Chicken Scratch (The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series Book 1)

by Becki Willis

  So much for going easy on my insurance, Madison thought, as Cutter and another man slid her from the wreckage of her SUV. She felt her pajama leg snag on a curled piece of metal and an immediate warm sensation against her skin, but a little blood was the least of her worries. She just wanted free of the ruined automobile.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Cutter asked as he handed her off to Brash.

  “Y-Yes.” Her lips were quivering from equal doses of fear, cold, and shock. Brash draped a rain slicker around her shoulders and offered the support of his arm at her waist. “Can you walk? We need to get you out of the rain.”

  With his help, she made it to the front seat of his cruiser. When he reassured her that the ambulance was on its way, she adamantly shook her head. “No. I don’t need an ambulance. I’m fine.”

  “You need to be checked out, Maddy,” he said in a gruff voice.

  “I need to get warm. And dry.”

  The compromise was to have the ambulance meet them at the police station, which was across the tracks and visible from where they sat. The roof of the old depot featured a deep overhang, offering shelter from the pouring rain as the paramedics examined Madison. Other than a few scrapes and scratches, the worst being on her leg, the medics declared her remarkably lucky and accepted her refusal of transport to the nearest hospital. Helping her into the police station, they wrapped her in thermal blankets and left, instructing her to seek medical attention if she became disoriented or experienced blurred vision.

  “I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” she complained when they had gone. “I kept telling them, I didn’t hit my head. The worst cut came when they were pulling me out of the car.”

  “It never hurts to be vigilant. Here, hold this; it will warm your hands up. And drinking it will help, too.” Brash put a steaming mug of coffee into her hands.

  After a few cautious sips, Madison sighed and sank back against the cushions of the small couch where she sat. “I am going to be sore, that’s for sure,” she predicted.

  “What were you doing out at this time in the morning? And in this rain? In your pajamas, no less!”

  Later, Madison would be terribly embarrassed about the fact that she wore a thin, threadbare t-shirt. She would realize that when wet, the material became almost translucent, revealing the fact that she wore no bra. But at that moment, she was not concerned with her wardrobe. All she cared about was soaking up the glorious warmth of the blanket and the beverage.

  She took another sip before answering, “There was a high pressure alarm at the farm.”

  “Why didn’t you take your son with you?”

  “No time. Plus I guess I was panicking a little, thinking about how I could kill all those chickens if I didn’t hurry.”

  “So tell me what happened. Start from the beginning.”

  She had already told the story in fragments, most often in response to a question asked. This time she told it in full sequence, one cohesive story with as much detail as she could recall. Brash let her finish completely before he began asking questions.

  “What kind of truck did you say it was?”

  “It was old and rusty, with sort of a rounded hood. I’m pretty sure it was red.”

  “What model was it?”

  “That’s my son’s department, not mine.” She offered a wry smile, thinking of how Blake was already dreaming of the truck he would one day have. He was already saving his money, hoping to have enough cash to buy some mode of transportation by the time he got his driver’s license in the fall.

  “No idea whatsoever?” Brash prodded.

  “It-It reminded me of that truck your cousin Billy Joe used to drive back in high school.”

  He nodded immediately. “’75 Ford.”

  She shrugged with indifference as he jotted down notes. He asked several more questions, until he asked the one she dreaded most. “Maddy, do you have any idea why someone would want to harm you? This was not a random act of carelessness. It can’t even be blamed on wet roads, not when he backed up and rammed you a second time. Someone wanted to hurt you and hurt you bad. You say you have no idea who it was, but do you know why?”

  She pursed her lips and blew out a long breath. After glancing into his eyes for only a moment, she avoided his gaze and admitted, “I may have some idea.” He waited patiently for her to continue. “I have a new client. Lucy Ngyen hired me to try and exonerate her son for the murder of Ronny Gleason.”

  “What! You aren’t a private investigator!” the chief of police exploded. “You have no business taking on a job like that!”

  “I told Mrs. Ngyen I wasn’t qualified, but she’s desperate. She’s afraid her son will go to prison.”

  “Not if he’s innocent, he won’t.”

  Madison gave her one of her famous motherly glares. “You know as well as I do, the prisons are full of wrongly accused suspects. The fact that he speaks poor English decreases his chance at getting a fair trial.”

  “Now wait just a minute! You don’t know that!”

  “It’s nothing personal against you, Brash, or your profession. It’s just a fact.”

  “And how exactly are you going to help Don Ngyen? What could you possibly discover that the police haven’t already learned?”

  Madison resented his superior attitude. With a haughty arch of one brow, she asked in a cool voice, “Did you know Ronny Gleason wasn’t really going deep sea fishing this week? He had a flight booked for Vegas.”

  “How do you know that?” Brash demanded.

  Satisfied she had taken him by surprise, Madison offered her own smug smile. “I have my sources. Did you also know he had been there five times last year?”

  “That might explain how he payed off his debts,” Brash muttered to himself. Aloud, he asked, “Did Ramona tell you all this?”

