Avengers of Blood (Cass Elliot Crime Series - Book 2)
Page 14
“It would not. Find out what you can this morning. We need to know if there’s a threat to the rest of the members. They’ll all have seen the Forney Cater and be wondering if they should take precautions.”
“Fine. I’ll get back to you.”
The old man slipped the phone into his overalls and put the problem aside to focus on his cows. He pulled the cold pipe from its ashtray and slipped it between his teeth, then marched to the kitchen and his work boots waiting outside. Hell might be breaking loose in Forney County, but his cows still had to be fed.
CHAPTER 31
CASS SLIPPED THE TRUCK into park and watched the fat ginger cat as he stalked a chicken pecking her way across the lawn flanking Forney County’s courthouse. Constructed in the late nineteenth century from cream-colored Texas sandstone, it was an utterly unique design. Part plantation home and part European castle, the courthouse had steep gables sporting tall windows and shutters. For practical reasons, the building had been modified over the years and two leggy additions splayed to either side of the main entrance, housing improved court facilities on one side and the police department’s offices on the other. The lawn was carefully maintained; its grass mowed, shrubs trimmed, and trash collected by the inmates in the Forney County jail located just off the square. She’d been back twice since her suspension: once for the debriefing the morning after the shooting, and again almost a week later for the Firearm Discharge Board hearing. She’d felt like a pariah at the time, as though all eyes were watching her. Today felt no different, although the ginger cat and the courthouse’s familiar façade gave her an odd sense of calm.
A hefty figure left its car and walked slowly up the path to the courthouse, stopping to turn and look at Cass as she shut the truck’s door. She joined Arcadia’s corpulent mayor, David Wayne Rusted, in the portico’s shade, bags containing the personal effects she had taken from the Franklin house in her arms. “It’s nice to see you, sir.”
His smile was hesitant. “You too, Cass. I talked to the sheriff last night, and he told me Grey had hired you as a temp.”
“Yes, sir. And kindly loaned me to the Forensic Examiner’s office.”
Mayor Rusted mopped his round face with a handkerchief and motioned Cass toward the courthouse’s front door as a slim reporter rounded the building, paper and pen in hand. “We’d better go inside.”
“I wondered when the press would show up. They’re usually pretty quick when an officer or his family is killed,” Cass said, welcoming the rush of cool air that met them as they pushed open the door.
“You didn’t see the news this morning?”
“What happened?”
“Explosion at a gas plant in Watuga County.”
“It’s a terrible thing to say, but thank goodness for small favors.”
Mayor Rusted chuckled, his smile genuine now. “I’m glad you’re back, even as a temp.” Rusted shifted, his eyes, small in the doughy expanse of his face, searching hers. “Did you visit The Whitehead Store last night?”
“No, sir, I didn’t.”
“So you don’t know what happened to Calvin Whitehead?”
“I saw his body at the ME’s office. It was a horrible way to die.”
“Any leads? Any idea why someone would target Whitehead?”
She shook her head. “Detective Martinez is out at the store with Kado and Officer Truman. Maybe they’ll find something this morning.”
“In the sheriff’s absence, keep me in the loop, would you Cass? Whitehead was a respected businessman, and I’d like to know what’s happening with the investigation.”
She nodded.
“And don’t worry, I’m sure Hoffner will take care of your paperwork when he gets back from his sheriff’s conference today.”
He tossed her a wave and headed for his office. Cass felt her breakfast curdle. Hoffner would take care of her all right, she just wasn’t sure how.
Cass turned and was met by a flurry of motion. Elaine, the courthouse’s long-time receptionist, grabbed Cass in a hug and squeezed. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said.
Cass studied the small woman. “You look gorgeous. What did you change?”
Elaine ran her fingers through her dark curly hair, cut at chin-length. “Cut and color from that new place out on the Loop.”
“Which one?”
“Holy Rollers.” She twisted her head to allow Cass a better look. “Those Pentecostal girls can do some hair.”
