I poked around in his bedroom for a few minutes. I’d seen an interview in which a career criminal stated that the most common place people hid valuables was their own bedroom. According to this expert, the “underwears” drawer was a particularly popular hiding place. “Like a thief would be too delicate to paw through your panties,” he’d added scornfully.
Mittens on, I pawed through Carl’s clothing, underwears and all, but found nothing. I searched under the bed, I looked inside his shoes, I even lifted the lid on the toilet tank. Then I sat back on my heels, thinking.
Kyla’s voice came from the office. “This place is Porn Central. I’m glad I’m wearing gloves, and that I don’t have a black light.”
“Ew,” I responded.
“Seriously, I hope Kel has never accepted a disk or opened an e-mail from this guy. This machine is crawling with viruses.”
I suppressed a shudder, but the word “crawling” sparked an idea. I sprang to my feet and hurried back to the none-too-clean kitchen.
The tiny pantry yielded nothing but a few more cockroaches and a spilled box of stale Frosted Flakes. The refrigerator, an ancient model from the days when Harvest Gold had been a designer color, had a few half-empty condiment bottles, a greenish steak covered in grocery-store plastic wrap, and a bottom drawer full of liquefied unidentifiable vegetables. I closed the door hurriedly.
The freezer was frosted into a winter wonderland of miniature icicles. The ice tray was half empty, a stack of Hungry Man dinners filled the bulk of the space. I moved them aside, and as I did so, my hand bumped a Blue Bell Cookie Dough ice cream tub, which tipped back. The movement caught my attention. It was the only thing in the freezer not covered by a thick deposit of frost, and it was very nearly empty. Pulling it out, I opened the lid.
Inside was a thick manila envelope, bent and squashed to fit inside the tub. Opening it, I drew out a handful of printed documents. It took me a second to realize what I was looking at, then I hastily stuffed them back into the envelope, returned the tub, and shut the freezer door.
“Kyla! Shut it down. I found what we need.”
“Really? What is it?”
“A do-it-yourself blackmail kit.”
I heard the electronic pop of someone turning off the power to a computer without waiting for the operating system to shut down, then Kyla appeared in the doorway.
“What’s in it?”
“Contracts with Sheriff Bob for one. Did you touch anything?”
She wiggled her gloved fingers. “I was careful.”
“Let’s get out of here. We’ll look at this stuff later.” I didn’t know why, but I was suddenly filled with a feeling of dread that almost amounted to panic.
Kyla didn’t argue. We hurried to the back door with its shattered window. Closing the door, I hesitated.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Do you think we should try to cover the hole?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Well, it looks like it’s going to rain. Plus, if we cover it, maybe whoever finally notices it will think Carl locked himself out and broke the window to get in.”
“Don’t be retarded. You know the police have already been out here to investigate after they found Carl, so they already know damn well it wasn’t him.”
She had a point, but I was now feeling both anxious and guilty, a bad combination if I intended to pursue this life of crime. “But we didn’t steal anything. Won’t they think that’s odd.”
“Yes. But … and here’s the point … no one is going to suspect us. Even I wouldn’t suspect us—a savvy, hot young computer genius and her goody-two-shoes teacher cousin?”
“How come you’re hot and savvy, and I’m a Goody Two-shoes?” I protested.
“That’s just the way it is.”
“I want to be hot and savvy.”
“Then why are you wearing that coat?”
By this time, we had collected our toolbox and hurried back to the car. Somewhere behind the heavy gray clouds, the sun was at least peaking above the horizon, illuminating the house, yard, gnomes, and barn. This was the time when country folks would be rising to tend their animals, and it would not be at all surprising to meet someone on the road. We needed to get away fast.
I pulled out onto the county road with a sense of relief. Early though it was, we at least had a right to be here.
“Where are you going?” Kyla asked. “The ranch is the other way.”
“We’re going into town to get doughnuts. That way we don’t have to explain where we’ve been.”
There was a heartbeat of silence, then she nodded with approval. “Good thinking. Maybe you’re better at this than I thought. Give me that envelope.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised. I’m very cunning,” I said, handing her the envelope somewhat reluctantly. I wanted to look through it myself, but could think of no logical reason why she couldn’t examine it while I drove.
Her snort was not complimentary. She clicked on the dome light and pulled out the papers.
A large black pickup truck, headlights on high beam, overtook and passed us as though we were standing still.
“Damn, that guy must be doing close to a hundred.”
Kyla glanced at the rapidly vanishing taillights, then returned her gaze to the photographs. “Looked like T.J.’s truck. Maybe he’s doing a doughnut run for his guests.”
“Are you seeing him tonight?”
“Yup. And I can tell by your snooty tone that you don’t like it, so don’t bother with the lecture. I’ll make it up to Aunt Elaine another time. You know, this doesn’t exactly rank up there with the best family reunion in history. In fact, if it wasn’t for T.J., I would have gone back to Austin yesterday.”
“But Kel’s in jail,” I said.
“Yeah and what are we supposed to do about it? Don’t you think Elaine would probably be thrilled to see the whole pack of us get the hell out of her hair?”
