Skin in the Game

by D P Lyle

  The ‘little something for the road’ turned out to be two waxed paper-wrapped biscuits, each enveloping a thick slab of ham. As Cain turned the car from the lot, Harper unwrapped one and took a bite.

  “Wow. These are great.” She picked a crumb from her shirt and placed it in her mouth. “I forgot we hadn’t eaten all day.”

  She unwrapped the other for Cain and handed it to him. He took a bite as he turned out of the parking area. “This hits the spot.”

  They left town behind and took the same route they had before. Toward Clovis Wilson’s land where the body of Rose Sanders had been found. Cain saw Wilson and another man standing in the field; Wilson with one hand shading his eyes as he inspected the rows of green cotton plants. Cain turned down the same road as before, stopping just behind Wilson’s truck. He and Harper climbed out. Wilson turned and looked toward them, said something to the other guy, and walked the fifty feet to where Cain and Harper stood.

  “Your crops look good,” Cain said.

  Wilson nodded. “Looks like it’ll be a good year. What brings you folks by?”

  “Just driving around,” Harper said. “Enjoying the day.”

  “Saw you out here and thought we’d say hello,” Cain said.

  Wilson kicked at the dirt. “I hear they identified the girl they found here. That school teacher that went missing.”

  “That’s right.”

  “It don’t make no sense.” Wilson shook his head. “I hear she might’ve been murdered and dumped here.”

  “Something like that,” Cain said. “No way to know for sure.”

  “Then that other girl. General Kessler’s granddaughter?”

  Cain nodded.

  “We don’t have stuff like that happen around here,” Wilson said. “Not ever.” He again shaded his eyes and glanced toward the stand of trees where Rose’s corpse had been found. “You think one’s got something to do with the other?”

  “It’s possible,” Harper said.

  Wilson pursed his lips. “You think that means there might be others coming?”

  “I hope not,” Cain said.

  “That makes two of us.” Wilson gave a quick nod. “Sometimes I wonder about my fellow humans.”

  “How much of this land is yours?” Cain asked.

  “I got several plots around here. This one runs from the county road.” He extended a finger that way. “And runs to those trees over there. Across that field.” His arm swept to his right as he spoke. “Then on over to the railroad easement. It’s a shade over five hundred acres.”

  “Who owns the land around yours?” Cain asked.

  “Beyond the rail line is city property and private homes. And a park. That a way, down across the county road, would be Luke Nash’s place. Or one of them. Luke owns several plots round the area, too.” He scratched an ear. “That way there,” he pointed, “beyond that stand of trees, is Martin Stenson’s property.”

  “He own much land?”

  “Sure does. Nearly two thousand acres.”

  “That much?” Harper asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Does he farm it?” Cain asked.

  “No. The story was he was going to build a couple of communities on part of it but he never did. Still might, I reckon.”

  “I imagine it’s fairly valuable land,” Harper said.

  Wilson nodded. “As acreage around here goes, it is. But Martin don’t need the money and, if you ask me, the aggravation of overseeing the construction of a bunch of houses.” He gave a half smile. “I can’t even imagine.”

  “Probably easier than farming,” Cain said.

  “Maybe. But I don’t have to deal with plumbers and electricians and the like.” He smiled. “And all those county regulations.”

  “Just the weather and bugs?”

  “Ain’t it so.”

  CHAPTER 41

  “Turn left up there,” Harper said. “Looks like that’ll take us past the group of pines and toward Stenson’s property.” She pointed to the Mercedes’ navigation screen.

  Two hundred yards ahead, Cain hung a left onto a patched, two-lane road that rose and fell, twisting between a thick stand of pines on the left and open rolling fields on the right.

  Cain’s burner cell chimed. He pulled it from his pocket and answered, activating the speaker function. He raised a finger to Harper, indicating she should remain silent.

  “This is Faulkner,” he said.

  “Mister Faulkner. This is Adam Parker.”

  “Hey, Adam. I told you, call me Bill.”

  “You alone? Can you talk?”

