Pushing Up Bluebonnets: A Yellow Rose Mystery

by Leann Sweeney

  ''I wouldn't know. I moved out of the neighborhood

  after I adopted two Dobermans. They needed a bigger yard.''

  ''Can you give me the Dugan address?'' I reached in my bag for my BlackBerry.

  Roberta's dark eyes grew concerned. ''You won't tell him where she is, will you? He doesn't need to know. He doesn't care about her.''

  ''But if they're still married, he has a right to know. He's her next of kin.''

  Now her eyes flashed with anger. ''I don't give a damn about his rights. He certainly never cared about hers.''

  I took a deep breath and decided to tell her the rest. Roberta cared about Elizabeth or JoLynn or whatever her real name was, cared a lot. ''I really need that address. See, the wreck was no accident. Someone tried to kill your friend.''

  Buttons suddenly sat up, his old eyes focused on Roberta's face. Her beautiful, dark skin lightened a shade, especially around her lips. When she finally spoke, it was a whisper. ''It was him. I know it was him.'' Then Roberta knelt and stroked Buttons, trying to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

  ''I promise you that a policeman will probably inform Dugan, not me,'' I said quietly. ''The husband will know the authorities are on alert. And if it helps, Elizabeth has security and private-duty nurses.''

  Roberta looked up at me. ''Don't let Kent Dugan fool you or the cops.'' Then she stood and finally gave me the address. I thanked Roberta and gave her my card, then started to leave the way I came in. But before I was out the door to the waiting room, I heard her call, ''I don't know what animal you are yet, Abby. I think you're part bloodhound, though, and that's good.''

  16

  After I walked out of Oakdale Veterinary Hospital and into the ninety-degree heat, I took out my phone and called Cooper. Apparently he was dealing with a drunk or a druggie, because I could hear curse-laden shouting in the background. He told me he'd call back after he ''straightened out a situation.'' His attitude—calm and in control—reminded me of Jeff. Jeff, I thought as I slid behind the wheel, I'll see you soon, thank goodness.

  I pulled out into traffic, the air-conditioning blasting away the sweat on my forehead created by the thirtysecond trip to my car. I headed for home, even though I wanted very much to go straight to Dugan's address or at least find his phone number and call him. But that wasn't my place. Once I gave Cooper the information, he would decide how to proceed.

  Cooper didn't call back until after I'd made it home around five o'clock. I'd stopped at Central Market to pick up dinner—a Mediterranean salad, roast beef for sandwiches and a container of Kalamata olives. I was craving salt and since Jeff will eat any olive on the planet, even if it just fell off a tree, I went with the kind that made my mouth water. Diva checked out what was on the menu once I placed the grocery bags on the counter. Smelling no salmon, she left with an angry swish of her tail.

  When the phone rang, I'd been hitting the olives hard and was filling a tall glass with ice water.

  ''What's going on, Abby?'' Cooper asked.

  ''I found out where JoLynn Richter was right before she showed up at the ranch last year.''

  ''Wow. I'm impressed. Tell me.''

  I did, then said, ''But she might still be JoLynn Richter, not Elizabeth Dugan, right?''

  ''I don't know, Abby.'' His ragged voice was filled with skepticism. ''Cops tend to go straight to the lessthan-pleasant aspect of human nature—that tendency people have to lie through their teeth. But tell me what you're thinking.''

  ''I keep going back to the letter she wrote me. Katarina Richter could have given her up for adoption, JoLynn found out and for some reason, she felt like she had to provide proof to Elliott Richter when she arrived at the Richter home. She gave him that missing birth certificate with Katarina's name on it to back up her other ID. As added proof, maybe she even showed Richter the tip sheets I sent her, the ones that help adoptees find their biological parents.''

  ''But if she really is JoLynn Richter, why fake a birth certificate?'' Cooper asked.

  ''Sorry. Guess I should explain. Adoptees have to petition the court for their original birth certificates. That costs money. Maybe all she had was the birth certificate issued after she was adopted with the first name Elizabeth and a last name we don't know.''