“I like it. There’s a little red in the color and it looks good on you.”
Elaine smiled. “How are you?”
“Relieved to be working again.”
“I can imagine. Sheriff Hoffner should have taken care of this ages ago.” She took some of the bags from Cass’s arms. “Do you need to get into the station?”
Cass nodded at the bags. “I’ve got evidence from the Franklin house for you to check in, too. Is that a problem?”
“Not as far as I’m concerned.” She sat behind her desk. “I’ll give you a temporary pass and issue a new one when Hoffner gets back.”
“We’re not using codes anymore?”
Elaine shook her head, curls swinging with the motion. “They’ve switched to key cards to keep track of who comes and goes. You have to swipe them to open secure doors from the inside and outside now.”
Cass leaned against the counter while Elaine worked. “How’ve you been?”
“Me? Fine. Happy to see you, happy Hoffner was out of town, even if only for part of the week.”
“Mayor Rusted said he was at a sheriff’s conference.”
Elaine laughed, bringing color to her heart-shaped face. “Is that what he’s telling people? Hardly. Sheriff Bill Hoffner is getting remedial leadership training.”
“He’s getting what?”
“They call it leadership development, but let’s get real. Hoffner doesn’t have an iota of leadership ability in that lanky body of his. There’s nothing to develop.” She reached for the bags and signed the chain of custody paperwork. “You said this is from the Franklin case?”
“Yes.”
“Any leads?”
“Not yet. Truman and I talked to Rob Conroy this morning, and I’m going to go through Mojo’s reports to see if something pops out.”
Elaine frowned. “They were after Mojo?”
“We don’t know yet. Joseph was in jail up north, so maybe there’s a link to his crime. I’ll check out his records, too.”
“I remember when he was arrested. Moses was devastated that his brother was doing something criminal. Hacking, right?”
Cass shrugged and took the white plastic rectangle from Elaine. “All that happened just as I joined the force out here. Have you seen Mojo this morning?”
“No. I don’t expect him for a few days, do you?”
“Not really, but I need to talk to him about Joseph.”
Elaine flipped to a different screen on her computer, wrote on a sticky note, and handed it to Cass as she reached for the phone vibrating on her desk. “Hey Chewie. I thought you were mowing on Friday.”
Cass opened her own phone and dialed the number on the sticky note as she walked to the door that secured the police station. Moses answered on the first ring. “Franklin.”
“Hey Mojo. This is Cass Elliot.” She waved the card in front of the reader and heard a click as the lock slid back.
The phone was silent for a beat. “Hey, Cass. What can I do for you?”
“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened to Joseph and your mom. And I wish I didn’t have to do this today, but I need to talk to you.”
“I’m at the funeral home but I can call you later. At this number?”
“Yes. Thanks, Mojo. I’ll be available when it’s convenient for you.”
Elaine caught her attention as she was stepping through the station’s door. Cass waited as Elaine finished her conversation.
“That was Chewie Rodriguez,” the receptionist explained. “Somebody shot Donna Moore.”
Cass searched her memory for the name and came up with a feisty, petite woman who had an accounting office off the square. “Where is he?”
“At her house. The old Knutting place. He went to mow and found the body. I’ll get somebody from patrol out there. Can you call Grey and Kado and go?”
Four murders in less than twenty-four hours. Worked by two detectives, one forensics man and a young, if very smart, patrol officer. There was no way they could get on top of it all.
“I wish Mitch was here.” The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them and Cass felt a physical pain in her heart.
Elaine’s smile was rueful. “Me too, honey. Me too.”
CHAPTER 32
ROB CONROY STOPPED SHORT as the door to The Golden Gate opened. A woman rushed outside and almost bumped into him. He drifted out of her way, his hung-over head thudding with the movement. And then he got a look at her and the jackhammer beating against his skull slowed. This definitely improves my morning, Conroy thought, straightening and smiling. She’s a looker.
