Jace’s Jewel

by Dale Mayer

  “And your ex-boyfriend, what happened to him?”

  Sicily’s voice clipped off. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

  “Right,” Emily said in a dry tone, realizing, if Sicily did know, she wasn’t telling. “I’m taking down notes. I’ll contact the police to get a copy of their report as well. I also need to study the autopsy report to make sure everything is in line.”

  “Then get it,” Sicily said, her tone irate. “What does any of that have to do with the insurance policy?”

  “Because we don’t pay out in certain instances,” Emily said in a neutral tone. “So, until we’ve completed our investigation, I can’t write you a check.”

  “Oh, please take care of that as soon as possible. I need the money to pay off my mortgage.”

  And Sicily hung up.

  Emily stared down at the phone and said quietly, “I bet you do.” But just because she didn’t like the woman and didn’t like what the woman had done to her, that was no reason to believe she had anything to do with Lyle’s death. In which case she would likely rake in one million dollars. Unless Emily could prove Sicily had a hand in her husband’s death.

  As much as Emily hated the idea of that woman getting the money, she had to have proper grounds for denying the claim. And, although insurance companies found ways to not step up and pay out money, very few viable reasons to do so existed in the life insurance field. As she stared at the phone, she realized she had yet another reason why she couldn’t step out of the office. Because, with Sicily having called Emily, she had no excuse to see Sicily now.

  This really was a case of wait and see. And sometimes these things didn’t happen quickly.

  Hearing heavy footsteps coming her way, she peered around the corner of her cubicle to see Wilson walking toward her.

  When he got to her side, he leaned down and said, “The head office is strict on their stance.”

  She grimaced. “Okay. If they are, they are.”

  He patted her on the shoulder. “If they give you a hard time, you can send them to me.”

  She nodded at him. “You’re a bigger pushover than I am.”

  Wilson shook his head. “Not when it comes to company money. I want a job for the next fifteen to twenty years, so I’ll not be handing out information that will get me fired.”

  She smiled and watched him walk away.

  She opened her email program and, with a cc to Wilson, sent Ice an email stating the company line on the information from the database.

  After she hit Send, she shrugged it off. It wasn’t her problem. She knew perfectly well Ice would contact Wilson and potentially go above him. It was up to Ice to make that decision. As soon as Emily got instructions that she could hand over the information, then she would. Until then she could only hope Ice managed to do what Emily couldn’t.

  When her phone rang the next time, she picked up the receiver to hear US West Wind Life Insurance was calling. She dealt with other insurance companies all the time. In this case, it was James. “Hey, James, how are you doing?”

  “I was doing okay until I looked into the death of one of our policy holders. When I checked, I found out from the detective that your case and my case are linked.”

  She sat back in her chair. “Who’s the owner of the policy? Who are we talking about here?”

  “Richard Manton. Apparently he was drowned in his car?” James’s voice rose at the end in disbelief.

  She knew how he felt. “Ouch.”

  “You know what I’m talking about?”

  “Yes. He went to a family barbecue to see a woman and her husband, even though a restraining order had been issued against him for said woman and husband. The husband and your guy got into a fight. Apparently when the fight was finally broken up, your Manton left, and the husband went into the house to calm down.”

  “How did that work out for him?” James said drily.

  “It didn’t. This is where it gets odd. He didn’t show back up at his barbecue, so his wife went looking for him, and they found him in the street where he’d been run over.”

  “The same street where my guy was found drowned?”

  “Yes, about fifty yards away from each other.”

  “And do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  “No. The police investigation is ongoing, and I don’t think anybody has any idea what happened yet. I have a copy of the autopsy but haven’t had a chance to study it.”

  James continued. “The assumption at the moment is that Richard Manton died by having a funnel jammed down his throat and water poured into his lungs. There was also water in his stomach.”

  “Of course. I mean, surely there is an easier way to kill somebody.”

  “He would’ve been unconscious at the time,” James said. “So we’re definitely talking murder.”

  “Right. I’m waiting for the police investigation to conclude to make sure that the beneficiary, who in my case is Lyle Cowichan’s wife, Sicily, is not involved in his murder.”

  “Now that’s interesting because the life insurance beneficiary in my case,” James said very softly, “is his ex-girlfriend, Sicily Ranger Cowichan. So she potentially stands to gain from both their deaths.”

  “Wow.” Emily shook her head. “That definitely confuses the issue.”

  “A notable confusion, considering she’s about to benefit from two deaths, one her husband, the other her ex-boyfriend. I wonder if she has a replacement standing in line.”

  Emily winced. “I drove past the property, taking a look at the crime scene yesterday, and a white SUV was in the driveway.”

  “Have you run the plates yet?”

  “Yes. A thirty-four year-old accountant named Jimmy Burton. Divorced a year ago, no known attachments.”

  “Does he have a life insurance policy?” James asked. “Because if he does, he better run.”

  “I’m checking my database right now. Have you got a policy on him?”

  The two ran through their databases looking for the potential boyfriend.

  “I admit I’m happy to say that I don’t have a policy on him,” Emily said.