  ''Couldn't she have explained this to Elliott Richter?'' Cooper sounded exasperated.

  ''You're right. What she did is way too contrived. There's more we don't know.'' Disappointment washed over me. I so wanted some part of JoLynn's story to be true—and why, I didn't know.

  ''What did you pick up on last night?'' Cooper asked. ''Do any of those Richter folks know something?''

  ''Oh, for sure. But even Elliott Richter hasn't been all that forthcoming.''

  ''Why do you say that?'' Cooper said.

  ''He knew JoLynn's driver's license was fake before you did. Matthew told me last night. Richter's holding back for some reason—and I can't figure out why. The only thing I know is that he wants JoLynn to be the real deal and hopes I can prove it.''

  Cooper sighed heavily. ''Are all your cases this complicated?''

  ''Not all, but the tough ones are like trying to dig a ditch in the ocean. Right now I'm grateful I can bring in the heavy equipment like you, Jeff and my sister to make the job easier.''

  He laughed. ''I've never been referred to as heavy equipment. Anyway, tell me about the family.''

  I took a generous gulp of water and gave him a more complete rundown on last night's interviews, ending with Matthew's confession about using a private eye. ''For all we know, the birth certificate might not have even existed.''

  ''True. All we have is Richter's word. But his word has been good in the county for a long time, so I'm still ready to give the man the benefit of the doubt. I've been asking around, and no one in town much likes that family—except for the main man, Elliott Richter. He's well respected. I checked into the financial situation. He's worth megamillions, a lot more than I realized. The relatives have a lot to lose if Elliott rewrote his will in favor of JoLynn. Maybe we should ask Richter if that's what he's done.''

  ''That's your next step, then?'' I asked.

  ''Nope. First I get Kent Dugan down to the hospital for an ID—tonight if possible.''

  I wanted to be there in the worst way, wanted to meet the guy, but I also wanted my alone time with Jeff. ''Okay if I bring my HPD investigator friend?''

  ''Sure. I'd love to meet him.''

  Though Jeff was tired after his long day at the courthouse—he says court is more tiring than fieldwork— he agreed a trip to the hospital might be interesting. First we'd shared our quiet dinner and engaged in other activities not so quiet before heading to Ben Taub to meet up with Cooper Boyd.

  Jeff held my hand a whole lot tighter the minute we walked through the hospital doors. He'd been shot in the chest by a bad guy last year. I understood his reaction without his saying a word. He didn't like being reminded of the day he nearly died and neither did I. It was a very silent elevator ride.

  We found Cooper in the neuro ICU waiting room—

  he'd sent the private security on a break—and since he and Jeff seemed to hit it off immediately, Jeff reverted to his old self. Law-enforcement types seem to quickly discover they know some of the same people. But they both put on their game faces when Kent Dugan arrived.

  As Roberta had mentioned, Dugan was a pretty boy— reminded me of a Calvin Klein underwear model, as a matter of fact. He wore jeans with small tears and frayed seams along with a rock group T-shirt—at least I assumed Wilting Wilma was a rock group and not a euphemism for something I didn't want to know about this guy.

  ''Where is she?'' He sounded downright panicked and seemed to be addressing anyone and everyone in the waiting room.

  Cooper introduced himself and said, ''She's in very capable hands. Let me show you a picture first—see if you recognize the young woman we're talking about.''

  When we'd first arrived, I gave Cooper the article I'd found under the clock, as well as a
copy of the picture I'd scanned and Photoshopped. I'd enlarged JoLynn's face and cropped out the family. I wanted to avoid having anyone ask the questions Roberta had, about who all the other people in the picture were.

  Dugan grabbed the photo and stared. ''That's her, but where did you get this?''

  ''Never mind,'' Cooper said. ''We need to talk, Mr. Dugan.''

