by Liliana Hart
Hank turned back to Springer. “Please tell me he kept his own appointment book on his personal computer.”
Springer nodded. “Again, he used an outside company, and clients could call a number and a third party would set his schedule. It was all completely confidential, which I guess is why Grant preferred that rather than a receptionist who’s liable to run her mouth at the salon. From what I could find, his everyday clients were coded in blue, and his special clients were coded in red. And he only saw his special clients on the days his receptionist didn’t come into the office.”
“Makes sense,” Hank said. “Good work, Springer. Keep searching and let’s see who these special clients are. I think whoever we’re looking for, money is the name of the game. We need to know who’s going to inherit what, and if any of his special clients have anything funny going on in their accounting. Payoffs, blackmail, money laundering, phony accounts.”
“Yessir, Sheriff,” Springer said.
“But what about Bud?” Agatha asked. “He lied to us for a reason. I thought he was our main suspect.”
“He’s definitely a suspect,” Hank said. “Along with mama and anyone on that client list we can’t rule out.”
“Oh,” Springer said, interrupting. “I’ve got information on Bud. Grant had a line item budget for his youngest son. Looks like a real piece of work.”
“What do you mean?” Hank asked. “You didn’t think that was important information?”
“I forgot about it until you said his name,” Springer said. “I haven’t been to bed yet.”
“Right,” Hank said. “What do you mean about a line item budget?”
“There were steady deposits going into Bud’s account every month. I just added up the last year and it’s well over my pay grade.”
“Did he miss any payments?” Hank asked.
“How’d you know?” Springer asked.
“Intuition,” Hank said.
Springer nodded. “The last payment was made two months ago.”
“I guess things have been getting a little tight for Bud,” Hank said, looking at Agatha.
“He’d be getting something from his mother,” Agatha said. “She wouldn’t let him go without.”
“It’s enough for a warrant to dig deep into Bud and Evelyn’s personal finances. I’m going to assume Evelyn had her own accounts separate from her husband.”
“I’d say that’s accurate,” Springer said. “Grant transferred money into an account for his wife every month as well.”
“Okay,” Hank said. “I’ll contact the judge about the warrant. You keep working the files. We can’t assume it’s Bud or Evelyn just because the signs point that direction.”
“You got it, Boss,” Springer said. “Mr. Grant was a good man. We’ve got to find who did this to him. He didn’t just do work in the community. He was admired all over the state. He even served on the state board for finances. He had to make the occasional trip to Austin for meetings, but they had a house there.”
Springer walked out and left them alone, and then he stuck his head back in. “Oh, yeah. You got a call from Oddie McElroy. Wants you to call him back.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Hank said surprised.
“He needs cash,” Springer said, laughing. “He wants you to make a donation to his campaign.”
“Seriously?” Agatha said, gasping. “I’ll give him a donation with my fist.”
Hank chuckled. “He’s just trying to get in our heads. I’ll call him later to politely decline.”
“Yeah,” Springer said. “I didn’t take you for much of a golfer anyway.”
“Golfer?” Hank asked.
“He’s hosting a fundraiser at the country club.”
“It’s the middle of January,” Agatha said. “It’s freezing.”
“Real golfers don’t care about the weather,” Springer said. “And all those big-money people aren’t going to be out on the golf course much anyway. They’re going to be showing off for each other inside. Don’t forget that’s the world I came from.”
“You’ll make a good cop, Springer,” Hank said. “You put that world in the past tense.”
Chapter Ten
Hank picked up the old plastic receiver, and then put it back down again. He stared at the number on the pad in front of him, knowing it belonged to a man who’d never strapped on a shield or a weapon or sworn to serve and protect. He had to get his anger under control before he made the call. Anger gave the other person power.
Hank knew Oddie McElroy was only interested in serving himself, and it was obvious he’d do whatever it took to win the sheriff’s election. Even if it cost Coil his reputation.
“Friends close,” he said to himself. “Enemies closer.”
He dialed and waited until someone picked up.
“McElroy,” he slurred.
Hank raised his brows. The guy sounded drunk.
“Is this Oddie McElroy?” Hank asked.
“That’s my name,” he said. “Who’s this?”
“This is Hank Davidson. I’m returning your call.”
“That’s right smart of you son,” he said, cackling. “You know which side the bread is going to be buttered on. If you put your support behind me in the election, I’ve got a real special position for you. And it pays very well.”
“I can’t be bribed, Mr. McElroy,” Hank said. “It was a mistake to return your call.”
“I can end you, boy,” McElroy said. “Better be careful how you talk to me.”
“I don’t know who you’re calling boy, but I’ve spent a career dealing with people a lot worse than you. Don’t threaten me. Ever.”
“This ain’t the big city, Davidson. You have no idea the viper’s nest you’ll step in if you oppose me.”
“Consider yourself opposed,” Hank said. “I’ve learned how to kill snakes.” And then he hung up.
James stuck his head in the door a few minutes later. “We got a call from the FBI lab.”
“What’d they say?”
