Lia Farrell - Mae December 02 - Two Dogs Lie Sleeping

by Lia Farrell

  Dory gave her a slow smile. “I sure do, sugar. Her name is Randee and I know just where she lives. Can’t imagine why I didn’t think of this. Of course, Henry must’ve given the money to Randee. They have a kid together. He knew we were closing in and so naturally would have dropped the cash off with her. Very smart, Miss December. If you want, I’ll take you to her apartment right now.”

  After Dory told the pub to charge their dinners to the sheriff’s office account, the two women walked out to the parking lot. Dory unlocked her car door and turned to Mae.

  “Why don’t you follow me in your car? It’s not far from here.”

  Mae drove behind Dory’s red Thunderbird for a few miles. Dory pulled into a rundown one-story apartment complex behind the Rosedale Market. The building looked like an old converted motel. She parked on the street, in front of unit 103. Mae pulled in behind her. Dory started up the walk; Mae locked her car and hurried to catch up.

  “I’ll let you know when to start talking,” Dory murmured and pressed the doorbell. After a few minutes, a thin woman with fried blonde hair opened the door. She stared at Dory.

  “What the hell do you want?”

  “Randee, this is my friend Mae. Can we come in?”

  Randee didn’t say anything, but stood back and gave a terse nod. They followed her inside the small unit that just confirmed Mae’s suspicion that the building used to be a motel. The room had the impersonal, shabby look of the kind of room you rented by the hour. The air reeked of mold and stale cigarettes. Randee waved her hand at the card table and folding chairs that sat under a light fixture with several burnt out bulbs. One bulb was still lit, and the three women sat under its dim glow.

  “Go ahead, Mae,” Dory said.

  “Miss Randee, we’ve come to ask for your help. We need to know what happened to a large amount of money Henry Covington received recently. We think he might’ve given it to you.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Randee said, taking a drag on her cigarette.

  “We know you and Covington were together for many years,” Mae said, keeping her voice low and her smile gentle. “We know he’s the father of your son and it seemed to us that he would have given you the money.”

  Randee shrugged her shoulders. “Henry and I were together; now we’re not. Things change.”

  “What Mae’s trying to say here,” Dory interjected, “is that we know Henry gave you the money from the hit on Tom Ferris to use for your kid if he got caught. He must’ve known the sheriff was closing in on him.”

  “Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Randee said, tamping out her cigarette. She looked down at the overflowing ashtray. “I got nothing else to say.”

  “Here’s the thing,” Dory said, “You can’t really brush this off, Randee. If you get caught with that much money, the law’s going to take it. Henry’s going away for a long time. I could help you keep that money because I’m about to be promoted to investigator. You have a kid to support on your own. You might as well do it in style.”

  Mae cast a horrified look at Dory. There was no way Dory could guarantee that Randee could keep that money.

  Randee clenched her jaw and shook her head. “Your promotion doesn’t mean shit to me, Dory Clarkson. Anyway, my boyfriend Spike took off with all my money three days ago, and I haven’t seen him since. I got no reason to help you out.”

  Mae decided on another tack.

  “Truth is, Randee, we really don’t care about recovering the money. What we want to know is whether Henry was paid to kill Tom Ferris. Henry’s probably going to get life for killing Ryan Gentry as it stands. It doesn’t make it any worse for him if you tell us. In fact, it could help shorten his sentence if he was pressured into killing them.”

  There was a long silence. “It would help Henry if somebody paid him to do it?” Randee asked.

  Both Mae and Dory nodded.

  “Yes, he was paid to do it.” Randee’s voice was flat.

  “Who paid him? Was it Greg Townsend?” Dory asked. “When we talked at the bar, you said Henry took care of things for Greg.”

  Randee shook her head. “Greg was just the errand boy. The last time I saw Henry—the day we met in the bar—he told me Greg takes his orders from the firm’s senior partner, Senator Osbourne.”

  The silence thickened and no one spoke. The women looked at each other in dread, registering the powerful name.

