“Unless Wesner had already blown his own brains out.” Edgars sighed. “The thing with Candy Myers…that could still be somebody else driving Dearmore’s car. Stole it.”
“So why didn’t he report it? And where the hell is he?”
“We need to talk to this watchman,” Edgars said.
Horse nodded. “Until he gets here, let’s go see Wesner’s wife. Get that out of the way. Maybe she can help with a timeline.”
A few minutes later Edgars and Horse emerged from the elevator to find Angie Wesner hurrying toward them.
“What’s going on…all these police here?”
“Mrs. Wesner, please,” Edgars said, guiding her to a padded bench in the lobby, “let’s sit down over here.”
When they were settled in, he introduced himself and Horse, then continued. “When was the last time you saw your husband?”
“Uh, it was before he flew out on business Thursday morning.”
“And he seemed fine then?” Horse asked.
After a moment, she said in a low voice, “We did have a fight the night before he left.”
“What about?”
“The usual,” she said. “He’s always been a workaholic. He called and made me cancel a dinner invitation, again, for Wednesday night. I was at the end of my rope.”
“So there was trouble in the marriage?” Horse asked.
“I don’t know. He seemed to think this was just the way things were…” She shook her head.
“So he worked late Wednesday night?”
“Until after midnight, yes.”
“And you didn’t see him all day Thursday or Friday?” Edgars asked.
She shook her head. “He was in Houston on business.”
“And when he didn’t come home last night, why didn’t you call someone?”
“He works late so often, I figured he might be still pissed and didn’t want to come home. I tried to call him, several times.”
Even though he was the younger of the team, both detectives had agreed that Edgars was better at notifications. He had a more empathetic approach than Horse, who, even after many years of doing it, still seemed uncomfortably abrupt.
“Well, I’m afraid we have bad news, Mrs. Wesner,” Edgars began. “Your husband, I’m very sorry to say, we found him in his office this morning and, unfortunately, he is dead, ma’am.”
Angie Wesner sat there, shaking her head.
“We’re so sorry for your loss,” Edgars added.
She put her head in her hands. “How? His heart?”
“Did he have heart trouble, ma’am?” Horse asked.
“He was on beta blockers and I can’t pronounce what else. The doctors kept telling him he had to slow down. But Gordon just ignores them. Is he still there…?” She motioned with her head to the upper floors.
“Yes, ma’am, he is,” Edgars said. “And Mrs. Wesner, I hate to have to tell you, but it doesn’t look like a heart attack.”
Her head popped up toward him. “What do you mean? What…what was it then?”
Edgars struggled with his wording before beginning. “We can’t be sure yet how it happened. Was your husband upset about anything in particular? Perhaps someone?”
Mrs. Wesner frowned. “He was always upset about something, or someone. He was a volatile man.” She put her hands in her lap. “How did he die then?”
“He was shot,” Horse said.
Mrs. Wesner visibly shuddered.
Edgars gave his partner a sharp glance for jumping the gun. That was Horse, though. He always cut to the chase, while Edgars liked to get as much information as possible before dropping the bomb.
Edgars touched her elbow, but didn’t speak for a moment. “Would you like some water?”
She ignored his offer, but, after a moment, sat up straight. Her eyes were clear and sharp. “Are you saying my husband was murdered? Or that he did this to himself? What?”
Horse jumped back in. “That’s what we need to find out, Mrs. Wesner. It’s not clear yet just how it happened.”
“Can I…see him?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s not possible. Crime scene technicians are still gathering evidence in his office,” Edgars said quickly. “Is there someone we could call for you? A relative or friend?”
“No, I have no family, really. I’ll be alright.” She stood up and started for the door. Edgars followed her.
“Here’s my card, ma’am,” he said, pushing it into her hand. “We may have some more questions for you at a later time.”
“Of course,” she said, looked at the card as though it was a mind puzzle, then turned to leave.
“Uh, one more question, ma’am,” Horse said.
She stopped and turned to him.
“Did you know your husband’s vice-president? Mr. Buck Dearmore?”
She shook her head, as though confused by the question. “What do you mean? Doesn’t everyone know Buck Dearmore?”
“We’re just looking for connections,” Edgars explained.
“I know who he is, of course. I’ve seen him at social events,” she said. Then, “You don’t think he…?”
“We’re not sure of anything now,” Horse said. “Do you need a ride home, or…”
“No, it’s okay,” Angie said. “I’ve got to figure out what I need to do, I suppose.” She looked a little lost. “There’ll be things to do.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Edgars said. “You go ahead…unless you want us to call someone for you. I’d be glad to.”
“No. That’s alright.”
“We’ll be in touch.”
As she slowly moved toward the front entrance, Edgars looked at Horse and said low, “Knows Dearmore well enough to call him a bastard at the café before.”
“Yeah,” Horse agreed, following her with his eyes as she walked out of the bank. “But I imagine a lot of people watching the morning news called him that.”
“What’d you think of her reaction?” Edgars asked.
“I wasn’t quite sure how to read it,” Horse said.
“Yeah, me neither,” Edgars said. “Maybe a little off.”
