by Lynn Cooper
“See?” Patsy says, sliding her heel against my legs.
“See what?” Stan asks.
“The mayor heard Bluff was dissolving the partnership and taking clients he cultivated with him.”
He cocks his chin. “That wasn’t what he told me. He said after you guys got your mall, he was done. Finito. Adios. Arrivederci. What evidence do the police have against Tug?”
“They’re still questioning him,” I reply. “Did Bluff win enough money at the card game to buy beach houses and boats?”
Tom says, “Maybe to rent them for a while. Oh, he won three or four hands, just like Tug. But I’d say Stan here was the big winner of the night. Brother drew to two inside straights and had a royal flush.”
“What can I say?” He sings, ‘You got to know when to hold’em, know when to fold’em.’”
“Kenny Rogers will turn over in his grave,” Tom says, shutting his eyes.
“Kenny Rogers is dead?”
“The second he hears your rendition.”
I ask, “What about you, Tom? Did you do any good?”
“I didn’t play. I gave up gambling years ago when I looked into a pot and saw I had covered the bet with my mortgage payment.”
“What about the other guy—big fellow, long, blond hair, Clark Kent glasses?”
“Lonnie,” Stan says, shaking his head. “That poor boy lost his shirt. He acted like the only card game he played before Sunday night was Old Maid.”
“Lonnie—?”
“Burke. Our business associate. He’s sort of a company scout, in addition to other things. You’d think a guy who could detect a fertile business opportunity in a Saudi Arabian desert would be good at poker. You’d think wrong. We all took a good bit of cash from him. But he must’ve lost seven or eight grand on one hand trying to make Bluff think he had a full house when all he had was two pair.”
“The muscle-bound knucklehead thought he could out-bluff Bluff,” Tom adds, grinning.
Maybe my brother-in-law’s theory wasn’t so far off after all. “Was this Mr. Burke angry about it?”
“He wasn’t cutting cartwheels,” Stan says. “But, if you’re asking me if he was mad enough to kill Bluff, the answer is—” He pauses a thoughtful beat. “Maybe.”
His honest answer surprises me. “Has Lonnie killed over cards before?”
“Not killed,” Tom says, “and not cards. Two years ago, we were at a bar in Mexico City, celebrating the completion of one of our malls there. A con man tried to cheat him out of a bundle in a shell game. It took four of us to pull Lonnie off the guy. Luckily, the city officials were in a forgiving mood. They locked up the con man and let Lonnie off with a fine and a promise to never come back.”
“Did Lonnie think Bluff was cheating him?”
“If he did, he didn’t come right out and say it, which was what he did before he went after the guy in Mexico. But, when Bluff went off to the kitchen to get us more beer, Lonnie did say to me, ‘Nobody’s that lucky.’”
“Never mind who’s lucky and who tried to kill whom,” Mayor Kwan says. “What’s all this nonsense about a ‘beautiful wife’? As far as I know, Bluff didn’t even have a girlfriend.”
Stan looks at his brother. “What do you think, Tom? A couple of weeks ago, wasn’t he making pretty good time with one of the salesladies at the mall when the three of us were touring it?”
“Oh, yeah. Bluff surely was being a smooth-tongued devil that day.”
As I’m taking this new information in, I think about what Bluff supposedly told Tug right after he gave him a solid gold money clip holding two grand: “I’m in love, partner, and it’s love that makes the world go ‘round.’ But a buttload of money sure helps that sucker spin a lot easier.”
If the moolah didn’t come from Slocomb or poker, where did it come from?
“Well, this has been fun,” I tell the McCravens. “Anyway, Mayor Kwan, thank you for the information. I hope you feel better. I’ll get out of your hair now.”
Patsy’s heels dig into my thighs. “You’ll stay right where you are. If I can’t even keep these fellows’ names straight, it’s a safe bet what I remember come tomorrow won’t have anything to do with reality. Anyone who can pick up on an eyebrow arch isn’t apt to miss many details.”
“But, Sadie keeps a running transcript.”