  “Yeah. I’m in my car.”

  “I got some good news. Carlos says he’s in. Wants to do some business together.”

  “That’s excellent. We’ll make a lot of money.”

  “I like the sound of that. Anyway, he wants to sit down and work out the details. When’s good for you?”

  Cain considered that. “I’m tied up today, but tomorrow should work.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll call in the morning,” Cain said. “We can pick a time. I’ll go over how it all works. Who does what, how the money’s handled, all that.”

  “Which brings up something I wanted to ask,” Adam said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Just between me and you,” Adam said.

  “Okay.”

  “How do you see my role in this? I mean, Carlos runs the show. He makes all the decisions and sets up the dates, the transportation, the money, all that.”

  “And you find the girls,” Cain said.

  “Exactly. I recruit them.”

  “Don’t you think that’s an important job? Without the talent, the business doesn’t fly.”

  “I definitely agree. I’m not sure Carlos sees it that way. He says he can find girls on his own.”

  “He can. But can he find the college girls you bring in? The ones that snare top dollar?”

  Harper had been working her iPhone but now looked his way, raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m glad you see it that way,” Adam said.

  “I do. My partners do. You’re a valuable asset. And you’ll be paid accordingly.”

  Use the right bait.

  After he hung up, Harper twisted in her seat and looked at him. “You’re actually an accomplished pimp. Snare? Top dollar?”

  “Simply playing the role.”

  “Oh, I’m not criticizing. I’m impressed.”

  Cain smiled. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

  She shook her head. “Turn right up here.” She looked back at her phone. “I found Stenson’s address. It’s just under five miles down this road.”

  Another two-lane black top. More undulations through forests and open land. On the left, a paved drive appeared. It disappeared over a rise in the land. No buildings or signs of civilization were visible. Cain slowed.

  “Is this it?”

  Harper shook her head. “No. Still got a couple of miles.”

  Cain continued. Sure enough, another mile and a wooden rail fence appeared on the left. It hugged the contours of the road. The land beyond, more manicured. They reached an impressive driveway. Similar to General Kessler’s. Cain slowed. Stone columns flanked the entrance, the drive rising up to a massive ranch-style home. Several cars and trucks sat to one side and beyond them a large, red barn.

  “Nice place,” Harper said.

  “Sure is. Looks like the crew is already gathering.”

  “We got a couple of hours. Let’s go get ready.”

  “What’s to do?” Cain asked.

  “You need to shave. I need to re-do my make-up.”

  “You don’t use make-up.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot.” She laughed. “I do want to change into my party dress.”

  “You don’t wear dresses either.”

  “You know what I mean. We need to look professional.”

  Cain sped up, pulling away from the Stenson estate. “Call Mama B. See what she has for us.”


  Harper did, putting the phone on speaker.

  “Harper?” Mama B said. “How’re you guys doing?”

  “We’re down in Moss Landing. Going to a party over at Martin Stenson’s place.”

  “You got anything on him?” Cain asked.

  “Of course I do. He’s fifty-two. From the photos I’ve seen, a good looking guy. Looks much younger.”

  “He does,” Cain said.

  That’s one of the things Cain had noted about Stenson when he met him. His age was hard to peg. Could’ve been fifty, or thirty. Good genes no doubt.

  “Has one son. Tyler. Looks like his dad. The wife, and mother, died five years ago. Cancer. Martin Stenson owns two businesses. One is real estate. High end properties. Both residential and commercial. It’s based out of Nashville. Has thirty employees and a manager. So he doesn’t have to do much except cash the checks. The other’s an internet based software wholesaler. Basically they bundle products from a bunch of companies and offer discount packages. His son seems to run that one.”

  “So, Stenson has a lot of leisure time?” Cain asked.

  “Sure does. And a very healthy bank account. Net worth just over thirty million.”

  “We’re in the wrong business,” Harper said.

  “Isn’t that the truth,” Mama B said. “More to your needs, he heads up a group they call the Southern Bow Hunter’s Society. Got around sixty members. Scattered all over but most are in the western Tennessee area.”