  “Did you say Senator Osbourne?” Dory’s voice was sharp. Randee looked around nervously and nodded. Dory’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

  “Randee, are you saying that Greg Townsend wasn’t involved?” Mae asked.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I think he only does what his uncle tells him to do. He’s the go-between.”

  “Senator Osbourne is Greg’s uncle?” Dory asked. “Oh, now I remember. The Senator is Greg’s uncle on his mother’s side. We may need to call the Feds in on this.”

  “I’m not saying another thing. I haven’t got any damn money and I won’t testify against Henry, Greg, or the senator. If I do, I’ll be dead too, and my boy will be in foster care.”

  “The sheriff can protect you now,” Mae told her.

  “Nobody can protect me.” Randee’s eyes were bleak. “In or out of jail, they’ll get to me. I don’t even know why you’re here, little Miss White Chick, but you’re messing with things way above your station.” She stopped talking abruptly. To Mae she looked like a cowering, injured animal. A sheen of sweat glistened on her cheeks and forehead.

  The women heard a powerful car engine pull up outside Randee’s apartment and the sound of car doors opening. Her eyes opened wide and she staggered to her feet, bumping against the table and sending the ashtray to the floor. “I’ve got to get out of here,” she murmured, in a desperate voice. Mae reached out to touch Randee’s shoulder and she flinched. She whimpered and ran her hands through her hair. Then she bolted toward the apartment door, almost running.

  “Stop, Randee. Stop.” She turned back. “We all know Senator Osbourne’s a powerful man. We’re going to need to get you to a safe place. Where’s your son now?”

  They heard a furious pounding on the door and a man’s voice saying, “Open the door.” Randee was white, swallowing convulsively.

  “My son’s with my parents in West Virginia,” Randee said. She was sweating, holding herself tight, her arms clenched around her belly. “They’ve been keeping him for the last month.”

  The man continued pounding hard on the flimsy door. “Randee, open this damn door or I’ll knock it down. You better not be talking to the cops.”

  “Do you think my boy’s safe?” The terrified woman whimpered.

  Mae glanced at Dory, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “I don’t know, Randee, but the sheriff’s my boyfriend; you can trust him to help you. Dory can take you to him now and he’ll contact law enforcement in West Virginia. What’s your son’s name?”

  “David Henry Covington,” She replied. Saying his name seemed to calm her a little. “My parents live on Blue Ridge Street in Chester.”

  “I’m going to call 911,” Dory whispered to Mae. She took her cellphone out and Mae heard her say, “This is Dory Clarkson. We need help. Get somebody to 103 Chestnut. Somebody’s about to break down this door. There are three women here. The intruders are armed.”

  The three women looked at each other and Dory held out her hand for Mae’s. The intruder went to the window and they could hear him trying to open it.

  “Damn it, Randee, open up or I’m going to smash this window.”

  “Go away!” Randee screamed.

  Two very long minutes later they heard the sounds of swearing, car doors slamming and a screech of tires just before they heard sirens and the voice of a patrolman saying, “Open up. It’s the police.”

  Dory answered the door and introduced herself. The patrolman asked if they were all okay, and when they nodded, said he needed some information. When the
police officer started asking Randee questions, Mae pulled Dory aside and told her what she’d learned at the bank.

  “Tell Ben that before this mess goes to trial, he needs to get a Controlled Transaction Report from the firm’s bank. Henry will be listed as the payee and the senator’s signature will be on the form as payer. Please tell him that the evidence is my apology for what I failed to do the last time we were together—support him as Sheriff of Rose County. Please also say that I choose him and always will. He’ll know what I mean.” Mae paused before adding, “I’m going to head over to Tammy and Patrick’s and ask them to follow me home.”

