All About the Money (A Jesse Watson Mystery Series Book 7)

by Ann Mullen

  The evening ended on a very pleasant note.

  Billy fell asleep almost immediately, but I couldn’t. I lay in bed wide-awake, until I finally decided to do something about my insomnia. My anxiety was on the edge, so I figured a tranquilizer would calm me down and help me fall asleep. I crawled out of bed and tiptoed to the dresser to get the pills from my purse. After digging around and not being able to find the bottle, it dawned on me that I shouldn’t take a tranquilizer after drinking alcohol anyway—but where was my bottle of pills? I always kept that bottle in a zipped compartment so it wouldn’t fall out of my purse, and end up in the wrong hands. Pills like that would kill a child if ingested all at once.

  The very first thing that flashed in mind was the time I walked into the living room and saw Savannah handling my purse. She said the cat had jumped up on the table and knocked it off. She was just putting the contents that had spilled out back in. I didn’t think anything about it at the time, but I sure did now. Had she taken my bottle of pills? And if so, why? She had her own prescription for Clonazepam. She said so today.

  The next thing I thought about was if the pills could’ve fallen out and were lying under a chair just waiting to be found by tiny fingers. But that thought went as fast as it came. Hawkeye Helene would’ve discovered them the second the bottle hit the floor. She doesn’t miss anything, and she keeps this house spotless.

  I left the purse, walked to the kitchen, and then took out the bottle of bourbon from under the sink. I twisted off the cap, took a big swig, and then put the cap back on. I left the bottle sitting on the counter, and walked back to the bedroom. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I dozed off and the nightmares started.

  Savannah was standing at the counter in her kitchen, pouring pills and booze into a food processor. She had a sadistic, evil look on her face as she blended, folded, and grated her concoction of poison. She poured the potion into a huge glass, and then walked over to McCoy, who was tied to a chair. Cole held McCoy’s head back as Savannah emptied the glass down his throat. Then the two of them started stuffing pills into his mouth. They stuffed and stuffed until the pills started falling out of the sides. Cole and Savannah picked up every fallen one, and shoved them back in. Suddenly, McCoy’s head exploded, and all that was left was a big pile of pills.

  The head exploding thing woke me. I lay there, looking around in the dark and wondering if there was anything to my nightmare. My dreams always have had something to do with what was going on in my life at the time. Did this one have any meaning to it? Was my subconscious trying to tell me something? And if so, maybe next time it won’t be so graphic. Seeing a person being violently force-fed a massive dose of drugs is an ugly sight. One that isn’t easily forgotten. That image will be in my mind long after the dream has worn off.

  Pills had turned McCoy into a raving lunatic, but had he taken them willingly, or had he been given them on the sly by someone he trusted?

  Jumping to conclusions was something I had a habit of doing, but this time I was positive of one thing—Savannah had taken my pills and used them on her husband. Unfortunately, I couldn’t prove my suspicions, so I went back to sleep.

  Another bad dream came. This time, Wynona was standing in my living room with a handgun pointed at us. She started shooting, and I watched my whole family fall right in front of my eyes. Blood was everywhere. She aimed the gun at me, and when it went off, I woke up.

  The sun was out and another day was beginning, but all I could think about was the horrible dreams I had during the night. The visions seemed so real. I could almost smell Savannah’s perfume, and I’ll never forget the look of fear McCoy had on his face while he was being fed the pills. He was so helpless.

  As far as the dream about Wynona was concerned—I was going to put that one out of my head. She couldn’t hurt my family. She was dead. I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. I freshened up and then walked out to the kitchen, following the pleasant smell of coffee.

  “Good morning, everyone,” I said as I walked over, kissed everyone including Helene, and then made my way over to the counter. “I need coffee right now.”

  “You’re just in time for breakfast,” Billy said, sitting at the table. “I made pancakes and sausages. Help yourself.”

  “Why am I always the last one to get out of bed? What time did y’all get up?”

