Reed Ferguson Mystery Box Set 5

by Renee Pawlish

  I’d offended him. I got up as well. “Thanks for your time.”

  “You’re staying at the Sagebrush Inn?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. If I need anything from you, I’ll go there.”

  “Will you at least talk to Toby and let me know if I’m wrong?”

  “I suppose I can do that.”

  I wasn’t convinced he was going to do anything. It seemed like I’d have to supply him with more evidence before he’d act. But how?

  He waved a dismissive hand at me, and was already picking up the phone when I left his office.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I drove to the end of the block, where I could still see Madisen’s cruiser in the parking lot. He hadn’t seemed convinced that Toby Holder might be doing something illegal, and I wanted to know what Madisen would do next. I shut off the 4-Runner, rolled down my window, and grabbed a pad and pen from the glove compartment. Then I pulled out my phone and called Gina Smith. She picked up immediately.

  “I need your father’s phone number,” I said as I kept my eye on the sheriff’s department. “I’ve got to ask him some questions.”

  “He’s not around and he isn’t returning my calls.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since you met with him.”

  “When’s the last time you called him?”

  “Last night.” She sighed. “After you two talked at his house the night before, he was so upset.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Well, he called me yesterday and said he was going out of town for a few days, and he couldn’t watch Ethan. When I asked him where he was going, he wouldn’t say, just that he had some things to take care of, and not to worry. But he sounded worried. Do you think something’s happened to him, too?”

  I bit my lip. “It doesn’t look good. Give me his number and I’ll see if he’ll answer for me.”

  She rattled it off and I wrote it down. “If he answers, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “Reed, what’s going on?”

  I gazed down the block. “I’m not sure, but I’m close to something. I’ll keep you posted. Oh, what kind of car does your father drive?”

  “A Mazda sedan. Why?”

  “Is it dark, with four doors?”

  “Yes, why?”

  I didn’t answer directly. “I’ll keep an eye out for him, in case he’s in Sagebrush.”

  “Okay.”

  I ended the call, then dialed John Smith’s number. It rang four times and went to voice mail. I wasn’t surprised. I left a message, saying it was urgent that he call me back as soon as possible, but I didn’t have high hopes that he would.

  I sat for a minute as questions circled in my brain. I hadn’t trusted John Smith from the start. Was he hiding something, and had he come to Sagebrush, and was he the one who tried to run me off the road the other night? I glanced around. Where was he now?

  My next call was to Jennifer Madisen. As expected, it went to voice mail. I asked her to call me as well, again not expecting her to do so. I jammed my phone back in my pocket, frustrated. How could I make sense of this mess if no one would talk to me? I didn’t have time to think about that, because just then Sheriff Madisen walked out of the building and stomped to his cruiser, then drove off down the street. I waited until he’d turned the corner and then I followed.

  The cruiser went to Main Street, but instead of turning right as I would’ve expected if Madisen was going to Holder Farm Equipment, it went left. Where was he going? I didn’t have to wait long for my answer. The cruiser drove slowly along Main Street, then pulled in by the park.

  Madisen got out and casually leaned against the hood. I whipped down a side street and parked, then hopped out. I ran to the corner of a building and peeked around it, my eye on Sheriff Madisen. A moment later, Mayor Holder strolled out of the park and up to his son-in-law. The two spoke for a few minutes, and then Holder waved and walked to his Cadillac. He slid behind the wheel and started in my direction. Madisen got into his cruiser and drove the other way.

  I dashed back to the 4-Runner, ducked down as Holder’s Cadillac passed by, then pulled onto Main Street. The cruiser was two blocks ahead of me. I stayed with it, still expecting Madisen to turn and head for Holder Farm Equipment. But he didn’t. The cruiser reached the end of Main and turned onto the highway. I sped up, but by the time I got onto the highway, Madisen was almost out of view. He soon turned onto County Road 15.

  He’s headed home for the night, I thought.

  Had he even talked to Toby Holder? And why had he needed to talk to Mayor Holder? To alert him about Toby?

  I reached County Road 15, but instead of following Madisen, I turned around and headed back into town. I seemed to be at a dead end. I shrugged and called Willie.

  “Want to join me for a bite to eat?”

  “You can take a break from your investigation?”

  I sighed. “It seems so. I can pick you up in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “Great.” Maybe dinner with my wife would lighten my mood.

  Willie and I decided to mix it up, and we had a decent dinner at an Italian restaurant a few blocks down from the café. While we ate, I caught her up on my day. She had a sexy tan and was relaxed. I wished I could say the same for myself.

  “You’ll figure it out,” she was saying when I held up my hand to interrupt her. “What?”

  “There’s Jennifer Madisen,” I said as I saw Jennifer pass by the front window of the restaurant. “Hold on.”

  I scooted out of the restaurant and ran after Jennifer.

  “Hey!” I called out.

  She glanced over her shoulder, realized it was me, and said, “Leave me alone.”

  “I just want to know if you knew who Marcia had been dating, the guy who got her pregnant.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No.”

  “Your husband –”

  “We didn’t know anything. Now leave me alone!” she repeated and stormed off down the street.

