Fire And Lies: The El & Em Detective Series

by Pamela Cowan

  “He’s a monster,” Rose said.

  “He is. You’re right and that’s why we’re not going to stick around and help him. I hate to ask you this, but how fast do you think we can get packed?”

  Rose smiled, a smile that lit up her beautiful dark brown eyes. “As fast as a herd of turtles.”

  “That fast?”

  “Well, you know—the sex,” she said, giving him a flirtatious smile.

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yes, that.”

  “Have to make a call first. I have an idea.”

  Jelly called Leena and said, “Beale wants you to make a phone call.”

  Then he told her to get paper and a pen so she could write down the words exactly as he said them. With Leena, he wasn’t taking chances. He dictated what she was going to say.

  While he talked to her, he could hear Rose in the bedroom at the rear of the house. From the sound of the sliding closet door, and the thump of suitcases, she was moving considerably faster than a herd of turtles.

  Leena called back sooner than expected. “Hey Jelly, she said her tone tentative but friendly. “The lady said sure, she’d meet me at eight-thirty tomorrow morning.”

  “At the Redwing Trailhead?” Jelly asked.

  “Yep. Just like you said.”

  Rose came into the room and asked about dinner. “Do we dash, or do we dine and dash?” she wanted to know.

  “Neither,” said Jelly. “We have to meet the Richland woman in the morning. I figure we’ll warn her and then we’ll get the hell outta Dodge. What he’d said hit him and he shuddered.”

  “You okay?” Rose asked.

  “Just someone walking on my grave.”

  Rose frowned. “Not if I can help it. Dancing only. What’s our plan?”

  “I call Beale and tell him she said there was no way she could meet tonight. The earliest she could manage would be ten tomorrow morning.”

  “Seems like an odd time.”

  “I know. I’ve thought about that. I’ll tell him you said she had an early appointment with a client, plus she wanted to give Leena time to drive in from Muddy Creek.”

  “You want him to think I made the call.”

  “Yes. He won’t be the wiser. It’ll seem like we’re doing just what he wants. If it works out, we should have time to drive out there, warn that woman and be out of town, long before he gets there. It’s not much of a plan I guess. Pretty simple.”

  “Simple is good,” said Rose. Sometimes simple is the best.”

  “I hope so.”

  Next, he called Beale and told him that Emma Richland had insisted meeting at ten a.m. in the morning, and that there was nothing Rose could do to change her mind.

  “It’ll have to do,” said Beale, accepting the change with no argument, which both surprised and relieved Jelly. He hung up and looked at Rose.

  Rose nodded. Her usual good humor momentarily lost under the gravity of the situation. “You’re doing the right thing, you know. It’s what I expected of you.”

  “For a minute there . . .”

  “I know. The money. No amount would make this right. You know that.”

  “As long as we’re right with each other. That’s all that really matters.”

  “We are much more than right. I’ve got all the suitcases on the bed but I suppose we could move them or . . . that couch looks sort of cozy.”

  * * *

  The phone rang and Leena picked it up, expecting Jelly’s voice again. Instead, it was Beale.

  “This investigator, that’s been sniffing around talking to you?” He made it a question.

  “Yes?” said Leena.

  “The bitch called child services on you. They’ll do an inspection so I’m sending a guy out to fix up some stuff around your place. He’s going to bring you some food too. Fill up the fridge and the cabinets. He’ll look around while he’s there and get you whatever you need to make them happy.”

  “Oh, thank you,” said Leena. “I was afraid you were calling because you were upset I couldn’t get that woman to meet you tonight. I hope eight-thirty isn’t too early. Jelly said it was okay.”

  It was quiet so long Leena checked her phone to see if she’d accidentally hit the mute button.

  “Hello?” she said. “Hello.”

  “Yeah, I’m here,” said Beale. “No, that's fine. Eight-thirty tomorrow morning. That’ll work for me.”

