by D. C. Brod
There was something about putting a face and a personality with a body you hear about on the news that makes it so very, very sad. The photo had been taken on a boat—I could see a corner of a sail off to the left. Mary was standing between a distinguished-looking older man and another man who might have been the son of the other, and they were all dressed for sailing. She had a broad smile and warm eyes. Probably around my age, she was attractive, with thick chestnut hair she wore short and wavy. She had her arms around the two men and they all looked as though they were enjoying the moment.
“How did she die?”
“Strangulation.”
I nodded as I swallowed. “Is this her family?”
“No,” he said, taking the photo back and glancing at it before tucking it away. “She was a lawyer and this older guy was one of her clients. I think the other is his son.”
“Did she have family?”
“No,” he said, then added with a sigh, “One of those workaholics. Friends say she never made time for much else.” Almost as an aside, he added, “Too bad.”
I just nodded. I didn’t necessarily believe that lack of a family equated with a miserable existence, but he wasn’t here to argue that point.
“No husband, kids.” Then he glanced around my bare little apartment and shifted in the chair. “I mean, uh...”
I held up one hand. “That’s okay.”
He shrugged. “I’ve got two kids. One’s nothing but trouble.”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, well...”
“You said she was a lawyer?” I said, trying to steer us back on track.
“Right,” Hedges said. “A pretty high-priced one at that. Your mom claims she didn’t hire her.”
“I’m sure that’s the case. I’ve got power of attorney, and she’d need to let me know in order to pay a lawyer.”
The chair creaked as he leaned back into it. “Has your mother got a California connection?”
“Not that I know of.”
He frowned and appeared to be considering something.
I gave him a few moments and then said, “What?”
“I don’t know.” He rocked forward slightly. “She was kind of vague on that. Like she knew something about California, but wouldn’t tell me what.”
I frowned as I raised the mug to my mouth and blew on the warm liquid. “A California connection would be news to me. As far as I know she never got any farther west than Colorado.”
He nodded, but his gaze wandered, as though he was trying to find some clue stashed among the spare contents of the room.
“Could it have been a random crime?”
He frowned and leaned his head to one side. “It’s possible it was a simple robbery turned homicide. But we’re trying to get a handle on what she was doing here. Far as I can tell, that visit with your mother was the only thing on her schedule.”
“Maybe she knew someone else here. Someone who wasn’t on her schedule.” After I spoke, I wished I hadn’t. In all the detective dramas, the murderer was just a little too helpful with the suggestions.
He looked at me carefully. “You sure your mom didn’t say anything more to you?”
“Of course I’m sure.” I tried to sound adamant rather than annoyed, which I was. “I’d tell you if she had. I want to know why she talked to my mother as much as you do.”
He regarded me for several moments. “You and your mother have a lot of secrets?”
In the seconds before I responded, I imagined my mother with that stiff-jawed look she got when confronted with a question she didn’t want to answer. I wondered if my jaw hardened in the same way.
I took a sip of coffee. “No more than most mothers and daughters.” I hoped that sounded light enough. Because I had the feeling I was only beginning to discover the things she’d kept from me.
CHAPTER 14
After Hedges left, I had only minutes to get ready to leave for Mick’s, which was good seeing as I didn’t have any time to ponder whether I needed to redo my makeup. There simply wasn’t time.
Still, I was fidgety the whole way over. I swear, one of the reasons I drive stick shift is so I’ve got something to do with my hands. I spent most of the drive examining my own ideas as to how to steal Sassy. It would have to be at a time when Blood was not in the stall, because I wasn’t about to go through Blood to get to the goat, and I doubted that Mick relished the idea either. But there had to be an opportunity, and I assumed Mick would have some input there. No matter how calming an influence Sassy was, they couldn’t be together constantly. Blood had to be exercised. Sassy undoubtedly needed a break from his high-maintenance companion. Maybe a time when Sassy was outside, alone. It would help if it was dark. But then the stable had to be under surveillance. Cameras. Maybe even a security guard. And what if Sassy didn’t come willingly? I guessed that he weighed at least a hundred pounds, so tossing his little cloven hooves over my shoulder wasn’t going to happen.
I saw nothing but problems littering my scenario. But I figured, what with Mick’s reputation for skullduggery, he was bound to have a better idea.
I pulled into Mick’s drive at 11:36. Those six minutes were important to me. My being on time—or early—might suggest an eagerness I didn’t want to convey at this point.
Mick looked like he’d come from the gym. His hair was slicked back and damp and he smelled of sweat and soap. He stepped back as I entered and then clicked the door shut behind me, leaning against it. I could feel his gaze sweeping me, finally coming to rest on my eyes.
“You ready?” he asked.
“I’m here,” I said, then realized that wasn’t an answer. “And, yes. I’m ready.”
After a moment, he nodded, and said, “Okay. Let’s go outside.”
As I followed him through the house, I was a little surprised to find myself admiring the way his pale blue T-shirt emphasized his broad shoulders and comparing him to Jack. Smaller, but still real nice. Good to know that my state of agitation hadn’t affected my appreciation for a sculpted torso.