  “Very early,” Billy replied. “I’ve already talked with your mom. They’re coming over for lunch, and we’re going to get things rolling. They’re both very excited and anxious to get to work.”

  “I bet they’re ready to start their new job as soon as possible. I know Mom sounds excited about working with us.”

  “I think this could work, `ge ya.”

  “I think it will. I need to call her before she leaves the house.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a dream last night.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Helene said. “You have the wildest dreams. What did you dream about this time? Who died? Who did you kill? Who killed you? I hope I survived this one.”

  “I’d rather not talk about it just yet. I need some answers to confirm my suspicions, before I say anything. I don’t want y’all to think I’m jumping to conclusions again.”

  “Not you!” Helene joked.

  I had a question that was bugging me, and I wasn’t going to stop until I got an answer. Mom had that answer.

  Chapter 22

  Unlike most people, I’m not a big fan of sausage, so I grabbed a pancake, poured syrup on it, and then rolled it up. I stood by the sink, drinking my coffee and eating my version of breakfast. After my delicious meal, I grabbed my cell phone out of the back pocket of my cargo shorts, and walked out of the room. I had a burning question that I had to ask my mother.

  “Hello,” Mom said after two rings. “What’s going on, Jesse?”

  “Why do you think something’s going on? Can’t I call my mother just to say hello?”

  “Not when you know we’ll be over there soon and can talk then. Something must be important, or you’d wait until I got there. What is it?”

  “I want to ask you something, and I don’t want you to take offense, and I don’t want you to ask me a bunch of questions. I have my reasons. Is that okay with you?”

  “Okay, honey. Ask me.”

  “Remember those pills Dr. Bryant gave you a couple of years ago called Clonazepam? He gave them to you for stress.”

  “How could I forget? He prescribed them for me so I wouldn’t go crazy after I killed Kansas Moon. I didn’t take any of them. You know how I am about taking pills. If I don’t have to, I won’t. Pills can be so bad for you. I avoid them whenever I can get away with it.”

  “Okay. Whatever. We’ve talked about this before. It’s not as if you murdered that crazy man. You were defending yourself. Stop saying you killed him as if you went out and shot him in the head for no reason. Please, Mama.”

  “I’m sorry. I think about it often, and now talking about it to you brings it all back.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  “What’s your question, Jesse?”

  “Do you still have those pills?”

  “Yes, why? Do you need some?”

  “No, Mama. Where are they?”

  “They’re in my top dresser drawer. I put them there to keep them out of the reach of the kids. I even keep my aspirin there. They say not to put them in the bathroom cabinet…”

  “Would you go and see if they’re still there?”

  “Sure, honey. Hold on. I’m going right now.” A few seconds later, she said, “The bottle’s still here, Jesse.”

  “How many pills were in the prescription, and how many do you still have in the bottle?”

  “You want me to count them right now?”

  “Yes, I do, Mama.”

  “The prescription is for thirty pills, so there should be thirty pills in the bottle.”

  “Open the bottle and count how many are in there. Would you do that for me, please?”r />
  “Sure, honey. I’ll have to lay the phone down. I can’t count and…”

  “That’s fine, Mama. Just do it, okay?”

  A minute or two later Mom said, “Jesse, there’s only nine in the bottle. There should be thirty. What’s this all about?”

  “It’s about secrets, Mom. Big secrets. I’ll tell you all about it when you get here.”

  “If you won’t tell me now, it must have something bad to do with Savannah. I’m no fool. I’ve gotten over my unbridled faith in her. I’m not as naive as you might think, my dear. You can tell me.”

  “I think she fed those pills to McCoy… somehow… someway… and I don’t think he ever suspected a thing. McCoy wasn’t the kind of man who’d kill himself, and he surely wouldn’t take a bunch of pills after having suffered through a stroke—knowing he could be left paralyzed. It doesn’t jive. Something is wrong here. I think she stole pills from her friends, and stockpiled them until just the right time.”