  ''I have to see her.'' He started for the ICU doors, but Jeff did a quick side step and blocked his path.

  ''Who are you?'' Dugan asked.

  ''Sergeant Kline, HPD Homicide.'' He took out his pack of Big Red and offered a stick to Dugan. ''Let's sit over there and chill for a minute.''

  Dugan didn't even seem to notice the gum. ''Is Elizabeth dead? Is that why you're here?'' The man couldn't be more than five-nine and had to look up at Jeff, who's six feet tall.

  ''Not dead—though someone did try to kill her.'' Cooper gestured at the cluster of waiting-room furniture. ''She's not going anywhere and we need to discuss what happened.''

  Being double-teamed had the desired effect and Dugan walked over and sat on one of the sofas, his eyes focused on the ICU entrance.

  We all followed and I held out my hand. ''I'm Abby Rose, by the way. I helped identify your wife.''

  Dugan squeezed my hand briefly and squinted up at me. ''I don't know you. How could you identify Elizabeth?''

  ''That's a long story.'' I sat on the edge of a fauxleather and chrome chair opposite him, and Cooper sat next to me. Jeff went over to a counter where an industrial-size coffeemaker sat. He started checking cupboards for cups, since none were visible.

  ''As I told you on the phone,'' Cooper said, ''we pulled your wife from the wreckage of her car. Her brake line had been cut. I understand she's been missing for more than a year.''

  ''Um, yes.'' Kent Dugan's expression told me he was surprised we knew that piece of information, but he quickly recovered. ''Who would want to kill Elizabeth? She'd never hurt a fly.''

  ''Good question. We're hoping you can help, Mr. Dugan,'' Cooper said. ''What about her disappearance?''

  ''She has been gone, left on her own. She said she needed time away from the relationship. She's ten years younger than me and wasn't as ready to settle down as she thought.''

  ''How young is she?'' Cooper asked.

  ''You don't know?'' Dugan said.

  Cooper leaned forward, his gravel voice low. ''What's her age, Mr. Dugan? Where is the rest of her family?''

  Dugan stiffened. ''She's twenty and Elizabeth has no family except for me.''

  ''Interesting.'' Cooper sat back. ''When people disappear voluntarily, it's been my experience they head straight for Mom or Dad—or maybe another relative. What you're saying is that she had nowhere to go.''

  ''I—I never looked at it that way.'' Dugan seemed a little flustered by this assessment.

  ''What's the story with this nonexistent family?'' Cooper asked, taking a Styrofoam cup of coffee from Jeff.

  Jeff handed another cup to Dugan and tossed packages of creamers, sugars and stirring sticks onto a table beside the sofa. Jeff raised his eyebrows questioningly at me and I nodded. I was ready to settle in with some much-needed caffeine and watch Cooper work. I was certain I'd learn a lot.

  ''I don't know what happened to her parents,'' Dugan said. ''I don't believe she knew, either.''

  I blinked at this answer. What the heck did that mean? ''Where did she grow up?'' I asked.

  Dugan's tongue traveled over his lips and he took a sip of coffee. He then stared into the steaming cup he held with both hands. No wedding ring, I noted. ''Elizabeth and I . . . we didn't know each other that good when it came to our pasts. We agreed it wasn't important. We loved each other and that's all that mattered.''

  Cooper leaned in again. ''What kind of bullshit answer is that?''

  From the corner of my eye I caught Jeff's expression as he filled cups for the two of us. Small grin. He liked Cooper's style.

  Meanwhile, Dugan's magazine-ad face tensed. He avoided Cooper's hard stare by stirring sugar into his coffee. ''She wouldn't want me telling you, but I guess you won't let me see her until I do. Elizabeth was adopted and it wasn't a good situation. She wanted to forget. That's all I know.''

  Cooper smiled. ''Thank you. Where'd you meet her?''

  ''What does that have to do with anything?'' Dugan looked at me, perhaps to avoid Cooper's unblinking attention.

