I grabbed my phone and googled. With the gray matter in my cranium pulsating, I had to try three times. "How about the Merkel Community Church cemetery?"
Merkel was a dot on the map. How large could this cemetery be? Hopefully small enough for me to spot anyone following her.
"All right, I guess." She took down the address.
"I'll leave first." Once I'd nearly reached the cemetery, I would phone Hughes. That way, he wouldn't be able to stop me. I'd never disobey a direct order from an officer of the law, but what he didn't have prior knowledge of couldn't deter me.
I took Route 20 west and slid in an Adele CD I'd picked up at Wal-Mart as a defense against the barrage of country western radio stations in Abilene and its environs. Thirty-five minutes later, as I approached Merkle, I realized my headache was gone. Either the aspirin had kicked in or the music had soothed away my distress. More likely, I'd slipped into professional PI mode and had no place for a headache.
I pulled out my cell phone and hit speed dial for Hughes. No service. I tried again. Still no service. I was on my own.
The small clapboard church sat off the state road. Instead of pulling into the driveway, I passed it, turned into a feed store's parking lot, and parked behind a Chevy flatbed truck. Then I got out of the Smart Car and peered around the truck and down the road. Several minutes later, I could see Uma's borrowed van turn into the church parking lot.
She got out of the vehicle. Even from a distance, it was hard to miss her in all that yellow. She walked around the side of the church toward the cemetery.
Nobody turned into the parking lot after her. No vehicle slowed as it passed the church. I watched a full five minutes. None turned around and went back.
When I drove into the cemetery and got out of my car, Uma stood under a scraggly tree, next to a marker topped with a cherub. She threw one hand in the air, pointing her index finger, and charged toward me. That's when I noticed the silver flames etched into her boots. Nice.
She glared, as her lips twisted. "I thought you wanted to get here first. I was gonna give you another two minutes and then leave."
"Sorry, I stopped to use the restroom at a fast food joint." Bertha would shake her head in dismay at my disregard for the truth, but Jack had insisted lies were a routine part of interrogation. He'd learned that as an MP in the Army.
She exhaled rapidly through her nose, twice. "Well, you're here now."
"So, what did you want to tell me?"
The annoyed look on her face swiftly changed to one of jealousy. "Cassidy was waiting for Reece under the portico of her building with her designer overnight bag in her hand. He took her back to his place."
"I'm so sorry. I know you must've been devastated."
She dismissed my concern with a small wave of her hand. "I have a key to his house and know the alarm code. I wanted to confront them. He didn't even have the alarm on. Getting in was a snap."
I took a step toward her. "So what did you learn?"
"I was all set to rush in on them, but something about Cassidy's screeching tone stopped me dead in my tracks. She was terrified."
I touched her elbow, hoping the gesture offered support. "Did she let on what she was afraid of?"
Uma nodded, then frantically looked from side-to-side.
I thought she might bolt, so I held onto her arm.
She shook free of my grasp and took a step back. "They were talking about the night Reece left the spa with Cassidy and Mark in his BMW. They drove into the hills to meet some Mexican gang leader."
"Did he have a name?"
"Cassidy called him Flaco. She became hysterical. This Flaco came with a few of his own men. Then, out of nowhere, his thugs forced one of Flaco's men to his knees and Flaco shot him, point-blank, in the head. They said the man had tried to get close to Flaco's woman."
My jaw slackened as understanding overtook my brain."Th… that's a tactic gangsters use to terrify and control people. I presume it was after that Mark started freaking out."
"Yeah. The next day, Mark had to give a seminar, but he was super antsy, like he was just about crawling out of his skin."
"The day after that, my husband ordered a hand gun."
Uma hugged herself so hard her fingers made the skin on her arms pucker. "I didn't know he got a gun."
I nodded to indicate he did. "Did they say anything about who killed Mark or Trudy?"
She shook her head and rocked back and forth. "No."
"Obviously you got out of Morgan's house without them knowing you were there."