“Oh,” she said, dropping the letter she carried. “Sorry about that.”
“No problemo,” Conroy answered, savoring her silky voice. “Let me get that for you.” He stooped, grabbed the envelope, and held it out to her.
“Would you mind dropping it in the box for me?” she asked, pointing behind him. “I’m in a terrible hurry.”
“Be happy to. What’s your name?”
She smiled and the breath whooshed from his body. “Junie. And yours?”
“Rob,” he squeaked.
“Come in for a cup of coffee some time,” she said, smiling over her shoulder. “It’ll be on me.”
“Definitely,” Conroy whispered, watching as the door closed behind her. “And I’d like a piece of ass to go with that coffee. A la mode.”
CHAPTER 33
A RED DOT BOUNCING on the wall caught Cass’s attention and she looked up from Donna Moore’s body. Kado stood outside the bedroom, adjusting a laser pointer through the single hole in the window until he found the bullet’s trajectory. He glanced over to speak to Truman, who was taking notes, and the two of them turned to follow the trail of muddy footprints across the backyard.
John Grey unfolded from his crouched position over Moore, slowly straightening to his full height of six feet eight inches. He stretched his arms out to his sides, rolled his head on his shoulders, and cracked a wide yawn. Cass glared, then gave in and yawned as well. She couldn’t be too angry with him; the bags hanging under his bloodshot eyes told her that he hadn’t slept much, if at all, last night. Even his dark hair, normally a natural quiff, was wilted. He checked his watch. “I’ll let Porky sleep a few more hours. He didn’t leave until four.” He exhaled heavily. “I’m done with you for now, Cass, if you want to look at the rest of the house.”
“I’d better go talk to Chewie. He’s been incredibly patient.”
Cass found the lawn care man in the same spot where he’d been when they first arrived. He had refused to tell them how he came to find Moore’s body, and instead directed them to the backyard and her bedroom window. He also told them which rock in the front bed was fake and held the spare key. Chewie Rodriguez was talking on his cell phone when Cass approached.
“I’ve got to give a statement or something. Kiss her for me.” He hung up and greeted Cass with a dreamy smile.
“Mr. Rodriguez? Are you okay?”
“I’m great.” He motioned her to join him beneath the wide branches of a tree overhanging the county road.
“You just found a dead woman, Mr. Rodriguez. How can you be great?”
The smile slipped from his face. “You’re right. My sister had a baby last night, and I was talking to my mom. She’s taking care of the baby while my sister rests. What should I tell you?”
“How you came to find Mrs. Moore’s body, please.”
“Miss.”
“Pardon?”
“Donna Moore never married. She was a Miss.”
“And you worked for her?”
He nodded and proceeded to tell Cass about how he was on a search and destroy mission with regards to the Bahia when he spotted the abominable smears in the backyard, and then sensed that something was different about Moore’s house.
“Different how?”
“This is usually a peaceful place. But when I was in the backyard, it felt sinister.”
“You looked through the window and saw her body?”
“Yes, but not from very close. It took my mind a moment to process what I was seeing.”
“And then?”
“I prayed. And called Elaine.”
“Why not 911?”
Chewie shrugged. “I care for her lawn, too, and know that she works at the courthouse.”
“What happened after you found the body?”
He pointed to where he sat. “I waited.”
“You were on good terms with Miss Moore?”
“She gave me free rein with the landscaping and always paid on time. Even tipped me on holidays.”
“How did she seem to you recently?”
“Fine.” He cocked his head. “Happy, even.”
“About what?”
“I never asked. But she was more relaxed lately. Perhaps over the last month or so. I wondered if she had a new boyfriend or if her business was doing exceptionally well.”
“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Miss Moore? Anyone who held a grudge against her?”
“No, but I really only talked to her about landscaping. I can’t recall a time when she was upset or withdrawn, if that helps. She’s always on an even keel, Miss Moore, very controlled. Maybe that’s why the happiness was noticeable.”