“The metallic flakes recovered from the chair and collected from the tissue of the victim during the autopsy are a match.”
“But they don’t know what was used to kill the victim?”
“Bingo,” James said.
Hank sighed. “Why can’t it ever be easy?”
The sun came out after noon and the temperature rose to the forties, so Agatha took an hour to get in a run. It helped clear her head, and she could get her training in at the same time.
She showered and changed, and then headed back into town, hoping Hank was in the mood for lunch. She’d put on jeans and boots and a long-sleeve gray Henley under her jacket, and put her hair in a knot on her head.
The sheriff’s office was empty when she came inside, so she went straight back to Hank’s office.
“Hey Sheriff,” she said, knocking on the doorframe. “Busy?”
Hank was massaging his temples, and he had that look he got when he was upset but didn’t want anyone to notice.
“Am I busy?” he asked.
“I’m just messing with you,” she said quickly. “I can tell you’re overloaded.”
“Have a good run?” Hank asked. He stood and gave her a quick hug.
“Yes. Very. I’m back with a clear head and empty stomach. I’m starving.”
Hank chuckled. “I guess you want me to feed you?”
“I wouldn’t turn it down,” she said. “And maybe you can tell me what’s wrong.”
“I called Oddie McElroy back. It seems he thinks I can be bought by coming to the dark side. And the he gave me a veiled threat about not picking the right team. I’m half tempted to go throw cuffs on him.”
“I’m sorry he got under your skin,” she said. “Maybe he’ll do something stupid and you’ll get to arrest him after all.”
“I don’t want to talk about McElroy anymore,” Hank said. “He’s ruining my appetite. Come on, I’ll tell you what James learned from the FBI lab.”
&n
bsp; “You’re not going to get your jacket?” she asked as they went back through the lobby.
Hank wore his favorite navy blue FBI National Academy Polo shirt and a pair of jeans. His weapon was holstered at his side and his badge at his belt.
“These are spring temps,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, chuckling as they headed across the street to the Taco and Waffle.
The restaurant was dimly lit and it took a second for her eyes to adjust. Hank pointed her toward a corner booth that looked out over Main Street. They sat silently as chips and salsa and drinks were brought.
And then the small portable police radio on his belt made a staticky sound just before Springer’s voice sounded through it.
“HQ to Sheriff Davidson. You copy?”
“Go ahead HQ,” Hank said.
“We need you at HQ.”
“What happened?”
“Lieutenant Rodriguez arrested Bud Grant.”
Lieutenant Maria Rodriguez pushed Bud Grant inside the small room and locked the thick metal door to the holding cell. She was a serious woman with dark brown skin and eyes, and she had a reputation for getting the job done. It was rare that anyone got under her skin, but Hank could tell with one glance Bud Grant had managed to do just that.
Bud was sporting a black eye and the corner of his mouth was bleeding. Hank raised a brow, and then looked at Rodriguez. She just shrugged and said, “He’s got a face like a pillow.”
“That’s police brutality,” Bud yelled through the bars. “I’m going to own this police department by the time I’m done suing you.”
“Why don’t you exercise your right to remain silent,” Hank told him.
They left Bud pouting in his cell, and they all headed to Hank’s office so they could hear the full story. Rodriguez was the last one in the room, and she closed the door behind her, and then she stood stiff as a soldier.
Hank could tell she was waiting to see how he would react.
“Are you hurt?” Hank asked Rodriguez.
She looked surprised at first and then finally relaxed. “No, Sir.”
“Good,” he said. “I’m going to assume he deserved the black eye. What happened?”
“He was driving drunk,” she said. “He was weaving all over the place, and even clipped a trashcan out by the curb. I followed him for a while with my dash cam before I turned on my lights. As soon as I turned them on he floored it.
“Idiot,” Hank said, shaking his head.
“He’s lucky he didn’t kill anyone,” Agatha said.
“I called in for backup, and James and Johnson blocked him at an intersection.”
“That’s when it got really good,” James said, grinning.
“I pulled my weapon and told him to step out of the vehicle,” she said. “And he was real agreeable until I went to put the cuffs on him. Then he decided it would be a good idea to kiss me.”
“I’m surprised he only has one black eye,” Agatha said.
“His ribs are going to be sore for a few days,” Rodriguez said, a grin stretching across her face. “I was wearing my body camera.”
“Good,” Hank said. “That’ll keep things nice and clean when his mother tries to buy him out of this. Good work.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied.
“What about the vehicle?” Hank asked.
“We had it towed in,” James said. “It’s in inventory, so we should make the best of it and see what we can find.”
“Can we do that?” Agatha asked. “Legally, I mean?”
“Sure can,” James said. “Whenever we tow in a vehicle of someone we’ve arrested, we inventory it to make sure there’s nothing missing. It’s not uncommon for criminals to accuse cops of stealing their property, so as a policy, we go through and catalogue everything in the vehicle and give them a receipt for the items listed.”
“Wow,” Agatha said.