“We’re doing something about it right now. Why do you think we broke into Carl’s?”
“For this?” she waved the sheaf of papers. “These don’t tell us anything. I don’t think they’re blackmail material.”
“Of course they are,” I said automatically. “You don’t store things in the freezer unless they’re important.”
“Let’s say you’re right. What are you going to do about it? Blackmail Sheriff Bob yourself?”
“No, I’ll give them to Colin. He’ll know what to do with them. He can get the Texas Rangers or somebody else to come investigate Bob. And while they’re doing that, they’ll send someone competent to investigate Carl’s death. And Eddy’s. And then Uncle Kel will be able to come home.”
The parking lot of the Donut Hole was full, so I pulled into the adjoining Shell station.
“You can get the doughnuts while I fill up,” I said.
She frowned, instinctively loathing any idea that wasn’t her own, but then shrugged and took herself off.
I started the pump, then took the windshield washer from its bucket of murky water and began wiping the powdery caliche dust from the windows. The water left trails in the dust on my car as I squeegeed it away. A few cars came and went from the parking lot next door. The black pickup that had passed us or its twin was indeed present, and as the pump popped, indicating the tank was full, I wondered if Kyla was taking so long because there was a long line at the counter or because she was flirting with T.J. I dawdled with the wiper a few more minutes, but eventually another car pulled up behind me waiting for the pump, and a truck left the doughnut shop’s parking lot, so I moved the car and went in.
A bell jingled merrily on the door when I opened it, and I was greeted by a rush of warm air and the mouthwatering scent of baked bread, fried dough, cinnamon, and coffee. Patrons crowded around three small Formica tables by the plate-glass front window and piled into the cramped little booths lining the hall leading to the bathroom and kitchen. The bright counter was full of trays of doughnu
ts, and rolling racks behind the clerks groaned under the weight of kolaches, sausage rolls, and ham-and-cheese croissants. Kyla stood in line behind three men wearing camouflage shirts and bright orange vests, but she was also flirting with T. J. Knoller who stood beside her, holding three large pastry boxes, losing the advantage his speed on the highway had given him.
I joined them, giving a half smile to the grouchy-looking woman wearing foam curlers under a pink headscarf who stood behind Kyla so that she wouldn’t think I was cutting in line.
“Hey there,” said T.J., acknowledging my presence without actually convincing me he remembered my name.
“T.J.,” I said, to indicate that I had the moral high ground of name remembrance without actually indicating I was pleased to see him.
Kyla glanced at me, then became crafty. “Oh good, since you’re here, you can order. I don’t know what we want.” She attempted to get out of line, but I blocked her way.
“No you don’t. I need you to help carry. And pay,” I added pointedly. After all, I’d just pumped forty dollars into the tank of my Civic, and Kyla, although not cheap, was apt to forget things like chipping in for gas.
“Oh. Well, fine. T.J. was just saying that his hunters did not manage to shoot that mountain lion. They were pretty disappointed.”
“I’ll bet. Plus that means that thing is still on the loose.”
He nodded. “Yeah. You might warn your uncle to keep an eye on his stock.”
“I would, but he’s in jail,” I said tartly before I could stop myself. The woman in curlers snapped to attention like dachshund spotting a rat.
T.J. looked embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I forgot.”
Kyla linked her arm through his. “Never mind. She’s just crabby because she’s hungry.”
One of the hunters finished paying, and we moved forward a pace.
Raising his boxes as an excuse, T.J. said, “Well, I better get back to it. I’ll pick you up about seven.” This last was to Kyla.
She smiled and nodded, and he made his escape out the door with a jingle of the bell and a sheepish look over his shoulder.
“I don’t know why you need to be rude to him. It’s not his fault that Kel’s been arrested.”
I shrugged. Of course she was right, but everything about the man irritated me. I watched him drive away in his big-ass truck, and decided he was probably overcompensating for something.
“You know, Sherman is a pretty great guy. Why are you”—I glanced at the woman behind us—“messing around with T.J.?”
“Mind your own business.”
After getting our order, I drove to the hospital without consulting Kyla. She rolled her eyes when she figured out where we were going but didn’t protest.
“Don’t take all day,” she said. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Why don’t you come inside then?”
Grumbling, she did, and after a brief stop in the ladies’ room, we dropped in on Colin.
He was sitting up in bed, a mostly uneaten breakfast of eggs and fruit sitting in unappetizing blobs on his rolling bedside tray. The bandage that had covered his eye had been removed, and although he had a truly impressive shiner, I was more concerned by the strip of tape at the corner of his eyebrow. I suspected it hid a line of stitches.
I also didn’t like the gray color in his face or the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. However, he smiled when he saw us walk in.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Brought you some doughnuts,” said Kyla at the same time. “Sort of like crack for cops, right?”
“That’s a stereotype,” he answered her. “And a derogatory one at that.”
“Oh, so you don’t want them?”
“I didn’t say that.”
I handed him the little sack. “There’s a sausage roll, too. Still hot.”
He took it with thanks, and sniffed with appreciation, but I noticed he made no attempt to take it out.