Cass thanked him and let him go. Truman and Kado joined her as she searched the house. The security system was sophisticated, with door and window contacts and infrared sensors in the rooms, all of it linked to a reputable security firm for monitoring. They found her purse, cell phone, and keys on the kitchen counter. Cass checked the phone but the register showed no incoming or outgoing calls since right before noon on Wednesday when Moore called The Coffee Shop. Presumably to order lunch. She bagged it all to take to the courthouse.
Throughout the house, original chunky oil paintings, watercolors, and contrasting charcoal sketches covered the walls. The paintings were abstracts of vivid oranges and reds. The sketches were interspersed between the paintings and contained impressionistic interpretations of objects that were fairly easy to identify: a pair of well-worn work boots; a set of keys on a ring lying next to a tuft of grass; a campfire with its burning logs disturbed. Each piece was signed by Moore.
A loaded 9 mm was in the nightstand, along with a box of ammunition and three full clips. They found a 20-gauge shotgun in the laundry room. Extra shells were in a cabinet above the dryer.
“As small as Donna Moore was, I’m surprised she didn’t have an auto-loader,” Truman said. He racked the shotgun and expelled six shells from the magazine. “Wouldn’t have kicked as much.”
“She could handle a 20-gauge,” Cass said. “And she wouldn’t have been able to rack a shell home with an auto-loader, would she? That sound, accompanied by a screaming woman, would terrify most criminals.”
“Good point,” Truman said.
Nothing in the house was disturbed, indicating that someone had come here specifically to kill Moore and was familiar enough with the home’s layout to know the master bedroom faced the open field. The shooter had either been inside before, or close enough to peer through her bedroom window.
Kado helped Grey moved Moore’s body into a bag and onto a stretcher, and then all four of them tugged the massive bed away from the wall. Cass watched as Kado cut the sheetrock away. The tail end of a slug protruded from a stud, mushroomed more than halfway back to its base. Kado carefully removed it. “Looks like another .308.”
Cass turned to Truman. “Did you find any brass in the yard?”
“Nope.”
“Flashlight?” Truman asked. “Brass catcher?”
“Maybe. Is this the same guy who shot Martha and Joseph Franklin?” she asked Kado.
“Seems a little strange that we’d have murders in two locations on one night from two different guys using the same type of ammunition, but I won’t know for sure until I can compare the bullets.”
“If they match…” Cass’s statement trailed off as she considered the implications of one shooter killing three people.
“Your job gets easier. All you have to do is figure out who knew both families.”
“And who would want them dead in one night.”
CHAPTER 34
THE BLUE STARFISH STANDING sentinel on the pole by the highway was chipped and faded, a ghost of its former self. Kind of like me, Officer Ernie Munk thought as he sat on the edge of the motel’s bed, trying to keep from touching the sticky bedspread. He was fresh from the shower and wrapped in a scratchy, tissue thin towel.
In truth, the whole place was crumbling: the parking lot dotted with potholes big enough to swallow a dump truck; the maroon carpet worn so thin in places he could see the dirty pad beneath; the baby blue tiles in the bathroom chipped, their grout grown black from years of mold. It seemed there wasn’t enough bleach or anti-bacterial spray to eradicate the faint smell of rot and decay permeating these rooms. He supposed they were rented less frequently now that fancier hotels were sprouting near Galveston’s shore.
But The Sapphire Starfish Inn was new when he and Gabrielle had picked it all those years ago, their choice of motel driven by Angel’s fascination with aquatic life. At three, she had loved Dr. Seuss’s “One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish” and demanded that Daddy read the book over and over until she drifted into a dreamland inhabited by colorful sea creatures. Munk wished that this was the way he could remember Angel. Snuggled into crisp sheets, dark hair framing her face, brown eyes wide with expectation even though she whispered the rhyming words as Munk read them aloud.