Cruel Comfort (Evan Buckley Thrillers Book 1)

by James, Harper

  'At least you haven't got your face busted up because of it. Anything in particular that's holding you back?'

  'A couple of things. Did you ever hear anything about Robbie Clayton running off with another woman?'

  'I heard the rumors,’ Jacobson said carefully, ‘and some of them were a lot nastier than him just running off with her.'

  'I know; Linda told me.' Jacobson raised his eyebrows. 'She's very forthright. You didn't mention them.' He didn't mean it to come out as an accusation, but he could see that Jacobson took it that way.

  'I'm not a gossip, Evan, and that's all it was.' His tone of voice implied there was no room for disagreement. 'Insensitive bastards spreading tittle-tattle and not giving a damn what harm it might cause. I'm sure some of them actually enjoyed the hurt they caused.'

  'There's a chance there could be some truth in it.'

  Jacobson looked surprised. Evan told him about Barbara Schneider and how she'd disappeared about the same time. Jacobson thought for a moment and said, 'The Schneiders were patients of mine. The husband was very odd. I don't know if I ever believed a word he said. He wasn’t who you’d call Mr Oral Hygiene, either.'

  ‘You know what they say; bad breath is better than no breath at all!’

  Jacobson laughed. 'Isn't there a bar with a name something like that?’ He clicked his fingers a couple of times. 'The Hog’s Breath Saloon in Key West, that's it, what a great bar. You can’t beat beer and oysters.’

  ‘Used to be better, before the cruise ships started going there. The whole town is full of fat Midwesterners now.’

  ‘Nothing lasts forever. Anyway, where were we?’

  'You said the Schneiders were patients - what happened?'

  'They just stopped coming. I thought they'd moved away or found someone cheaper, that's all.'

  'Were they married?'

  Jacobson frowned. 'Yes, why?'

  'Because Max Schneider says that Barbara was his sister, not his wife.'

  Jacobson's eyes widened. 'That's ridiculous. I know people who were at the wedding.'

  'He says she was playing around with other men before she disappeared. It's probably a story he's made up to make himself feel better. He's not quite all there.'

  'As I said, he never was. I can definitely understand her running away from him; but Barbara and Robbie...no, I can't see it.' He shook his head emphatically.

  'Apparently some of the rumors say Robbie and the woman he ran off with - whoever she was - killed the boy.'

  Jacobson’s face darkened. 'I know, I heard it all at the time. It's amazing what you hear when you've got someone in the chair. Sometimes I feel like going just a bit too deep with the drill to teach them a lesson.'

  Evan winced at the thought of it. They were outside Jacobson's office now. 'Don't waste your time on that one, Evan. It just didn't happen. What was the other thing that's bugging you?'

  'It's nothing to do with the case; just me being nosy really. The bus driver, Carl Hendricks, lives in this beautiful old farmhouse with acres of land and barns and who knows what else. How the hell did he do that on a bus driver's wages?'

  'Nosy or jealous?'

  'Both, probably.'

  'Either way, I couldn't say off the top of my head, but I know someone who might know. I'll look into it and get back to you.'

  CHAPTER 19

  Evan's office hadn't been trashed either which was a relief. His computer was still on his desk. He fired it up and found the photographs from the Stanton file and was just about to start going through them when Tom Jacobson walked into his office.

  'That was quick,' Evan said. 'I might offer you a job full time.'

  'No, I haven't had a chance to ask about Hendricks yet, but I think I might have found out why friend McIntyre is so jumpy.'

  'Jumpy isn't the word I'd choose,' Evan said, 'more like homicidal.'

  Jacobson dropped a copy of the local paper onto Evan's desk. 'Read that.'

  Evan picked it up. It was folded open at the business section and it didn't take long for him to spot the news item Jacobson was talking about. There was a picture of Stanton and McIntyre standing smiling with an older man Evan didn't recognize. The headline read "Suicide Jeopardizes Bailout Deal". Evan started reading.