  “How many in the Nashville area?” Cain asked.

  “I knew you’d ask that. I searched a fifty mile radius. Looks like twenty four at this time.”

  “Lots of suspects.”

  “You thinking that group is the key?” Mama B asked.

  Cain sighed. “Not sure. But it’s a good place to start. I’m convinced the girls, at least Cindy Grant, was hunted and killed with a bow.”

  “From what you told me, probably the other girl, too.”

  “That’s why we want to meet Stenson and his crew.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll keep digging.”

  “Anything on Luis Orosco?” Cain asked.

  “He is indeed a valet at Caesar’s. And seems to do some pimping. Been arrested twice but neither case went anywhere. The girls refused to cooperate and, of course, neither would the johns. So, he’s more or less clean. As clean as you can be in that business.”

  “Or in that city,” Harper said.

  “True. I’ll send his contact info your way.”

  “You’re the best,” Cain said.

  “Yes, I am. One more thing. You’re in with Carlos.”

  “That’s what Adam Parker said when I talked with him earlier.”

  “He wasn’t lying,” Mama B said.

  “Tell me.”

  “I’ve been listening in to his cell. He and his two guys were talking. A lot. About you, the deal, everything. They’re already planning how they’ll spend the money.”

  Earlier, while at Carlos’ place, Cain had texted him his contact info, as he had with Adam, thus giving Mama B access to Carlos’ phone, too. Meant she could turn on the microphone whenever she wanted. And Carlos would have no clue she was listening to everything said.

  “Got to love greed,” Harper said.

  “The universal motivator,” Mama B said.

  CHAPTER 42

  If Martin Stenson’s estate looked impressive from the road, it was more so on closer inspection. After turning between the stone columns Cain and Harper had seen earlier, a broad paved drive flanked by shrubs and wildflowers led them to a sprawling wood and stone ranch-style structure that clung to the apex of a low hill. Gave Stenson three-hundred-and-sixty degree views of his domain—acres and acres of undulating fields and clusters of pine forests. Cain saw no farmed land. As Clovis Wilson had said.

  Cain parked near a collection of other cars and trucks and he, Harper, and Cutler climbed out.

  “Impressive,” Harper said.

  “Martin doesn’t do anything second rate,” Cutler said. “They’ll be out back. This way.”

  A stone pathway led them around the left side of the house. The barn he had seen earlier sat on lower ground at the end of a dirt and gravel drive two hundred yards away. Its pair of massive doors, as well as the smaller ones to the loft, were closed. A gray Chevy pickup sat to one side.

  A flagstone patio ran the length of the house. Looked as big as a carrier deck. At the far end, a large barrel smoker pumped gray puffs into the blue sky. An Olympic-sized pool and a large Jacuzzi hugged the patio. Beyond, Cain saw several men with bows facing a series of six targets, maybe fifty yards away.

  Stenson and two other men sat around a low table on deeply cushioned sofas and chairs in the shade of a wooden overhang. Stenson looked up and then stood as they approached.

  “Chief, glad you could make it,” Stenson said. He gave Cutler a brief hug. “Mister Cain, Ms. McCoy, good to see you both.”

  “Harper,” Harper said. She shook his hand. “Thanks for inviting us.

  “My pleasure.” He shook Cain’s hand. “Bobby, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Let me introduce you to a couple of friends.” Stenson motioned toward the other two men, who now stood. “Ted Norris. Hank Dixon.”

  They shook hands.

  Norris was taller, lanky like Cain, with a soft handshake. He had shaggy blond hair and strongly resembled Stenson. Were they related? Dixon, shorter, thicker, had a heavy grip. A tough-guy statement of sorts. His hair was short-cropped and dark, as were his eyes.

  Cain, Harper, and Cutler settled on one of the sofas.

  “Something to drink?” Stenson said. “Maybe some lemonade?”

  “Sounds good,” Harper said.

  As if conjured, a middle-aged Hispanic woman appeared through a door.

