BIG BILLY FINALLY SPOKE. “What a way to go.”
“There are worse ways than ending up in a tank of wine,” Sugar said.
“Remember that,” the shorter man said.
“What did your dad say?” Billy asked.
“He was happy to hear BB is dead, unhappy we didn’t kill him, and furious we haven’t found it.”
Sugar pulled at his nose. “So, we’re not done?”
“No, you’re not.” The shorter man was still in his work clothes, pacing the small kitchen in his orange shoes, chain-smoking. “These women you saw in Dallas. You think they are from Arcadia. What did they look like?”
“One was red-headed, the other had black hair,” Billy answered. “Mid- to late-twenties. Hot.”
“Very hot,” Sugar added.
The smaller man nodded. “The black-headed one is called Maxine Leverman. Blue hired her to find BB.”
Billy scratched his head. “You think she might know where it is?”
“I think it’s time to find out,” the small man answered.
THE HOTTEST THING AT THE GUN RANGE
WE WERE BOTH SOAKED with perspiration and although the sun had set and the floodlights were on, the temperature hadn’t dropped below ninety-five. Hamilton wandered out to bring us cold bottles of water and watch. After Cass finished with my stance training, he slipped on a pair of shooting glasses and nodded for Cass to load me up.
I’ll confess: I was feeling a fair amount of fear as I slipped the shiny bullets - cartridges, Cass insisted I call them - into their chambers. Let’s face it, a gun is only as dangerous as the hand that holds it. It’s an inanimate object with no more ability to kill a human being than a parked car. But I felt a huge responsibility as I loaded my new revolver, and silently vowed I would learn everything Cass and Hamilton had to teach me, to perfection. Hamilton watched with eagle eyes and grunted occasionally, but since he never expressed dissatisfaction, I took those noises as approval.
“It’s not very far away,” I said, lifting my chin at the target hanging about ten yards out.
“You won’t shoot things that are far away,” Cass said. “Not at first.”
We donned eye and ear protection. I assumed an Isosceles stance and pulled back steadily on the trigger. Nothing happened. I looked over my shoulder at Cass.
“It’s stiff. Pull steady, but harder,” she said.
I did. The gun kicked and boomed louder than I expected and I jumped, but felt elated when I saw my target flutter.
I turned around, grinning. “I hit it!”
“You nicked it,” Cass clarified. “Be still.”
Hamilton disappeared into the shadows near the booth’s wall as Cass wrapped her arms around me, placing her hands over mine and adjusting my aim. “Squeeze,” she said.
I did. My arms stayed steady despite the gun’s kick.
The paper rippled and Cass said, “Fire until your gun is empty.”
I squeezed the trigger at a steady pace and concentrated on the smallest circle in the bull’s eye. Cass released me and we pulled off our ear protection.
“Now that’s about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” came a sneering voice. “Two chicks making out at the gun range.”
We turned to see Hamilton glaring at a skinny figure standing just outside the floodlights. Hamilton took a step forward and the figure retreated.
“What did you say?” Hamilton demanded.
“Uh, hey Ham. Didn’t see you there,” said an uncertain voice.
Hamilton stepped out of our booth and into the darkness beyond the floodlights. “What do you want, Petchard?”
Cass rolled her eyes at me as the two men walked to the shop.
“Is that Hugo Petchard?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I figured he’d slunk away in shame after realizing he was dating a cross-dresser. He’ll never live that down around here.”
Cass ran my target back to the booth. “Hoffner has him working in the jail, out of public view.”
“Did his daddy pay Hoffner to keep Hugo on?”
“We call them campaign contributions, apparently. Let’s see how you did.”
My first shot had nicked the right side of the paper, but the following four had all struck within the bull’s eye. On the outer circle, but still, I did hit the bull’s eye. With Cass’s help, of course. “Not bad, eh?” I asked.
“You’ll get better,” Cass said.
