Death Takes a Ride (The Cate Kinkaid Files Book #3): A Novel

by Lorena McCourtney

Maybe she should start a sideline of door-to-door sales so she’d always have an excuse for dropping in on anyone. And a backup career if the investigative business tanked. Kinkaid Investigations and Kitchen Gadgets? Kinkaid Investigations and Lingerie?

  Cate wasn’t sorry to hurry on home. It was a fantastic spring day, cloudless blue sky, warm sun, a day made for digging and planting. She changed into denim shorts and tank top and stepped out the back door.

  Mitch’s shirt was open, sleeves rolled up, shirttails flapping, dark hair falling over his forehead as he manhandled the rototiller. The ground hadn’t been worked up in a long time, years probably, and occasionally the machine made a bucking-bronc leap, but he had the muscles to keep it under control. Cate couldn’t say that muscular-male types had ever particularly impressed her, but now … Hmmm. She could see a certain appeal after all. Something attractively elemental about a man wrestling with machine and earth.

  He made a turn at the corner, spotted Cate, and shut the rototiller off. He grabbed a piece of old towel out of his back pocket and wiped sweat off his face and neck as he walked toward her.

  There was something unexpectedly appealing about honest male sweat too. And who’d have thought a streak of dirt across a cheek could be so attractive?

  “Hey, how’d it go?” he asked.

  “She hadn’t come to work yet. I’ll have to go back later.”

  “What do you think so far?” Mitch waved across the expanse of tilled earth.

  He’d started by ripping an outline of the intended garden area and was working inward from there. The space was at least double the size Cate had intended. If she had any success growing things, she could supply a vegetarian army.

  “It’s, um, a little larger than I expected. But that’s okay,” she added quickly.

  “I guess I kind of got carried away,” Mitch admitted. “But you can learn canning and freezing and drying. All that good pioneer stuff.”

  Yeah, right. She might also learn to flap her ears and fly.

  Perhaps realizing that, he added, “Or Helping Hands can always use donations of produce to give to needy families.”

  Donations she could do.

  They worked until noon, Mitch rototilling, Cate raking, Clancy digging. All getting dirt-streaked and grubby. They stopped for a quick lunch, then went back to work. By 2:30, when Cate reluctantly stopped to shower, they had rows of carrots, radishes, and lettuce seeds in the ground. Perky little packets impaled on a stick at the end of each row identified what would soon be sprouting there.

  Mitch plants, I water, God gives the increase. The biblical version of those words had a spiritual garden in mind, but maybe it applied to earthy gardens too. You okay with that, Lord? Even if I’m not planting parsnips or rutabagas? God had no doubt created them with good intentions, but she hated parsnips and rutabagas.

  She was back at the convenience store by 3:10. She didn’t spot Lily’s pickup in the parking area, but inside the store she saw Lily in skimpy shorts and tank top working the cash register. No chance to talk to her, however. The little store was so busy that all Cate could do was ask Lily if she’d get a break soon.

  Lily eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

  “I need to talk to you. It won’t take more than a few minutes.”

  “Talk about what?” More suspicion.

  “About someone you might know.”

  Lily’s glossy pink lips compressed into a thin line, but she finally nodded. “Okay. I guess I owe you that. I tried to call you.”

  Cate couldn’t think why Lily owed her anything, but she wasn’t about to argue the point.

  “I usually take a break about 4:00 if you want to wait until then,” Lily said.

  “I’ll be out in my car.”

  “Sometimes Andy shows up about my break time too.”

  Was that a warning? Cate went to the car to wait and fidget about several things. Why had Lily tried to call her? How did she get the number? Cate purposely hadn’t left a card at the apartment. Again, she thought Andy’s keeping quiet about knowing the gunman at H&B was definitely odd. Maybe, that night she was at the apartment, he was afraid if he mentioned knowing Jackson, she’d tell the police and they’d pull him in for questioning? Details of Andy’s lifestyle might not bear magnifying-glass inspection.

