by Sylvia Nobel
He about fell all over himself. “Sure thing. Be right back.”
He was gone for quite a while. When he came out, he said, “Funny you’d want these. John Dexter asked about them too.”
I kept my face impassive. “Really? Why?”
“Oh, you would have had to know him. He was always snooping around trying to rustle up trouble. He acted like he was working for the National Enquirer sometimes.”
“I read in some old editions of the Sun that he didn’t think ah…you guys were working very hard to solve the second case. The Perkins girl.”
He took offense at that. “Well, he was full of shit! Oh, excuse me, I mean…John accused Roy of sitting on his hands, but I’m here to tell you that he worked his butt off on that case. The fact that someone back in Washington screwed up and misplaced the file wasn’t his fault. John reported that wrong.” He waved a hand vehemently. “It was nothing of the kind. Roy took a real personal interest in that case and this other one too,” he said tapping the folders. “Of course, as you’ll see, there wasn’t much left of the first body.
I read through the reports. “Who did the face sheets on these?”
“Roy.”
“His handwriting isn’t the best is it?”
“It’s awful. I can barely read it myself.”
“I’m having trouble with parts of these descriptions as to where the bodies were found. Can you clarify them for me?”
He shrugged. “They were both found on the Talverson ranch.”
That jarred me. “That’s kind of a strange coincidence, isn’t it?”
He shrugged and made a face. “Not really. He’s got one hellacious bunch of land. Thousands of acres.”
I kept my expression bland even though the information left me feeling non-plussed. I examined every sheet of paper in the files and it didn’t take me long to discover John Dexter had been right.
“Um…there’s reference made here to toxicology reports yet I don’t find them in either of these files. Is there some reason they’re not with the autopsy information?”
He blinked and frowned. “Well, no. They should be there.” He came over and stood close to me. In fact he was so close, his shoulder touched mine. “Hmmm. Well, they must’ve been misfiled. He thumbed toward the back and said in a low voice, “Julie’s real nice, but a little dense. She’s famous for losing things and misfiling.” He puffed out his chest. “I’ll look into this for you. By the way, is there some special reason they’re so important to you?”
I’d been hoping he wouldn’t ask. “Having them would really help me out with this article. Make it more complete and round out the series, you understand.”
He gave me a knowing nod even though I’m sure he didn’t have a clue as to what I was talking about.
I thanked him for taking the time to help me, and asked him to contact me when he found the missing reports. He promised and about broke an ankle getting to the door to open it for me, and then saluted good-bye.
In the car once more, I studied Dexter’s note again. The first clue was now confirmed…wait just a minute! I’d misread it. It didn’t say ’t prof.’ It said ‘prop’. Obviously ‘T prop’ stood for Talverson property.
While Deputy Potts had dismissed it as unimportant, John must have thought it significant or he wouldn’t have written it down. The implication made me feel a little ill. This might be the connection he’d referred to. Add the two teens plus Stephanie and that meant three people had died on the Talverson property in two years. I interrupted my next thought before it fully materialized.
My last stop before heading into work was the bus station. It was a tiny place located in a crumbling brick building next to a shoe repair shop and across the street from Lucinda’s restaurant. The smell of homemade bread filled the air and it was easy to see why the place would act as a beacon to hungry travelers. That thought triggered the memory of the scraggly young girl Lucinda had so roughly ejected.
I savored the cool blast of air-conditioning as I stepped inside and immediately introduced myself to a portly white-haired gentleman named Farley Shupe. After chatting about the warm weather for a few minutes, I told him about my story on the runaways. He verified the fact that Castle Valley appeared to be a dropping off place for teens, girls especially.
“It just churns my gut to see those pathetic little gals. I make it a point to send them over to the shelter for something to eat.”
“It must be a great source of pride for the town to have someplace these girls can go for help.”