  “Can you prove it?”

  “Not a word.”

  “Then what does it matter?”

  “I want to know, and McCoy deserves better.”

  “If what you’re saying is true, the only way we’ll get the truth out of her is if she confesses, and if she’s guilty, she’s not going to admit it. As the old saying goes—only two people know the truth, and one of them is dead. What does Billy have to say about this?”

  “I haven’t told him yet.”

  “Tell him. Maybe she took pills from somebody else. He can check it out. See if there’s a pattern here.”

  “You sound like Lu Ann, our profiler. Speaking of which—Jonathan told her about his fling with Deanna, and she says she can deal with it. Is she not the coolest person?”

  “So, he says.”

  “Who cares? They’re not going to let this minor indiscretion destroy their relationship. Jonathan belongs with Lu Ann. He messed up by cavorting around with Deanna, but it meant nothing. And… it straightened his butt out. He’ll never do that again.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  “He won’t. Trust me. He’s learned his lesson.”

  “Let’s put our thinking caps on, Jesse, and talk more about this when I get there.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “The plans are yet to come.”

  “You can say that again!”

  I closed up my cell phone and walked back into the kitchen. “I’m ready to talk about my dreams now,” I said, sitting down at the table. “I think I’ve come up with some new developments.”

  “We’re listening.”

  “Last night I couldn’t sleep, so I got up to take one of my pills, and the whole bottle was missing. Helene, I did what you told me to do awhile back, and I put them in the zipped pouch on the inside of my purse. There’s no way they could’ve fallen out.”

  “What do your missing pills have to do with anything? Maybe you put them in a drawer somewhere.”

  “No, they were in my purse. Then I remembered the time I caught Savannah going through my bag. She said the cat knocked it on the floor, and she was just picking it up. It didn’t alarm me them, but it does now. So, I figured if she took my pills, she might’ve taken someone else’s pills. I called Mom to see if she still had the ones Dr. Bryant gave her awhile back. She still had them, so I got her to go check, and sure enough, there were only nine pills left in the bottle. There should’ve been thirty.”

  “I don’t get where you’re going with this,” Helene said, confused.

  “I do,” Billy said, with a knowing look on his face. “You must be talking about your Clonazepam. They’re the only pills I know you have. Right? You don’t take any I don’t know about, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. My point is, Mom has a prescription for the same kind of medicine. Mine’s gone, and most of hers is missing, and she said she didn’t take any of them... well... maybe one. What does that tell you?”

  “And you think Savannah stole them?” Helene deduced. “Why would she do that? She takes the same stuff. I’m sure she has her own prescription, and if she ran out, I’m more than sure a doctor would gladly refill it for her.”

  “That’s my point, and any doctor wouldn’t hesitate to give her a refill. She could get all she wanted, pretty much.”

  “Don’t they keep a close eye on controlled substances like that?”

  “Yes, they do,” Billy added. “If someone wanted more than a doctor would prescribe, they’d have to get it somewhere else. If that’s the case, they usually resort to stealing.”

  “Savannah told us she takes Clonazepam. It was one of the drugs she claims McCoy stole from her. But… I just don’t buy into the whole bit about his deliberately taking the overdose of pills, and after that dream last night, I’m convinced he didn’t. I’m positive Savannah’s the one who did it. She crushed the pills into a fine powder, put them in a drink, and then gave him the drink. The drugs didn’t kill him, but they sent him into a psychotic state, which in turn, was the precipitating factor that led to his death. If I could prove it, she’d be charged with his murder.”

  “You’d have to prove she was the one who drugged him, but you can’t,” Helene offered. “You didn’t see her do it, and neither did anyone else. If somebody had seen her do, they would’ve come forward by now.”

  “It’s like Mom said, she’d have to confess. I’m good at getting people to tell me their juice. Sometimes they even like to brag. I know I can get Savannah to confess, but I need evidence to hold over her head. I need that empty bottle.”