I refused Mick’s offer of wine or beer but accepted a can of soda because nerves cause my saliva glands to shut down. And when he asked if I wanted to sit on the porch, I suggested we walk around his yard. There was something about plotting a crime while lounging in matching patio chairs with a ferret listening that seemed mildly absurd.
The three large maples mitigated the effects of the midday sun, and a northwesterly breeze made the day as near to perfect as you can get in August. The only other time I had seen Mick’s yard it had been dark. I guess I was a little surprised to see the flower beds bordering the yard and the mass of variegated ground cover under the trees. A wooden bench painted a pale shade of green nudged up against one of the maples.
Mick walked slightly ahead of me, hands in his pockets and that hitch in his leg more pronounced on the uneven ground. He glanced over his shoulder, “You sure you’re up for this? I mean—”
“Yes,” I said, more forcefully than I’d intended. “I haven’t changed my mind in the last minute and a half.” He kept eyeing me, and I found myself adding, “But I’ll admit that I’m scared.”
He squinted. “Of what?” he asked, as though he really had no idea what part of this might be offputting to me.
“Getting caught.”
He wagged his head. “Not gonna happen.”
I touched a patch of tiny blue flowers with the toe of my sandal. “And changing. Scared of this changing me.” I hadn’t planned to say that, and wasn’t even sure where it came from. But, once spoken, I knew that for better or worse, I’d be different.
When he didn’t respond, I had to look his way. As he watched me, his greenish-brown eyes softened. “Everything changes us, Robyn. Sitting around doing nothing changes us.”
“But it doesn’t necessarily diminish us. Me.”
“You’re the only one who can do that.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil.”
He shrugged and crossed his arms over hi
s chest, tucking his fingers under his arms. “So why are you here?”
I swallowed. “I have run out of choices.”
He nodded as though waiting for me to continue.
I took a sip of the citrus-flavored soda. The carbonation burned my throat. “I’ve run out of options for my mother. I can’t move her. Not to Willoway. I’m not that bad a daughter. But I’m also not a good enough daughter to move her in with me and Bix. We tried it once and it didn’t work.” I took a deep breath. “And with all the checking I’ve done on Bull and Gwen, I can’t think of a couple more worthy of... extortion.” Saying the word out loud gave voice to its ugliness. But I kept going, because I also believed it was less vile than what Bull had done. “He rips off old people and she’s his number-one cheerleader.”
He nodded as though that motive passed muster.
“And what about you?” I asked.
I wasn’t sure he was going to answer, so I prodded with, “There must be easier ways to make a couple hundred thousand than teaming up with a woman whose last act of civil disobedience involved using the handicapped stall in the women’s room.”
He smiled a little, then sobered as he said, “I’m in a bind. I need the money by Saturday.” He paused and looked past me toward the next yard over. “And this goat thing is the only shot I’ve got at it. Besides, it’s a damned good idea.”
“What would you have done if I hadn’t called?”
His mouth twisted into a wry grin. “I knew you would.”
I didn’t believe him—I wasn’t so easy to read. Was I? But I also believed that he’d never give me a straight answer about why he needed the money.
“Have you done this... sort of thing before?”
“Extortion?”
I shrugged. “For starters.”
“No.”
“But you do have some criminal experience to call on.”
He frowned slightly and then said, “Depends on how you define criminal.”
“Illegal.”
With an impatient sigh he said, “I don’t get caught.”
“Of course not.” And I suppose that was true, seeing as he still had his CPA credentials. Then I said, “Okay, if it’s so easy, then you must have a foolproof plan.”
“I’ve got most of it worked out.” He gestured toward the bench. “Mind if we sit?”
I settled in at one end, sitting so I was partially facing Mick. He sat leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Working to keep my own knees steady, I felt like I’d just downed two Lizard ventis without the milk buffer. I clamped down on my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering.
“Thursday night,” Mick began, “Bull is throwing his Plymouth Million party—to which about seventy-five people are invited. He does that every time he races. Sort of a send off.” He frowned a little. “On Saturday morning he’ll take Blood over to Plymouth Downs.”
“And he does that because Blood will have less time to stress out.”
“That’s right.”
In a way, I empathized with Blood. It was Tuesday, so I wouldn’t have much time to fret about this either.
He nodded as though agreeing with himself. “The goat’s role as a steadying influence will be even more critical.”
Of course.
“It’ll be an indoor affair,” Mick continued, “but at some point during the evening, probably around nine, Bull’ll bring Blood out and parade him around so everybody can gawk at him.” I didn’t think I imagined the bitterness his tone had taken. “The goat will either stay behind in the stall or he’ll be outside in this little fenced-off area they’ve got for him by the barn.”
I crossed my legs and began bobbing my foot, the back of my sandal slapping gently against my heel. “And Sassy gets snatched while everyone is oohing and ahhing over Blood?”
“You got it.”
I took a sip of soda into my mouth and my throat froze up. I had to make a conscious effort to calm myself in order to swallow. After an audible gulp, I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to focus. I had questions, so I decided to start there.
“I’m seeing lots of problems.” I paused. “First, I take it we’re both going to be at the party.”
