4 A Dead Mother

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “Yes. That’s the main reason I’m here. We found you way too easily. I don’t know who you’re hiding from or why, but we want you to move. Right away. I have my security guy with me and when he says move, you need to move.”

  “Your security guy, where?” Peter asked as he pulled back the blinds a tad.

  “You won’t see him unless he wants you to,” I said, feeling more comfortable as Anastasia, still on her leash, moved closer to the fireplace and hunkered down. “How fast can you pack up and get out of here?” I asked.

  “In a matter of minutes. I haven’t really unpacked. My suitcase is in the bedroom.”

  “What about your car?”

  “It’s in a garage behind the cabin.”

  “Then, I think we should leave. I can have someone help you with your bag. You can come back for the car later if there’s nothing in it that you need—like evidence of wrongdoing or something like that you don’t already have with you in here.” I tried to read his face in the dim, flickering light being cast off from the fireplace. There was hesitation in his eyes, perhaps wondering if I was up to no good. First, he looked at me, then at the dog, and finally at the box of cookies, and relented. Relief swirled over and around the man, carried aloft on a burst of light from the fireplace as a log shifted.

  “Can I take the cookies with me? Wait!” He said, cramming one into his mouth. Then he grabbed his coat and slipped it on. He returned seconds later with a large rolling suitcase and a briefcase. I heard footsteps followed by a knock on the door.

  “Uh, Jessica, it’s us.” I wasn’t quite sure what Brien meant by us, but if Brien was out and about I figured Peter had matters under control.

  “The cavalry has arrived. I’m sure Peter March has been watching and listening to our every move.”

  David unlocked the door and Brien stepped into the room. His bulk made the room appear to shrink. The accountant stepped backward. When he did that, Brien moved aside, and Peter walked in, ducking to get through the doorway. David’s mouth fell open at the sight of him. It wasn’t just his size as he towered over us. Peter had on that headgear. The night scopes were pointed up, but a tiny mic was wrapped around his head. The crunch of tires on gravel reached us through the open door.

  “Time to move,” Peter said. “Put Mr. Madison into the backseat of the limo that just pulled up. We’re taking you to a safe house, Sir. I know you ditched your phone. Do you have any other electronic devices with you—a tablet or laptop?”

  “Not mine. I have Beverly Windsor’s though.” I gasped.

  “Why?”

  “She sent it to me with a note asking me to keep it safe for her until she could claim it.”

  “How could she do that? She’s dead?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I figured she sent it to me before someone killed her. It arrived after we spoke on the phone. I was already jittery and was going to call you the next morning, but someone had slipped a note under my door at my condo. ‘Get out of town. Don’t trust anyone—not even her lawyer.’ Something like that. I have the note if you want to see it.”

  “We’ll have to sort this out later, folks. Company’s coming.”

  “More?” David Madison asked, obviously disoriented by the barrage action.

  “Where’s the laptop?”

  “In here.” As he said that, the accountant hugged his briefcase, holding it closer to his chest. “Good. Keep it with you. Accountant in the backseat. Luggage in the trunk, okay, Brien?”

  “Jessica, you and Anastasia get in the Escalade. Now! Don’t get in the way of the limo, but tell Bernadette to step on it and get out of here.”

  The urgency in Peter’s voice had me on the move. Brien had David Madison’s enormous roller bag in one hand, and was ushering the man out of the cabin with the other. The doors were already open on a dark Mercedes limo, although the interior lights were off. Brien shoved David Madison into the backseat next to one of Peter’s men.

  “Get into my SUV, Brien. I’m going to put out the fire and then I’ll join you.”

  As soon as Brien and David had cleared the steps, Anastasia and I ran to the Escalade. Tommy opened the door for Anastasia who hopped in without a command to do so. I slammed the door almost at the same time Tommy shut his.

  “Peter says step on it!” Bernadette needed no further prodding as the sound of bullets suddenly erupted near the cabin. Anastasia growled and then let out a low mournful howl. The limo tore out of there and onto the highway. Bernadette raised a cloud of dust as she took off behind it. I searched behind us, hoping to see the lights from Peter’s SUV gaining on us.