She clipped a fresh target to the line, ran it way out, and fired sixteen rounds. I ran the target back and smiled. All dead center in a tight cluster.
“Wow,” I said.
“In time, you’ll be that good.” She pointed to the table in the booth. “Now you learn how to clean your gun.”
HIS FAVORITE PERSON LIST
I WAS FRESH OUT of the shower and toweling off, still elated from my first gun training session, when Cass came into the bathroom with my phone.
“It’s the courthouse,” she said with a question in her voice.
“For me?”
She nodded.
I tapped the answer button. “Maxine Leverman.”
“This is Blue. I’ve been arrested.”
I sat on the toilet lid and motioned Cass over. “I’ve got Cass Elliot with me, Blue. Can I put you on speaker?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know, Maxine. I’ve been told not to trust the police.”
“Cass is still on medical leave, Blue. She’s seen all the evidence and she’s not sure you’re the right person to arrest for these murders, so we’re working through your case together.”
She released a long sigh. “Okay, put me on.”
I did, and she and Cass exchanged hellos.
Blue sounded tired but determined. “I’ve realized how serious all this is, that I could be convicted of three murders. That would put me away for a while, and I’ve got too much to do to spend time in prison. Or jail. Whatever this is. Regardless, this is my one call, Maxine, and I picked you. I want to hire you again. I need a lawyer, but I think I need a private detective, too.”
“The agency will help however we can,” I said, crossing my fingers and hoping we took on this kind of work.
“Find the names of some decent criminal attorneys and we’ll go through them. When can you come?”
Cass said, “Visiting hours start at ten o’clock tomorrow.”
“Then I guess that will do. Can I count on seeing both of you then?”
Cass and I exchanged a glance. “It’s probably best if I stay on the periphery of your case, Blue,” Cass said. “Sheriff Hoffner can’t stop me from helping Maxine, but I’m not on his favorite person list right now, so it would help you more if I stay off his radar.”
“Wish I’d managed to stay off his radar, too.” She sounded amused. “Okay. Maxine in the morning it is.”
__________
CASS GAVE ME A quick tutorial on the criminal justice system and provided a list of acceptable criminal attorneys in the area, and some great attorneys outside the immediate area. It’s not like Forney County is a hotbed of crime, and most of our criminals are rather stupid, so greatness in defense is rarely required.
She refused, however, to give me a rundown on the evidence the police had collected in the three murder cases. “I can’t do it, Maxine,” she said. “I’m not on duty, but I can’t divulge that information. Blue has a right to it, but to protect her and me, her attorney will have to file a motion for discovery.”
“Will Hoffner give her attorney any trouble?”
“It’s the judge who rules on the motion.” She looked at her watch. “I’ll call Mitch in the morning and make sure he briefs the DA, so if she manages to retain an attorney tomorrow and he files his motion, maybe we can get the data tomorrow or Tuesday.” She held up a finger. “Hadn’t you better text Babby and Kay to let them know you’ve taken another case?”
She was right. I did and Kay responded that we’d meet at seven in the morning. My job was to bring donut
s. Babby texted requesting a cinnamon swirl.
I convinced Cass to spend the night, and for the next two hours we wrote notes on the giant stickies. We brainstormed suspects, listing every employee at the winery, going through the list of wives again, and talking through motive for Bret’s former band. It was after midnight when we quit and we were both bleary-eyed.
“It’s not coming together, is it?” I asked.
“It’s early days, Max. There’s always a pattern, or some tiny fact or connection that makes a difference. It’s there, but we can’t see it yet.”
“Always?”
She looked at the stickies clinging to my walls. “Always.”
MONDAY
MR. ORANGE SHOES
A MUFFLED SHOUT WOKE me while it was still dark out, sending my heart into overdrive. I sat bolt upright in bed, reached for my shotgun, flicked the safety off, and put the stock to my shoulder, ears straining. It came again and I recognized Cass’s voice. I hurried to my guest room.
