by Mary Coley
And why did she pick him up? I’m here. Aren’t I good enough for her? If she’s going to go alley-catting around on her dear Will, why not do it with me?
He grabbed a few candy bars from the boxes on the candy aisle and selected a bottle of pop from the cooler. He hadn’t eaten supper. He’d been too tense during the drive. He wanted his money. But he’d wanted a drink more, so he’d walked two blocks to the bar.
He checked his watch. Anytime now. The man had said he’d “find” him. How hard could it be in this shithole?
Mike slammed the pop and candy bars down on the counter and dug in his pocket, hoping he had enough change to cover his purchases. He counted out the quarters and dimes and plucked a few pennies from the courtesy coin bowl next to the register.
When the employee thanked him, he grumbled, “You’re welcome.” He hated this town. The only reason he was here was to get the money he was owed and collect Mandy.
A motorcycle whipped around the corner, tooted its horn at him, and popped a wheelie as it sped away.
He stuck up his middle finger and waved it in the air as he walked. He didn’t like it here. He didn’t like the country or tiny towns, and he especially didn’t like the people. The sooner he got paid, the sooner he could grab Mandy and get out of here.
Can’t happen fast enough.
He trudged the last few steps past the boarding house parking lot and headed for the veranda.
“McNally.” The voice spoke from the shadows.
Mike grinned and turned. “Yo. ’Bout time. You got my money?”
~ Chapter 38 ~
Mandy
Bang!
Mandy dropped to the floor of the boarding house veranda. It was the same sound she’d heard a few nights ago. A gunshot, not a car backfiring. And close.
“What was that?” A voice asked.
The middle-aged woman with stylish short white hair stood at the storm door, holding it open a few inches and peering down at Mandy.
“Did you hear that?” the woman asked again. “My husband was a hunter and that sounded like his gun going off. Did you see anything?”
“No. Sounded near.” Mandy stood. “Maybe next door.”
“My parking lot’s over there. But I don’t think that was a car. Sounded like a gun.”
Mandy took the open door as an invitation to enter the house, and she stepped through as the woman backed into the foyer.
The middle-aged lady looked at her. “Did you see anyone out there? Should I grab a weapon? The fireplace poker? A butcher knife?” Her pointer finger touched her chin.
“I don’t know.” Mandy glanced outside again, then closed the front door. “Maybe we should stay inside for a few minutes and see if anything else happens.”
The woman squinted at her and straightened her shoulders. “That’s good thinking. Want a cup of tea? I can heat the kettle.” She headed down the hallway toward the back of the house. “Need a room?” she asked. “I’m Mrs. Childers. I’ve got two open rooms right now. They’re both clean, across the hall from the bathroom upstairs.”
“I don’t need a room,” Mandy said, following Mrs. Childers to the kitchen. “I’m looking for someone. A friend of mine came into town today, and he said he was staying here. I stopped in to see him.”
The landlady nodded and pursed her lips. Her peacock-blue eyes shone. “I see. And I know who you’re talking about. There are house rules here. The parlor and the living room are for visitors. No non-paying overnight visitors in the guest rooms.” In the kitchen, she filled the kettle with water from the tap and lit one of the stove’s burners.
“I’m not an overnight guest. Just a friend. And I can wait for him down here. Mike’s not really expecting me this evening. Could you let him know I’m here?”
“Mike. Yes, that’s his name. He’s in number 6, corner room above the back porch. I’ll call up.” Mrs. Childers stepped over to an intercom system on the wall and pressed the button. “Mike, you have a visitor downstairs. What’s your name?” she asked, the button still depressed.
“Mandy. Tell him Mandy is here.”
“It’s Mandy, and she’s in the parlor. Come on down.”
Mrs. Childers didn’t wait for a response. “Follow me.” She led the way down the hall a few steps to a door, knocked, and opened it quickly. Mandy peeked in over her shoulder.