“No,” he said without a trace of regret, “it’ll just be me.”
I stopped bobbing. “And I’ll be taking Sassy?”
He sat back and faced me, gesturing with one hand. “Yeah. You see, it’s gotta work that way. If the goat goes missing and I’m nowhere in sight, then I’m one of the suspects.”
“Why would Bull suspect you? Doesn’t he think you’re his friend?”
“Bull would suspect his mother.” He shook his head. “He doesn’t believe in loyalty. Whoever’s got the sharpest knife and moves the fastest gets to stay alive.”
“Are you speaking metaphorically, or is Bull really capable of that?”
“He’s a shark.” Then he laughed a little. Probably reacting to the pearly shade of white I must have turned. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t do any of the enforcing himself.”
“I don’t care if Bull pulls the trigger or his hired thug does. I’m still just as dead.”
“Don’t worry about that. First, he’s not going to find out—”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re going to be sipping champagne and popping canapés while I’m sneaking a goat out of a secure stable.”
I just looked at him for a long moment. Aside from the breeze lifting and lowering the branches of the maple, and the warble of a nearby wren, it was quiet.
“This is some plan you’ve got.” I paused to take a steadying breath. He opened his mouth, but I kept talking. “I’d have to be an idiot to do all this myself.”
“Okay,” he said. “Then you tell me another way. I’m all ears.” He hooked one arm over the back of the bench and shifted so he could look me straight on.
When I didn’t immediately offer an alternate plan, he continued. “We haven’t got a lot of time or options, Robyn. It’s got to be before Saturday. We need a day to arrange for the ransom and then pick it up. Get the goat back to Blood. Bull has to believe there’s enough time to get Blood settled in before the race or he’s not paying. And it’s got to be at a time when we know the motion detector is off and the camera’s not on the goat. So the goat can’t be with Blood. And, I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not do it in broad daylight.” Now he paused for a breath. “If you can come up with a better plan, I’ll be happy to swipe the goat.”
I considered this, and really did try to come up with a scenario where Mick could do the deed, and I’d just sit in the background drinking champagne and whispering, You go, boy, in his ear. But he was right. Bull couldn’t see us together.
“Are you bringing anyone to the party?” I asked.
“No.”
“Won’t that be suspicious?”
“Not really.”
Interesting. “Okay, how do I get in? The last time we were there, the gate magically opened.”
“The security guy knows me and my car.”
“Well, that’s nice for you. But I won’t be with you. And I’ll be watched. On camera.”
“Right.”
“And I’ll be driving a van,” I said. “It’ll have to be big enough for Sassy and with a ramp to get him in.”
“Right. I’ll get it for you—don’t worry about that. You drive it in, park it, and stay in it until I call you.”
“We still haven’t got me in yet.”
I thought about who might be attending one of Bull’s parties in a van. “Who’s the caterer?”
Mick smiled like he’d already arrived at where I was going. “Gwen always uses Naomi and Nathan’s Catering.”
“Can we match the truck and the sign on their truck?”
“Yeah,” he said, drawing the word out. Then, with more certainty, “Sure. Easy enough. Get one of those magnetic signs we can write on. Stick it on the side.” He nodded again. “That’ll work. You just show up after the caterer is already there. Nobody’
ll question someone in a catering van. Park and wait until I call you to let you know that Blood’s out of the stable.”
“Does the caterer have more than one truck?”
“Sure,” he said. “They’re big in this area. I’ve seen three or four at an event.”
“What do they wear?”
“Whenever I’ve seen them, they wear something like black pants and a white shirt.”
“You’re sure you can match the sign?”
He nodded. “From what I remember it’s nothing fancy. But I’ll check it out this afternoon.”
“So the guard will see a catering truck and let me in?”
“There’s an intercom there, but I doubt anyone will even ask. Not once they see the van.” Then he shrugged. “If the guard asks, just tell him you’re bringing dessert.”
“If the guard sounds at all suspicious, I’m leaving.”
“Fair enough,” he said, then added, “They won’t. Catering trucks are always coming and going from these things. It’s Gwen. She sees the caterer as her personal servants. I’ve seen her send one of them out for caviar because some guy Bull was trying to impress had just come back from Russia.”
This didn’t seem out of character for Gwen.
“Okay,” I finally said. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. But I was the only one at risk, and that wasn’t right.
Perhaps sensing my reluctance, Mick added, “Not only do I have to be there when the goat gets snatched, but I’ve gotta be with Bull when he’s showing off Blood. Truth is, Bull’s scared shitless of that horse.” With a shrug he added, “I’ll be handling him.”
“I see.” I wasn’t sure whether Mick was referring to Bull or Blood, and I supposed it didn’t matter.
I swallowed more soda, which was no longer cold and didn’t burn going down. My throat wasn’t closing up anymore, and I decided that was a good sign. “Okay, let’s get back to that in a minute, then.” I eyed him. “The barn has security cameras, right?”
“Right.”
“Aimed at Blood’s stall?”
He nodded.
“But when they move Blood, they’ll move Sassy out of that stall. You’re sure? What if Sassy wants to tag along? Or, what if Bull brings the whole crowd to the stable?”