  “No,” Madison admitted. Her lips turned down with disapproval. “Actually, to be his wife, she didn’t seem to know very much about her husband’s comings and goings. Or his finances.”

  Could be a case of the pot calling the kettle black.

  Granny Bert’s words echoed in Madison’s ear. She shook her head to dislodge the inopportune reminder.

  “So how do you know all this, if his own wife doesn’t?” Brash challenged.

  She gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve made a few inquiries here and there.”

  Brash’s face settled into hard lines. “Okay, this stops now. No more playing junior detective. This is what always happens; people watch those shows on TV and think they know enough to play detective. You are not qualified to be investigating this case, Madison.”

  “Why?” she shot back. “Because I am not some hot-shot football player? How exactly did being a football coach qualify you for the job of Chief of Police?”

  “For your information, I minored in Criminal Justice. And I can assure you, I am a certified Law Enforcement Officer for the state of Texas. Leave the investigating to me, Maddy.”

  “But Lucy is desperate.” And so am I.

  This time his voice was slightly softer. “I understand that. And I’m still investigating the case, even though we have her son in custody.”

  “But I have to do my part, too. I’ve already taken the job.” She made no mention of the money she had taken. And already spent.

  “If it makes you feel better, you can tell Mrs. Ngyen I will check into the information you’ve gathered. So there. You’ve done your job, Maddy, now let me do mine.” Beneath the steel of his words, Madison detected the distinct hum of patronizing.

  He obviously expected her to follow his request, so he was not concerned when she made no reply. Later, Madison would remember how smug and superior he sounded. Later, she would realize she must be onto something, to make someone try to kill her. But right now, she was exhausted.

  “Do you think you could give me a ride home? I’m guessing my SUV is out of commission for a while.”

  “Good thing you have an uncle who owns a used car lot.”
<
br />   “I do?” she asked in surprise.

  “Sure. Cessna Motors, over on Third.”

  She arched a dark brow. “In Naomi, I’m sure. Used car lots are probably too junky for Juliet,” Madison correctly guessed.

  “What can I say?” Brash grinned. “Miss Juliet was a snob of the first order, but she knew how to keep a town all neat and pretty.”

  Later, too, it would occur to Madison that Brash’s grin was as charming as ever, and still had the power to make her heart skip a beat. For now, she could only think of going home and getting out of her cold, wet clothes. When she tried to stand, her knees gave way.

  Brash swooped in to catch her. “I’m calling the ambulance back,” he said, his face sharp with concern.

  “Don’t you dare. Just get me home to bed.”

  His grin was slow and rakish. “Thought you’d never ask,” he drawled slowly, his eyes glinting mischievously. When she blushed in spite of herself, he laughed aloud. “How about we swing by Ngo’s Donut Shop? Mina Ngo should have her first batch of donuts just about ready.”

  “It is that late already?” she murmured, tossing a glance at the clock on the wall. Before too long, the kids would be waking for school and it would be time to go back to the chicken houses.

  Depressed by the mere prospect, Madison’s steps were sluggish as Brash ushered her out the door.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “I resent the fact that you did not call me this morning and tell me yourself about the wreck.”

  Genesis gave an exaggerated sniff as she poured a cup of coffee for her best friend.

  “What was I supposed to do, call you at four in the morning?”

  “Yes! I had to hear it from someone else.”

  “Who? Who already knows about it?”

  “By now, half the town. At least Cutter Montgomery thought to call and tell me about it first thing this morning. Do you have any idea how badly I would have panicked if I had driven into town this morning and seen your car, all banged up and still sitting there beside the railroad track? I’m so glad he thought to call me!”

  “He’s a real champ,” Madison muttered with sarcasm. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you immediately. But that’s why I stopped by here on the way to work, so you could see for yourself that I’m fine.”

  Genesis eyed her with critical assessment. “You have a bruise on your left arm, scratches on your right hand, and you were limping when you came in. You have dark circles under your eyes and you look like you’re in pain.”

  “I am, but it has nothing to do with the wreck, or at least not much. It has more to do with carrying all those chickens. The limp could be from my aching back or the cut I got when the firefighters pulled me out. All the other scrapes and bruises and aches and pains could be from last night or the last two weeks, it’s hard to tell. And with all I’ve been going through these last few months, the dark circles are nothing new. I’m usually wearing makeup when you see me.”

  “Still, you should have called me.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Madison used a properly chastised voice, followed by a flashed smile.

  “Smart alec,” Genesis muttered. She transferred her gaze to the parking area beyond the plate glass windows. “Why is Granny Bert’s motor home parked outside?”

  “That’s my current mode of transportation. She had an appointment in Bryan today and needed her car.”

  “So you’re driving a brand new motor home to work at the chicken houses?”

  Madison shrugged. “It’s not like I can call a cab. She made me promise I would change out of my dirty clothes before I got back in it, though, and spray it with Lysol when I got home.”

  “What are you going to do about a car?” Genesis’s tone reflected Madison’s own worry.

  “I don’t know. Blake, dear sweet soul that he is, suggested I go ahead and buy his car now, and he will graciously loan it to me until he gets his driver’s license.”