  "The recent suicide of Kevin Stanton has potentially jeopardized critical funding for local software development company, McIntyre Stanton Associates Inc. Kevin Stanton and Hugh McIntyre started the business five years ago and, through a combination of cutting-edge products and innovative marketing solutions, have built it up to the point where it now employs almost fifty staff. However, the recent downturn in the economy has put the company under increasing financial strain and the business now requires an urgent injection of capital. A potentially life-saving deal has been brokered, but not yet signed off, between the company and local entrepreneur, Frank Hanna, for a rumored seven-figure sum. Hanna, a self-made multi-millionaire is the father-in-law of Mr Stanton, who tragically committed suicide last week. Stanton's suicide has been attributed to severe stress caused by the company's financial situation. In an interview yesterday, Hanna, who is said to be very close to his son-in-law, said: "I just can't understand why Kevin did it. I know it's been a really stressful time, but the deal was almost there. If the lawyers had just got their fingers out it would have been a done deal weeks ago." Asked whether the deal would still go ahead without Stanton, Hanna said: "I have every confidence in Hugh McIntyre. I just need a little time to think it all through now Kevin is out of the equation." Mr McIntyre was not available for comment and the company's bankers refused to comment on whether they would continue to support the company if the deal falls through."

  Evan dropped the paper onto his desk, leant back in his chair and stretched his arms. 'Ha! That would explain it.'

  'It certainly would. Reading between the lines, it sounds like Hanna is having doubts about the future of the company without Stanton.'

  'And if he found out McIntyre was playing hide the salami with his daughter...'

  'Which was the real reason his favorite son-in-law topped himself...'

  'He'd pull out of the deal in a flash.'

  They grinned at each other. Evan swivelled back and forth in his chair.

  'Then the good-time bankers would pull the plug and McIntyre would lose everything. He's probably given personal guarantees; might even have put his house up as security,’ Jacobson said.

  'That's why he's desperate the photographs don't come to light. He wants to make sure all the copies are destroyed.'

  Evan got up to get a glass of water and pop some more painkillers. Apart from a little residual tenderness, he was feeling okay below the belt but his head still felt like it had been used as a football.

  'I just can't understand why he would be so stupid.' Jacobson said. 'With your whole future in the balance, why risk pissing off the one person who can save you for the sake of a quick screw in some seedy motel.'

  'People like that can't help themselves. It’s like the politicians. They're arrogant; they think they're smarter than everyone else and won't ever get caught.'

  'I bet he's asking himself if it was worth it at the moment.'

  Evan was tempted to show him the photographs so that he could make his own mind up, but professional integrity prevailed.

  'It’s not just a case of getting the photos back either,’ Jacobson went on. ‘You made a fool of him in front of her, so his machismo demands revenge.’

  Evan touched his nose gingerly. 'He's had that already. You know, after last night, I feel like calling this guy Hanna and putting him in the picture. That'd serve him right.'

  'I can't say I blame you - unfortunately if you did and the company goes down the pan, fifty other innocent people would lose their jobs too. It's not just McIntyre.'

  'I'd forgotten about that. Not that I'd really do it.'

  Jacobson picked up the paper and waved it in front of Evan. 'Now you know what's going on, you need to decide what you're going t
o do about it. You need to convince McIntyre you're not a threat. And you'd better hope Hanna signs the deal or McIntyre is going to be looking for someone to take it out on.'

  ‘It‘d be easier to blackmail him and leave copies in a safe deposit box with instructions to send them to Hanna if anything ever happened to me.'

  Jacobson gave him a disappointed look, like his favorite son had just been caught playing with himself in public.

  'I don't mean for money,’ Evan said quickly. ‘Just to keep him off my back.'

  'Even so, blackmail is blackmail. Or is that whitemail? Anyway, it's not your style.'

  'You're right. Thanks for your help Tom,' Evan said as Jacobson turned to go. 'See if you can be as quick with the Hendricks assignment I gave you.'

  He ducked just in time as the newspaper whistled past his damaged ear.

