“Grady could have set up the blackmail plan with Morgan to find out where Mom kept the cash, then double-crossed Les at the payoff location, killing him and taking all the money.” I held out an index finger, moving it like a baton, as I pieced together my patchwork thoughts. “You know, Grady was the first official to arrive on the scene.” I did a lap of pacing in front of the fireplace. “But why would he kill Brenda if they were going to run off together?”
“Lover’s remorse? He didn’t need her anymore? She knew too much?” Willie threw out a lot of good possibilities. “She was just too damn annoying?”
“Thing is, Willie, it didn’t sound like Grady on the phone earlier. And the guy said he wasn’t Grady.”
“It could have been Grady lying to you and disguising his voice.”
Even though I didn’t want to think about a murderer in the family tree, I had to admit Willie was right.
Clark and Mom came back downstairs. Clark dropped a small gym bag at my feet. “There’s the money, all two hundred thousand. She had it packed away all over the upstairs like a squirrel with winter nuts. Who knows, probably more where that came from.” Mom looked down at the floor as he spoke. “I’m taking Mom to the station. Call me with any news. I’ll make sure I answer my phone, no matter what’s going on.”
Once Clark and Mom were gone, I opened the bag. Inside was a lot of cash, mostly hundreds, neatly wrapped in small bundles, fastened with everything from rubber bands and string to large paper clips. I took a few stacks out. All the bills were old, some wrinkled. They smelled slightly of mildew.
My phone rang. I pulled it out of my shirt pocket, took a deep breath, and answered.
“Got the money?” It was the same voice I’d heard earlier.
Willie got up and came close. He whispered, “Tell him you need more time.” I nodded in understanding.
“No, but we’re working on it. Should have it soon. I need a few more hours.”
“Old lady not talking?”
“You know how difficult she can be.”
“Never had the pleasure, but I’ve heard stories.” He chuckled.
“And Clark’s been hanging around. You said you didn’t want any police involved.”
“You’d think the chief would have his hands full, especially with the new murder.”
“I want to talk to my husband.”
“Not possible.”
“I need to know he’s still alive.”
There was a pause, some scuffling, then heavy breathing.
“Sweetheart?”
My heart leapt out of my chest at the sound of his voice. “Greg! Are you all right?”
“Yes.” More scuffling, and he was gone. My heart stopped.
“I’ll call back, Mrs. Stevens.” It was the voice of the original caller. “You’d better get your hands on that money.”
“You sure that was Greg?” Willie asked after I finished the call.
“Yes, but the caller mentioned a new murder. Didn’t say anything about Brenda, just that Clark should have his hands full with the new murder.”
“Could be these guys did Brenda. Could be there’s another body we don’t know about yet.”
“You said guys. You definitely think it’s more than one?”
Willie shrugged. “Would be too difficult for only one person. Someone had to drive the rental car, and someone would have to guard Greg while they drove. And how did they get here? Unless they walked through those woods behind the house, someone had to drive a car here.”
“The guy did reference ‘us’ when he called earlier.”
“There would have to be at least two. One could have subdued Greg, then drove the rental, while the other followed in their vehicle. Three would be best to do a job like this.”
I shook my head to clear it. “Geez, even if one is Grady, who in the hell is the other, or others, with Brenda dead? Could one be Clem Brown? He would know about the drug money, but why would he steal from his own business? And how would he know about the fifty thousand in blackmail money unless he was in with Les and/or Grady?”
Willie gave it some thought. “Could be Clem decided to cash in for himself. Steal from the family and make it look like someone from the outside.”
There were just too many possibilities. My brain felt like an old piece of luggage that had been stuffed with one too many things and wouldn’t close.
Willie’s phone rang. We both went on alert. After listening a bit, he asked me, “Have some paper and pencil handy?”
I dashed into the kitchen and came back with a pen and a piece of paper towel. Willie scribbled something down on the towel, then closed his phone.
“It’s show time, little mama.”
As soon as we got in the car, Willie tried to hand me Clark’s gun.
“I don’t want that.”
“Take it. You might need it.”
The last thing I wanted was to hold another gun. Once had been enough. “No.”
“If someone’s about to shoot Greg and I’m not around, how are you going to stop them? With your good looks?”
I took the gun.
Willie started the engine. Before taking off, he punched some information into the GPS in his dashboard. According to the computer, Greg was only about seven miles away.
“This isn’t his exact location,” Willie explained, “but it’s close enough to hopefully figure it out from there. Pray it’s in the middle of nowhere, with few buildings. That will narrow down our hunt.”
As the GPS guided us through the town, I caught sight of a familiar vehicle. It was Tara Brown’s minivan parked at a gas station.
“Willie, turn around. That’s Tara. I’m sure of it.”
“Thought you and Greg already talked to her today.”
“We did, and we’re both sure she’s about to make like a rabbit and run. And you never know—she might have been one of the kidnappers. She’s afraid of her husband. He might have coerced her into something.”
Willie made a U-turn and headed back. “What’s she doing, filling up way over here? Out of her way, isn’t it?”
“Not if she’s about to get on the interstate.”