  31 Burnt Umber

  It had been a long night. After the mad dash from the cabin, I’d called Rikki and explained that we’d found the missing accountant. I also explained that he was hiding out, under Peter March’s watchful eyes that included armed guards. I also explained as well as I could why David Madison felt he needed that protection.

  “A shootout? In Crestline? That’s San Bernardino County, not Riverside, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was anyone injured?”

  “We all got away. Peter doesn’t think he hit anyone when he returned fire. In fact, he was trying not to shoot anyone, just lay down cover to get everyone out of there.”

  “Everyone who?” She asked. I slumped down on my bed, which the lovely Anastasia took as a signal to join me. As I explained all that had gone on, starting with Kim’s discovery that Madison’s family owned a cabin, I left out a few things, like the camo outfits and the orange bandanas. I didn’t think we were going to have as many volunteers next time there was an undercover mission or a stakeout or whatever the Cat Pack eventually decided to call this latest outing.

  “What’s on the laptop that’s so important?”

  “I have no idea. David Madison said that once he got to the cabin, he looked at what was on it. Nothing caught his eye, but he didn’t have much time to review Beverly Windsor’s files before the battery died. Peter will have that problem solved in no time. We can arrange to turn the laptop over to you whenever you want to pick it up. Or tell Peter where to drop it off to make sure it gets into the right hands. David is also willing to go along with you if you can guarantee his safety. After those shots were fired, Peter said David Madison was asking to be put into witness protection.”

  “Protection from whom?”

  “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to tell you that if he could. He says he doesn’t know. It must have something to do with Beverly Windsor’s murder, though, and maybe with the crooks at The Alpha Advantage investment firm. The only person I know for sure who’s connected to Beverly Windsor and that firm is Cedric Baumgartner. Maybe you could pick him up and ask him how he spent his evening.”

  “I can’t picture him running around in the woods unless they make haute hunting outfits.” Rikki paused for a few seconds. “Uh, they don’t, do they?”

  “Not unless he planned on riding with the hounds. Fox hunting has been banned in most places, so I doubt he’s outfitted to participate in the sport of kings! There was nothing sporting about taking potshots at David Madison—more like shooting fish in a barrel.”

  “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how lucky you are that no one was injured.” I was poised for the lecture about leaving the dirty work of tracking down the bad guys to the cops. Instead, Rikki surprised me. “I believe it’s time we had another conversation with Cedric Baumgartner. I want that laptop and if Madison is willing to put himself in our protection, I’ll see what we can do. I’ll also have my colleague in San Bernardino send a team out to collect whatever evidence they can find about who was shooting at the runaway accountant. Good job finding him before ‘they’ did—whoever ‘they’ are.”

  “Sure, that all sounds good. I’ll have Peter drop off Beverly’s laptop at the Palm Desert Police Department tomorrow if that’ll work or you can call him with other instructions about how to get it to you. Let’s see how scared David is once he’s ha
d a good night’s sleep. Then we’ll figure out what you want to do about him if he prefers to trust the constabulary with his life while this gets sorted out. Maybe Cedric Baumgartner will be more forthcoming the second time around.”

  “Or maybe we’ll get a hit from the ice pick the woman in the video pricked her finger on and can ID the dog-hater who broke into Beverly Windsor’s house. Maybe she found what she was looking for in that manila folder she took from the bedside table in Beverly’s master bedroom and it has something to do with what’s on Beverly Windsor’s laptop.”

  “Too bad there’s nothing revealing about the contents of that folder from the video. Kim tried, but no luck.”

  “Good grief! When did she find the time?”

  “What can I say? The girl with the Saraswati tattoo has got some skills!” Then I had to explain what I meant since Rikki hadn’t caught a glimpse of the tattoo. Kim keeps it covered when she works at the law office, but had flaunted it when she was an indentured servant to the depraved Mr. P. That Hindu goddess was a symbol of silent resistance to the man who represented the opposite of all that’s good about music, art, wisdom and learning. I’d no sooner ended that call when my phone rang.