Horse added, “Liquor on her breath.”
“Big time.”
Chapter 55
Buck slumped on the cot and watched Jorge and Meatface pack up the SUV in the loading area. They were meticulously adjusting the bags from Gordon’s safe under other boxes, out of sight. Then they put the boxes carrying their boss’s money, from Buck’s safe, on top.
Obviously, they didn’t want anyone to discover the three-way secret bonus they would be splitting up from the president’s safe.
Buck had no idea what they had planned for him. At this point, he figured they would probably kill him.
As the boys readied the vehicle, Twigs was checking out loose ends in the garage, going through what was left in the garbage bag that held Gordon’s safe contents. After quickly checking labels and addresses, she tossed a dozen manila envelopes into the trash.
“Legal Schmegal,” she said in bored tones. Then she stopped, opened a big brown envelope and whistled. “Well, lookie here what we got.”
Buck squinted out of his swollen eyes to see what she was holding. She turned and leered at Buck. “Oooh, nice ass, Buckaroo. Come here, boys. Have a look see.”
Twigs was passing around a series of eight-by-ten photos. Meatface was ogling them like a farm boy at a strip show, and Jorge was pursing his lips and humming approval.
“What is that?” Buck asked.
“What a rack,” Meatface said, crudely indicating bouncing balls with his hands. “She must of had help with them.”
“These are the titties what made him kill his jefe,” Jorge laughed, running his fingers over the picture.
Buck pulled himself off the cot and stepped toward them. Meatface playfully fended him off with one hand, then showed him the picture. “Can I have this one for my fridge?”
Twigs slapped Buck hard on the back of the head. “Sit down.�
�� Buck stood there, dizzy. “I said sit down, Mr. Dearmore.”
Filled with rage, Buck sat back down. He’d only gotten glances of the photos, but he could see it was Angie and him in various stages of lovemaking. The realization that somebody had taken pictures of him and Angie was such a shock, he could barely string a thought together.
“Now, if you’re a good boy, I’ll show you the pictures,” Twigs was saying. She sat down beside him like they were old buddies and showed him a shot of Angie and him on Buck’s bed. It looked like it was a telephoto lens shot through his bedroom window. Buck grappled against his nylon flex ties. An angry cry came out of his mouth.
Twigs was more amused than annoyed. “Get a grip, Tiger. He doesn’t want us to see them, boys.” She softened a little when she saw tears well up in Buck’s eyes. “You didn’t know he had someone on you two?” Off his look, she tilted her head. “Oh, honey, you should thank us for getting this shit out of his safe.”
Buck knew that was probably true. Still, it felt like a mortal blow. He was falling through the cracks, crumbling into dust, yet so tired he couldn’t lift a finger to stop it.
He figured his head must have gone somewhere else for a few minutes, because the next thing he heard was the three of them getting ready to leave.
Sharp slits of sunlight shot under the garage door. Buck realized he had no idea what time of morning it was.
“Time to go, football boy,” Meatface said.
Chapter 56
Erika knew it was reckless to wait for Angie Wesner to come back out of the bank, but she still waited, sitting on a recessed bench under an enormous shade tree on the bank’s corner. Her eyes had been glued to the entrance door for at least a half hour.
As time crawled on, her wet, clingy palms started to tremble. In fact, lack of sleep was racking her entire body. Her head pounded and her back ached. She hadn’t put anything on her stomach for fear of losing it again.
Yet she couldn’t leave. Something seriously bad had happened, and Erika wasn’t about to go until she found out what.
The encounter with Angie Wesner had thrown all the puzzle pieces up in the air again. They not only didn’t fit, they contradicted one another. The cameo necklace, the inscription, Mrs. Wesner’s meltdown.
She also knew that Tony was not even close to the banker’s wife’s league. Unless she was someone who liked to slum it with bad boys.
When Angie Wesner came out of the bank onto the street, Erika stood up so quickly she felt lightheaded. Mrs. Wesner’s distraught state seemed real.
Erika hurried toward her and asked, “What happened in the bank?”
The banker’s wife looked up at her like she didn’t even recognize her.
“What?” she said limply. Then she seemed to realize who Erika was.
“You again?”
“I just wanted to ask—is your husband alright?”
“You know my husband?” Mrs. Wesner asked. Her face was ashen colored, and her thin body bent forward like it was wilting.
Erika considered her answer. “Just from waiting on him a few times.” Not exactly true. He rarely came into the restaurant, but a long explanation was the last thing to go into now.
“You seem upset, Mrs. Wesner. I just thought—with all the squad cars, something might have happened.”
Mrs. Wesner’s eyes took on a sudden childlike stare, and her voice was almost a whisper. “They won’t tell me exactly what happened. Just that my husband’s…he’s dead.” Then she walked away.
Stunned, Erika stood frozen for several moments. She wanted to go after the woman, offer to help her, something. But instead of her feet going forward, they fell beneath her.
She collapsed onto the concrete.
Chapter 57
Tony drove by blurs of green and brown countryside. It had been a long time since he felt the hum of a motorcycle between his legs and the wind blowing past his face, whipping his hair back.