Willie pulled in front of the minivan, blocking it. Tara had just finished filling her tank and was coming around from the back to the driver’s side. Jumping out of the SUV, I met her there. The sight of me made her drop her wallet.
“Taking a trip?” I asked, standing in front of her door.
She bent down to get the wallet. When she stood up, her face was flushed. “No, just getting gas.”
“As I recall, there are one or two gas stations closer to the farm. Less expensive ones, too.”
She didn’t look at me. “I told you all I’m going to.”
“No, you haven’t. You see, since we last had that chat, someone snatched my husband. Remember him?”
Tara’s head snapped up, her eyes full of fear.
“And Brenda Bixby—the woman all cozy with Grady last night at the North Woods—has been found dead.”
At this last bit of news, Tara Brown turned so white I thought she’d need a transfusion.
“I’m making a wild stab here, Tara. I’m guessing you’re not just running from Clem Brown. I think you know who killed Les Morgan, maybe even Brenda Bixby. Maybe you’re afraid you’re next.”
She looked around like a caged animal. “Please. You don’t understand.”
“You running off to meet your new man, Tara? Hoping he’ll protect you, take you away from all this?”
This time, she went so pale she was nearly transparent. She looked around, scared out of her mind. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Please let me go.”
“What wasn’t supposed to happen, Tara? The killings?”
She went silent.
“Tell me, and I’ll let you go.”
She studied my face to see if I was telling the truth. I wasn’t sure myself.
She cleared her throat. “No one was supposed to die. That’s what
he told me.”
“Who? Clem? Your lover?”
“Clem’s not involved. With the drugs, yes, but not with the killing. He knows nothing about it.”
“So it was the guy I saw you with at the North Woods?”
She nodded. “He knew we were making the drug exchange that day in the maze. The plan was, after I gave Les the money, Frankie … .”
I stopped her. “Frankie? Frankie McKenna?”
Again she nodded, but this time it was served up with a flood of tears. I took her roughly by the arm and guided her around the minivan to the pump side, using the vehicle as a shield from prying eyes on the street.
“He used to do the pickups. We became close.” Tara wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “But something happened in Boston. I don’t know what, but he said he had to leave. He came here to say goodbye, but instead we decided to go away together. We waited until this week because of the money pickup. We were going to use that to start over.”
Willie leaned out of the passenger’s window. “Everything okay, Odelia? We need to hurry.”
“Hunky dory,” I said, not taking my eyes off Tara. I indicated for her to continue and to make it fast.
“The plan was for Frankie to steal the drug money from Les—just knock him out or something like that. He never said anything about killing anyone.” Her tears became sobs with hiccup chasers. With my strong urging, she continued. “While Frankie was hidden in the maze, he saw old lady Littlejohn handing money over to Les. Something about blackmail. When he took the drug money from Les, he also took the other money.” She looked into my face, willing me to believe her. “The killing was self-defense. Frankie said Les came after him with a knife.” But even as she said the words, I could tell she didn’t believe them herself.
“So why didn’t the two of you just leave? You had both the drug money and the drugs, as well as the fifty grand from Grace Littlejohn.”
“I begged him to, but he said if the old lady had cash like that, she’d have more.” Again, she ran her sleeve across her face, this time mopping both her eyes and nose. “Last night at the North Woods, I did see Grady’s SUV parked at the next cabin. I pointed it out to Frankie and told him that Grady was Grace’s son.”
She buried her face in her hands. “Today, when Grady went missing, I was worried Frankie did something else.”
“You mean killed someone else, don’t you?”
She started crying harder.
“Do you know where Frankie is right now?”
She shook her head. “I only met him at the North Woods. We were supposed to leave together tomorrow.”
“But you’re leaving now, without him, right?”
“Please, I beg you. Let me go.”
“What does Joan Cummings have to do with this?”
“Joan?” Tara seemed genuinely surprised. “Nothing that I know of.”
Back in the SUV, Willie drove like a bat out of hell to make up lost time. Along the way, I reported everything Tara had told me.
“Frankie McKenna, the original corpse.” Willie shook his head. “Sounds like he got into hot water in Boston and had to disappear. I’ll bet he planted his ID on Les, hoping people would think Les killed him and stole his identity.”
After going through Holmsbury, the GPS guided us over rolling roads and past clusters of homes until we were in farmland.
“Isn’t this the way to the Blue Lobster?” asked Willie.
The road we were traveling was familiar. “It’s also the way to the Brown farm.”
Sure enough, soon we reached the busy intersection with the restaurant and Buster’s, but according to the GPS we still had a few miles to go.
“That’s where the Browns live.” I pointed at Farm House Road as we passed it.
After Farm House Road, the road we traveled was unpopulated except for fields on both sides bordered by barbed-wire fencing. I glanced at the GPS—less than two miles more. According to the map on the screen, we were approaching a couple of roads. We were to turn left at the second one—Cold Pond Road. The first road we approached wasn’t much more than a gravel drive with trees on either side. A small street sign on a post said it was called Hollow Road. Here, the barbed-wire fence ended.
When the GPS told us to make a left, Willie turned onto a narrow dirt road designated as Cold Pond. Like the previous one, there were thick trees and bushes on either side. Our destination was still up ahead, but not far.