  The car heated up on the warm spring day. She moved it into shade cast by a tree on a neighboring lot, angled so she could watch for Andy. No self-service gas in Oregon, and a steady stream of customers kept the attendants on the gas pumps busy. Many gas buyers also went into the store and came out with arms loaded. With nothing else to do, she started analyzing purchases: 60 percent of the customers bought soft drinks, 75 percent beer, and 90 percent some type of chips.

  The fascinating life of the fully licensed PI. Kinkaid Investigations and Statistical Junk Food Analyst?

  4:00 and 4:30 came and went.

  Cate was about to expand her analysis into brand names of beer and soft drinks, or maybe just leave and try to catch Lily another time, when she spotted the woman coming out a rear door of the store. It was 4:35 by then. She had two soft drink cans in hand. Cate stepped out of the car and waved to her.

  Lily didn’t apologize for her lateness. “I brought Pepsi and 7UP.” She held out both cans and Cate selected the green one. Lily went around to the passenger’s door and slid inside.

  “Thanks for taking time to talk to me,” Cate said. “Andy didn’t come to share your break today?”

  “He has the pickup. He was going out to Junction City this afternoon. I guess he didn’t get back yet.”

  “He’s looking for a job out there?”

  Lily gave her a what-planet-are-you-from look. “He went to look at a trailer for sale. It’s supposed to be a nice one, and he says we’ll have plenty of money as soon as he sells that old bike.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  “You’re still thinking about going down to Nevada or Arizona with him?”

  Lily shifted in the car seat and ignored the question. “Look, I want to thank you for telling me about the restraining order and how to do it and everything. I think it got through to Dirk. That’s what his sister said when I talked to her, anyway. So I really appreciate it. I tried to call and thank you.”

  “I’m glad I could help.” But … “How did you get my phone number?”

  “Andy got it somewhere. I don’t know where.”

  Great. Now she was on a killer’s friend’s speed dial? Not that her number would be all that difficult to locate, but why had Andy bothered to do it?

  “I guess I’m surprised you and Andy are still together,” Cate said.

  “He doesn’t have any place else to go.” Lily sounded mildly frustrated, as if Andy were a stray creature that had wandered in and she hadn’t the heart to shoo him away. “But he keeps saying he’ll have all this money coming in soon. I guess that stupid old motorcycle really is worth more than it looks like.”

  “He’s talked to Mr. Halliday at H&B about buying it?”

  “They’re haggling over price or something. I keep telling Andy he should just do it, but he says the longer he holds out, the more the guy will pay.”

  Cate tapped the 7UP can against the steering wheel. None of this corresponded to what Halliday had said, which was that he hadn’t talked to Andy Timmons at all. Was Andy stringing Lily along by telling her some pie-in-the-sky story about a big chunk of money coming in soon?

  Cate didn’t reveal that Halliday had said he’d had no contact with Andy, but she asked, “Do you suppose it could be someone other than Mr. Halliday who’s interested in the bike now?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Who knows? Andy likes to play games with his little secrets. Or maybe it’s the truth he plays with. If he ever does get any money, I’m going to tell him, ‘Great! Now take it and get your sorry butt out of here.’”

  Cate blinked at the wording, but she figured the meaning was definitely a good idea.

  “What I wanted to talk to you about is something
to do with Andy. Actually, a friend of his,” Cate said carefully. Lily, for all her snarky remarks about Andy, might reverse directions and get defensive if she thought he was threatened.

  “You said before you’re not police.” Lily made a suspicious question out of the statement.

  “I’m not. But in this situation I’m working on, I came across the fact that Andy knew Mace Jackson, the guy who shot the man at Mr. Halliday’s place of business.”

  Lily straightened her slouch on the car seat. “Who says Andy knew him?”

  Yes, definitely a hint of challenge or even hostility. Cate knew she had to maneuver carefully here.

  “I talked with someone who saw Andy and Mace together at a bicycle shop here in town.”

  “Why would they be at a bicycle shop?” Lily scoffed. “Andy wouldn’t ride a bicycle if you gave it to him.”

  “Mace Jackson was into bicycle racing,” Cate said. “Apparently he also used a bicycle as his main transportation.”

  “Weird. I haven’t ridden a bicycle since I was, oh, like twelve.”

  “I’m wondering if you knew him too?”