  James said thoughtfully, “Neither do we. But I think we should point the police in that direction to see if they can find out about a policy with another company.”

  “Right. It’s definitely something to be followed up on.”

  After she hung up, she called Ice. “Sorry about the company line,” she said immediately.

  Ice laughed. “Bureaucracy at it’s best. I know and understand. I’m already working on it, so not to worry.”

  Emily grinned. “I figured you might have a few more tricks up your sleeve.”

  “Did you have some other reason for calling?”

  “Yes. When I drove past Sicily’s house, a white SUV was parked in the drive.” She rattled off the plate number and the related info, plus how she saw the driver of the SUV kissing Sicily. “So I’m wondering, as her husband and ex-boyfriend are now dead, is this Burton guy a potential waiting-in-the-wings partner? And since Sicily stands to gain from both deaths, I was thinking the police need to know and find out if Burton has a life insurance policy.”

  Ice whistled. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

  Emily stared off in the distance. “I know what she did to me. At the time I was pretty damn angry.”

  Ice’s voice turned brisk. “Let’s hope Lyle was happily married.”

  “Amen to that.”

  After she hung up, Emily updated her notes. She took a look at the list of names Ice had sent. She realized that the TxSAR Center was on her route home. She didn’t want to double up on the investigation, but she hadn’t heard back from Jace and Logan. She wondered if she should stop by the center and take a look. She picked up the phone and called the center, explained who she was and that she needed to speak to several of the members.

  A man named Troy said, “We’ve already had two men here interviewing everybody. What’s going on?”

  Keeping he
r voice neutral, she said, “This is a standard procedure. Several insurance policies are involved that we must investigate before we write the checks.”

  “Most of our members have gone home. Maybe you can talk to the two investigators who were here earlier today.” He rattled off two names that she knew very well: Jace Colley and Logan Redding.

  “I’ll talk to them first. If I have any further questions, I’ll get back to you.”

  “Thanks. We’re pretty busy here right now,” Troy said with relief in his voice. “It’s very unsettling to still have these deaths being investigated weeks later. We’re like a family. We need to heal and move on.”

  “Speaking of which, you lost a member a year or so ago?”

  “Yes. And now since then we lost four more members, and our numbers have been decimated. And we’re trying hard to bring in more volunteers. We’re well into hurricane season, and flooding will be an issue no matter what the area.”

  “Thanks.” She hung up and studied the phone in her hand. She couldn’t imagine trying to get volunteers to step up to help in natural disasters after losing two of their own men in a rescue. Still, volunteers were a vital force for emergency disaster relief the world over. Some people liked that sense of adventure and living on the edge, but so many others wanted to make sure that, even though they were willing to help anyone in trouble, they themselves would be as safe as possible.

  She brought up the TxSAR website. On the front page was a memorial to the two cousins. Not the two who were murdered in town, but the two who had drowned. That was appropriate. They had both died while helping others. She read on about the organization and the people involved. Troy was now running the center. She searched for various members, trying to come up with any tidbits of names and places, citations, medals, etc. But there was scant information. Ronnie and Howard had been at the top of the organization. Ronnie, the leader, and Howard, his backup.

  Before that, Ken Foster had run the center for close to a decade and had earned a lot of respect in that time. His death had been keenly felt. She couldn’t imagine having to deal with the fallout of losing those who managed the center.

  She shut down her computer, picked up some of the files she wanted to go over at home, stored them in her briefcase, and locked up. As she walked out of the building, several people called out to say goodbye. She waved and stepped out into the afternoon sun.

  She was still unsettled by so much going on in her personal life. She’d missed the funeral of the two cousins, and maybe that was the way it should be. Though one had been her husband for a short time, that didn’t mean she’d be welcome at the funeral. That wasn’t to say she couldn’t go to the cemetery and say goodbye. She knew the family had plots out by the Blanco River. It was on a high point off to the side of the old cemetery. The family plots had been there for generations.

  Making a fast decision, she changed lanes and drove toward the cemetery. When she had been married to Ronnie, the two had bought a double plot. After their divorce, she’d left it with him. It was his family’s burial area, and she had no idea what part of the country she would end up in. But, in his case, she knew exactly where he would end up. And he was happy with that. She’d struggled with the double-plot concept, found it creepy. He’d found it comforting.

  She drove into the gates, making her way around the curvy road. She could see multiple monuments and flat stones all around since the cemetery had been in use for a couple hundred years.

  She drove up to the main parking lot and stopped. She took a moment to reorient herself as to where she was; then she walked to the closest path and headed off in the direction of the plot. She hadn’t been here in a long time. But it wasn’t something you forgot easily. At the area she thought was correct, she could see two monuments covered in flowers, and she realized she’d found the cousins. She stood in front and read the names and the dates. With her hands in her pockets, she thought about all they had been to her.

  She’d married one, gone out with the other. They were both damned good men. She shook her head, even now feeling the tears in the back of her eyes.