She was thrashing in her bed and as she cried out, I realized she was having a nightmare. I left the shotgun by the door and sat beside her, gently shaking her good shoulder. “Cass? Cass, wake up. It’s only a dream.”
Her eyes flew open and the terror I saw in them chilled me. It was the same terror I felt every time I had the rape dream. She was panting and her hands were balled into fists so I talked until the fear faded and relief took its place.
At last she sank back against the pillows and put her hands over her eyes. “Of all the things I hate him for, I hate him for this the most,” she whispered.
“Me, too.”
She looked at me. “You have nightmares?”
“More nights than not.”
She breathed deeply. “What triggers them?”
“I’ve never found any rhyme or reason to when it comes, but it’s always the same. Well, overall.”
“Mine, too. Sometimes current stuff gets mixed up in it, but mostly it’s just him.”
I was chewing my lower lip and forced myself to stop. “Do you think you’re more careful now than before?”
“Oh yes. I’m not as paranoid as you, but sometimes I get close.”
I glanced at the bedside clock. “It’s five. Do you want to go back to sleep?”
“I’d rather run.”
__________
I’LL TELL YOU NOW that I normally run inside on my treadmill. Yes, for security reasons. When I’m running outside and focused on my pace and breathing, I have trouble paying attention to what’s going on around me. Before I agreed to run with Cass, I made her promise to wear her gun. She didn’t hesitate to say yes and borrowed running gear and shoes.
We set out on the trail that runs behind my apartment complex. It’s a paved path that twists fifteen miles in and around the city, through parks, heavily wooded areas, and around the schools. In daylight it’s used by bikers, walkers, joggers, and skaters. At night all bets are off, especially in the area called Deadwood Hollow. Cass humored me as I ran through my security regime of peeking out the windows near the door, stepping out the front door and checking the pool area, club house, and the ground beneath my apartment before turning to lock the deadbolts behind us. The sun was painting luminous peach streaks across the sky when we set out, but I kept an eye peeled for men lurking in the deeper shadows.
Cass was still regaining her stamina after her gunshot wound, so her speed was a little off. We set a comfortable pace and worked our way up to the seven-minute mile mark for the next half hour, then slowed as we worked our way home. Several other runners and two women on bicycles crossed our paths, nodding or giving a slight wave as we passed. I was deep into my zone while we ran and the comfort of knowing Cass was armed let me focus only on my form and breathing. We stopped to stretch and it was as I bent over to work my hamstrings that I saw him.
A man had stopped on the trail behind us, and then stepped into the protective embrace of a thirsty-looking weeping willow. I froze and whispered, “Cass.”
“What?”
“Don’t look, but there’s a man behind us.”
She was leaning against a tree, stretching her calf, and I felt her awareness grow. “Acting strange?”
“He hid in that big willow we passed.”
“Maxine, I need to look. I’m going to turn to talk to you.” She did, and casually looked back up the trail. “I don’t see him. Oh wait. He’s wearing bright orange shoes. Not a good choice for covert work. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Back up the trail, slowly. We’re cooling down. I want to see what he does.”
We walked towards the weeping willow at a leisurely pace. As we drew nearer, I heard a one-sided conversation and peeked between the willow’s feathery limbs to see a dark-haired man with his back to us. He held a phone to his ear with one hand and ran the other through his black hair, speaking a rapid-fire conversation in Spanish.
Cass relaxed and turned around, taking me with her. “See? Nothing. Take me back to your place and teach me how to use that espresso machine.”
PLAYING HARDBALL
KAY’S EYES NARROWED WHEN she pushed open the agency’s door. “How did you beat me here, Maxine?”
I glanced at the computer screen. “It’s six-thirty.”
“That’s my point.” She put her handbag on her desk, yawned, and stretched. “Do I smell coffee?”
I nodded.
“Keep making the coffee and you can come in early any time, boo bear. You want one?”
“Yes, please. Donuts are on the counter.”