  I was standing there, wondering if she was telling the truth, when Willie came outside.

  “I paid for dinner.”

  “Huh? Oh, thanks.” I kissed her. “Sorry. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We were headed there when Cal called. “You’re never going to believe this.”

  “What?”

  “John Smith received a couple of interesting calls today.”

  I didn’t like his tone. “One was from me, but who else?”

  “There was a call earlier today from a 970 area code.”

  “Let me guess, the 970 is from Mayor Holder.”

  “Close. Toby Holder called him.”

  I gripped the phone harder. “Toby’s been lying to me this whole time.”

  “It looks like it.”

  “If Toby knows Smith, does Jennifer or the mayor know him as well?” I mused. “And Smith didn’t receive any calls from Mayor Holder or anyone else from Sagebrush?”

  “No, just that one.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “What’s going on?”

  I quickly filled him in. When I finished, he said, “You watch your back. If Toby’s involved with some kind of drug cartel, these guys will shoot you dead without any reason.”

  “I will.” I put the phone away and glanced at Willie. “I need to run you back to the hotel, and then I need to find Toby Holder.”

  “I can go with you.”

  I started to protest, but she shook her head. “Come on, Reed, let me go with you. If I wait at the hotel, I’ll just worry about you. This way, I can stay in the car, but if something happens, I can get help.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  She looked at me askance. “Trouble always finds you.”

  “Ouch,” I said. “Fine. But I’m sure you’ll be bored.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve helped you before and it’s been kind of fun.”

&nbs
p; I saw the look on her face, and I didn’t think I’d win this argument, so I didn’t protest further. “Are we becoming the new Nick and Nora Charles from The Thin Man?” I said, referring to Dashiell Hammett’s 1930s detective duo.

  She laughed. “Could be. Except that you’re not a hard-drinking ex-detective, and I’m not a wealthy socialite.”

  I smiled at her. “You’ve watched the movies.”

  “A couple of them.”

  I shook my head, ever in awe of my wife.

  “Let’s check Toby’s store again, and if he isn’t there, we’ll go back to the hotel,” I said.

  “Fine.”

  I whipped a U-turn and headed for Holder Farm Equipment. Dusk was settling in as I neared the store, and then I saw Toby’s silver truck sitting out front.

  I pointed at it. “He’s there.”

  “The store’s dark,” Willie said. “So where is he?”

  “Maybe in back.”

  I went by the parking lot, turned the corner, and passed by his office. The window was closed, and no light was coming from inside. Where was Holder? I drove around the back of the building.

  “There’s a rear entrance,” Willie said.

  “It leads to Eleventh Street,” I observed.

  I went back around the block and ended up in front of the store. I parked on the street, near the closed gate to the back lot, and got out.

  “Go around to the side of the building again,” I said. “If you see the office light come on, or if Holder goes out the back door, call and let me know.”

  She nodded, slid across to the driver’s seat, and drove off. I set my phone to vibrate, then walked along the fence and around to the front parking lot. The store was quiet. I stood near the chain link fence and watched the front door for a minute to see if I could spot Toby Holder inside.

  Nothing.

  I was moving toward the door when a loud crack echoed into the air. It had come from somewhere in the back lot. I knelt down, unholstered my Glock, and peered through the fence. I let my eyes rove around. The lot was full of farm equipment and shadows. Then I spied movement off to the left.

  I grabbed the fence and, as quickly and as quietly as possible, climbed it. It still rattled loudly. I dropped down on the other side and listened. I sneaked past some kind of big tractor with a rotating blade on the front – I’m a city boy, so I don’t know what it is – and saw someone rush past a big green cart with big wheels near the rear of the lot. I ducked down and dashed between rows of equipment. Somewhere ahead of me, I heard footsteps. I moved forward cautiously. A huge light on the side of the building came on, illuminating the lot in silver brightness, but also creating pale shadows. As I neared a big John Deere tractor, another crack rang out and a rush of air whizzed by my face. He’d shot at me! I flattened onto the ground, my heart pounding. That was too close for comfort.

  After ten seconds, I pushed into a crouch. Then I saw a form running toward the building. I aimed the Glock, but he was gone. I looked all around, and listened. Where was he?

  Then, over the sounds of my breathing, I heard a groan. I squatted down and moved to the end of the tractor. The groan came again. I peeked around the tractor and in the dim light saw John Smith. He was propped against the huge tire of the tractor. He had on jeans and a white T-shirt, but the shirt had a growing stain on it.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I swore, then dropped to my knees. I shoved the Glock in the small of my back as I stared at Smith. He’d been shot in the gut. He had one hand covering the wound, but blood oozed between his fingers.

  “Did Toby shoot you?” I asked.

  He nodded. He was breathing in short gasps. I heard a truck engine rev to life, and then my phone vibrated. It was Willie.

  “Toby Holder’s leaving,” she said in a soft voice.

  “I know. He shot John Smith.”

  “What? No!”

  “You’ve got to come back here. Can you climb the fence?”

  “Yes. Where are you?”