  “Jessica, I think I’ve worked out a solution to the dilemma about how to proceed with the information Bernadette got through the grapevine. You can pass the info along to Paul. Don’t mention it, but he’s about to get another assist in the case. A tip’s been left on his hotline about the location of the murder weapon.”

  “No way! How’d you swing that?”

  “The nanny’s mal policia is the same cop the DEA guys have been tracking. They bought the notion that having him over a barrel as a murder suspect could move their case along. When he came around the side of the house, he chucked something into the bushes. It’s a long steel rod—used to sharpen knives. There’s probably one missing from the kitchen, but it’s likely no one noticed.”

  “That fits with what Jerry told me about the murder weapon after reading the preliminary report from the coroner. It must be well-hidden, since the police must have checked the grounds around Jim’s house.”

  “Not for long! Call Paul and tell him what Bernadette told you. An eyewitness testimony that places the cop in the room ought to be enough to bring him in for questioning. Maybe they can get physical evidence from the murder weapon even if he was wearing gloves when he used it.”

  “It’s too bad no one nabbed him right away. He must have had Hargreaves’ blood on his clothes and shoes. Those are long gone by now, I’m sure. Oh well, better late than never, huh? With Paul leaning on him and the DEA stepping in to put him on the spot, a deal might sound good to JJ.”

  “No cop wants to end up in prison, that’s for sure.” Frank suddenly sounded troubled. “Even a murderous slug like this guy.”

  “I wonder what he took from Hargreaves’ body? Maybe that would shed some light on a motive.”

  “I’m sure Paul will do what he can to figure that out once the nanny has told him her story. Jim’s life sure is about to take a turn for the better.”

  “Goody for him,” I said. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be so hateful toward him, should I?”

  “Hey, just because he’s not a murderer doesn’t mean he’s no longer a dirt bag.” That made me laugh. “Besides, his life’s not looking that great, either, since he still has to face Cassie-the-worm-hearted as you love to call her.”

  “Yeah, prison may have been the better choice for Jim to escape from that Hollywood harpy.” It was a huge relief to hear Frank laughing gleefully on the other end of the phone.

  “I don’t know how you keep coming up with new names for Cassie. Are you carrying a Thesaurus around with you?”

  “I’m inspired. What can I say? Everything’s good now, isn’t it? We’re all out of trouble with Hargreaves’ murder and you don’t have to give the DEA your first-born kid or anything in exchange for working out this deal, right?” There was just the slightest hesitation before Frank responded.

  “Frankie would never allow that,” he said. “Hang on! I just got a message from Rikki Havens. What’s this about shots fired in Crestline during the rescue of David Madison?”

  “Uh, I can explain,” I said. “I’m sure Rikki will give you the scoop, but here goes.”

  When I said it was a late night, I meant it. It took me another half hour to cover my bases with Frank. He was mostly okay, but at one point when I tried to lighten up the story by telling him about the camouflage outfits, orange bandanas, and goggles, he threatened to resign as a Cat Pack member.

  “Okay, so maybe you had to be there. I’ll admit it seemed funnier beforehand than it did when we were on the run.” The spooky feeling I’d had walking up to the dark cabin surrounded by woods crept back over me. Why not? A gunman must have been hiding in them. Bullets flying and the mad dash down out of the mountains hadn’t been the least bit funny either. “Who do you think is after David Madison?” I asked.

  “If they were paid assassins hired by conspirators from The Alpha Advantage firm to shut him up that didn’t work. Sloppy for pros.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a good thing we found David before they did.”

  “Unless you and your Cat Pack buddies led them to him. At least you had the good sense to let Peter March in on the assassination party you and your pals crashed, if that’s what was going on. I hope you’re prepared for the bill you’re going to get. That had to be a pricey faux paw, huh?”

