“Holy Schinke’s!” Again, Maria wondered why she was saying that. She didn’t even know what it meant.
“Good morning, lovebirds!” An older man dressed in a ridiculously baggy Elvis Presley bell-bottom flared suit stood in the entryway with Rod and Maria. “How are you two doing this morning? Ready to begin your lives as man and wife?”
“Ahhhhhh.” This time it was Maria who groaned like a sick cow.
Rod tried to stand up. After swaying back and forth as if he was using a long board for the first time, he sat back down. “Man and what? And, by the way, you should get a different suit. That one is stupid. And it doesn’t fit.”
The elderly man laughed. “Still hung over, eh? I’ve seen some pretty smashed couples, but you two made my top ten of all time. Listen, I’ve got some coffee brewing that should help, but the marriage fee only includes one night in the lobby. You two need to get out of here before I open the church again. It’s not good for business to have riff-raff in the front lobby.”
Maria’s comprehension of what the man was saying lagged about thirty seconds slower than his speaking.
Smashed.
Coffee.
Marriage fee.
Church.
“What are you talking about? This isn’t a church?” Maria was truly shouting now, which came off in her head like an atomic bomb. “There are advertisements on the walls and a vending machine in the corner. Churches don’t have those.”
“Hey now, don’t be knocking on my house of worship.” The man grinned and held his hand out to Maria as if he wanted to help her stand.
Not happening.
“You are in the one and only Graceland Wedding Chapel. We’ve been a part of the Las Vegas Strip for over seventy years and are one of the most prominent chapels for a traditional Las Vegas wedding.”
Rod and Maria stared at each other. Jaws dropped. Drool spilled out one side of Rod’s mouth.
“Holy Schinke’s!”
Oops. Maria had said it again.
“Why do you keep saying that?” Rod chastised Maria. “It sounds stupid.”
Maria fully agreed with him.
“I’m Preacher Phil and I married you two last night. Couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Now, I know things don’t always look so exciting in the morning, but marriage isn’t all that bad. You’ll get used to it. But if not, don’t worry. There’s a place down the street that can do an annulment. Takes a while and costs twice as much as the marriage though.”
Preacher Phil.
Hands.
Marriage.
Annulment.
“Rod …” Maria turned back to him and saw he was in the process of wiping the drool off his chin with his shirt sleeve. “What in the world did we do?”
Five cups of coffee and an hour later both Maria and Rod were thinking more clearly. Preacher Phil had been kind enough to let them stay in his office while the wedding business continued as usual in the chapel.
From what Maria and Rod had pieced together, they both remembered driving out of Phoenix, talking about Justin, and eating food—Brian’s South American exotic chocolates to be exact.
“You don’t think …” Maria trailed off.
“I do.” Rod massaged his temples. “The guy tried to kill me with some exotic bacteria from halfway across the world. I’m pretty sure those weren’t normal chocolates. He probably used them when he had toga parties at his house or something like that.” A snort of disgust.
“I just don’t understand. Las Vegas isn’t even on our way home. How did we end up here?” Maria couldn’t make herself ask the next question.
Rod did. “And why did we get married?”
“Yeah, and that.” Maria fingered the marriage license on the desk in front of them. For being a Vegas wedding, the paper looked pretty legit. Preacher Phil had given it to them with instructions on how to find the law office of his friend that did annulments.
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Rod had stopped massaging his temples and had moved on to the back of his neck.
“Nothing…. You don’t remember…. We didn’t….” Maria stumbled on her words.
“Oh.” Rod’s eyes grew large. “No. I mean.… No!” His voice rose. “You think you and I—?”
“I don’t think anything,” snapped Maria. “I was just checking that you didn’t think anything. Nothing happened, right?”
“Right.” Rod nodded his head. “Preacher Phil said we got married and then passed out in the lobby.”
“Perfect,” said Maria. “I didn’t want there to be anything weird between us.”
“Weird?” Rod looked flabbergasted. “Maria, we got married. Of course things are weird.”
