”

  “I think she’s a little worried about the trip. She knows what we might be facing.”

  “I’m glad someone knows, Jack, because I don’t have the darndest idea what we’re going to run into. Did you find out anything more from Leroy, any connection to the robbery and killing of the jewelry store owner?”

  “Not much. His memory is getting shorter since he got that smart lawyer. But in my opinion, Leroy killed him with that chisel. It always bothered me-what kind of weapon would make holes in a man like that.”

  “So who hired his lawyer?” Maude asked, wishing she had her second cigarette.

  “Not sure, he showed up from somewhere. Said Leroy called him, but I don’t believe it. I think someone else bought his time.”

  “You think they’ll try to kill him?”

  “I don’t know Maude. They might, if they can get him out.”

  “What about his deal with the Prosecutor, that’ll go away if the lawyer tries to get the case tossed.”

  “True, but our friend Leroy may not think that far ahead. I believe he is being offered bad advice from his lawyer.” Jack said. “Is it time for lunch, Maude? I could use a little bite and a King Edward cigar.”

  “I believe it is, Jack. If you’ll stop this vehicle, I believe I could eat. I need to go pee anyway.”

  Jack laughed his short burst, once again surprising Maude with the brevity of his response.

  Later, after nicotine and food in the order of importance, they continued on the road to Houston. Before long the outskirts of the large city came into view. They had the address for B&G, a transport company, but there was no information on the net.

  Remembering the message from Harry about the company being connected to the Mob, Jack drove very carefully to the address on the GPS. He found a place to park around the corner of the block, on a cross-street, and proceeded to get out of the vehicle.

  “Maude, we got no jurisdiction here. This is Harris County, so anything goes down, we got to call them. Right?”

  “Right,” she said, agreeing with his assessment, but at the same time, making sure her weapon and extra magazine were full of ammunition.

  “It’s my thought to find out what we can, as quickly as possible, without getting our butts shot off.” Jack said, checking his own weapon. “I assume you wore your vest?”

  “Oh heck yeah, you attract bullets. I came prepared.” She said, looking for a way to get to the cinder block building then get inside.

  There were two black Mercedes sports cars parked at the back of the small building and an older model Chrysler sat alongside them. From what Maude could see, the loading dock was also behind the building, and one of the white vans was parked off to the side of it. A newer brown van was backed up to the dock, its doors thrown open in process of being unloaded.

  Maude motioned to Jack that she would approach the dock from the side, hoping to get there unseen. She had dressed appropriately in all black, hoping to blend in with dark interiors. From what she could see, the lights were on in a small room, but the rest of the building was dark. On the loading dock, sealed packing boxes the size of copy paper reams were stacked in rows. She sidled up to the dock and climbed, her knees aching from the effort as she reached the top and sat down. Pulling one of the heavy boxes from the stack toward her, Maude looked it over for an opening.

  The seal on the cardboard was done with several pieces of corded packing tape, the type that packagers use to protect expensive goods. Maude pulled her small knife from her pocket and split the box top, just enough to peek inside. She looked twice before glancing at Jack over against the other side of the dock, and shrugged her shoulders at the contents.

  Jack was huffing from the effort of pulling himself to the top of the loading dock, his sore shoulder aching with the effort. Maude motioned to him to look at the box she had opened. Inside were textbooks, old ones mostly, the kind that universities send out to archivists and for recycling.

  “Jack,” she whispered. “These are books. They’re shipping books.”

  Jack nodded he understood and lifted his eyebrows toward the dark interior of the warehouse. They both heard voices from inside the small building. Two dock workers were returning to pick up the rest of the boxes they had offloaded. On impulse, Maude reached into the open box and removed one of the books, quickly closing it afterward. She put another box on top of the opened one then rolled over, concealing her frame behind a small forklift, the book tucked safely under her right arm. It was at those times that Maude Rogers was glad she was skinny.

  Jack scooted off the dock, hiding behind a stac
k of pallets, his considerable bulk moving faster than even he thought was possible. He saw Maude and gave her the okay sign, hoping she was concealed also. Maude could see the dockworkers plainly, and she knew they were not minimum wage loaders. Both workers had weapons on their belts, an indication that books were not the only thing being unloaded.

  Maude knew they had no search warrant for the items on the dock, nor could they burst into the warehouse without some evidence of wrong doing on the part of the business owners. She waited until the two left, then moved quickly from her position to the ground, groaning as her boots hit the gravel.

  “Jack, let’s get out of here while we can. We need a search warrant for this place.”

  The sheriff nodded and agreed, leading the way back to his car parked around the corner of the block.

  “There’s skullduggery going on here.” Jack said when they got to the car.

  “Amen to that, and get us out of here before we get caught.”

  Jack drove the car away a safe distance and slowed at Maude’s request.

  “I need a cigarette, she said. I’m due one. Besides, I want to see what’s so important about an old book.”

  A coffee shop was two blocks ahead and Jack pulled into it and parked the car.

  “Let’s go,” he said, “I’m buying.”

  She took the book with her, looking it over, not understanding why it was valuable. From the cover the edition didn’t seem to be old enough to be considered a rare book. She was puzzled but got her coffee and sat down, the urge for a cigarette subsiding with her lowered blood pressure.

  “What kind of book is it Maude?” Jack asked.

  “Let’s see,” she said, taking the tape off the outside of the cover. “They don’t usually tape these things do they?”

  She picked up coffee with one hand and opened the book with the other, then quickly closed it, looking around at the rest of the people in the coffee shop.

  “Jack,” she whispered, “let’s go, we have to get off this street, out of the area.”