  Relieved he wasn’t upset, Leena’s thoughts drifted to the idea of a child services coming to her house. She didn’t like strangers sniffing around her place but she knew she didn’t have much choice. She’d been through it before.

  Child services could make her life hell. Make her take classes even, though it meant missing work to attend. They didn’t care what it cost people. Screw them. They pretended but she knew they weren’t there to make her life easier.

  Beale though, he was nice. Way nicer than Dodge ever was. That gave her an idea. Nervously, Leena giggled. “I wondered, since I did you this favor . . . ”

  “Don’t worry. I got a delivery headed your way. That guy who’s coming out to work on your place? He’ll have something for you.”

  Leena felt her whole body relax. She hadn’t realized how tense she was. Well of course, all the stuff with Bonnie and then Dodge getting killed. Of course she was tense. She’d feel better soon. In fact, she was feeling better already.

  “Thank you,” she said. But he’d already hung up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Wednesday, September 19

  It was cold but bright. The blue sky held not a single cloud. In the distance, Emma could see a flock of starlings rising and falling above a hay field. She had no idea why they were doing that. There was nothing she could see to disturb them. No tractor throwing a plume of dust in the air. No hawks, eagles or other birds of prey that she could see. Of course that didn’t mean they weren’t around.

  She continued to watch them swirl, forming patterns that broke apart then came together again. A murmuration, that’s what a flock of starlings was called, she remembered. She had no idea where she’d learned that. Probably Mark, who loved to watch the Discovery Channel. She rubbed her arms.

  With the heater off the cold and damp was beginning to creep in. Emma considered starting the car. Or maybe she should get out and walk around a little. It would warm her up and maybe help calm her anxiety. But getting out of the car meant she’d be even more exposed. It was a little too quiet, disturbingly quiet.

  The trailhead’s parking lot sat near a crossing between a paved rural road and a trail that had once been a railroad line, but she hadn’t seen a single car on the road, or a person on the trail, since she arrived. If Leena wanted a private place to meet, she had definitely found it. Emma hoped the information the woman had was worth it. A private meeting wouldn’t normally be so unnerving, but this was about murder, and she believed the killer was still out there.

  Working on the puzzle that was Dodge’s murder, her thoughts strayed to Leena. Was it possible that Leena had shot him? It wasn’t that farfetched. She had motive. After all, Dodge had hurt her daughter. Maybe that’s what got him killed. Was she about to meet with a killer? That was an unsettling thought. She patted her purse, the outline of the gun was reassuring.

  The phone call from Leena had been a little strange. She’d recognized the woman’s voice immediately. Her first thought was that she must have received a visit from child services and was calling to accuse Emma of reporting her.

  She expected her to say something like, “You sicced them on me. I’m a good mother.” Or some such combination of anger and explanation. Instead, Leena had said, “I have information about the morning Dodge got killed. I need you to meet me tomorrow morning, at ten. I’m not comfortable talking about it over the phone.”

  Emma had wanted to say it was very unlikely their phones were bugged and they could talk freely, but knew better than to argue with someone so paranoid.

  She could tell Leena was stressed as it
was. Her words were stilted, as if she were reading from a script, or had practiced her lines several times.

  “I guess I could meet you,” Emma agreed. It’s a long drive though so maybe a little later? Where would you like to meet? Your house or . . . ?”

  “No. I will come to Hollis.”

  “Oh, well sure, if that’s what you want.” Emma was relieved not to have to make the trek yet again. “So where should we meet. There are some coffee shops or restaurants where—.”

  “No. Too many people. I know a place. You know that rails to trails thing?”

  “Sure.” Emma had ridden her bike along several miles of the nearly hundred mile trail.

  “It goes a long way. Out on the east side of the valley there’s a place called the Redwing Trailhead. Hardly anyone goes there. You know it?”

  “I think so. I’ve got a map of the trail and I’ll look it up to be sure.”

  “Okay, good. I will meet you at ten tomorrow morning, at the Redwing Trailhead,” she said, summing up their agreement. Then she hung up before Emma could say a word.