"I never ran so fast in my life to my car parked down the street. I drove out of there with my headlights off. That's how scared I was."
"You're going to have to tell all this to Deputy Hughes."
She shook her head forcefully. "No! I can't go to the Sheriff's Department. Can't be seen there."
"Then call Deputy Hughes."
"Not at the Sh… sheriff's Department. Too… oo many eyes and ears." Her teeth clattered a couple of times.
I gave her my cell phone number and Hughes home number. "Just make sure you call him."
She shivered violently, so I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. "Will you be able to go into work at the spa tomorrow and act normally, like nothing has happened?"
"Nooo," she wailed.
By this time, I'd dropped my arm from her shoulder and was nearly holding her up from the waist. "I think you'd better phone in with an excuse that you have to go out of town. A sick relative, maybe. But don't say anything that will lead them to a family member's house. These people are stone killers."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Abilene
Day Fifteen, Afternoon
Deputy Sergeant Dawson Hughes
The paper cup I'd hurriedly brought back from Mad Merv Java sat on my desk, empty and mocking me. Another cup of coffee, after lunch, would've been nice before listening to this bird-flew-the-coop tale. Actually, lunch would've been nice, but there'd been a pileup involving a school bus on 83. A soccer mom had texted: Picking up Danny. Luv u. After the ambulance took her and seven others to the hospital, with minor to serious injuries, they had to contact Danny's dad to pick him up from kindergarten.
I shot a look across my desk I hoped transmitted my extreme displeasure and exhaled long and slow. "You're tellin' me you advised Uma Kantrel to leave the jurisdiction?"
Ronnie squirmed in her seat. "I tried to call you when I got to Merkel, but had no service."
I stood up with such force the backs of my legs slammed my chair against the wall. "You could've phoned me from the Chuck Wagon before you left on this hair-brained adventure. Did that occur to you? Did it?"
Her head lowered. "I thought I'd be able to reach you when I got there."
"Did you think that maybe a killer was followin' her?"
Her chin jutted forward. "I got there ahead of her and watched the road. Nobody followed her."
"For a smart lady, you sure can be dumb. Her car could've been tagged with a trackin' device. They could know exactly where she went all mornin'. That she went to the Chuck Wagon which would bring them straight to you." I clenched my fists when all I wanted to do was shake some sense into her.
She averted her eyes. "I'm pretty sure they didn't plant a bug on her car. Nobody's been tailing me since then. I've been watching."
I clamped my hands on my hips. "Pretty sure. Is that some new type of law enforcement terminology for don't know squat?"
She sat ramrod straight in her chair, flecks of anger dancing in her eyes. "From the very beginning, I've given you information on this case you never could've gotten on your own. Everything I learned, I've passed on to you."
I reclaimed my seat, planted both elbows on my desk, and leaned toward her. "You've been shot at. Two people are dead. Three if we count Flaco's man. Uma Kantrel is potentially a material witness and you go and advise her to flee."
She crossed her arms. "She was running for her life. Don't even try to tell me you can give
her protection twenty-four-seven. She'll call you. She promised."
"Let's hope she does, because if she doesn't, it's on you."
*****
Abilene
Day Fifteen, Late Afternoon
Veronica "Ronnie" Ingels, PI
That insufferable man.
I catapulted myself out of the sheriff's office, into my bug of a car, and slammed the door. The vehicle rocked back and forth.
I drove aimlessly and realized I was headed for the Abilene Zoo. That day with Hughes, when the giraffe licked his face leaving slobber, had been one of the highlights of my time here in Taylor County.
My phone rang.
With the school bus accident on Route 83 fresh in my memory, I decided to pull over to the shoulder as I fished the device out of my fanny pack. "Hello."
"Ronnie, it's Jack. I got the information you wanted on Ray Geary."
"Great. I could've gotten it myself, but don't want anyone around here knowing I'm interested in him."
"Listen, kiddo, the less they know the better."
"Tell me about it. I share everything with Hughes, but is he grateful? No."
"Oh, oh… trouble in paradise?"