  CHAPTER 20

  Evan couldn't just sit around and wait to see if Jacobson's network of neighborhood busy bodies would throw up any information. The question of how Hendricks was living where he was had really got under his skin, and he was going to have to do some digging himself.

  He decided to take a drive over to the county recorder's office and dig out the property deeds to see if he could get any information. They would show who transferred the property to him - if it was his parents that would explain it, but, if not, Evan had a lot more digging to do. He wasn't sure why he was so keen to find out; even if he discovered Hendricks had bought the farm out of the proceeds of doing something illegal, it wouldn't move him forward with his investigation, unless Hendricks had kidnapped Daniel and sold him to a pedophile ring.

  The clerk at the recorder's office who showed Evan how to use the system was a real old battle axe and he hoped he wouldn't have to ask her for help. He started out searching for Hendricks' name in the grantee index but came up with nothing for the property called Beau Terre.

  That wasn't a good start so he searched the grantor index. There were plenty of Hendricks's but none for the right property. Presumably that just meant Hendricks' folks hadn't passed the farm to him, so he got hold of it some other way. Unfortunately that meant he was going to have to enlist the help of the battle axe. He found her at her desk working her way through the largest bag of potato chips he’d ever seen. He explained his problem to her.

  'That sounds like a real nice place,' she said, shaking loose the crumbs that had been stuck to her chin. She licked her finger and dabbed at them where they'd landed in her lap.

  'It is,' Evan agreed.

  'I bet it's got a big barn and one of those post and rail fences too. Maybe some horses.'

  'Two barns actually. And a big porch with a rocker. Not sure if there are any horses, but I think there could be chickens.' He couldn't help himself.

  She’d been sitting there nodding her head absently, munching contentedly through her potato chips, her eyes glazing over as she contemplated the idyllic scene he described. Until he mentioned the chickens.

  'I hate chickens. Lizards with feathers, if you ask me. Little bastards shit in your flower beds and eat all your plants. Never eat the damn weeds, mind.'

  Looking at her, Evan was mighty glad he wasn't a chicken right then. He shrugged, as if sorry that he was unable to offer an answer to her problem. 'Chickens will be chickens.'

  'Used to chase poor old Billy Bob all round the garden and peck him half to death.'

  'Billy Bob?'

  She picked up a framed photo and handed it to Evan. He expected to see some poor hen-pecked husband being mobbed by a gang of angry chickens but instead it was a scruffy pooch.

  'He's in the big kennel in the sky now, God bless him.'

  'Sorry to hear that,' Evan said replacing the photo and wishing he'd never mentioned chickens. At least she didn’t back hand it across the room or call the dog a whore.

  'Funny name. Is it Italian?' she said.

  'What? Billy Bob?'

  'No - Beau Terre, stupid.'

  'Probably French.'

  ‘I’ve never been to France. Been to Paris, Texas.’

  Time to put an end to this nonesense

  'Are there any reasons why I can't find the property deeds?'

  'Well, there's a couple of reasons that could be,' she started, in a painfully slow delivery. Evan was aware that people said all the blood goes to your stomach when you're eating, which doesn't leave much for the other bodily functions, but this was ridiculous.

  'First of all, it could be that nobody by the name of Hendricks ever bought or sold a property called Beau Terre.' She paused, waiting for Evan to acknowledge that he had finished absorbing this piece of earth-shattering information and was ready to move on. He bit back any kind of a wisecrack response, nodded and said 'Uh huh.'

  Satisfied that she had effectively got her first point across, she continued. 'It could also be that the purchasor - what was his name again?'

  'Hendricks.'

  'It could be that Mr Henderson never recorded the deeds.'

  Evan didn't bother correcting her. 'Is that usual?'

  'No. Most folks notarize and record them but you don't have to.'

  Evan realized that she was waiting for some response from him. 'Any other reasons?'

  'Could be the records haven't been updated yet. How long ago did you say?'

  'Ten years at least.'

  'Should be done by now.' She said it like she was just about to check on the cookies in the oven. It was completely matter-of-fact, without a hint of irony. Despite that, Evan suspected she might be wrong if her colleagues worked at the same pace as she did. Maybe he'd come back in another fifteen years or so.