She returned with two steaming mugs and perched on the edge of my desk. I flashed the agency’s copy of the Forney Cater at her. “No news about Blue’s arrest.”
“Yet. What are you working on?”
“Blue asked for a list of criminal attorneys. Cass helped me build one last night and I’m adding phone numbers and some of the work their websites say they do.”
“Let me see.”
I twisted the computer screen and she sipped and scrolled through the names.
“Scratch out numbers two and six. They look good on paper but are jerks who charge far too much for what they deliver.” Kay gave me three more names before Babby joined us.
After she had a cup of coffee in one hand and a cinnamon swirl in the other, Babby stood behind me and scanned the list. “Knock off three and five.”
“Why Conrad?” Kay protested.
“He’s not back from his hernia operation.”
“That was at least three months ago.”
“He played a round of golf and ripped his sutures. Got infected.”
“Men,” said Kay.
“Amen.” Babby took another bite and chewed. “Where’s her name?”
“Babby,” Kay warned, and I swear my aunt actually bristled.
“I’m serious. Who’s the meanest, dirtiest, sneakiest lawyer around, Kay? If Blue is our client again, she deserves the best we can give her.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Yvette Hardcastle,” Babby said.
My eyes went wide. “She’s the one who got Diann Vega off for killing her husband, right?”
Babby nodded. “But that was justifiable homicide. He dumped her clothes in the pig pen.”
“After she set his Mustang on fire,” Kay said.
“He deserved it,” Babby retorted. “She was bleeding from lacerations all over her body when they found her. How many stitches did it take to sew her up? It was weeks before the bruises disappeared.”
“What’s wrong with Yvette Hardcastle, Aunt Kay?” I asked.
“She plays hard. Has no qualms about throwing feces wherever she can find it to get her client off.”
“That’s what Blue needs, isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” Kay said, looking pointedly at Babby. “But Blue has a reputation to protect, and a business to run after all this murder stuff is done. Diann was a cheap slut who hit the right set of circumstances to justify killing her no-good-dog of a
husband.”
“You’re saying the attorney she chooses could impact how people in the community see her?” I asked.
“I’m saying if she killed three people, she needs somebody who can show how dire her situation was and that she had no choice but to act. And then convince a jury it was self-defense.”
“That’s Hardcastle,” Babby said.
“And if she didn’t do it, she’ll need somebody who can dig into the evidence to demonstrate without a doubt that she didn’t.”
“Hardcastle can do that, too, but she loves throwing poop more,” Babby said, and popped the last bite of cinnamon swirl into her mouth.
“Blue picked Lost and Found because she liked the idea of an all woman agency,” I said. “Ovaries might win the day again.”
“If they do, they do. I’m not sure how she’ll feel about working with us, though.” Babby looked at Kay. “Can you play nice?”
“Don’t bring that up, Barbara.”
“It’s relevant, Kay. Our duty is to provide the best service possible to Blue. If you slip into cat-fight mode with Yvette, Blue’s the one who suffers.”
Kay lifted her chin. “I can work with anybody.”
“The past is the past?”
I tried not to ping pong back and forth between them, but this was interesting.
Kay’s look was steely. “Was it a problem on the Smith case?”
“No, but we were working for the prosecution. You’d have to work side-by-side with her on this case.”
“Maxine would have to work side-by-side with her.”
“You know what I mean, Kay.”
I couldn’t stand it anymore. “What happened?”
“No,” Kay said in a flat tone that brooked no argument.
“She needs to know,” Babby replied.
“That’s water under the bridge. It has no bearing on my ability to work with Yvette Hardcastle, and you can be sure if hourly billings are involved, it will have no bearing on Yvette’s ability to work with me.”
“Yvette Hardcastle is meaner than a water moccasin. If she thinks she needs to rattle Maxine, she will. For Blue’s sake, Maxine needs to know.”
A Case of Sour Grapes Page 20