  Now, sitting in her car, idly watching starlings, her thoughts began to roam and she found herself thinking about Leo. She remembered the thin white scar on his upper lip. Funny how concentrating on a small feature like that could slowly bring a person’s face into focus. It was a technique she’d learned in PI 101. Helpful, analytical stuff. Useful if you had to remember and identify some perpetrator.

  She found herself imagining she was tracing the scar with her fingertip as he stared down at her. The image was so strong she could almost feel his fingers slide through her hair, cup the back of her head.

  The sound of tires on asphalt ripped her from the daydream. She looked up. A car was coming toward her. She recognized it. It was Rose Jamison’s. Rose who had lied to her. Her stomach did an odd little flip. The same one it did when she was standing on a cliff looking down a great distance. The key was still in the ignition. Just in case she had to leave in a hurry, she turned the car, put her foot on the brake, and put it in gear. Reaching into her purse, she wrapped her hand around the handle of the gun, and waited.

  A man was driving, Rose was in the passenger seat. The car pulled into the parking area, circled Emma’s car and pulled up alongside so that the cars were facing in the same direction. Rose rolled down her window and Emma did the same. Rose said, “You have to get out of here. You've been set up. Someone is coming to kill you.”

  “What are you talking about? Why would someone want to kill me? Where’s Leena?”

  “Leena was hired to get you out here.”

  “Who hired her?”

  Rose hesitated, turned to the man in the front seat then back to Emma. “I can’t tell you that. Only that he doesn’t like you investigating. He’s a bad man, a crazy man, but also a very powerful one. We agreed to warn you but we can’t tell you too much. If he finds out we named him we know he’ll come after us. He might anyway. We’re leaving. You should too. Go far away, to another town, another state.”

  “You’re trying to scare me.”

  “Yes. I’m trying to scare you. I’m scared. My husband has given up everything so we could save you. Don’t waste it.”

  Rose was half turned in her seat, her right hand grasping the pillar between the front and side window of the car. Her grip tightened and her knuckles went white. “Please, they think the meeting is at ten.” She twisted her wrist to look at her watch. “You don’t have much time. Go home, pack and run. He may not follow you to your house, but I wouldn’t count on it.

  “But you won’t tell me who he is?”

  “No.” Rose said, shaking her head from side to side.

  “Then I’ll have to call the police,” Emma said, hoping the threat would change Rose’s mind.

  “Yes, that’s very wise,” Rose said unexpectedly. “Call them now. But do it as you’re driving away from this place.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I told you. I don’t want you to die. I don’t want anyone to die.”

  “We have to go.” The man in the front seat, who Emma assumed was Rose’s husband, Charles or Jelly depending on who you asked, had finally spoken.

  “I know,” Rose said to him. “Emma, please believe me.” She wore a pleading look that was hard to mistake. Emma knew Rose truly believed what she was saying. Her life was in danger.

  Suddenly Rose’s car leapt forward, dust and gravel pinging off Emma's Jeep as it skidded a little in the dirt and gravel. When it bounced onto the asphalt the driver hit the gas even harder and the little car sped away. Emma watched it disappeared over the horizon.

  She let go of the gun, took her hand out of her purse, and wiped her palm on her jeans. Then she put her hand on the steering wheel. Time to go. Taking her foot off the brake, she let the car roll across the parking area and onto the road, where she accelerated gradually. She would call El, talk to her about what she should do next. Calling the police was high on her list. But first she’d call El.

  Reaching into her purse she felt around for the familiar rectangle of plastic.

  The car came from behind and it came fast. She hadn’t seen it when she pulled onto the road. She wasn’t traveling nearly as fast as it was but she wasn’t concerned. There was no oncoming traffic. The driver could easily go around. Only he didn’t.