Well-used furniture, including Victorian-style walnut settees and antique tables, decorated the parlor. A pump organ stood in the corner, and an embroidered screen featuring red-vested English hunters and brown and white fox hounds shielded the fireplace. Tiffany-style stained glass lamps graced the old side tables.
“You can wait here. He should be right down.” Mrs. Childers smile was polite but prim. She cocked her head. “Sure sounded like my husband’s gun.” She shrugged her shoulders and left Mandy alone.
Mandy waited.
A few minutes passed. Mrs. Childers appeared in the open doorway. “Still hasn’t come down? Is he going to keep you waiting all night? What is the matter with men these days? Their manners have gone all to hell.” She charged out of the room.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs and down the hallway above. Seconds later, they pounded back again.
“Well, he’s not there,” Mrs. Childers said from the doorway. “Guess he wasn’t expecting you. Might try later. I’d invite you to wait here in the parlor, but somebody else might want to use it, and my guests have priority. This is their home, you know, for however many nights they choose to stay with me.”
“I understand. I’ll check in with him later. Thank you.” Mandy rushed out of the house and down the front steps. She scanned the yard and the street. When Mike left the bar, he’d headed on foot in this direction. On the way here, she’d driven past the restaurant and a convenience store. He could have stopped at either.
Mike’s car was in the garage in Tulsa for repairs, so he had most likely rented a car like she had. She’d look for a rental in the parking lot.
She crossed the lawn toward the lot where Mrs. Childers’ boarders parked. A yard light near the back door illuminated the surrounding area. The gravel lot had room for about eight cars, but only two of the delineated spaces were occupied. She stepped around one vehicle to check the rear window or bumper for a rental unit number. New Mexico tag, not a rental. The other car had a Wyoming tag, and no indication of rental status.
Mike could have driven to the diner after he left the bar. She inched toward the street through the shadows, her eyes adjusting to the dimness away from the yard light. A black hump lay on the ground a few steps from the street.
Mandy leapt forward, her breath quickening.
She leaned over the crumpled body and touched a shoulder. “Are you okay?”
The body shifted at her touch, and headlights from a car on the street swept across the face.
Mike’s brown eyes stared up at her, unseeing and lifeless.
~ Chapter 39 ~
Sean
Sean Wade sprinkled pepper on his chicken-fried steak, sliced it into pieces, and dipped one into the little bowl of white gravy beside his plate. He savored the bite. It’d been awhile since he’d had anything so delicious. Jenna didn’t fry many dishes; she was more of a salad person. Not that he minded. She could pass for a woman in her twenties, slim and toned. She exercised and ate healthy.
And she hadn’t had any children yet.
He didn’t want to speculate when or if that would ever happen. It didn’t look promising. He closed his eyes, still not used to the way his heart pounded in his chest, the same way it had been pounding since that night watchman had opened the door to her office and revealed that all her belongings were gone.
It was as if the past ten years had been completely erased. No Jenna. No marriage. No love.
“Can I get you anything else, darlin’?” The dark-haired waitress stopped beside his table and gave him a wide grin.
“No. This is great, thank you.” He smiled back at her. His cell phone buzze
d in his coat pocket. He glanced at her nametag. “Thanks again, Nancy.”
He confirmed the number calling before accepting the call. “Sean Wade,” he said, formally, but he knew the caller. He listened carefully, rubbing his forehead with the pointer finger of his right hand.
“That’s right. I’m in the area. I’ll be in touch with the locals tomorrow morning. He’s close, and I suspect he will give up the rest of the gang once we’ve nailed him to the wall. Shouldn’t take long.”
He listened for another few seconds and disconnected. Who would have believed the case he’d been working for three years would finally be solved just as his wife abandoned him and in the same place where she might have gone?
He wasn’t completely sure Jenna had ever grasped the full extent of his job. Yes, he worked for an insurance company. He investigated claims of theft or destruction of property. But the truth was, he was a fraud investigator.