"He got all law enforcement self-righteous on me."
Jack grunted. "Yeah, when they've got a badge, they like to do that."
"Okay, so what's the story on Geary?"
Papers rattled in the background. Jack was old school. He took copious notes, trusted nothing to a computer. "He's an accountant to the upper echelon in Abilene."
"And a shooting buddy of Reece Morgan. Wonder if he cooks the spa's books."
"That's a distinct possibility. Stanley Fishburn's in the Hamptons, then there's this Geary guy out your way. They'd have the drug money covered up on both ends."
"Wonder if Hughes has gotten a hold of Geary's financial records?"
Jack's sardonic laugh traversed the void. "He needs a little something you and I don't pay much attention to… a warrant. I don't think a judge will sign off on that just because Geary shoots with Morgan."
"Yeah, well, there are things I know in my gut, and my gut says Ray Geary can't be trusted. I just don't know if he's involved in this horror show."
"You want his business and home address and phone numbers?"
I flipped the miniscule glove compartment open and grabbed a small spiral notebook and the pen I'd thrown in there. "Yeah, give them to me. We're still in the workday. Might as well park myself near his office and play detective."
Jack gave me the information and I drove to a well-appointed strip mall in south Abilene with stone accents and picture windows. An arched stone awning in front, running the length of the mall, shielded shoppers from the elements. Geary's office sat between a chichi boutique and a Japanese sushi place.
I hid the Smart Car as best I could between two SUVs at the end of the parking lot, hoping those two vehicles stayed put until I was ready to tail Geary wherever he went after work. Then I headed for the Japanese joint and asked for a seat at the front window.
I'm not a big fan of sushi, but can handle the shrimp, and selected two of those. I also ordered shrimp and vegetable tempura which came with miso soup, and I asked for green tea. Jack had learned in the military and had drummed it into my head: eat when you can on a job because you can't know when you'll have time to eat again.
A young woman with long dark hair in a just-above-the-knee purple dress and black flats brought out the small plate of sushi and a pair of chopsticks as well as a knife and fork.
I pulled the wooden chopsticks out of their paper sleeve and cracked them apart. Then I busied myself placing a dot of the hot green wasabi on the tip of my shrimp. I'm fairly adept with the sticks and managed to submerge the tip of my shrimp into the dipping sauce before taking a bite. Once, I'd made the mistake of dipping the cold rice-side into the sauce and the whole thing fell apart.
While the wasabi jolted my sinuses, I had a clear line of sight, straight down the walkway, to Geary's front door. Nobody came or went.
The waitress brought a white ceramic teapot with black Japanese lettering on it and a small round cup.
"If you don't mind, I'd like the check now."
She scowled. "Something wrong?"
"No, not at all. The food is delicious. It's just I might have to leave in a hurry."
She nodded and scurried away.
I'd polished off my second sushi when an elderly gent walked into Geary's office. Probably only a client, but at least there was something to see.
The waitress approached my table with a check presenter under her arm. She carried a bowl of soup with a ceramic spoon protruding. "Did you enjoy?"
"Yes, very much."
She removed the sushi dishes, then set the bowl down, and the check.
I pushed the check holder to the side. I'd leave cash enough to cover the bill plus a tip if I had to rush out.
This soup was something I'd had to acquire a taste for, as it manages to be both bland and briny. Just as I swallowed the last spoonful, the man came out carrying a manila envelope under his arm. No doubt his financial records or tax returns. I watched him get into a beige late model Toyota as the waitress set my tempura on the table along with a small dish of dipping sauce.
She glanced at the check holder. I smiled at her. She glanced away.
I always started with a piece of shrimp and was pleased these were jumbo. I dipped one and took a bite, savoring the light, tangy sauce and the gentle crunch of the flaky tempura batter around the succulent pink flesh.
Next, I tackled the vegetables. I picked up a green bean with ease, dipped it into the sauce, and finished it in two bites. And so it went with the green pepper and zucchini wedges.
