Sleuthing Women II

by Lois Winston

  “Because I mean to search this office until I find our money. I’ll rip out the paneling if needed.”

  “You want me to give her my special blend of knockout juice?”

  “No. We need her awake and coherent for now. We can’t afford more screw-ups.”

  “Gotcha.”

  The woman hit the light switch. The overhead fluorescent bulb flickered and caught. Melanie Bean resembled her photo. Hard living had etched deep grooves in her thin face, worn her body down to nothing. Raymond’s color seemed off. His collar-length dark hair formed dark wings around his puffy face.

  While Melanie seemed wound tight as a piano wire, Raymond looked like he’d spent the last five years snacking on the sofa. Both Mrs. Taylor’s grandkids were working this shakedown together. Though Raymond was older, he deferred to Melanie. She called the shots. Good to know.

  I glanced over at my messy desk where Mama sat sprawled and defenseless. If I was so valuable to them, they wouldn’t shoot me. I strode to Mama’s side, my hand tight on Madonna’s collar. “Mama? I’m going to make this right. Hang on.”

  Not so much as an eyelash moved. Only a slight rise and fall of her chest revealed she was still breathing. “What’d you give her?”

  “A little something. She’ll come around after a while,” Raymond said, his gun pointing at the center of my chest.

  The handgun looked suspiciously like my mother’s gun.

  “Put the dog in the outer office,” Melanie said. “Come back here and sit on that wooden chair.”

  Madonna would bark her head off out there, but I did as ordered. However, I didn’t close the door until the lock snicked. I’d need Madonna’s help as soon as I figured out how to even the odds.

  I barely sat down before the dog began barking nonstop. Her deep barks were music to my ears.

  “Shut her up or I’ll shoot her,” Raymond said.

  “She won’t calm down out there,” I said, trying to sound calm and collected.

  “Then put her outside.”

  Melanie idled closer. She lifted the hand she’d kept behind her back. She held a ball-peen hammer and showed no sign of it feeling heavy. “Not yet, Ray.”

  Fear bit me hard. If she hit me on the head again, I wouldn’t recover. Most likely I’d still be alive but my lights would be out, permanently. Doc McClaren had been quite clear I’d been lucky the first two times I got hit on the head this week. A third strike this close to the other injuries had the potential of permanently scrambling my thoughts.

  My dog barked and barked. The concussive noise pounded through the closed door.

  Melanie circled around and held the hammer poised to strike the back of Mama’s head. “Tell me what you know about the Bluebird Fund right now, or I’ll cosh your mom just like I coshed you the other day, only harder.”

  I knew I hadn’t hit the back of my head in a car accident. I’d survived one hammer blow to the head. Given her years, Mama might not be as lucky. “Please. Don’t hit her. I already told you all I know. Mrs. Taylor called it her rainy day fund one day in passing. That’s it.”

  “This is dumb, Mel. Knock ’em out and let’s blow this joint.”

  “Can’t. The accountant knows too much. She can identify us.”

  Uh-oh. She was right about that. I needed a plan. I had to defend myself. I had to stop these people before they hurt more of my family.

  “You want me to drug her and screw up her memory again?”

  Melanie hesitated for a moment, then appeared to reach a decision. She moved over to stand by her brother, between me and the door. “Nope. Shoot her.”

  As they talked, my right hand crept behind me to the bookcase. Jonette and I painted a collection of rocks years ago, and I’d been unable to part with the whimsical creations. My fingers closed around a small rock, and I held on for dear life.

  They still weren’t looking my way. I eased the rock-filled hand to my side, at the ready.

  Raymond aimed the gun at me. I eyed his finger on the trigger and talked fast. “Don’t shoot,” I said. “You wouldn’t kill an innocent person in cold blood. Leave right now and nobody gets hurt.”

  He snorted. “You don’t know me. I already got one death on my hands.”