The current case had been a hard one to crack. Paintings supposedly worth millions had been destroyed in the house fire of a Tulsa art collector. But the fire department investigator had soon determined the blaze was arson. The police and the insurance company investigated. The items destroyed were reportedly worth millions of dollars. Perhaps in excess of eight million.
Sean and a team of investigators dug through the ashes and discovered bits of the canvases. They investigated the proof of authenticity certificates the owner received upon purchase. They were forged, and likewise, so were the paintings. They’d worked through the chain of the forgery ring, moving from one link to the other. They’d landed at Yolanda’s Art in Tulsa, and from there to Cha Har, a ridiculously unreadable signature of an artist who turned out to have an address in Medicine Park, Oklahoma.
And Jenna was here, too.
~ Chapter 40 ~
Mandy
“He was lying there. I don’t know anything else,” Mandy repeated to the sheriff. Every light blazed on the downstairs floor of Mrs. Childers’ rooming house. Two other boarders huddled in the pair of wingback chairs in the parlor.
Mrs. Childers sat in a straight-backed single chair, fanning herself, repeating, “No one was ever murdered while they were staying here.” She closed her eyes and fanned faster. “I feel faint, officer.”
“I’ll get you a glass of water, Mrs. Childers,” one of the boarders said. The woman hurried from the room.
Mrs. Childers had introduced the woman to the sheriff as Missy Alfred, a long-term boarder. She’d lived upstairs for over a year and had a job at a local tourist trap on Main Street.
Mandy blinked and saw Mike’s dead eyes staring at nothing.
The other regular boarder, a short man with thick glasses and a mop of dark hair, was an accountant at the bank. A pudgy single man well into his forties, he’d said the boarding house suited him fine.
Mandy didn’t care where he lived, or why.
Mike was dead. He’d come here because of her.
“Now, miss, tell me again how you knew the deceased,” the sheriff asked in a gravelly voice.
Mandy explained that she worked with Mike, he’d been helping her with a work project, and she was unaware he had followed her to Medicine Park until she saw him at the bar.
“Did anyone see you with him at the bar? Did you leave the bar together?”
“No. I talked to him inside, then went out to my vehicle. When he left the bar, he saw me sitting there and stopped to talk. Mike told me where he was staying and asked me to come by. A little later, I drove here. I came up on the porch and heard a car backfire, or a gunshot.” She detailed her wait for Mike inside the boarding house and her search for his car in the parking lot, which led to discovering his body. Mandy knew little else to tell the sheriff about Mike.
Mrs. Childers shuddered. “She’s telling the truth. I heard the shot and went to the door. She was hunkered down on the porch, her eyes big as billiard balls. I don’t think she had time to fire that shot and get to the porch in a few seconds, Sheriff.”
“So, what about your other boarders? Who else is here?”
“Couple of short-timers. A woman, and another man. She came in Tuesday night; he came in late today. I haven’t seen either one tonight.”
“I’ll need their names, and I’ll need to know as soon as they get back tonight. I want to talk to them.” The sheriff tugged on his belt, adjusting his pants. “Anyone else who might have seen something? Any neighbors?”
“Mrs. Peabody next door sits by the windows several hours a day, unless one of her favorite programs is on the television. She has lots of favorite programs.”
“Anyone walk their dogs around here, or jog, or anything that might have put them near your house earlier this evening?”
“Kids ride their bikes or scooters. But it was dark when it happened, and I don’t think they’d still be out on the streets,” Mrs. Childers worked the fan faster. “I don’t know about this town. I used to think it was safe.”
Mandy didn’t think Mike’s death was a sign the town was unsafe. Someone had killed Mike for a reason. Was she the next target?
While the police searched Mike’s room, Mandy paced the parlor. She didn’t want to go out in the dark night alone and drive the curving road to Jandafar Hills.