“Seriously, Colin, how are you feeling? You don’t look so well this morning.”
“How come you can say that, but you get mad when I tell him he looks like shit?” protested Kyla.
Colin grinned. “I’m fine. I’ll be getting out of here this afternoon.”
Ignoring Kyla, I skewered Colin with my best teacher eye. I always knew when a kid was lying, and Colin, in his current state at least, was doing less well than the average fifteen-year-old. He squirmed a little and focused on Kyla instead.
“What are you two doing today?” he asked her. “You’re up awfully early.”
She opened her mouth to tell him, but I cut her off for two reasons. One, I didn’t think Colin needed to know about our breaking-and-entering activities, at least not yet. And two, I wasn’t going to be sidetracked that easily.
“Never mind that. What is going on with you? Really. And don’t try to give me some half-ass version either.”
“Is she always like this?” he asked Kyla.
She nodded. “Always. And don’t ever play poker with her.”
He gave a little shrug. “They want to run a couple of more tests. They won’t take long, then I’ll be out of here.”
“Tests for what?” I asked.
He actually looked embarrassed, although for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why. Men and their egos were always going to be a mystery to me.
“Internal bleeding,” he mumbled.
“Oh, is that all? Well gee, now I understand why you don’t want to talk about it. That’s hardly worth mentioning.” I felt both anger and fear in about equal measures. I wanted to shake him, but I wanted to find a doctor to shake even more. “What kind of internal bleeding?”
“I don’t know. It’s nothing.” He reached for my hand.
I thought it felt hot, and I felt another stab of fear. I’d read the horror stories about people getting infections in hospitals that were worse than the injury or illness that had brought them to the hospital in the first place.
A nurse arrived with a wheelchair at that moment. Colin almost seemed relieved. “Here we go. Look, we’ll know more when this is done. How about you come back in a couple of hours?”
He handed me back the sack of doughnuts, and I stood helpless. “Take that back to your family. Someone will eat them. Hell, you’ll probably eat them. You can put them on a stick.”
I tried to suppress the smile, but he saw. With a smile of his own, he said, “Will you go? I’m not getting up in front of you while I’m wearing this hospital gown.”
I came to a decision. “Give me your hotel key,” I said, holding out my hand. “Kyla and I will go get our things from the ranch, and then pick up your things from the hotel and check you out. We’ll be back here as soon as we can, and then we’ll drive you to Austin.”
The nurse spoke for the first time. “Sir, the doctor isn’t going to release you today.”
“We’re taking him to Seton hospital in Austin. If he has any records they’ll need, we can take those with us or you can fax them over.”
She looked alarmed and opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. “I bet you send people from here to Austin all the time, so you can make whatever arrangements you need. But one way or another, he’s leaving when I get back. And you,” I said turning back to Colin, “gimme.”
With a grimace of pain, he reached into the drawer of the bedside table, pulled out a key, and dropped it into my hand. It was a real key, not a card, attached to a battered plastic disk that said “Sand Creek Motel and Bar.”
I put it in my jeans pocket and leaned down to give him a kiss. His lips were hot and dry beneath my own.
“Back as soon as I can.”
The fact that he didn’t argue scared me as much as anything else. Kyla had to trot to catch up with me on the way to the elevator and I punched the button with more force than necessary.
“So we’re going back today,” she said in a conversational tone. “What about Kel?”
I hadn’t exactly fo
rgotten all about Kel and our recent criminal actions at Carl’s place, but I admit both had slipped pretty far down on my list of priorities. I stared at her blankly for a moment, then I said, “We’ll give what we found to Will. Elaine wouldn’t know what to do with it, and Will is used to looking at contracts. He can at least get it all to someone other than Sheriff Bob.”
The elevator arrived, and I pressed the ground floor three or four times to make sure it got the message.
“You don’t have to go back with me today,” I said, remembering her date with T.J. “In fact, someone needs to drive Colin’s Jeep home, assuming we can find it. It’s probably at the police station, although who knows.”
“I can hunt it down, and I’ll be glad to drive Monkey Boy’s car. We can have Elaine call around and find out where it is while we’re packing.”
“Great. So you can stay and go out with T.J., then come back whenever it’s convenient.”
She shot me a sideways glance. “So T.J.’s okay with you now?”
“No, but you’re going to do what you want no matter what I say, and I have better things to worry about. Just don’t let him … annoy you.”
I had almost said “hurt you,” but I didn’t know how that was even possible given the length of time they had spent together.
“No worries there,” she answered. “If anyone’s going to be doing any annoying, it’ll be me.”
On the ride back to the ranch, she took out Carl’s envelope again and began flicking through the smaller pieces of paper.
She stopped at one and said, “This is weird. It’s a receipt from a zoo.”
“A zoo?” I thought about it. “Well, Carl was always transporting livestock. Maybe it was an exotic for T.J.”
She shrugged and put it back. “Doesn’t say what it was. Oh, look!”
I had already seen it. T.J.’s big truck was askew on the side of the road, and T.J. was out and looking at a tire on the far side. Ha. Served him right. I did not slow down.
Death Rides Again (A Jocelyn Shore Mystery) Page 22