“It’s just paper.” Maria took the license and crammed it into her backpack, pulling out her cell phone at the same time. “We’ll take care of it later. For now, we need to get back to Kanab. Are you in any shape to drive?”
“I don’t think so,” Rod admitted. “I’m still seeing double.”
“Well I think I’m okay to—” Maria interrupted herself. “Oh, dear—forty-six missed text messages. What time is it anyway?”
“Ten in the morning.”
“What day?”
It took putting both of their scattered brains together, but at last Maria and Rod realized twenty-four hours had passed. It was day four into Justin’s disappearance. They had lost so much precious time.
Maria scanned the texts, reading them out loud.
“I’m freaking out. Where are you? –Beth”
“Hey? Did you kidnap my brother? –Grant.”
“This is Agent Carter from the FBI. Please respond now.”
“Can you come to my house tonight? I have information. –Ms. Tuttle”
Rod’s face had paled hearing the kind of mess their disappearance had caused.
“Rod, get on your phone and call Grant. Let him know we were accidentally drugged and … detained. I’ll call the FBI and Beth.
“Do I tell Grant about the marriage?” Rod asked.
“No!” said Maria. “For pity’s sake. That’s so embarrassing. Just let them know we’re on our way. I’ll go get the car and bring it around front. We have to get out of here. Now!”
Chapter Fifteen
"No one knows where that treasure chest is but me,” Fenn says. “If I die tomorrow, the knowledge of that location goes in the coffin with me."
“Seeking Adventure and Gold? Crack This Poem and Head Outdoors” National Public Radio, aired March 13, 2016. http://www.npr.org/2016/03/13/ 469852983/seeking-adventure-and-gold-crack-this-poem-and-head-outdoors
The guilty box of chocolates rested in front of Maria on the table between her and FBI Agent Carter. Luckily, she still had some of the evidence to justify her and Rod’s bizarre disappearance in the Nevada desert for twenty-four hours.
Agent Carter had taken several samples of the candy and was getting them tested for drug specifics. They had also corroborated details with Amy, checking on the time Maria and Rod left Phoenix and what they took with them.
Not that the FBI thought she really had anything nefarious to hide, but everyone was guilty until proven otherwise. Maria knew that, which is why she had done all she could to relieve their suspicions.
“Again,” Maria said, “I truly am so sorry.”
Agent Carter was not one to gush forgiveness for Maria and Rod’s day-long disappearance. Instead, he got straight down to business. “FBI computer experts found Karen Stone had done research on Steven Veil’s treasure within the last six months. Of course, so have millions of other people and, unfortunately, that is the only solid piece of evidence we have connecting her to the case. She’s offered no confession. She’s also offered no alibi. But we can’t hold her for much longer. She’ll be set free tomorrow morning. We’re pursuing a few additional leads.”
“Anything specific?” asked Maria.
“Maybe.” Agent Carter slid several photographs closer to Maria. “Recognize anyone in the photos?”
&nbs
p; It didn’t take much to find the unintelligent face of the man she had apprehended at the Kanab creek last week. “Yes.” Maria put her finger on his face. “Pete arrested him for possession of drugs. Later, we learned he was wanted for additional crimes. We released him and the woman he was with to Las Vegas officials. But, last I heard, he jumped bail. I believe his name was something Fossum. Where was this photograph taken?”
“At the Kanab reservoir, the day you made the water give birth.”
Maria winced hearing an FBI agent use the illogical “give birth” phrase. She employed an ignore-and-change-the subject tactic. “Who took the photos?’
“Mark Lyon at Kanab’s newspaper. He and your assistant went over every picture Mark shot that day. These were, of course, very interesting. This man knew both you and Justin, and he had a vendetta against you.”
“Absolutely,” said Maria. “Is he still in town? Do we know where he—”
“No.” Agent Carter exhaled his frustration. “But we have put out an APB for him in all of the Western United States. We’ll find him soon.”