  “This is Juanita,” Stenson said. “She runs things around here.”

  “And it isn’t easy,” she said with a laugh.

  “She pours a mean drink if you’d prefer something harder,” Norris said.

  “Lemonade will do,” Cain said. “For now.”

  Juanita nodded. “Back in a sec.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about General Kessler’s granddaughter,” Stenson said. He nodded toward Norris and Dixon. “Bobby and Harper are private investigators. They were hired to find the girl when she went missing.”

  “Didn’t turn out as we had hoped,” Harper said.

  “I bet he and Miriam are beside themselves,” Stenson said.

  “They are,” Cain said.

  “I take it you know them?” Harper asked.

  Stenson nodded. “Sure do. Not very well. Just through business. We tried to do a project around here a few years back. Kessler and a couple of other guys wanted to put together a high-end community. They looked at a parcel I own. Didn’t work out.” He shrugged. “At least not yet. I understand there’s still some interest.”

  “I heard she was murdered,” Dixon said.

  Cain nodded. “She was.”

  “What happened?” Stenson asked.

  Did he know? Was he the one? Was his question intended to deflect and cover?

  “We don’t know everything yet,” Cain said.

  Dixon tapped Norris’s shoulder. “We heard she was painted or something. Dumped over by the post office.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” Cutler asked.

  “Over at the service station,” Norris said. “A couple of the guys were talking about it.”

  Cain glanced at Cutler. She closed her eyes, opened them, sighed.

  “We were hoping to keep this off the radar,” Cutler said. “But it sounds like it’s already out of the bag.” Another sigh. “So, yeah. She was tattooed. Like a tiger. And hung by ropes from the post office eaves.”

  “Jesus,” Norris said. “Who would do something like that?”

  Cutler shrugged. “We don’t know.”

  “Any suspects?” Stenson asked.

  “None.”
r />   Juanita appeared with a tray loaded with glasses of lemonade. She distributed them. “I’ll have some chips and guacamole in a couple of minutes.” She headed back inside.

  “I don’t envy you your job,” Stenson said to Cutler. Then to Cain and Harper, “I can assure you things like this don’t happen around here.”

  “Unfortunately bad things happen everywhere,” Cain said.

  “I understand she was a student at Vandy,” Norris said. “Any idea how she ended up down this way?”

  “College kids are hard to keep tabs on,” Cain said.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Dixon said. “My son was a hell raiser. Had to bail him out of trouble too many times to remember. He went to UT, over in Knoxville. Over there they consider hell raising a sport. Even an academic major. They damn near expelled him, but somehow he made it through. Even did well enough to make it to law school. Now he’s married, got a couple of kids, and practices over in Atlanta.” He shrugged. “Go figure.”

  “Martin never had to worry with anything like that,” Norris said.

  Stenson shrugged. “I got lucky. My son Tyler was a good student. Never got into trouble. He went off to Princeton. Got an MBA. Now he runs my software business.” He gave a quick nod. “Actually, it’s more his now. I gave him most of the company.”

  “Speak of the devil,” Norris said.

  A young man walked up. He was a younger version of Stenson. Norris, too, for that matter. Same thick, blonde hair, same blue eyes, same smile.

  “You guys talking about me again?”

  “All good, but yeah.”

  Stenson introduced his son. He took a seat.

  “You guys joining Dad’s little hunting club?” Tyler asked.

  “No,” Cain said. “We’re just visiting.”

  “They were hired by General Kessler to find his granddaughter,” Stenson said.

  “I heard about her,” Tyler said. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s a tough situation,” Cain said.

  “You’re not a hunter?” Harper asked.

  Tyler shook his head. “Not a chance.”

  “Tyler was a good archer as a kid,” Stenson said. “But he’s what you might call anti-hunting.”

  Tyler waved a hand across the pool toward where several men were firing arrows at targets. “Target shooting’s okay. That I enjoyed when I was younger. No time for it now. But hunting defenseless animals doesn’t seem a fair sport to me.”