One of the boarders turned on the television and selected a CSI rerun. Mandy closed her eyes, but the program entered through her ears. Another body, more strange circumstances. The plot wasn’t any stranger than what had happened here tonight.
If she could go back a few hours, she’d let Mike into the SUV with her and Lamar. Talk to him, maybe even take him out to Jandafar. If she had, he might still be alive.
She felt immobilized. She might never leave this room. There was too much uncertainty outside. Even if she made it back to the B&B, what was to keep someone from getting into her cabin and killing her? Everyone in town knew she was at Jandafar.
“Miss?”
Mandy jumped. The deputy sheriff stood at her elbow. “We found a few things in Mr. McNally’s room we need to ask you about. Would you come upstairs?”
She rose from the chair and found she could walk after all. Maybe, if she stayed in the house, she would be safe, and she was with policemen. How much safer could you get?
Mike’s room was upstairs, the last door on the right.
“You were friends, you said?” The sheriff asked as she entered. The simple room had a double bed with a brass bed frame, a comfortable chair with ottoman kitty-cornered by the window, a hulking wardrobe on one wall, and a small desk and chair on the wall behind the door.
“We were acquaintances. I’d only known him about six months, when he started working at the company.”
“And what does this company do?”
“Marketing. He was a creative designer, and I was in sales. We worked together on a couple of marketing campaigns for small companies in the Tulsa area.”
“So, do you have any idea who these two people are? He has a whole envelope of photos of them, both together and separate. They have anything to do with a marketing campaign?”
He handed her the envelope, and she slid out a stack of photographs. Her blood chilled, but she forced herself to look at each picture. Jenna and Sean: at the park, in their yard, in their driveway, in their car, even on the deck at their Grand Lake cabin. The last picture was not only of Jenna and Sean, but her and Will in the ski boat on the lake.
Mike had told her he didn’t know Jenna, but he’d obviously been following her for months even before he started work for their company.
“That’s you, isn’t it? You know these other three people?”
“This is Jenna Wade and her husband Sean. They both disappeared from Tulsa earlier this week. The man with me is my boyfriend Will.”
“Can you explain why this fellow Mike had these pictures with him?”
She had no explanation. Obviously, Mike had known much more about Jenna and Sean, and even her and Will, than he had ever let on. A tiny headache started in her right temple.
“You don’t look well. Want to sit down? I have a couple more questions,” the deputy sheriff said.
Mandy sat on the ottoman by the window. “I’ll help in any way I can. Mike was just a guy at work. We didn’t socialize. But he helped me look for Jenna.”
“And is that why you came here, and why he followed? You were both looking for this person, Jenna?”
“Yes. I left Tulsa alone. I didn’t expect him to come after me.”
“But he did. Were you glad to see him?”
Mandy closed her eyes. Where was this questioning going? Hadn’t Mrs. Childers already told him there was no way she could have shot Mike and been cowering on the veranda seconds later?
“I wasn’t not glad. I didn’t want him to come mostly because I didn’t want him to involve himself. Jenna was my best friend. She wasn’t anything to him.”
“She was obviously something to him. Otherwise, why all these pictures?”
“I don’t know the answer to that.”
“We also found this in his suitcase.” He held up a plastic bag with a handgun inside. “And these.” He held up topographic maps and a GPS device. “And these.” Two walkie-talkies. “Looks like he was rendezvousing with someone. You?”
“I’ve already told you I had no idea he was coming here. If he brought those things, it was on his own initiative.”
The tiny headache grew.
“Seems like you don’t know a lot.”
She glared at the sheriff. “I don’t, and I told you that from the beginning.”
“You’re staying out at Jandafar Hills?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be out there tomorrow to talk to you again. I’ll call Dale and let her know when we’re coming. For now, you can go.”
But she didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave the relative safety of the house and drive to Jandafar. She didn’t want to stay in a dark, empty cabin. She stood up but didn’t leave the room.
The sheriff and his deputy looked at her. “Well? Is there something else you wanted to say?”