  I looked around. “In the back corner.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  I ended the call, then stared at Smith. “Hold tight, and keep your hand on the wound. My wife is a nurse, and she can help. And I’m calling 911.”

  I punched 911 into the phone.

  He reached out and grabbed my arm and whispered, “It’s too late.”

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “You need to protect Marcia.”

  “What?” I said. The operator came on the line, and I told her a man had been shot, and where I was. She said she’d send an ambulance and the police. She started to ask more questions.

  “Hold on,” I said to her, then held the phone away from my ear so I could hear Smith.

  I glanced around, then looked back at Smith. “Is Marcia here?”

  “She went after him. But he’ll kill her.”

  “Who?”

  The operator said something and I put the phone to my ear. She was asking more questions, but I needed to hear Smith.

  “Just send someone, and hurry,” I said, then disconnected.

  Smith took in a few gasps. A faint odor of engine grease mixed with the metallic smell of blood. He gestured at me to listen to him. “I was involved with the drugs.”

  “Now?”

  He shook his head again. “Back then. When I was working at the dairy plant. Another guy and I worked with some locals, bringing drugs up from Mexico.”

  “Jay Overstrom.”

  He nodded. “When Marcia got pregnant, I knew I wanted out. I … didn’t want her and the baby involved with any of that. I loved her. Still do. But they found us at the hotel in Russell.”

  “Who did?”

  He seemed to find a reserve of strength. “They killed Jay because he was getting careless. Then his wife started asking too many questions, so they were going to get rid of her, too. I knew the plan, didn’t want any part of it, but I knew what was going on, so they didn’t want me around, either.”

  “Who’s they, and why didn’t they kill you in Kansas?”

  “I escaped. Came back for Marcia later.”

  “Did she know about the drug smuggling?”

  “No. She knew I had a past. When we left, I told her I was going straight. She was young, naïve. So much potential. We loved each other.”

  “Reed!” I heard Willie call out in a low voice.

  “Over here!” I hissed.

  Smith’s face scrunched up.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “It’s my wife.”

  Willie rushed around the front of the tractor. In one hand she held a spare towel that she’d grabbed from the backseat of the 4-Runner. She took in the scene, then hurried over and sank to her knees by us.

  “Let me look.” She started to touch Smith, but he pushed her hands away. “Please,” she whispered.

  “Too late,” he said.

  He was struggling to speak, but there was clear urgency in his voice. Willie again tried to examine the gunshot wound, and he again pushed her away. She was able to press the towel to the wound, and she held it there.

  “Let me talk,” he said forcefully.

  She leaned back, frustration crossing her face, but let him speak. Smith looked at me.

  “How did they find Marcia now, in Denver?” I asked.

  “My fault.” He took a few short breaths. “When I saw the news … the remains being found in the field near Woodrow, I panicked. That was where they put Jay’s wife. They were supposed to hide the body where it would never be found.” He sucked in a breath. “Only person I’d ever told about all this was my friend, Greg Martinez. I called him about the body, and Gina overheard me.” He scowled. “Wish she hadn’t.” He breathed heavily for a moment. “Greg told me I should go to the police, clean the slate. At first, I didn’t want to … I’d go to jail. But he was right. It’s time to come clean. I’m tired of the guilt. I screwed up. I called Toby to tell him what I was going to do. That it was over.” He grimaced. “Neve
r should’ve done that. Now they think Marcia knows, too.”

  My jaw dropped. “Is Toby after his own sister?”

  He shook his head. “He protected her.”

  “From who?”

  Sadness crossed his face. “She couldn’t remember what happened in Russell. She wasn’t a threat.”

  “Marcia?” I asked.

  It was getting harder for him to talk, and he seemed to be going in and out of consciousness. “But he doesn’t believe her.”

  “Tell me who!” I couldn’t follow what he was saying.

  “He wants her dead. Toby told me. I came up here to stop them. I confronted Toby first. Thought I could get him to reason. He went crazy. I ran and he shot me.” He took a deep, gargled breath. “Should’ve told you Mayor Holder wasn’t involved, but was afraid of what you’d find out. Didn’t want you to know about the smuggling. I knew it would put Marcia and Gina in danger.”

  He groaned, and then wheezed.

  “Where is the ambulance?” I muttered. I was losing him. “Did you tell Jennifer or anyone else what happened in that hotel room?” I asked quickly.

  “No,” he whispered. “No one was there but us. I didn’t tell anybody. Marcia didn’t even remember, and I never told her.”

  “What’s your real name?”

  He managed a faint smile. “Doesn’t matter now. I don’t have any family except Gina.”

  He sucked in one final short breath and let it out in a gurgle. Then his eyes glazed over, and his body went limp. I sat back on my haunches while Willie took his pulse.

  “He’s dead,” she murmured.

  I slowly nodded.

  “Why wouldn’t he let us try to help?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t think he would’ve survived, and I’m not sure he wanted to.”

  She gazed down at him. “What was he talking about?”

  I didn’t answer, instead mentally going over what Smith had just said. I had bits and pieces of a story that I was trying to fit together with everything else I’d learned.

  “Where is the ambulance?” Willie said.