  “Hahaha! Very punny of you.” I tried to sound stern, but I was relieved he’d recovered his sense of humor. Not just because I didn’t want more scolding. His lightheartedness was less worrisome than the discomforting quiet that had settled upon him lately. It had bothered me so much in fact, that when I’d called his mom to thank her for the lovely time at Frankie’s birthday party, I’d brought it up after the usual exchange of social niceties.

  “Frank’s being overworked, isn’t he?”

  “I agree. He’s had too much extra duty lately. Don and I have stayed with the kids for several long weekends to pitch in. I hope they ease up on him soon. Has he said much to you about it?”

  “No, but he seems preoccupied. I haven’t seen him much since I returned from LA. That’s partly my fault since I’ve been bogged down with a backlog of work, too.”

  “I understand. Frank says he’s tired. Who wouldn’t be with all the extra hours he’s logged on top of wrangling with the kids?”

  “Maybe his dad should have a talk with him.”

  “Don’s as bad as Frank. I keep asking him about retiring and he goes into that same brooding mode Frank uses when he doesn’t want to talk about something. Neither man is good when it comes to facing the fact they’re getting older. I don’t know which one hates his birthday more. Frank has one coming up next month and I can’t get him to say a word about what he wants to do about it.”

  “He’ll be thirty-nine, right?”

  “Yes. The same age Jack Benny always claimed to be no matter how much older he was. I told Frank he could do the same thing and quit worrying about getting any older.” Evelyn laughed. “He didn’t find it funny.” We’d chatted a few more minutes and I vowed to help her come up with a scheme to mark Frank’s birthday in style.

  I breathed the same sigh of relief now that I’d breathed then. Overworked and worried about approaching middle age could explain the bouts of angst that seemed to overtake him. While I had him on the phone, maybe it was my turn to suggest an outing like the lovely day we’d spent at the beach.

  “Frank, let’s go hiking and spend some time in the woods without worrying about gunfights or runaway accountants.”

  “Or orange bandanas with desert camo wear. That image is going to be stuck in my head for a while even though I didn’t witness Brien and Tommy’s buffoonery. I’m tied up for the next couple of weekends, I’m afraid. How about the first weekend in March?”

  “You’re too busy,” I griped. “Put me on your calendar, Detective.”

&nb
sp; “It’s a date, Jessica Huntington no hyphen. By the way, Rikki loved the t-shirt idea.”

  “How did she hear about that?”

  “Detectives talk, you know. Hernandez found it amusing. Somehow, you manage to find your way into those conversations. You’re lucky no cops showed up at that shoot out and spotted your undercover team in full regalia or you’d never hear the end of it.”

  “Another item to add to my gratitude list.”

  “What’s that?” Before I could explain about yet another strategy I’d picked from Father Martin in my never-ending struggle to stay positive, my phone pinged. “Oops! It’s a text message from Rikki. Did you get it, too?”

  “Yes, I did. Can you believe it?”

  Found the Chevy Impala. More burnt amber than cranberry and I do mean burnt! No plates.

  “Dang it!”

  “Yeah, they’re not likely to get much DNA from a burned-out heap. Maybe they can use the VIN number to trace its owner.”

  “I take it there wasn’t a body in it at least. All we need is another murder.”

  32 A Crudslide

  I reveled in how peaceful Sunday morning seemed after the turmoil the night before. The entire week, in fact, had been filled to overflowing with those stupefying moments when you find yourself flailing about like a fish out of water. A stranger in a strange land, as Kim had said about my surfer dude pool boy turned security consultant-in-training.

  “Aren’t we all?” I muttered.

  I didn’t even dress before I escorted Anastasia outside, staying close to the house in my jersey hoodie, pajama jeans, and flip-flops. I was too worn out from the night before to face a run in with a looky-loo, or the paparazzi, or even a neighbor. I grabbed a cup of coffee and spoke with Bernadette just long enough to tell her I was going to call Paul. I didn’t go into any details, but I told her we could all rest more easily about the Hargreaves’ murder.