Willie spotted something to the right. It looked like a short drive that was partially overgrown. He drove past it, stopped the SUV, then backed the vehicle into the drive far enough so that it was difficult to see it from the road. The SUV now faced forward, ready for a quick getaway.
“From here, we’ll go on foot through the woods,” he whispered. “You carry the money. If you have to, use it as a shield or a weapon. And stay behind me. I’ll move forward slowly. If the coast is clear, I’ll motion for you to follow. Keep your eyes peeled for any sort of building, no matter how small.”
Following Willie’s example, I got out of the vehicle and gently shut the door, but not all the way. He moved silently from his side to where I stood.
“Put your phone on silent,” he continued to direct, “and stick it in your pocket. Put the gun in one hand and keep the other free.”
I did as he said, happy to have Willie in charge of this portion of the program. My final act was to sling the bag over my left shoulder.
We moved through the woods slowly and methodically, Willie a few steps ahead, me following behind when he gave me a green light. Each section of travel took us further away from the main road, into thicker growth. I was still sore from my assault and earlier marathon through the woods, and my face hurt like hell. But I kept up, determined to finish the mission or die trying.
At one point, Willie didn’t motion for me to follow. Instead, he pointed off to the left. It took a few seconds for me to see it, but there it was, a cabin or shack of some kind. I could just make it out through the trees. I nodded to Willie, letting him know I’d spotted it. Gesturing for me to stay put, he moved closer to it, never leaving my sight. Once he felt it safe, he motioned for me to join him. I scurried over the ground carefully until I reached him. Once there, he pointed again. This time I saw three vehicles. I recognized all three. One was my rental car. One was the truck parked in front of the cabin at the North Woods—McKenna’s truck. The third was the old rusty truck that had tried to run me down earlier.
I wanted to rush the cabin. My eagerness to see Greg alive and unharmed fought with my better judgment to wait and follow Willie’s instructions. For a change, my good sense won out.
Willie pointed at the vehicles and mouthed, “Grady?”
I shook my head. I pointed at the old truck and pantomimed someone hitting my face. I pointed to the second truck and mouthed, “McKenna.”
We watched the cabin for signs and sounds of movement but saw none. The cabin was at an angle to our view. To the left was a short wall without windows. Next to it was parked the old truck. The other wall was longer and had a high, narrow window much like the cabin at the North Woods. It looked like the main window and door were on the opposite side, facing the other cars. From where we crouched, it was impossible to see who or how many were in there. We waited some more, but no one came out that we could see. Willie could have put an Indian tracker to shame with his stealth and patience.
Willie again gestured for me to stay put. Knowing my tendency to ignore orders, he made the gesture several times to underscore its importance. Then he took off, moving slowly and quietly from tree to tree until he was next to the cabin, directly under the window. I could tell he was listening, trying to pick up any sounds from inside. He held his gun ready.
I watched as Willie started to move around the corner and down the shorter side wall, squishing himself against it. When the old truck obstructed my view of him, I got nervous, allowing myself to breathe only when he once again came into my line of vision. Hi
s attention was on the old truck. I watched as he reached inside the back and checked something out. Then he looked my way, again giving me the signal to stay put.
Satisfied that I understood his signal, Willie started back the other way, down the longer wall until he reached the corner and peeked around it. Then he turned the corner, once again disappearing from my sight. Remaining behind a couple of trees, I shifted from foot to foot in a nervous dance.
While Willie was skulking around the far corner, I heard a door open, and a man walked from the cabin to the black truck. It was the guy I’d seen at the North Woods—Tara Brown’s lover—Frankie McKenna. In his hand was a plastic grocery bag.
“Just gonna get another pack of cigarettes,” he called to someone in the cabin. He went to the truck, opened the passenger’s side, and stashed the bag inside. After closing the door, he leaned against the side of the truck, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one.
I looked again for Willie, but nothing. It drove me nuts not to know what he was up to. I glanced at McKenna, watching him puff away like he was on a coffee break. Once finished, he crushed the butt in the dirt at his feet and headed back towards the cabin. “Let’s give the bitch a call,” I heard him say, “and see if she’s got the money yet. I’m sick and tired of waiting. I want to get out of here.”
There was no way Willie didn’t hear that, too. It was then I saw him come back around the corner. He motioned to me and I motioned back, letting him know I was retreating. He nodded in agreement.
Knowing my phone was going to ring and I would be expected to answer it, I moved farther away from the cabin, still keeping it in sight. When I thought I was far enough away, I crouched behind some large bushes. Shortly after I arrived, Willie joined me.
“When he calls,” Willie whispered, “tell him you have the money and are ready to meet him.”
“That’s the guy from the motel,” I whispered back. “That’s Frankie McKenna—and he’s probably the guy who chased me.”
“The cabin has a small bedroom in the back. That’s where they have Greg.”
“Is he okay?” My heart skipped a beat, and I found it hard to keep my voice down.
“Shh, yes, he seems fine. He’s tied to the bed. There’s just the guy and a woman, I think. No sign of anyone else.”
Corpse on the Cob Page 26