“It sure is. Before they moved into that house over there on Tumbleweed, I used to direct them to the church. But, there got to be so many, there wasn’t room.” A look of sorrow passed over his face. “It was a real tragedy when Violet was killed. I used to see her in church every Sunday and I’ll tell you, a kinder, more generous lady, I’ve never known. She had…what do you call it? Real empathy.”
“I guess Claudia Phillips is the same sort of person?” He hesitated a second. “I guess she’s got a good heart or she wouldn’t be doing what she’s doing. She provides their bus tickets and makes sure they’ve got new clothes and stuff but…I don’t know, she seems a bit standoffish, if you know what I mean.”
It was nice to hear my thoughts about her confirmed. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out the photo of John Dexter. “Mr. Shupe, do you recognize this man?”
He studied the photo. “Oh sure. That’s John Dexter. I guess he left before you got here, huh?”
“Yes. He left quite a few personal items behind in his desk, and I’d really like to send his things along to him. It’s my understanding he may have relocated to Nogales with a…friend. Did he mention where he might be staying when he bought the tickets. He did buy two didn’t he?”
“Well, I think so.” He paged through a journal on the counter and his finger stopped at one of the entries. “Nope. I was wrong. It says here he only bought one ticket to Nogales.”
12
Morton Tuggs’ well-worn chair let out a squeaky groan as he leaned back and laced his fingers behind his neck. He puffed out an extended breath and stared at the ceiling for a while before meeting my eyes again. “So, what do you make of it to this point?” he asked.
I’d just given him a rundown on all the information I’d uncovered regarding John Dexter. “I hate to tell you I don’t know, but, to be truthful, all we have right now is a bunch of unrelated clues and your suspicion that Roy is somehow involved in his disappearance. I’m not getting a clear picture on anything,” I said, half apologetically.
He studied one of the many colorful travel posters on his wall while chewing the end of his pen. When he turned back to me, he sounded agitated. “Well, let’s go over it again. Maybe something will start to make some sense.”
I read my notes aloud for the second time. “John disappeared the afternoon or evening of March 29th. The last person to see him was Roy Hollingsworth who claims John was speeding south on highway 89…”
“And today,” he said emphatically, stabbing his pen in my direction, “is the first time I’ve heard that.”
“Do you think Roy just forgot to mention it to you? It’s possible, isn’t it?”
He looked skeptical. “Is it just me? Don’t you think this whole thing a bit odd? I know it happens, but from what you’ve discovered, do you think John would just up and leave town without saying good-bye to a single soul?”
“Well, I didn’t know him, but you said yourself he was a flake.”
“So you believe Roy?”
“I’m not making excuses for him, I don’t even know the man. But to be perfectly honest, until this morning I was beginning to think you were way out in left field. Now I don’t feel that way. There are too many strange clues that have been overlooked or poorly handled by the sheriff’s department.”
“Do you think it’s because Roy’s an idiot? Or do you think he’s hiding something?”
“I don’t know yet. But this is what we do know. John had
several secretive phone calls from some unknown female. He bought one ticket to Nogales, Mexico. He called you to say he was meeting someone who had information so vital, it would turn the town on its ear, right?”
Tugg nodded, opened a drawer and took several swallows from a blue bottle. “Stomach’s acting up again.”
“We know his girlfriend Yolanda fully expected him to return, yet he was never seen again after Roy ticketed him.” I flipped to the next page in my notebook. “Now, what we don’t know is whether Roy is even involved. If we make the assumption that John met with foul play, then it makes sense that someone cleaned out his place to make it look as though he’d just skipped town. But what if he really sent for his belongings? Then where is he?”
Like the shadow from a cloud, another weary, troubled look passed over Tugg’s face. “This business about his truck really bugs me. John thought his Toyota was the greatest thing since microwave popcorn. If he bought that ticket to Nogales for himself, what the hell did he do with his truck? Sell it in Phoenix before he left? And why would he do that?”
I heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. I could understand it better if he’d bought two tickets, but one…” Hesitating, I met his eye. “It sounds to me as if he bought that ticket for someone else, that he never intended to go to Nogales. I believe Yolanda when she says he told her he was coming back. Now all I have to do is find out who he bought the ticket for.”
“What about the missing medical records on those two dead girls?” Tugg asked. “What’s the connection there?”
“I’m not sure there is one. Potts says the records exist, but they’ve been misfiled. He didn’t seem suspicious or upset that I’d asked to see them and said he’d cooperate in trying to locate them as soon as possible. He also said Roy has worked very hard on the two cases, and that’s contrary to what John was insinuating.”
He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “God, this is exasperating! The more you find out, the less we know.”
I wondered if he was comparing my reporting skills to my dad, who’d been tops in his field. “Just give me a little more time. I’m going to have a look at those medical records as soon as Potts finds them. Maybe I’ll find some shred of evidence that’ll tie Roy into this. What’s your game plan if I do?”
“It’s funny,” Tugg mused, staring blankly out the window. “Half of me wants to tell you to just let sleeping dogs lie, yet the other half doesn’t. For my wife’s sake, I pray Roy isn’t involved. But if he is, and he gets wind of this, he’ll sue me, call the loan and this paper is history. Remember, this is a small community. Secrets are hard to keep.”
I smiled encouragingly at him. “So far, he doesn’t know anything and there’s nothing to tie my investigation to you. I’ve been super careful to say only that I’m looking for Dexter in order to return some stuff he left behind. Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky and discover he really did just skip out.” It was obvious that neither of us believed that.
I returned to my office to study the assignment sheet. With the first of June fast approaching the town was gearing up for the week long Gold Dust Days celebration. Jim jokingly called it the ‘last gasp’ before the snowbirds packed up and made tracks for their homes in the east and midwest. After that, he informed me, Castle Valley citizens pulled in the sidewalks to wait out the sizzling summer.
“Sounds charming,” I muttered while copying my assignments, then looked up as Al Robertson from classifieds stuck his head in the door.
“Hey, you guys, everybody’s getting together after work tonight to chug a few beers and celebrate Lupe’s birthday. We’re all meeting over at Angelina’s around six. You wanna come?”
He gave me a wide smile and a feeling of warmth spread through me. For the first time I felt accepted as ‘one of the gang.’
“Count me in,” Jim replied with enthusiasm.
“Well, Kendall,” Bradley said, leaning back in his chair, “this will be your chance to have some authentic Mexican food.” His steady gaze made my pulse skip.
Smiling, I said, “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Okay, see you folks later.” Al saluted and left. All three of us had assignments centered around Gold Dust Days. Jim grabbed his camera and left. I knew Bradley was on his way to the fairgrounds to talk with rodeo personalities, and my assignment was to interview the head of the Chamber of Commerce and the winner of the Queen of the Gold Dust Parade competition.
When I returned in late afternoon Ginger, on the phone as usual, gave me an excited thumbs up and a dazzling smile as I went by. I didn’t know why until I rounded the corner to my office.
My mouth gaped at the sight. There on my desk stood a vase filled with at least two dozen magnificent long-stemmed roses.
Bradley and Jim both eyed me in silence. Puzzled, I inquired brightly, “So. What’s the occasion?” For a fleeting second, I wondered if they were from Bradley. But a big, flashy vase of flowers didn’t seem his style.
“We were kinda hoping you’d tell us.” A wicked twinkle gleamed in Jim’s eyes.
“Apparently, you have an admirer,” Bradley said quietly and then turned his back to me. The warm companionable mood I’d sensed earlier seemed to have vanished.
I crossed the room and pulled a small white envelope from the bouquet. “Your promised evening of enchantment still awaits. Please say you’ll dine with me on Friday.” It was signed: Eric Heisler.
I buried my face in the sweet blooms, inhaling deeply. The man definitely had class. I couldn’t ever remember receiving such a romantic invitation in my life. How could I turn it down? And why should I?
Jim was insistent. “Come on, let’s have it. Who’d send you a hundred bucks worth of posies?”