He recognized the frenetic thrum in his heart. Yet, and this remained a mystery to him, it was a calm like no other when he was straddling a speeding bike.
He wished he could get a hit of something worth a shit to take his mind off Erika. Tony had been good enough for her when he was pounding it to her in the early days. Now she was bent out of shape about everything. He’d like to see how she would do with his old man. See what she’d have to say after a beating from him every day.
A stop in the road ahead looked boarded up, but as he got closer it was only the filling station part that was closed. The rusted sign in front still read “GAS $1.7_” with the “9” falling off the edge of it. It was like a hundred little places where travelers used to fill up and get a soda before I-40 had made state roads like 152 irrelevant.
Adjoining it was a “Dairy Freeze,” a deserted looking dump with an OPEN sign flickering in the window. Lights blinked inside even though there wasn’t a car in sight.
Tony pulled over and cut the engine, then got off the bike and stretched. His eyes were dried out riding without goggles, and his hair was plastered back like he’d been in a wind tunnel.
As he walked in, a bell over the door let out a little tinkle, announcing a customer.
After a moment, a raw-edged teenager smacking gum stuck her head out of the back and came to wait on him. Her blonde hair had so much brown root under it that it was almost half and half, and her make-up was all wrong, but she had a tight little body under her white uniform.
“Just sit anywhere,” she said with a flirty grin.
Tony looked around at the empty place and smiled back at her. “Okay, then.” He took a booth at the back and waited for her to come over. When she did, he noticed her name tag that read “TRISHA.”
“So what’s good here, Trisha?” he asked.
“I just made the chili fresh,” she said, pencil poised to write his order on a pad. “But I can fix you eggs if you want.”
“How about a couple of chili dogs, then, fries, and a big old beer. That sound like a good breakfast?”
She twisted back and forth nervously. “You know we don’t got no beer here.”
“Is that right? Well, shit, Trish. A big old Dr. Pepper then, I guess.”
“Comin’ right at ya.” She went into the kitchen and dropped some frozen potatoes into the deep fat fryer, and put a couple weiners on the grill. After a moment, she was back to the table with his soda.
“You’re not from around here, are ya?”
“Hardly,” Tony said.
“From the city?”
“Yeah. You?”
Trisha looked shy. “Eakly.”
Tony laughed. “Eakly? Is that a town?”
“Yeah,” she said with mock indignation. Then after a second, “Well, not much of one.”
Tony smiled and looked her body up and down, which made her blush. A sexual rush moved through him. He calculated he could do her right there on the table.
“How far is it to that ‘westerny’ camping place?” Tony asked. “You know?”
“Camping place?”
“R.V.’s stay there.”
“Oh, Cimarron Park? Where all the old farts stay?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
Trisha flipped her hair back. “‘Bout twenty-five miles. You aren’t going to stay there, are you?”
Tony looked outside, a smile forming under his oily eyes. “No, I wouldn’t be staying.”
Chapter 58
A tubby, sweating man in a security uniform hurried to the third floor of the bank. A fresh bandage was wrapped around his head.
“Detectives here?” he asked the officer stationed by the door.
“Over there,” the officer said, motioning to Edgars and Horse. They looked up at his approach.
“You the security guard?” Edgars asked.
“Yeah, that’s me. Johnny Bishop with bank security. I was the one found them in the office last night.”
They introduced themselves and moved out into the hall. The area still had people milli
ng around, but everyone had heard that Edgars and Horse were first team now, so they cleared out of their way.
“Now, Mr. Bishop, why don’t you take us through what happened last night?” Horse said. “Where were you when you realized someone was in the office?”
Johnny showed them his usual walkthrough routine, stopping fifteen feet from the door to Gordon Wesner’s office.
“I heard voices from the office about here, and proceeded with caution. See, sometimes Mr. Wesner works here all night long. So I didn’t want to scare him, but it was weird because it sounded like more than one person.”
“Could you hear what was being said?”
“No, just low talking. Now, the thing is, Mr. Wesner’s office doors is the only ones in the building that can’t be opened with my master key.” Johnny pulled out an enormous ring of building keys and showed the Master to the detectives.
“You couldn’t open his door to check on him?” Horse asked, surprised.
“No. He didn’t want anyone in his office, period, unless he was there. He was funny that way.” Then Johnny looked proud of himself. “But I knew there was voices coming from his office that needed to be checked out and I knew I could open Mr. Dearmore’s office. My master would unlock that. Then I could get into the conference room to see if the boss’s door to it was open. Anyway, that’s what I was figuring.”
Edgars was not sure if he was following Johnny. “So you let yourself into Mr. Dearmore’s office.”
“Exactly,” Johnny said with some pride as he walked them through it. “I used my master to open Buck’s office door, all ready to slip through the conference room and sneak toward the boss’s office. I mean, I’ve been in shooting situations before, and I wanted to proceed with all due caution, like they say.”
“Good idea,” Edgars encouraged him.
“But then, right away, Buck’s office, it’s a big old mess. Somebody’s rifled through his safe, messed with his Sooner memorbi—memorabilit…”
“Memorabilia?” Edgars suggested.
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