Patsy gives me the quick headshake again. I glance over and see Sadie is no longer typing; she’s sagged against the big desk, staring moon-eyed and slack-jawed at the McCraven brothers. “All right, boys, give me the bad news. How much extra blood money do you expect Slocomb to fork over? What happened, Stan? Did you get a ding in your canary-yellow Mercedes driving on our rough roads?”
Stan laughs. “Actually, Mayor, you’re still getting things backwards. Tom has the yellow Mercedes. Myself,” he says, winking at me,” I drive the baby-blue Porsche.”
Tom kneels down behind the sofa, putting his face close to mine. “And he hopes to get the training wheels off next week. Madeline, wouldn’t you rather ride around with someone who can actually reach the pedals?”
Stan smirks. “Oh, ho, you might as well give it up right now, little brother. We both know how this ends. It’s Laney Crowder all over again.”
“Who’s Laney Crowder?” I ask.
Patsy groans and slaps the sofa. “Her grandfather invented peas. Look, teenagers, there’s a dull drill bit boring between my eyes, so could we please focus? Once again, how much more extortion money does the town have to give you two billionaires?”
“You’re still backwards, Mayor,” Stan says. “We’re not asking for more money. We’re refunding $300,000 to the town.”
“Get out of Dodge. What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” he says. “I’ll let Tom explain it. As you all have probably noticed, I got the looks and the way with the ladies. Technical Tom here got the mechanical savvy.”
“Modest as well as handsome, isn’t he?” Tom stands. “In the interest of time, I’ll spare you the technical mumbo-jumbo about cross-over circuits, voltage re-routers and kill switches. The grand opening of the mall yesterday was delayed by a forty-five-minute power outage. We promised you’d open at nine a.m. sharp with a fully-functioning mega-mall. We didn’t deliver that product.”
The mayor takes off the compress. “Sadie, heat this up for me again.” As her niece takes it and heads for the bathroom, Patsy looks at him through pain-squinted eyes and says, “The power company told me it was some sort of freak, localized surge that caused it. Nothing else surrounding the mall was affected. Much as I’d like to take some of our money back, I hardly see how you and Tom could be responsible.”
“I’m Tom.”
She moans. “Uh, migraine. Madeline, where the devil is Sadie with that hot washcloth?”
“Bottom line,” he continues, “the contract Bluff and Tug negotiated called for back-up generators for just such an occurrence. Power outage or no, East End Mall should have been lit up like a Christmas tree. Our sub-contractors had the suckers in place. But, for some inexplicable reason, they didn’t kick in. Thanks to your councilmen, we’re obliged to pay penalties if things don’t follow the contract to the letter.”
In my mind, the inexplicable reason the power failed is because of sabotage. However, I opt to keep this opinion—which is all it is at this point—to myself.
Sadie returns and gently places the heated compress back on her aunt’s pounding head. “Well, what do you know?” Patsy says. “Bluff was really looking out for Slocomb. Once even after he was dead.”
“Of course,” I say, “McCraven Brothers will no doubt recoup the money and then some when you turn around and sue the sub-contractors who put in the faulty back-up units.”
Stan gazes at me and sighs. “Beautiful and smart. You’d better believe we will, sweetheart. By the time we get done, we’ll have made that money back with interest and penalties on top. Anyway, Mayor, I just wanted to let you know the town will be receiving a check from us withi
n five business days.”
“Wonderful. Madeline, did you get everything locked down in that mental vault of yours?”
I smile. “I believe so. Business as usual. Round and round the money goes, and where it stops, nobody knows.”
Stan looks at Tom. “Maybe we should try to hire her.”
He laughs. “No way, bro. We’ve already lost a pile of money to one slick Slocomb resident. I’m not going to risk getting skinned again, no matter how beautiful she is.”
Stan brings a card out of his pocket and gives it to me. “If you ever want to talk business or tour the new mall with me—or, if you just want to marry me and bear my children—my number’s right there at the bottom.”
“I may take you up on it—the talk and the tour, that is.”
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it. “Ah, the dance continues.”
Tom rolls his eyes and then adds his own kiss to my other hand. “I’d wash where he put his mouth. He hasn’t finished his rabies series yet.”