  She glanced around the area, wondering if Lyle would be here too. He’d been as much a family man as the others. But she didn’t know if all the cousins had plots here too. She wandered through the nearby markers, reading the names and the dates, finding a sense of peace in the continuity. With a last long look at the grave markers, she finally, with the wind starting to bite, turned and headed back to her car.

  A woman walked toward her. She stopped and asked, “Did you know my husband?”

  Emily frowned. “Who was your husband?”

  “Ronnie Williamson.”

  Emily gave her a ghost of a smile. “I don’t know that you want to hear this, but I was his first wife.”

  Surprise lit the woman’s face. She held out her hand and said, “I’m Rose. Ronnie and I were married for six years. He did mention you, but I never heard the details.”

  Emily smiled and put her hand back in her pocket. “Not a whole lot to say. We were high school sweethearts, married young, and didn’t have a clue what we’re getting ourselves into. We divorced almost as quickly.”

  Rose nodded toward the monuments. “And yet you’re here?”

  Emily nodded. “I was raised with the family close by. He will always have a part of my heart. Just because we divorced doesn’t mean I didn’t care.” She was surprised at the understanding on Rose’s face.

  “I’m glad,” she said simply. “I’m glad he knew you. He was a wonderful man.”

  Emily smiled. “I’m glad he found you and married again. That he was happy right to the end.”

  With understanding, the two women continued, each on their individual paths. Emily headed back to her car and Rose to her husband’s grave where she stood for however long. She was still there when Emily pulled her car out of the parking lot and headed home.

  Tears were in her eyes, a sense of loss in her heart, with grief still rippling through her. But there was also peace. Peace he’d been blessed to have Rose. Pleased he’d gone on to live a full, rich life and that he’d been respected. That he’d been a man others looked up to.

  There was a whole lot worse people could say as an epitaph.

  *

  Armed with a copy of the two news videos, Jace and Logan retraced their steps to the TxSAR Center. With the members once again together in one room, Jace brought up the video. They were a somber group, watching the last moments of Ronnie’s and Howard’s lives. When the third man was visible, Jace stopped the video and pointed at the screen. “Does anybody know who that is?”

  Everyone shook their heads.

  Jace said, “Every one of you said they were alone when they went under. But this shows a third person. Does anybody know who it could be?”

  Peter said, “It could be anybody. There was so much chaos—the river’s flowing, people screaming and yelling and panicking inside their vehicles, trying to get free. There was a dog barking like crazy. There were people in the water, on the shore. Some helping. Some hindering. And then, above it all, there was the storm, pelting us with rain, blinding us at times, hindering our vision at other times.”

  Jace nodded and in a gentle voice said, “We’re not accusing any of you of anything. We’re trying to identify this person.”

  “Yeah, we’d like to know what the hell’s going on here too,” said one of the older men, a sullen look on his face.

  Jace studied him. “We’re not accusing anyone of anything.”

  “Good. Because we’ve been doing these rescues for decades. We’ve hardly lost anybody.”

  “That’s not right,” Peter said. “Last year we lost Ken Foster. He ran the center.”

  “Yeah, that was another freak accident. So is this.”

  “Is that so?” Jace said. “Then we need to figure out what happened. And let’s not forget we’ve been hired by the TxSAR association to get to the bottom of this.”

  “Why is that anyway?�
� Troy asked belligerently. “You’re not the police. They didn’t even ask us all these questions.”

  “And that’s sad,” Logan said. “I guess the police are super busy, and this isn’t a big concern for them. But wouldn’t it be nice, if you had been the one who died, that somebody checked to make sure all was okay? And that it doesn’t happen to anyone else?”

  “Are you thinking the equipment failed? That we didn’t do our job? Because you’re way off base there,” Troy snapped. “You won’t make us a case study to improve on next time.”

  “We’re not here to make an example of what not to do. But we must follow our mandate as well,” Jace said. “Why don’t you start by telling us what happens when you get a call.”

  Troy continued. “When we get a call, depending on the details as to how bad the scenario is, we make the determination whether to go or not. Given that we have a small team, we usually need everyone available. In this case we had four vehicles in the water and an unknown number of people to rescue, and it was a case of whoever was available should drop everything and run to the river.”

  “Did you have any warning?” Logan asked.

  Peter shook his head. “We knew the floodwaters were rising, but we hadn’t heard the bridge was in any trouble. But it was an old bridge and was in need of repair. Then vehicles slammed into the guardrail and went over into the river.”

  “Yes, I’m sure police accident reports about it are somewhere,” Troy said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  “Yes, probably,” Jace said. “Like a lot of reports, they’re often very scanty.”

  “There isn’t anything to say,” Troy protested. “We went out. We did our job, and two of our men lost their lives.”

  Amber started to sniffle.

  “I presume you all knew Ronnie?”

  “Ronnie had been running the center since Ken Foster passed away last year,” Peter said.

  “How was he as a manager?” Logan asked, standing, his legs slightly spread apart, his arms crossed over his chest. His posture wasn’t intended to be intimidating, but it was a no-nonsense stance. I’m here until doomsday, until I get the answers to my questions. And the crowd understood.