“What can I do?” Ever since learning she had wasted an entire day high on exotic chocolates, Maria had been anxious to do something—anything—that would speed along the case. Beth was probably out of her mind at this point. Maria was heading to her house as soon as she was done with the FBI.
“We feel we’ve been hitting up against brick walls. We thought we would be further along. Typically the perp would have contacted the Hills again by now. We finally got in touch with Steven Veil, the art dealer from New Mexico. I guess he gets a lot of death threats—people wanting him to give them the location of the treasure or they’ll kill him. You know, that sort of thing. So the man lives in hiding. Anyhow, I finally sent an agent to New Mexico to track him down. The Veil poem has stumped Floyd.”
“It’s a riddle,” corrected Maria, “not a poem.”
“Yeah, whatever. Anyhow, I think it’d be good for you to be here when we question Veil. Maybe see if there is some sort of a connection between you and him or the Hills.”
“Do I have to go to New Mexico? I worry about being out of Kanab again for that long. We only have three more days until the ransom note says I’m supposed to solve the riddle.”
“No. The FBI is bringing him to Kanab so I can question him personally.”
“What time?”
“He’s arriving at ten a.m. tomorrow. We’ll bring him into the station.”
“Perfect. See you then.”
Beth and Maria had cried together for the last hour. One would stop and then the other one would begin. Maria had repeated again and again that she was certain Justin was okay, but Beth was completely distraught. And why wouldn’t she be? She had no sixth sense, and she certainly had no reason to think that Maria had any special reason to believe her feelings were anything but emotion.
But Maria knew her feelings were different. They were more like thoughts that Maria’s soul confirmed deep inside her. Justin was alive. She knew it.
The FBI had insisted Maria not discuss the case with the Hills, just in case someone in the family or close to them was the kidnapper, but Maria was trying to do her best to console her friend.
Nothing was working.
“Beth, you have to believe me. Justin is alive. I absolutely know it.”
“Because of something the FBI said?” she asked.
“You know I can’t talk about the case, but no, it’s not the FBI who told me he was okay.”
“Then who did?”
A deep breath. “I feel it.”
“I need evidence. I have to know my little boy is okay.” Beth wiped at her eyes with her tissue.
Maria studied Beth’s face. Could she tell her friend that she could see ghosts, call skeletons out of the water, and fight men who were half bird, half human? No, not in Beth’s current state of mind. But Maria had to help relieve her worry.
“Beth, you can’t say anything, but the FBI told me they have strong reason to believe Justin is okay.”
Beth’s face relaxed … infinitesimally. “Thank you. I won’t say a word.”
Maria’s cell phone chimed.
Will you come to my house for a Bridge game
It was a message from Ms. Tuttle.
Maria shot back an answer: Right now isn’t a good time.
A moment later came the reply: It’s about the Veil Riddle.
Maria typed back one word: Coming.
Ms. Tuttle ushered Maria into her quaint, red rock, stucco-style home. The living room was decked out in warm, southwestern decor. Narrow shelves full of artisan pottery and rugged desert pictures filled two walls. An impressive rug with geometric patterns in striking turquoise and terracotta partially covered a hardwood floor. Several dreamcatchers hung from window rods.
The art on one of the living room walls had been taken down. In its place, the Veil riddle was written in its entirety in black permanent marker. As Ms. Tuttle led Maria into the house, she pointed to the desecrated wall. “It was quicker than trying to find a white board that size. And I don’t mind painting.”
Two leather couches had been scooted to the corner to accommodate a large number of card tables, which had been set up in the middle of the room. Gray-haired, white-haired, and purple-haired older women were seated in folding chairs surrounding each table. Maria expected them to be nibbling on petit fours and sipping tea. Instead there were bowls of shelled peanuts, opened cans of Red Bull, stacks of playing cards, and one woman who suspiciously cradled a metal flask. The aroma of cheesy pizza wafted into the living room from the kitchen.
“You’ve got quite the party going on here,” said Maria, baffled by why she had been invited to what appeared to be a retirement convention for Grannies Gone Bad.