  “You said his name was Mace something? Like in that stuff the police use in riots? Is that his real name?”

  “It’s what he was using.”

  “Why would anyone name a baby Mace?” Lily wrinkled her nose. “If I’m ever a mother, I’m going to name my baby something nice. Darcy if it’s a girl. Shawn if it’s a boy.”

  Cate gave a moment’s thought to baby names. She rather liked Jacob. Or Mark. Maybe Eli. Definitely not Mace. Had Mitch ever thought about baby names?

  Mental whack. How did they get off on this rabbit trail? Was Lily deliberately sidetracking her? Cate yanked the subject back to where she wanted it.

  “Did you know Mace Jackson? Or hear Andy mention him?”

  Lily shook her head negatively to both questions, but when Cate added the description, Lily’s eyes widened within their framework of black eyeliner and sooty eye shadow.

  “Hey, yeah, I remember him. I never heard his name, but I remember those awful skulls on his hand.” Lily flexed her fingers. “He was at the trailer with Andy one time when I got home from work. We used to live in a trailer my brother owned. But I guess you knew that, didn’t you?” She spoke as if knowing too much was a definite flaw in Cate’s character makeup.

  “What was Andy’s connection with him?”

  “They’d been smoking pot in the trailer. I could smell it. I was really mad. Andy had promised he wasn’t into dealing or even using anymore. I kicked ’em all out of the trailer right then and there. But Andy had money the next day, and I was pretty sure he’d gotten it from selling pot to that Mace guy.”

  “Was Mace from around here? Or how did Andy know him?”

  “The guy wasn’t living here in Eugene when he was at the trailer. I remember because I asked. I wasn’t about to have him hanging around all the time. I think he’d come down from Corvallis or somewhere up there.”

  “Salem?”

  “Could be. Andy and him knew each other from somewhere before. Maybe when Andy was growing up down in California. But I don’t think they were really good friends. He even got Andy’s name wrong and called him Artie once. And I don’t know why he was here in town when he was at the trailer.”

  “Mace Jackson’s name was in the news after he shot Mr. Blakely in the robbery attempt, and was then shot himself by Matt Halliday. Did Andy have any reaction to that?”

  “I don’t remember any.”

  So Andy wasn’t shedding tears or stomping around in outrage about his friend’s demise at Matt Halliday’s hand. But maybe he was even then working on the old theory of “don’t get mad, get even.”

  “It seems odd, when the shooting at H&B happened, that Andy didn’t even mention he knew the guy or that you’d met him too,” Cate said.

  “Andy doesn’t tell me things he figures I don’t want to hear.” Lily’s eyes narrowed, but then, with her usual ambivalence about Andy, she added, “He says it’s because he doesn’t want to worry me unnecessarily.”

  Right. Andy the noble-hearted protector of the weaker sex.

  “Why are you asking all these questions anyway?” Lily demanded. “What difference does it make if Andy knew this Mace guy?”

  Cate pulled a copy of the threatening note out of her purse and handed it to Lily. “This is a copy, of course. The original, using words cut out of a newspaper, was sent to Mr. Halliday at H&B.”

  Lily studied the copy of the note as if it were a lengthy treatise, not just seven words. “And you think that just because Andy knew this guy, maybe he sent the note?”

  “I don’t necessarily think that. But I am investigating the situation.” For the very first time, Cate pulled out her brand-new official identification card and held it up for Lily to see.

  “You mean you are with the police?” Lily asked, her voice both shocked and accusing.

  “No, we’re a private investigative agency. No connection with the police.”

  Lily grabbed the identification card. “So I don’t have to answer your questions if I don’t want to.” Lily flipped the official identification card back to her, apparently unimpressed, and Cate felt mildly deflated.

  Lily picked up the copy of the note again. “What does it mean in here, ‘con man’? Is this Halliday a crook or something?”

  “Customers sometimes think they’re getting ripped off even if a business is entirely honest and ethical.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Last weekend some woman was screaming about our charging way more for some cereal than they do at Safeway.”

  Cate nodded. “Exactly.”