As they depart, Sadie sighs loud enough to wake the dead. She collapses into the mayor’s office chair, swiveling back and forth with a dreamy expression. “OMG! How hot and rich and charming can two brothers be?”
After blinking at the back of my hands for a moment, I fan myself with my fingers. “Pretty dang hot and rich and charming.”
When I start to stand, I realize my legs have gone to sleep. I try to shift and slide off the sofa, but Mayor Kwan’s bare feet have me pinned. Those long legs are heavier than they look. I’ve also got to pee really bad.
“Mayor, I’ve got to go. Patsy?” I hear a snuffling sound coming from underneath the compress and look at Sadie. “Don’t tell me she’s snoring.”
“Okay, I won’t. But, she is. So, please don’t wake her up, Madeline. Sleep is the only thing that gets rid of her migraines. She doesn’t stay out long. Maybe half an hour tops.”
“Great.”
“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee?”
“Oh, no. My eyeballs are swimming now as it is.”
I sit there, trying to concentrate on pleasant things. I’d like to be home at the shop right now, drinking my own coffee (after I’ve been to the bathroom). Knitting stuff. Sewing stuff. Eating Double-Stuff Oreos.
But sexy, provocative images of Zeke Worthy keep invading my thoughts. I don’t want him to be mad at me. The more I’m around the big lug, the more I want to be. I get all warm and squishy when he casts those mesmerizing blue eyes on me. Even more than being back at the shop, I want to hurry back to the police station and try to make nice with the man.
I can just picture the interrogation room now. Yvonne and Lonnie sit at the metal table, drinking confession coffee while Tug snores on top of it and a disheveled Darren fires questions at them.
In the shadowy, outer area on the transparent side of the two-way mirror, Zeke Worthy holds my small hands in his large, strong ones. He looks lovingly into my eyes and says he wishes we never did fight. He pulls me close, bends down and presses those full, firm lips against my soft red ones.
The dance continues.
Chapter Ten
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Mayor Kwan is awake and my bladder is finally, blessedly empty. I walk back toward the police station, hoping to cross paths with Detective Zeke Worthy again. If he doesn’t act like a real butt, I wouldn’t be above sharing with him some of the information I’ve just gathered at the mayor’s office.
I call Luisa at the shop. “Did Zeke show up?”
“He did. Yvonne and I were talking about how you make those adorable pom-pom bears, and he sat down at the crafting table with us.”
“Did he seem upset?”
“Not at all.”
“Did he arrest her?”
“No. In fact, he was really nice. He asked Yvonne if it was alright to ask her a question with me there, and she said yes. So he asked her if she ever, at any time, gave Bluff Burrows the impression she would leave her husband for him. Yvonne said absolutely not. Detective Worthy thanked her and let it go at that.”
“Oh, good. I was expecting—well, I don’t know what I was expecting.”
“What was funny was, he hung around a while. He seemed very interested in the things you make, so I took him on a little tour of the shop. He was extremely complimentary about everything. Afterwards, he even had some coffee with us. Several times, he asked me if I expected you back soon. I think he was just dallying so he could still be here when you came home.”
My pulse quickens. I’m thirteen again, and Joyce Rivers has just told me Eric Patterson thinks I’m cute.
“Well, well,” I say, catching my breath a little. “Did he happen to mention if he was heading back to the police station?”
“Nope. After his second cup of coffee, he left.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Is Yvonne still there?”
“Yep.”
“Have you eaten anything sweet?”
“We’re in a contest, Madeline. I’m in it to win it.”
“What about Zeke?”
“He finished off the Double Stuff Oreos.”
“I’m proud of you, Luisa. Where’s all this sudden willpower coming from?”
“Well, I’ve got me a feeling Glen’s going to pop the big question any day. When he does, I don’t want to have to suddenly start fasting and running ten miles a day so I can fit into my wedding gown. I want to slip into that baby with ease. What time will you be back to the shop?”
“It’s hard to say. I was hoping to talk to Zeke again. I didn’t exactly leave him on good terms this morning. If he’s here at the station, I want to smooth things over. I also need to tell the sheriff what I learned at the mayor’s office. After that, I’ve got one more errand I need to run.”