  But Cooper wasn't letting him off the hook. ''I ask, you answer. Then it's your turn, okay?'' Pleasantly spoken, but no question. Cooper wasn't fooling around.

  ''At community college. San Jacinto.'' Dugan's reply was clipped. He was getting impatient now.

  Cooper reminded me of a sculptor chipping away at stone. I could recognize the personality now emerging, the one Roberta had described. Dugan had no control here and he hated it.

  ''Any children?'' Cooper asked.

  ''No.'' More edginess in his tone now.

  ''She never contacted you after she left? Not once?'' Cooper pressed.

  Dugan shook his head, and I decided he was trying to recapture the concern he'd displayed when he arrived. ''I would have notified the police if she had. But I always knew she'd come back. And in her own way, she has.''

  ''Not exactly her own way,'' I said, holding the coffee Jeff had given me. He was settled in the chair next to me now. I was afraid Cooper might be pissed off by me voicing my opinion, but his passive face gave nothing away.

  ''Can I ask why you're questioning me like this? What have I done wrong?'' Dugan said.

  ''What do you do for a living?'' Cooper said, ignoring this request to get off the hot seat.

  ''I'm a consultant,'' he replied.

  Cooper leaned back, sipped his black coffee. ''Really? Sounds important. You have a business card I could have?''

  ''I didn't bring any with me. I didn't think I'd need one.'' Testy again. There was a real struggle going on in this guy's head.

  I glanced at Jeff because the tension seemed like a balloon around us ready to burst and I wondered if he felt it, too. But he was as calm as a plate of oysters, probably loving every minute of watching someone else interrogate a man whose emotions were all over the map.

  ''What kind of consultant? Suit-and-tie kind with one of those big firms?'' Cooper asked.

  ''I'm freelance. I work from home.''

  Cooper smiled again, cocked his head. ''Doing what?''

  Dugan stood. ''That's enough. I want to see my wife right now.''

  Cooper and Jeff slowly rose in unison, like they'd been a team for years. I stayed in my chair, amazed at how intimidating Cooper could be without ever raising his voice.

  ''I'm sure you do want to see her. Sorry about the delay, but this is a very active investigation. Attempted murder gets a police officer's attention. Let me see whether her nurse thinks this is a good time for a visit.'' Cooper took his time walking over to the double doors.

  ''You must have been surprised to get a call about your wife after all this time,'' Jeff said. He'd finished his coffee in no time and didn't bother offering Dugan a stick when he pulled the Big Red pack from his jeans pocket.

  ''I was more upset than anything. She's hurt and she needs me. I wish I could have been here the minute they brought her in.'' Dugan had regrouped. He was about to get his way and that apparently made a huge difference in his demeanor.

  ''Oh, I'm sure you do wish you could have been around.'' Jeff's tiny dose of sarcasm was lost on Dugan but not on me.

  I've learned from Jeff that relatives are usually the first suspects in a murder or assault and I was guessing he and Cooper quickly pegged Dugan for the not-sonice guy Roberta had described.

  Cooper gestured for Kent Dugan to come to the ICU doors and he strode quickly in that direction.

  Jeff and I stayed back. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jeff pulled out his phone. I looked at him, puzzled, but he just chewed his gum.

  He speed-dialed, waited a second, then said, ''This is Sergeant Jeff Kline from
Homicide Division. Can you run a name for priors?'' A short silence, then Jeff said, ''Thanks. See if we have a sheet on a Kent Dugan.'' He spelled the last name. ''I'll wait.''

  ''You think he's been arrested?'' I said.

  ''Hang on, Abby. This won't take long.'' And he was right—a moment later he said, ''Appreciate it.'' Jeff snapped his phone closed. ''Hot checks, petty theft and a fraud charge Dugan pleaded out. Guy's done no time, though. Probably talked his way out of everything.''

  ''How'd you know to make that call?'' I sipped my coffee, but it had gone nearly cold in the frigid waiting room. I set it on the table.