“You’d be surprised what people sign for,” Rodriguez continued. “We’ve found drugs, guns and stolen property during an inventory. It’s all listed on their receipt, and they’ll sign off on it, thinking they’ll get everything back as is. Criminals are generally dumb.”
“Bud doesn’t seem like an exception,” Hank said. “Rodriguez, why don’t you go ahead and finish booking him, and James can start the inventory.”
“You got it, boss,” James said, and he and Rodriguez both left the office.
“We’ve got to wrap him up tighter,” Hank said.
“What do you mean?” Agatha asked.
“I mean everything surrounding Bud is circumstantial. We need to find a murder weapon. And we need to find witnesses who saw him in Rusty Gun or anywhere else in the area before he supposedly got to town. We’ve got motive because of the money angle. But we need more than that.”
Agatha looked like she was going to say something and then pressed her lips together.
“What is it?” Hank asked.
“I don’t buy Bud as the killer,” she said.
“Me either,” Hank said. “But why don’t you tell me why.”
“Like you said, he’s an idiot. Sure he’s got a temper, but he’s basically a spoiled child. He’s lazy, he drinks, and he has a serious lack of control. I just get the feeling that if he’d killed his father by bashing his head in, he wouldn’t be able to hide it. He’s not that good of a liar. You saw how bad he was earlier when we talked to him.”
“Maybe he was drinking as a result of what he did,” Hank said, playing devil’s advocate. “So he could hide his actions behind alcohol.”
“Bud Grant doesn’t have an ounce of courage or fortitude. I’m not saying he’s not capable of murder. Temper tantrums can lead to that kind of violence. But I think he’d be a mess afterward. I think he’d be scared. He would’ve left clues all over the place. Whoever killed Leland Grant wouldn’t have walked out of that building without blood on him.”
Hank was thoughtful for a minute, listening to Agatha’s impassioned speech. He agreed with her. Bud didn’t fit the profile. He was weak and whiny, and he would’ve been showing signs of the stress of covering up a murder if he’d really done it.
“So where does that leave us?” he asked.
“I think we need to look at someone obvious,” Agatha said. “Someone unexpected at first glance. But maybe this doesn’t have everything to do with Leland Grant.”
“What do you mean?” Hank asked.
“What about Oddie McElroy?” Agatha asked.
Hank furrowed his brow. “What does he have to do with anything?”
“Well, when you look at everything that’s been going on lately, he kind of has a lot to do with everything. Rusty Gun isn’t the murder capital of the world. At least not fresh murders like this. You and I have been working cold cases from decades ago. But all of a sudden, Coil is forced to step aside as sheriff, you’re barely sworn in as his temporary replacement, and then we immediately have a murder. Nothing takes confidence from voters like putting someone they don’t know in power and making them feel unsafe at the same time.”
Hank could see her point. And he realized he’d been too focused on how he’d been used to solving murders instead of reading between the lines of Oddie’s earlier call.
“When he called,” Hank said. “He told me I wasn’t in the big city anymore. They do things different down here.”
Agatha nodded. “It’s like the wild west in a lot of ways. It can get dirty. I’m just saying I wouldn’t be surprised if we opened the trunk of Bud’s car and found the murder weapon and a signed confession.”
Chapter Eleven
Hank hung back while the team got in and inventoried Bud’s vehicle in the impound lot behind the sheriff’s office. It was cold, and for once he wished he’d tossed on a jacket.
“It’s not looking good, Boss,” James said a few minutes later. “All we’ve got is a gas receipt from here in town, and another from the liquor store a county over. Both are on the day of his father’s murder.”
Agatha winced.
“Yeah, I know,” Hank said. “I don’t want to impose on the grieving widow. But the longer we wait, the better chance they all have of coming up with alibis and destroying evidence, if Bud’s past is anything to go by.”
Hank saw Springer come out through the back door and head their way.
“How’s it going Springer?” Hank asked.
“Making progress on the computer, but I had to rest my eyes and get some fresh air.”
“Are Rodriguez and Johnson back from canvasing the area to see if anyone saw Bud Grant near his father’s office?”
“She called in a few minutes ago,” Springer said. “That’s another reason I wanted to come out.” He snugged his collar up around his neck to protect it from the wind. “She said everyone they’ve talked to is in a state of shock over the murder. Apparently rumors are going around that people aren’t safe in their own homes, and someone is passing out pamphlets on safety precautions.”
Agatha had called that one all right, Hank thought. Oddie McElroy was taking advantage of Leland Grant’s murder for his own personal gain.
“Rodriguez said she heard a lot of anger against Coil, for passing the job to you instead of handling this matter himself. I’m thinking someone probably planted that seed.”
“You’d be thinking right,” Hank said.
“Karl said almost all of Coil’s re-election signs have been taken down. It’s as if he never existed.”
Hank grunted and felt his anger rise. It took a lot for him to lose his temper, but if McElroy really was stooping this low then he’d just made a dangerous enemy. Hank wasn’t going to stand by and watch someone do this to Coil.