This left me with a piece of broccoli floret, and my favorite… two wedges of sweet potato. The green encrusted blob could be difficult to eat with chopsticks, but I would not be defeated. Wedging the piece of vegetable between the two sticks, I applied pressure, rushed it to the dipping sauce, and took a bite of one side. That's when the thing popped from between the sticks, bounced off the plate, and slid across the table, stopping when it hit the check presenter.
I smiled. Problem solved. Now I could eat the sweet potatoes.
Providentially, I'd polished those off right before a young woman hurried from Geary's office to her car. She wore a flowery skirt, a white blouse, low sling-backed heels, and carried a large bright yellow-leather satchel-bag. The secretary, I'd guess.
Were there other workers? I'd know in due time, so I took a sip of tea.
The man I'd seen shooting at the Armadillo Flintlock Paradise came out and locked the front door.
I slid a couple of bills between the covers of the check presenter and hurried to the restaurant's vestibule. I did not sprint out into the mall. I waited in the restaurant until he approached a dark blue Lexus. Then I exited and walked from store to store at a steady pace, trying to appear relaxed as I gazed into shop windows. That way he couldn't see my face, but I could see the reflection of his automobile in the plate glass.
He got in and started the motor. I picked up my pace and got to my car as he was backing out of his spot.
My lime green Smart Car would be a cinch to detect, so I let him get out of the mall lot and followed well behind. Luckily, I was able to slip behind a furniture delivery truck.
Geary turned into a small subdivision. The street sign bore the name Jack had given me for the guy's home address. The twerp was going home.
I pulled to the shoulder, since the truck had not turned off on Geary's street, and let him get well ahead. He turned into the driveway of a sprawling ranch-style house. Accountants must make out pretty good in Abilene, or he had a side source of income.
I stayed put, unsure of what to do. If he left the house and drove back down the street, he'd make me for sure. But there was nowhere to hide. No shrubbery. Just long driveways leading up to extremely large homes.
After an hour and forty-six minutes, I decided to cal
l it quits. Geary was in for the night.
Heading home, I realized I wasn't far from the spa and altered course toward it. For what reason, I couldn't fathom. That's when my cell phone rang. It was Uma Kantrel.
"Listen… um, I forgot to tell you something, but see, I'm not exactly sure."
I had no patience for this. "Uma, get to the point."
"Well, the point is, I think they're expecting a shipment at the spa tonight. Now it could be any kind of shipment… food or items for the gift shop."
"What makes you think they're getting some type of shipment?"
"Well, that night I snuck into Reece's home… Cassidy said something about a shipment."
I disconnected and punched the steering wheel with the palm of my hand. "Great, just great. Now, you decide to tell me."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Abilene
Day Fifteen, Evening
Veronica "Ronnie" Ingels, PI
Uma said she thought the shipment would arrive at eight o'clock. It was now six-fifteen. If I drove straight to the sheriff's department… better phone first.
Cognizant of this afternoon's furor at the sheriff's department over the pile up caused by texting, I pulled to the side of the road and hit speed dial.
"Taylor County Sheriff's Department," a sweet voice sang out.
"Can I be connected to Deputy Hughes?"
"He's in a meeting, can I take a message?"
"A meeting after six?"
"Ma'am, law enforcement doesn't keep to regular hours. Can I take a message?"
Thankfully I was alone. Heat flooded my face which I was sure had turned scarlet. "No that's okay. I'll call back."
I pressed the sole of my sneaker to the accelerator intending to get to the station before Hughes left for the day.
After ten minutes exceeding the speed limit, I hit the brake and slowed to well below the flow of traffic. The car behind blared its horn and passed. As it sped by, the driver shot me the typical road-rage hand signal.
What if this shipment turned out to be highly perishable organic produce and meat for the spa's food service department? That would be a plausible reason for delivery at night. Then in Hughes eyes, I'd look real stupid and he was already ticked off at me. Should I be in a rush to add moron to the list of adjectives that probably flooded his mind every time he thought of me?
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