  Although she had to admit it was possible H&B had pulled some shady deals. She remembered Uncle Joe telling her that just because someone hired you didn’t mean the client was necessarily a good guy. Bad guys could hire an investigator too. She couldn’t think, given Matt Halliday’s pickiness and work ethic, that he’d take any shortcuts on a car restoration. Kane Blakely she wasn’t so sure about, however. Big gray area there about the company’s ethics and workmanship.

  “So has anything happened to Mr. Halliday?” Lily’s question sounded more like challenge than concern.

  “Someone tried to run over him in a parking lot.”

  Lily shrugged. “Big deal. Andy practically got run over a couple of nights ago too, just crossing the street near our apartment. The world is full of idiot drivers.”

  “Whoever tried to run Mr. Halliday down was driving a light-colored pickup,” Cate said.

  The implication wasn’t lost on Lily. She squirmed in the seat and pulled the tight tank top away from her body as if she’d been hit with a sudden heat wave.

  “That doesn’t prove anything! There’s a zillion light-colored pickups. There’s one right over there.” Lily jabbed a finger in the direction of a battered tan pickup on the far side of the parking lot.

  Given Lily’s now hostile attitude, Cate figured this interview was over, but she dropped in a final all-purpose question. “Is there anything else you can tell me? Something I may have forgotten to ask about?”

  “No.” Hesitation. Lily eyed the building, as if she’d like to jump out of the car and run back to work. “Well, maybe. There was another guy at the trailer that day with Andy and Mace. Biker guy.”

  “A friend of Andy’s?”

  “He was there with Mace. Zig somebody. Right after my brother moved his trailer into town for me, before I met Andy, I ran around with a biker guy. He and Zig were friends.”

  Although Cate’s first thought was that Lily could possibly use some counseling on boyfriend selection, she didn’t say anything. Being involved with motorcycles and motorcycle people was not a character flaw, as Mitch had pointed out to her.

  “Did Zig recognize you at the trailer too?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Cate found that hard to believe. Lily’s looks weren’t traffic-stopping, but her bleached-blonde hair, nightclub makeup, and
curvy figure did not fade into the woodwork.

  As if hearing that unspoken thought, Lily said, “I had brown hair and weighed a lot more then. Anyway, I never told Andy I’d met Zig before.” She wrinkled her pert nose again. “He’d make a federal case out of it for sure.”

  “Do you have any idea how I could get in touch with Zig?”

  “Why?”

  “Because it seems likely some friend or business associate of Mace Jackson is out to get Matt Halliday. If this Zig was a good friend of Mace’s—”

  Lily jumped on that possibility like Octavia on a morsel of tuna. “Maybe he sent the threatening note!”

  “I’d like to investigate that.”

  “Bunch of biker guys used to hang out on Saturday nights at a place called the Midnight Logger out in the sticks down near Lorane. I was there a few times.” Lily sounded eager to supply information now, anything to divert suspicion away from Andy. “Somebody there would probably know if Zig was still around.”

  Cate wasn’t familiar with the town, but Mitch probably was. “What kind of place is this where they hang out?”

  “Bar. Live music. Restaurant. Little grocery store. Gas station. Lots of testosterone and ego and black leather. Fights in the parking lot.”

  Maybe not a five-star rating.

  “Could you give me a description of Zig?”

  “Short, but heavy built. Tattoos all over both arms. Bald. I don’t know if that was natural or he shaved it. Usually he wore a bandana tied over it, you know, like bikers do. Heavy beard, kind of grayish. He usually wore a fancy black vest, with about a mile of fringe. And a heavy gold chain with a coiled snake engraved on the pendant.” With an unexpected smile, she added, “You know, your average biker guy.”

  Lily went silent then, and Cate wondered if she was reconsidering the wisdom of supplying this information.

  “Anything else?”

  “Nope.”

  Cate drained the last of her 7UP and handed the empty can back to Lily. Oregon had a nickel deposit on cans. “I really appreciate your taking the time to talk to me today. I hope everything works out fine with the restraining order on your ex.” She reached for her seat belt.

  Lily held the two cans on her bare thighs, as if it were important the tops lined up exactly even. She made no move to get out of the car.