  In disbelief, Emma saw the old car, as big as a whale in her rearview, coming right at her. It slammed into her rear bumper. Her car was jolted and she was whipped forward then back. Her car skidded toward the ditch that ran along the side of the road. She fought the wheel, stood on the brakes, but it wasn’t enough. The front wheels bumped off the asphalt and into deep gravel, where they sank. The rear of the car spun, a motion that pushed Emma to her right, powerless against the centrifugal force. Only the seat belt kept her from sliding out of her seat. Then the car came to a sudden stop, rocking from side to side.

  Her purse had been swept to the floor of the passenger seat. Most of the contents were lying there, including her gun. She lunged for it but the seat belt, forgotten in her panic, kept her pinned, her fingertips mere inches away. Sitting up, she had just managed to press the release button, when a strong pair of arms reached through the window, grabbed her and dragged her out.

  She kicked, punched and screamed. Her attacker’s hands slipped and he dropped her to the ground. She rolled to her side and kicked out, catching his knee hard. She heard him suck air between his teeth, and grunt at the pain. Then he was reaching for her and she was scrambling away, trying to get to her feet and run.

  As she reached her feet, she was startled as another man, this one with red hair, clutched her shirt. She heard fabric tear. He changed his grip, letting go of her shirt and grabbing her hair instead. Pulling her back against him, he kept one hand wrapped in her hair, the other around her throat.

  Panting from exertion and fear she could smell his cologne and his sweat. As she struggled to break free, and tried to stomp on his foot, the man who had pulled her from the car kicked her legs out from under her, dropping her hard on the ground once more. They piled on and pulled her arms behind her. She felt something slipped around her left wrist and then around her right. There was a zzzt sound and her wrists were pulled together. They were using zip ties she realized and her terror reached another level.

  Ferociously, she kicked at the men holding her, hoping to break a kneecap if she were lucky. She wasn’t. Her kick missed but one of theirs didn’t. A steel toed boot slammed into the back of her knee. She rolled onto her side in agony.

  The redheaded man pressed his boot against the back of her neck, pushing her face into the gravel. When he finally let up she turned and spat out small bits of gravel and dirt. She could taste blood on her tongue. She hadn’t landed a single blow.

  They lifted her from the ground, pulling her wrists so high she was sure they would tear her arms from their sockets. The pain made her eyes water. The tears running down her face adding to her fury.

&nb
sp; She was able to see enough to note that her car was facing the wrong way and sat half in the ditch. Behind it was the car that had hit hers. A monstrous old thing with a metal plate welded on the front and destruction derby dents, like bruises on a prize fighter, that spoke of past encounters. Emma was certain this wasn’t the first time they’d done this.

  A truck was coming down the road towards them. It pulled up alongside and stopped. Emma realized it was a tow truck and knew whoever was driving it wasn’t there to help her. He got out and came around the truck. He looked Latino. “Take it to the shop?” he asked, directing his question to the man who had been driving, also Latino.

  Two men who both looked Mexican-American. The shop. She thought about what Rose had said. The man she was afraid to name. It had to be Ernesto Padillo. He had access to cars and a tow truck. He owned the shop where Harry’s truck was. It was all coming together. Too bad it was probably too late. Still, she had to try.

  “I already called the police. They know all about your boss, Ernesto Padillo. They know about your drug operation. They know you had Dodge killed. Your best bet is to cut ties with him and run. You don’t want to be caught in the middle of committing a crime when the cops get here.”

  They ignored her and pushed her toward their car. With her first step she almost fell, as pain shot through her damaged knee. Too soon, the reality of that pain was not as bad as the reality of what they were going to do. One of them released her long enough to open the trunk.

  She fought again, turning her head and reaching with her teeth, eager to get a bite of skin, tear into flesh, grind her teeth into bone. She kicked too, ignoring the pain from her knee that was like a constant scream.

  Fighting didn't matter. They simply lifted her off her feet, and threw her into the trunk with as much care as if she were a flat tire. One of them put his hand around her ankle and pushed her foot, which was dangling outside, into the trunk. She hated the touch of his fingers on her skin. Hated more the sound of the trunk slamming as she was locked in.