Ms. Tuttle took her by the hand and dragged her to the front of the room. “Ladies, please welcome Kanab’s police chief, Maria Branson. She’s the one who received a copy of the Veil riddle from the kidnapper.”
Some women waved, all smiled at her, and few called out, “Hey there.”
“Maria,” Ms. Tuttle turned to her, “let me introduce you to the U.S. West Regional champions of the World Bridge Federation. All of these women are renowned card players, with their specialty being, of course, Contact Bridge.”
What on earth was Maria doing here? She was in the middle of a kidnapping investigation and Ms. Tuttle had invited her to a Bridge party? The lady had gone off her rocker. However, not wanting to offend this good woman who had done so much for her in the past, Maria feebly waved at the daunting crowd of staring women and said, “Good to … uh … meet you.”
“I need to bring in the pizza,” Ms. Tuttle said. “It’s going to be a late night. Maria, sit down at this table, and I’ll be back to explain what’s going on soon. In the meantime, you can get to know these two lovely ladies from Nevada.”
Maria knew better than to argue with Ms. Tuttle. She sat down and sheepishly looked around. “Nevada, huh?”
“Yes, have you ever been there?”
“Actually … yes.” Maria felt a wave of embarrassment encase her as the image of her waking up with the worst hangover of her life in the lobby of a cheap marriage chapel came to mind.
“Recently?”
“Not too long ago.” This conversation was going nowhere good fast.
“What for?”
“You know what they say.” Maria forced a smile. “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”
The two women both chuckled. “Fair enough.”
“And what do you do in Vegas?” Maria asked, turning the conversation away from herself.
“The same thing we do anywhere—play cards. I’m Karla, by the way.” The woman at Maria’s left held out her hand.
Maria shook it, noting the strong, firm grip from a woman who had to be no less than seventy-five years old. “I don’t play cards,” Maria admitted. “I mean, maybe a few games of War and Uno when I was younger.”
“Seriously?” The woman
across from Maria acted shocked. “How can you not play cards?” As she spoke her hands cut and shuffled a deck on auto pilot. The woman’s bright red fake fingernails moved so fast they streaked the air with splashes of color.
“Oh come on, Delores,” chided Karla. “Not everyone is like us.”
“I know.” Delores shook her head, still shuffling. “But Uno? Heavens, I was playing Black Jack before I could talk.”
Despite a laugh from Karla, Maria wasn’t sure the comment was meant to be funny.
Karla patted her friend’s hand. “Delores is a recovering gambler. The Bridge club helps her deal with her compulsion. To be honest, most of us here have a bit of an addiction of one form or the other.”
Maria ran her finger along the edge of the card table. “I believe we all have our own demons to fight.”
“True,” said Delores, sitting back a little more comfortably in her chair, her hands continuing to cut the deck of cards. “I’ve got fifty-two of them.”
As if making an attempt at more normal conversation, Karla eyed Maria over the top of her can of soda and asked, “So what is your thing? I mean, besides police work. Do you have children? I suppose you’re the right age for that sort of thing.”
“Good grief, no! I’m not even marri—” Maria stopped herself. “I mean I’m not the marrying type. I mostly focus on my job. It keeps me busy.”
“Are you telling me someone as pretty as you doesn’t have a man in her life?” Delores huffed. “Youth is wasted on the foolish. Absolutely wasted.”
The wrinkles on Karla’s forehead deepened as she grinned. “Now, now. She only said she wasn’t the marrying type. She may have her eye on a man.”
Maria’s throat was becoming drier by the second. “No, there’s no one in my life.”
Ms. Tuttle walked up behind her holding several pizzas she set down on a table. “Pish, posh. What do you mean? Rod wouldn’t like to be called a no one.”
Maria turned to look at the librarian. “I guess you didn’t hear. Rod and I broke up. I thought the whole town knew after the public ordeal at the reservoir.” Inside, Maria did her best to ignore the awkward fact that she was actually married to Rod—in a drugged-up Vegas sort of way.
Riddles that Kill Page 12