  “That was an accident. A drug overdose is much different than a shooting in a court of law.” I was making stuff up, trying to buy time. “Once you pull that trigger, you’ll be a different person. Notice how Melanie isn’t volunteering to shoot anyone. She’s making you do the dirty work, but she’ll turn on you in a heartbeat. You’re the big brother. If you guys get caught, she’ll claim this was your idea, that she went along with you because she was afraid of you.”

  Melanie shrieked and hurled the hammer at me. I ducked behind my desk, and she missed. The rock felt warm in my hand. Melanie had no weapon left, so I hurled the rock at her and caught her between the eyes. She fell, so I must’ve nailed her hard.

  “I’m bleeding. You broke my nose.” Melanie howled in pain. “Shoot her, Ray. Do it now, you spineless couch potato!”

  Ray seemed frozen. I reached on the floor by my feet for the snowflake paperweight the girls gave me for Christmas. “Don’t shoot, Ray,” I shouted. “Your half-sister is using you.”

  The door snicked open, and I heard rushing feet. Someone fell. Madonna growled. Ray screamed. “Get her off! Get her off!”

  I peered over the desk. Melanie lay on the floor near the doorway, a bloody gash on her forehead. Raymond lay under Madonna, who had him by the throat. The impact of knocking him down jarred the gun loose.

  I sprang into action, grabbing the gun and hammer and stashing them atop the file cabinet. I filled my pocket with rocks. Ray wasn’t going anywhere, but Melanie might try to leave. Inspiration struck. I untied the fabric belt I wore and knelt beside her to tie her hands.

  Melanie pushed me away with bloody hands, swearing loudly and calling for Ray. I sat astride her and looped the belt around her hands. She bucked and writhed and cussed.

  I tuned her out. No way was she getting out of here and hurting my family again. I was a woman on a mission. Finally, I got the belt knotted and rolled away, exhausted, but it wasn’t over yet.

  With shaky fingers, I punched in the emergency number on the office phone. “Two people are in my office. They tried to kill me.”

  The dispatcher asked question after question, which I answered, then I put the receiver on the desk, grabbed the gun and hammer, and wheeled Mama to safety in the outer office. A quick check showed her pulse to be slow but steady. I prayed she continued to be strong.

  As I waited for help to arrive, I didn’t call Madonna off. I knew from experience that people tended not to move when a powerful jaw was clamped around their throat.

  “You’ll be sorry for messing with us,” Melanie said.

  My head and heart pounded like crazy, but I was alive. “That’s the same thing your mom said when she burst in here the other day. You two need a new script. I’m not sorry. You and Raymond murdered your grandmother and would’ve murdered us. The murder charge will keep you two out of commission for a long time.”

  “That Bluebird money’s ours. We earned it by putting up with that crazy woman all these years.”

  Crazy must flow like a river through their family tree. “I don’t have it.”

  Melanie’s face crumbled. “I’m beginning to believe you. Raymond killed Grandma too soon. We’ll never know where the rest of our inheritance is.”

  She was talking and confiding in me. Might as well exploit it, especially since the emergency call was being recorded. “Where’d they get the money?”

  “I’m not telling you anything.”

  “Suit yourself, but we have time to kill until the cops come. I’m surprised you didn’t think the two million in her investment accounts was enough money.”

  “There was more,” Melanie said. “A lot more.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re making this up. Your grandmother was a fine woman, a respectable c
hurchwoman.”

  “She scammed you, but she didn’t scam us. They let enough slip over the years to prove they were badasses.”

  “You’re delusional, just like your mother.”

  “Check the internet,” Melanie shrieked. “There was an armored car robbery in the Midwest. They sat on two million in cash all these years. My grandparents thought they were a modern day Bonnie and Clyde. Somehow Lettie and Harm doesn’t have the same ring, now does it?”

  Bingo, I thought silently. Melanie just confirmed what we’d suspected about Lettie and Harm Taylor.

  “Help,” Raymond whispered from the floor. Madonna growled at him, and he quit talking.

  “Did they kill anyone?” I asked, palming another rock and keeping my eyes on the Taylor grandkids.