  'There must be some records relating to the property. Any other way to find them?'

  'Depends if you've got the PIN.' Did that mean Pain In Neck Evan wondered; I've certainly got one of those.

  'Sorry, I don't even know what that is.'

  Now she looked at him like he was the idiot. He was sure she was about to ask what they taught kids in school these days. Now that they'd dropped manners from the curriculum.

  'That stands for Property... Identification... Number' she said, beaming at him at the opportunity he’d given her to display her superior knowledge. She was also displaying little bits of potato chip in the gaps between her otherwise yellow teeth.

  'Ah.’ He put on his best I have seen the light face and asked, ‘where could I get hold of one of those?'

  'I can get that for you if you like...' She smiled almost sweetly.

  Ask and you shall receive! Couldn't we have got here a bit faster?

  She put the property address into her system and came up with the number in two seconds flat. Armed with this vital new piece of information Evan headed back to his terminal, fully expecting to have the answers he needed in the next few minutes.

  Once again he was disappointed. He found the property easily enough but the only property deed listed for anything like the right time frame was a transfer listing George and Mary Saunders as the grantors and Jason Saunders as the grantee, which had taken place twelve years previously. There was no mention of Carl Hendricks at all.

  He made a note of the details and, with a heart as heavy as lead, he made his way back to the clerk's desk and explained his latest problem to her. She looked at him with something akin to pity, clearly wondering how this poor boy managed to dress himself in the mornings. But at least the bits of potato chip were gone from her teeth. For one heart-stopping moment Evan thought she was about to embark on the same rigmarole all over again, but she seemed a bit sharper now - presumably the potato chips were now digested and the blood was now coursing through her whole body, brain included.

  'It's more than likely this Saunders sold the property to your friend Hendricks who hasn't bothered to record it, for reasons best known to himself.'

  Probably so that the tax man doesn't get to see his ill-gotten gains, Evan thought. The clerk looked as if she was keen to take up their conversation about Hendricks' farm from where it left off before, s
o he thanked her and beat a hasty retreat.

  CHAPTER 21

  He'd had no signal on his cell phone inside the recorder's office, and when he came out, he saw he had a missed call from Guillory.

  'I've been doing a bit of digging into the Schneider case after what you told me,' Guillory said, 'and I don't think the old man did her in.'

  'Why's that?' Evan said.

  'I've been talking to an old friend of hers who says she's heard from her since the disappearance.'

  'But never thought to tell anyone.'

  'Apparently Barbara Schneider asked her not to. She just got in touch because they'd been such good friends and didn't want her to worry.'

  'Do you believe her?'

  'I think so. From what she says about the husband, it's a miracle she didn't bury him in the backyard. Running away was the least she could do.'

  A picture of Schneider concentrating hard as he made broken washing machine noises flashed into Evan’s mind and made him smile. 'I can vouch for that. In fact, I think she might have buried him years ago but some dog dug him up again.’

  ‘That’s the trouble with those do-it-yourself graves.’

  ‘Getting back to the friend - do you think she'd talk to me?'

  'Well, she didn't want to...'

  'Damn.'

  '...until I told her what a great guy you are and what you're looking into. It's amazing the doors that open for you when you're doing something worthwhile, isn't it?'

  Evan stifled a mock yawn. 'How will I ever repay you?'

  'Don't worry, I'm working on that. Her name's Virginia Doyle, take this number down.'

  Evan rang her as soon as he got off the phone from Guillory. After he'd introduced himself she invited him over to the house rather than discuss it over the phone. She didn't live far from the Schneider place and was waiting for him as he drove up.

  Evan noticed piles of The Watchtower stacked neatly in the hallway as she led him through to the living room.

  'Detective Guillory told me about the case you're investigating,' she said. 'I vaguely remember it happening, but I didn't know any of the people involved.’ She sounded disappointed; a missed opportunity. ‘I can't imagine what it must be like to lose your only child.'