“My father,” I announced sweetly, meeting Bradley’s eyes as he glanced over his shoulder. He had to know I was lying. The stony look on his face made me feel as if I’d done something wrong.
Ginger cornered me later in the restroom, squealing with excitement. “Praise the Lord, you’ve gone and hooked the big one! Now don’t tell me them flowers are from your pa.” She closed one eye and wagged her finger in my face. “I knew the second Eric Heisler got a peek at you in that dress last Saturday, he’d be a goner for sure.” Placing both hands over her heart, she crooned, “I am assumin’ y’all will want me to be your maid of honor. And, missy, how many layers will you be needin’ on your weddin’ cake? I like chocolate.”
“Calm down, Ginger. He just asked me to dinner.”
“Well that’s just the first step, sugar pie.”
“I haven’t even agreed to go yet. I’m thinking it over.”
She gave me a pained look. “You’re thinkin’ it over? You’re thinkin’ it over! Good gravy, girl, you know the odds of catching a stud like him? Why they’d have to be a zillion to one, ’specially in this town.”
“I don’t know, Ginger. I asked Bradley to tell me why he acted so awful toward Eric, and he did.”
Her lips rounded into a little O. “Mercy me! He beat me to it. So, what’d he say?”
I moved to the mirror and applied fresh lipstick. Giving her a sidelong glance, I replied, “That his wife Stephanie and Eric Heisler had been having an affair.”
She looked puzzled. “Well, so what?”
“So what? Bradley’s asked me to dinner and now, so has Eric.”
“Well, good lord girl, we should all have such a problem. I’m gonna have to hogtie my fellow to get him to the altar and you’re complaining ’cause you’ve got two of ’em banging down your door.”
I sighed wearily. “Oh, Ginger. I’m not sure I want to get into the middle of something like this. I think they still hate each other.”
“That was a long time ago. And remember, Eric wasn’t the only guy she was fooling with. What’re you kicking up such a fuss about? Everyone in town knew she and Tally was gettin’ ready to split.”
I zipped my purse shut. “Don’t have a heart attack. I’m going to give it careful consideration, believe
me.”
She sniffed. “Well, I should hope so. Men like Eric only come along once in a blue moon, darlin’. When’s the last time y’all even seen a blue moon?”
“Ginger, you’re incorrigible.” I chuckled and headed toward the door.
“Wait just a second,” she said grabbing my elbow. “Y’all recollect when we was talking Saturday night about my repeating your spider story down at the beauty parlor?”
“Yes.”
“Y’all gonna tell me why you were so upset about that?”
“Probably, but not right at this moment.”
“Oh, me and my big mouth. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Forget it, Ginger. You told me what I needed to know. I’ve got to finish my copy. I’ll talk to you more this evening. You are going to Lupe’s party aren’t you?”
“Is a pig’s ass pork? I’m bringin’ the cake.”
I laughed and almost got out the door when she blurted out, “Will y’all just hold yer horses for one minute?”
“Sorry, what is it.”
“I happened to recall who else was down at Coleen’s but…” she hesitated coyly, looking away. “If y’all ain’t interested…”
“I’m interested.”
“When I thought about it some more, I remembered there was old Mrs. Hatterly, she’s about ninety if she’s a day, and then there was Marcie Ordway, she’s the cashier down at the moviehouse, and then there was the one we was talking about Saturday afternoon?”
“Who?”
“You know. That skinny old gal from over yonder at the shelter. Claudia Phillips.”
13
Ginger’s remark really threw me. I thought about it all the way home. Every time I’d come up with a different theory, out the window it would fly. For the life of me, I couldn’t connect her with the spider prank. Why would Claudia Phillips give a hang about anything I did? And what reason would she have for trying to scare me away from the Delgado Ranch? No. The fact that she had been at the salon with numerous other people could only be a coincidence. It had to be Lucinda. Her unbridled passion for Bradley provided the only motive.