  Dory pursed her lips. “Are you kidding? Not yet you aren’t, Mae December. If something happened to you, your mother would have my hide. Not to mention what Sheriff Bradley would do to me. You need an escort. I’m going to call the office, see who’s on duty and have them come over. George or Rob will take you home. I’ll tell the sheriff about your part in this when the time is right.” She flicked her hand at Mae. “As soon as the back-up arrives, you can go. I got this mess covered.” She grinned and added, “Little White Chick.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Mae December

  Six weeks after Ben contacted the FBI and they took over the case, Ben wandered into the kitchen at Mae’s house with the TV remote in his hand. Mae was attempting to stuff a protesting Tater into her crate. Thoreau was following Ben as usual.

  “Just bring the puppy with you,” he said, smiling. “They said the news conference would air at six. It’s about to start. She can sit on my lap.” He scooped the puppy up with one hand. Mae followed him into the living room and sat beside Ben, with Thoreau on the floor at their feet. The Tater wriggled herself down in between Ben and Mae. Her entire five pound body relaxed. Laying her muzzle on Ben’s leg, she gave a contented sigh. Her little ears, which were usually erect, relaxed in sleepy pleasure.

  “Everybody comfortable?” Ben asked. He stroked the Tater’s head. She practically purred.

  “Yes, I’m comfortable.” Mae laughed. “Tatie’s always comfortable when she gets between us. It’s hard to believe you were aggravated with me for getting another dog; you two have such a bond.”

  Ben clicked the power button on the remote and smiled at her. “I can’t help that the Tater has good taste in men.” He flipped through the stations until he got to the local news. “Here it is. See that guy on my right? That’s the FBI agent I told you about, Agent Quintana. He’s the one who agreed to take over the case once we got that transaction report from the bank. It proved that Tom Ferris’ death was a contract killing and that the money for the hit came from the senator’s campaign funds. Our only loose end was the second man up at the hunting cabin. Wayne never did figure out who he was.”

  “It’s weird to see you give a press conference without Wayne,” Mae said. “Have you heard from him at all?”

  Ben pointed the remote at the TV and hit the pause button. “I haven’t, but he texts Dory every once in a while. He won’t be back until January or February. I hope we don’t get another murder case before then.” He leaned back, putting his arm around Mae’s shoulders. “Of course, between you and Dory, any case we did get would probably get wrapped up pretty fast. So, do you want to see your man in action at this press conference or not?”

  Mae leaned over and kissed his cheek. The Tater squeaked in protest. “Sorry I squeezed you, Tatie. Yes, please, start it back up.”

  Ben pressed play and turned up the volume. Agent Quintana spoke first, announcing that Senator Heathrow G. Osbourne would be indicted on October third in Federal Court, on charges of conspiracy to commit murder, misuse of campaign funds, and numerous corruption charges. After thanking local law enforcement for their hard work and asking the assembled reporters to hold their questions until the end of the press conference, he turned the microphone over to Ben.

  “Thank you, Agent Quintana.” Ben looked straight into the camera and gave his movie star smile. “I’m Ben Bradley, Rose County Sheriff. I have a wonderful team of people who worked very hard alongside me on this case. I’d like to thank retired Detective PD Pascoe—the original investigator for the Ryan Gentry murder who put me on the right track to start with—and Captain Paula Crawley from Nashville. I’d also like to thank Wayne Nichols, our chief detective, who suffered a gunshot wound during this investigation and couldn’t be here today. Many others were courageous enough to come forward with evidence, even though we were investigating dangerous and powerful people. My entire team deserves thanks for their professionalism and dedication. Dory Clarkson is especially to be commended for her role in the investigation.” Ben paused with a wink. “And Mae, honey, once again, I couldn’t have done it without you.” He handed the microphone to a woman standing next to Agent Quintana, before walking off-camera.

  He clicked the remote and shut the TV off, looking at Mae with raised eyebrows. “What’d you think?”

  She gave him a big smile and another kiss. “Thanks for saying that. I’m glad you aren’t mad at me anymore. And I think you’re a shoo-in for re-election. The camera loves you.”

  “I love you, Mae December.”

  Mae gave him a serious look. “I love you too. I’m glad you accepted my apology. I should’ve given you the letter and the ring sooner. And I should’ve known my sister would be fine.”