“Take your time,” Luisa says. “I’ve sold five of the raccoons this morning. Three here at the shop and two online.”
“Okay, okay,” I say with a fake huff. “You’re the best saleslady in the whole world, and you’ll get your usual commission.”
I’M CRESTFALLEN TO FIND Zeke hasn’t returned to the station. I hide my disappointment as Trish tells me he called in earlier to say he was going to swing by the mall and go over the crime scene again. “Sheriff Rice is in the copier room. Do me a favor: remind him the copier is for everybody in the department, not just him.”
Two doors down, I see Archie taking a thick sheaf of what has to be three-hundred-plus copies from the finish bin. As I step into the doorway, he’s grinning proudly at the one on top. “Josie, my granddaughter is quite the artist. I think she has real talent for a four-year-old. You get the first copy,” he says, handing it to me.
Given her age, I’m not expecting much. I don’t get much, but that’s okay. It has a surreal, finger-painted quality the love-child of Salvador Dali and Vincent Van Gogh might have created. From what I can make out beneath a lot of blue and pink smears, it’s a standard square house with a high, pointed roof and a chimney stuck in the slope. Three stick figures whose heads appear to be on fire are standing downstairs with a dog or a cat that either has five legs or a very fat tail. Two stick figures with boxy heads (or maybe they’re robots) are up in the attic. Their square noggins practically bump the roof. The caption, scribbled in faint, yellow crayon, reads THE HIDERS.
“Oh my, Sheriff, this is so good!” I say, gushing. “She did this all by herself? She does have talent. Thank Josie so much for my copy, and tell her to keep up the good work.”
“Oh, I will. She’s Pawpaw’s little angel.” He sets the copies down. “The anonymous call I got implicating Tug came, as you figured, from a burner phone. Based on the cell tower pings, it originated from somewhere near the pond at Frank Lavender’s farm. I didn’t see much point in dragging it. All that’ll do is upset Frank’s milk cows. I was just getting ready to call the McCraven boys since Tuggle still can’t remember the name of the other guy who played poker with them Sunday night.”
“It’s Lonnie Burke. I just ran into the brothers
at the mayor’s office. Burke’s an associate of theirs. Tug was right: they all took money from him, but Lonnie lost between seven and eight grand to Bluff on just one hand. The McCravens told me Lonnie beat up a man in Mexico who tried to cheat him.”
“Did Lonnie believe Bluff was cheating him?”
“Could be. He did say, ‘Nobody’s that lucky.’”
Sheriff Rice scratches his cheek. “So that’s a maybe-maybe not.”
I fill him in about the power outage, the back-up system failing and the brothers’ refunding of $300,000 to the town because of it. I tell him what Stan McCraven said about Bluff retiring, buying a beach house and boat. I tell him what Tom McCraven said about Bluff and Tug fighting a lot. I tell him what they both said about the poker game and Lonnie Burke. I tell him the buttload of money evidently came from somewhere besides a big-stakes poker game or the town coffers.
“If he gave Tuggle two-grand without blinking, Bluff must’ve considered that chicken feed next to what he had stashed away somewhere else. I’ll get the detective to run a check on his bank account and such. Mucho obligato for the intel. I’m sure Mayor Patsy loved having money put back in her budget for a change.”
I also tell him Patsy and Sadie heard Tug threaten to kill Bluff if he went through with something.
“Went through with what?”
“Why don’t we go ask him? I assume you’re still holding him.”
“I couldn’t have him sleep on my interrogation table, so I put him downstairs in a holding cell until he gets his nap out. Come on. We’ll clear all this up right now.”
TUG IS DOZING ON the cot inside the first of four holding cells. He’s got a beige blanket over his shoulders and tucked under one of his chins. “It’s a little nippy down here,” Archie says as we stand outside the bars. “I didn’t want him to catch a chill. Hey, Jailbird Tuggle, wake up. We want to know something.”
Tug sniffs and opens his eyes briefly before shutting them. “I’m listening. How’re you, Madeline?”
“Good, Tug. Listen, Mayor Kwan says you and Bluff were having a heated argument recently when you came to her office. Sadie said you threatened to kill Bluff.”