  “Nope. Just trussed ’em up.” She sighed. “Me and Ray, we’re like them. We’re gonna rob people, but nobody’ll know it was us. The drugs were Ray’s idea ’cause they screw with your head. Seems he uses roofies on all his dates. But now that’s all shot to hell and back.”

  With her taped confession, I felt remarkably better. “Look at it this way. With your mom already in custody, there’s a jailhouse family reunion in your future.”

  FOURTEEN

  Two hours later I was still stuck at the police station. Martinez arrived and conducted the grandkid interviews with Britt. I napped on Britt’s office sofa, enduring fitful dreams with guns pointed at me, snarling dogs, and twenty-something killers. No. Those weren’t dreams. I’d faced down two young killers today and survived.

  I checked my phone messages. Bud reported Mama was doing fine at the hospital. Jonette would pick up the girls from school today. All was quiet on the home front. I’d given my statement to Britt and written it out. Surely I could leave here soon.

  At the sound of deep voices in the corridor, I hastily stood. Martinez and Britt entered, each grinning like they’d won the Maryland lottery. It was nice to see my cousin so happy. As for the Virginia detective, he should smile more often. No woman could resist those charming dimples.

  “We got ’em,” Martinez said when we all were seated. “The only thing wrong with this arrest is that Cleo and her mother were in danger.”

  “It wasn’t my intention,” I said, unconsciously smoothing my hair back from my face. “They came after me. All I did was show up for work.”

  Britt gestured broadly with one hand. “Welcome to my world, Martinez. No matter how often I tell Cleo to leave detecting to the pros, her natural instincts and insights solve cases. I should ask the captain to throw our cold cases her way.”

  His mixed message sent a shaft of alarm straight through me. “Whoa. No one’s throwing me anything. Tax season, remember? I have several hundred returns to prepare.”

  “Still,” Martinez said, taking me in from head to toe with an appreciative nod. “You’re holding up darn good for a civilian held at gunpoint a few hours ago.”

  If he only knew how shaky I felt inside. I had my pride. “That’s because I’m here with you tough guys. I’m no hero, and I had awesome backup. Once I get home, I’ll feed my dog a juicy steak. She saved my life, again. I’m lucky to have her.”

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” Martinez said.

  “Me, too,” I said, then blushed. That sounded so self-centered, but I was glad to be alive. I wanted … what did I want? The longing inside me felt different now. When my memories got scrambled by the drug I’d been given, old feelings resurfaced. I thought I wanted a loving partner to share my life with. Except I’d had two men ready to fill that role, and I’d walked away from both of them.

  In the midst of my exhaustion, a lightning bolt of clarity occurred. I wanted to be myself. I wanted someone who accepted me as I was, someone who didn’t try to mold me into something I wasn’t. And if that someone didn’t come along, so be it. I loved my life.

  I hugged that knowledge to myself and tuned into my surroundings. It seemed Martinez and Britt hadn’t stopped talking during my epiphany. Hope I didn’t miss anything important.

  “With the confessions on Mrs. Taylor’s murder and the theft of her investments, these kids are going away for a long time,” Martinez said. “Well, that plus the calls Raymond made to Rene deMornay sealed his guilt.”

  “Right,” Britt said. “This pair killed for greed, but they failed to locate the money first. Given that error, Cleo was their only hope at finding the family stash.”

  “Guess they knew nothing about the key,” Martinez said. “Speaking of which, where is it?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Mama hid the mystery key somewhere yesterday after I passed out. She took the keep-it-safe message literally. What with one thing or another, I didn’t remember to ask her about it. Since they drugged her, it may be several days before her memory returns.”

  “Not such a limiting factor just yet, but I need that key as soon as you find it.”

  I snorted. “Mama was gloating about her hiding place. We’ll never find it without her help. On to another topic. What will happen to that stolen money in the offshore accounts?”

  “We’ll recover it as evidence. Likely there will be multiple claims made from its rightful owners, most likely the insurer of the former armored car company. The Taylor descendants have a legal claim to Harm’s insurance money, but the previous victims must be made whole first. Seeing as how the amount stolen is more than Lettie Taylor’s net worth, her family will end up with nothing.”