  Ben nodded. “I know, so let’s just agree that our loyalty to each other comes first and that we’ll both be more open with information from now on. But I want you to know that your safety means everything to me. You took a big risk going to see Randee. I know you did it for me, but I couldn’t stand it if anything bad happened to you.”

  “I didn’t know what a risk it was then. I mean, who knew that Greg’s uncle was involved, or that he was a senator? I’ll try to be more careful, I promise. I’m just so glad you called the FBI in and they got Randee and her son into the Witness Security Program.

  The Tater stood up, stretched, and relocated herself to the other side of Ben’s lap. He set the remote on the cushion and turned to face Mae.

  “Covington seemed like a total scumbag, but as soon as he knew Randee and his son were safe, he told us everything. He got a reduced sentence, but that’s not why he did it.” Ben rolled his shoulders back and tipped his head. “He cared about his kid. We can’t charge Greg on anything from that long ago. Plus, it really sounds like Greg was pressured into the point shaving by his uncle, who was paying his tuition when he was a college student. I don’t know what kind of fine or sentence he’ll get, but it won’t be much. Have you talked to your sister lately? I heard that Tom Ferris’ will finished going through probate. Dory said he left July something amazing, but she wouldn’t tell me what.”

  “Dory sure likes to give you a hard time,” Mae laughed. “And ‘amazing’ is a good word for it.”

  “C’mon, December, spill it. Don’t you give me a hard time too.”

  “He left her the car,” she told him with a big smile. “The little red convertible he got from his parents all those years ago. He kept it in perfect condition this whole time and left it to July.”

  “Wow.” Ben shook his head. “How does Fred feel about that? Is she going to keep it?”

  “Absolutely. You know they have a three-car garage. She said she’ll use it as a fun car, and Fred is happy to have her drive it. The two of them already used it for a date night. They seem really solid and happier than ever. It’s great.”

  “Well it sounds like everything worked out well for Fred and July too. Enough about them,” he smiled. “Do you want to take the dogs for a walk? It’s beautiful outside.”

  “All four of them?” Mae asked. “The Tater’s not very good on a leash yet.”

  “You know, I’ve got a better idea.” Ben stood up. He took Mae’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Let me take you out to dinner to celebrate.”

  After arriving home from a delicious meal at The Bistro and a little too much wine, Mae and Ben sat on her couch, necking like
teenagers. Ben sat up, disentangling himself.

  “What would you think about the two of us moving in together?” he asked, in a low, husky voice. “Every night could be like this.”

  Mae sat up too. “I’d love to live with you, Ben, but you’d have to sell your place and move in with me. I can’t relocate my business. Katie might not be happy about this—”

  “Katie Hudson’s happiness stopped being my concern a long time ago,” Ben cut her off. “And one of these days, we still need to talk a little more about my job and you helping with my cases. Not tonight though, sweetheart. I’m prepared to list my house with a realtor tomorrow if that’s your only objection to us living together.” He aimed a long, slow smile at her.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m thrilled with the thought of us living together, but I didn’t move into this house with Noah before he put a ring on my finger,” she raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to one side. “I love you, Ben Bradley, but I won’t agree to live together without that commitment.”

  Ben gave a half-smile, shaking his head. “Trust me to fall in love with an old-fashioned girl.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’d rather have it that way?” Mae murmured.

  Ben took her into his arms.

  Lia Farrell is actually two people: the mother and daughter writing team of Lyn Farquhar and Lisa Fitzsimmons.

  Lyn Farquhar taught herself to read when she was four years old and honed her storytelling abilities by reading to her little sister, Susan. Ultimately, her mother ended the reading sessions because Susan decided she preferred being read to rather than learning to read herself.

  Lyn fell in love with library books when a Bookmobile came to her one-room rural school. The day the Bookmobile came, Lyn decided she would rather live in the bookmobile than at home and was only ousted following sustained efforts by her teacher and the bookmobile driver.