  “That’s thoughtful of him.”

  “Bethani suggested we move back to Dallas immediately, where there will be taxis and public transit. Which she has never ridden in in her life, I might add.”

  “Sounds like they are both full of helpful suggestions.”

  “They’re full of something,” Madison agreed. “Granny says I’m welcome to the Buick whenever she’s not using it, which translates to roughly never. She’s always running the roads somewhere.”

  “It’s good for her, though. It keeps her young.”

  “That’s true. I doubt I’ll be half as spry when I reach that age.” Rotating her head on her shoulders and hearing joints pop, she added, “If I live that long.”

  “We might could work out a schedule with my car. If you could catch a ride to the café, you could use it during the day until I got off,” Genesis offered.

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

  “Thank you, Genny. And not just for the offer of your car. For everything. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have never kept my sanity these last few months.”

  “You’ve been there for me during all my rough spots. The least I can do is be here for you.”

  “The scales have become grossly imbalanced these past two years.”

  “Gray’s fault, not yours,” her friend was quick to point out.

  Silence settled between them, until Madison broke it with a mischievous grin. “So who was the good looking guy I saw in here the other day, the one in the suit and crazy tie?”

  At mention of the tie, Genesis laughed. “That would be Professor James Callaway. He teaches dual-credit Business courses at the high school.”

  “I saw the two of you talking. He looked interested.”

  Again Genesis laughed, but a slight blush crept across her heart shaped face. “And just how could you tell this?”

  “Oh, the way his eyes lit up when you laughed. The way he leaned across the table when you refilled his glass. The way he watched you walk away.”

  “Don’t go reading something into it. I don’t have time for romance in my life right now. I’m much too busy, getting this place off the ground.”

  “Looks like it’s off to a great start, though,” Madison said, glancing around. Most of the booths and tables were full with breakfast customers. A small line stood at the bakery counter.

  “Oops, and it looks like Toni needs some help at the register.” Genesis pushed herself to her feet. “Break’s over. Duty calls.”

  Madison sighed. “Mine, too. But at least I’m now down to four days.”

  Brash would never admit it aloud, but Madison Reynolds might just be on to something.

  Somehow, she had discovered pieces of information that he had not picked up on. He chided himself for not already checking out the dead man’s claims of a fishing trip, but frankly, until now, he had no reason to doubt the story. What else was he missing?

  It was rather obvious by now that Ronny Gleason had a gambling problem. Five trips to Vegas in a single year confirmed it. Why else would a man go so often? The buffets and floorshows weren’t that good. Hell, it hadn’t taken Frank Thompson but two trips out there to convince the dancer known as Glitter to ditch the stage and return to Texas with him. And if the trips to Vegas and the telltale financial problems didn’t prove his weakness for gambling, his involvement with cockfighting did.

  Proving his involvement, however, was harder to do. No one would say a word about the gaming operation. Fred Gleason had given him a half dozen names of men who were at Bernie Havlicek’s the night of the fight, but every one of them insisted they had done nothing more than drink and play cards. The fight, they said, was over which man raised better birds for Barbour Foods.

  The fact that someone tried to harm Madison Reynolds proved that she was making someone very nervous with all her questions. Being new in town —or newly returned, he supposed was more accurate— it was unlikely she had any enemies. On the off chance some sort of trouble had followed he
r from Dallas, Brash put out a few feelers and asked Vina to do some digging into her past. Not expecting to find much, he concentrated on finding the red truck that had ran into her, but that too, was proving fruitless.

  With few leads to go on, Brash reluctantly did what he should have done days ago. Like it or not, it was time to pay Ramona Gleason another visit.

  The woman seemed to have some sixth sense about any male getting within a hundred feet of her. Before Brash even stopped the cruiser in her driveway, she was standing in the front door, posing provocatively in a bathrobe.

  “Why, Chief deCordova, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked in a sugary voice.

  “I have a few questions I’d like to ask you, Mrs. Gleason.” He used his most formal voice, hoping to set the tone for the professional visit.

  “Of course, of course. Come right in,” she encouraged. She leaned over to push the door open wider, stooping just enough to offer a deliberate glimpse down her robe. She was totally naked beneath the plush red cloth.

  “Uh- uhm- we could - we could discuss this out here.” Brash knew he was stammering like a randy teenager at his first peep show, but the woman’s audacity took him completely by surprise.

  “Why, I’m not even dressed!” Ramona slid a long leg out from beneath the robe, as if he might not have noticed until now. “And it’s cold out there. Come on in, where we’ll be nice and cozy.”

  Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly. The old phrase played in Brash’s mind as he cautiously walked through the door.

  Ramona motioned for him to take a seat on the sofa, but he deliberately chose a chair. With an amused smirk, she seated herself directly across from him. The robe was tied only by a sash at the waist. She crossed her leg without worry of how far the material fell away.

  The memory of another long leg, one marred by the angry curl of jagged metal, crossed Brash’s mind. What would Ramona say if she knew he much preferred Maddy’s flannel sleep pants and thin tee to her own seductive garb?