  That took a moment to sink in. “Do you think they were all in this together?”

  “Melanie doesn’t seem to know what her kids were up to,” Martinez added. “I think she isn’t part of the gang of two.”

  “Even so,” Britt said, “given her recent history of trespassing and terroristic threats, her claim to the inheritance won’t fly past a judge.”

  “What terrible kids to kill their own flesh and blood.” Martinez turned to me. “Okay, Ms. Amateur Sleuth. Where’s the hidden money?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I never knew.”

  “But you could figure it out,” Martinez insisted.

  “Not with what I know now. My guess is they hid the money where it wouldn’t be easily found, and someplace they controlled access.”

  Martinez nodded. “There’s a lot of acreage that’s attached to their home. I haven’t checked to see if they have other local holdings.”

  “I keep thinking there’s something about bluebirds I’m missing. They’re common around here, but there’s no way a stash of money would fit in a bluebird nesting box.”

  “We’ll find it.” Martinez rose and caught my eye. “I’ll be in touch.” His hand shoved in his pocket, and he halted. “I nearly forgot this in all the excitement.”

  The small talisman resting in his palm filled me with delight. “My angel pin. Thanks!” I plucked it from his hand and held it to my heart. “I’m glad to have this back. It’ll go right in the Volvo where it belongs.”

  “You’re welcome,” Martinez said in a gruff voice.

  After he left, I found my cousin staring at me. “What?”

  “I get it now,” he said, a cheesy grin lighting his face.

  “Get what?”

  “The changes you made in your life. You’re sounding more like your old self.”

  How was any of that visible? I glanced upward in case there was a blinking sign saying changed woman over my head. There wasn’t. “I am?”

  “Yeah. And it looks good on you. Welcome back.”

  ~*~

  “You sure you’re up for this?” I asked Mama on Sunday afternoon as we surveyed our recently reorganized office.

  “I was born ready,” Mama said with a theatric wave of her arm. “I was so angry at Lettie’s hooligans for drugging me and making such a mess in here, but I survived and the office looks functional. You do good work.”

  Mama could only wave with one arm because her fingers had a death grip on my hand. I glanced at my teens. “The girls helped me set this pla
ce to rights. I couldn’t have gotten all the files sorted out without them.”

  Mama settled in the comfiest chair in the office and beamed. “You did a fantastic job, but I trained you, so of course your work is exemplary.”

  “Are you tired, dear?” Bud hurried to Mama’s side. “We can do this later.”

  “I’m fine,” Mama said. “Where’s Britt?”

  “He said he’d be here, Mama. Give him a few minutes.”

  “Why don’t you look while we’re waiting?” Mama asked. “I’ll give you a clue. Finder gets the first slice of Bud’s apple pie tonight.”

  My daughters exchanged a glance and nodded.

  “The key is on my desk,” Mama said.

  The girls hustled over to the wooden desk. They glanced at the computer accessories, at the mug of pens. Nothing. They flipped through every card in her Rolodex. Carefully, they paged through the pending files stacked in the left corner of her desk.

  Charla caught my eye. “Mom. Help. We need another clue.”

  “Mama? One more clue, please,” I said.

  “All right. But this is the last one. You guys are so close you’re on fire. I taped the key to a board.”

  Britt opened the door. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Not yet,” Mama crowed. “The mystery key is still hidden.”

  Lexy opened the side drawer and peered inside.

  “No. Not there,” Mama said. “Cleo, help them.”

  “Yeah, Mom,” Charla said. “Show us how it’s done.”

  I wasn’t crazy about Mama’s find-the-key game, but I needed to give that key to Martinez. I crossed the room and sat in Mama’s chair. One glance at the colored tape in the open drawer, and I knew where it was.

  “Got it.” I said.

  “No way,” the girls chimed in unison.

  I flipped over the computer keyboard and pointed to the slight lump near one corner. Seconds later, I peeled the black tape and revealed the key.

  I showed the key to my cousin the detective.

  “Now, if only we knew what this key unlocked,” he said before handing it back.