  “What bottle?” Helene asked.

  “The bottle of pills she stole from me.”

  “If she did steal your pills, and I’m not saying she did, you don’t really think she’d keep the empty bottle, do you? She’d have to be nuts. It’s incriminating evidence. It’s hard to lie your way out if the proof is staring you right in the face.”

  “I don’t know if she kept the bottle, but I know someone who does. I could ask Lu Ann. She’s a criminal profiler.”

  “You’ve been watching that television show too much,” Helene joked. “You don’t really think you can catch a criminal by profiling their behavior, do you? If that was the case, all the bad people in the world would be in jail.”

  “Yes, I do,” I said, and then looked over at Billy. “You haven’t had much to say. Do you think I’m crazy? I know it was just a dream, but I think there’s something to it. I can’t grasp the concept that McCoy took those pills voluntarily. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

  “McCoy was murdered,” Billy said, insistently. “That has been my thought all along. He would not do what they say.”

  “But... you said...”

  “What I think or might say is not what I can prove. Your theory sounds plausible. I’m sure you have a plan. What is it?”

  “We break in and search her house. We confront her with the pill bottle, and make her talk.”

  “I don’t want to hear this,” Helene said. “And perhaps the kids shouldn’t either.” She looked at Ethan and Maisy. “Would y’all like to take the dogs outside and play?”

  The kids were thrilled. They loved to roll around in the grass with the beasts. I think they liked that better than playing with their toys.

  Billy and I gathered up the kids and took them outside. Helene followed, with the dogs trailing behind her.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” Billy said, looking up at the sky. “The fresh air is good for them.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Helene said as she motioned for us to leave. “Go plan your illegal activities.”

  Billy and I went back inside to do just that.

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to call Lu Ann,” I said as I grabbed my coffee cup and walked over to the pot. “She knows the situation. If we ask her to give us a quickie profile on Savannah, she might just tell us I’m right... or that I’m wrong. What would it hurt? We have an awful lot on the line. Breaking into someone’s house might just void our con
tract. Don’t you think?”

  Billy pulled out his cell phone and said, “I like your suggestion. Let’s give her a call. She might tell us something we’d never thought of. I’m sure she has an insight into situations like this—a situation like Savannah’s in. Do you want to talk to her, or do you want me to?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Make the call.”

  Lu Ann confirmed my suspicion. “They almost always keep a memento from their victim,” she said, her voice coming through the speakerphone on Billy’s cell. “Whether it’s to remind them of how bad they’ve been, or to validate their accomplishments, they’ll keep something. The item doesn’t have to be anything special. Just something... anything. An empty pill bottle wouldn’t be unheard of. If she stole the pills and did what you said, she most likely still has the bottle. It would give her comfort to know she got over on everyone. She’d take pride in her memento, and most likely, she’d put it someplace special… like in a drawer… on a shelf in the closet... or in a jewelry box.”

  “That does it for me,” I said. “I’m ready to shake her down! Let’s take out the trash, baby.”

  “Keep in mind she’s unstable. When you confront her, she might not go along with your offer to let her turn herself in. She’ll fight back, and if she does, she’s going to be very dangerous.”

  “And what’s she going to do?”

  “Kill you in your sleep.”

  “Oh, come on, Lu Ann! She’s not a killer.”

  “That’s not what you’ve been telling me for the last ten minutes. Look, Jesse. It doesn’t matter how or why she kills. The point is, she does. A killer is a killer.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind, but I don’t think there’s going to be a problem. We’re not going to jump in until we’ve devised a good plan. A way in and a way out, so to speak. We have too much to lose.”

  “I’d say you do. If Sheriff Hudson even smells an odor coming from your direction, he’ll crucify you. This time, you will go to jail.”

  “I know. We both do.”

  “Be careful, and if you need reinforcements, I’ll send Jonathan over.”

  “You’re a good woman, Lu Ann.”