by Carolina Mac
“Did you know Kevin Telfer?”
“Nope.”
“My information says, Mr. Telfer was a parks department employee and he worked for the city of Round Rock. Up until the moment of his death he was assigned to supervise events at the fairgrounds.”
“Okay.”
“You didn’t notice any of the vendors talking to Mr. Telfer or having words with him during the day over some issue.”
“Nope, never did.”
“Why did you run from my men and try to avoid questioning if you’re the law abiding citizen you pretend to be?”
“Hate cops. That’s why. I’m an ex-con and cops are always on my ass for no reason.”
“Funny about that. There usually is a reason. A lot of robberies have been connected to this current rodeo tour. I bet you don’t know anything about that either.”
“Correct.”
Jesse smiled. “I’ll have Ranger Ruskin take you back downstairs.”
“What if I want a lawyer?”
“Ask for one.”
ROOM THREE held Pierre Frenchy Fulton, the man who had attacked Farrell. That act alone put him in Jesse’s bad books right from the get-go. Mr. Fulton was shackled hand to foot and fastened to the metal table. Jesse sat down across from him and turned on the recorder.
“No use turning that fuckin thing on, cause I ain’t saying a goddam word.”
“You’re talking now, Mr. Fulton,” said Jesse.
“And now I’m done talking, so you can shove all your questions up your tight Ranger ass.”
“You stabbed one of my men and I’m increasing the charges against you to include attempted murder.”
“Bullshit. All I did was flick a boot knife at him. I didn’t try to kill him.”
“My men said you seemed extremely handy with a knife, Mr. Fulton.”
He grinned. “Oh, yeah. I got like a fan club?”
“Not exactly a fan club,” said Jesse. “More like they thought you could be the one who slit Kevin Telfer’s throat in Round Rock.”
“Who’s he?”
“A man who worked in the Round Rock fairgrounds. Did you have a run-in with anybody while you were selling your goods in Round Rock?”
“Nope. Peace and quiet the whole time.”
“Do you have receipts for all of your sales?”
“Course I do. I’m a businessman.”
“I’d like a copy of all the ones from Round Rock, if you don’t mind.”
“How am I gonna get those for y’all when I’m locked up here in cowboy jail?”
“Give me the name of the person I can get copies from.”
“Ain’t no person since I got unhitched. The cheatin bitch is gone and I take care of all my own business.”
“Where are all your business papers at this moment, Mr. Fulton?”
“That’s the question, ain’t it? I haven’t got a goddam clue.”
Interstate 35 north.
TRAVIS drove his F-450 towards Belton with Pablo riding in the shotgun seat. “Something wrong, Pablo? You seem to have a burr up your ass since the meeting this morning.”
“Just curious what you and Annie had to talk about in a private meeting, that’s all?”
“And why would that get your shorts in a knot?” asked Travis. “That was a private matter and nothing to do with you.” He took a moment to think about it. “Oh, I get it. You’re hot for Annie-girl.”
Pablo turned his head and stared out the window.
“If that’s the place you’re in, you better rethink it, my friend. That’s not territory you want to trespass on. Blacky and Farrell are extremely protective of their mother and pissing either one of them off will get your ass fired.”
“Yeah, I saw Lane get fired and Jesse punched him in the face, but that was for skipping a shift. I would never do anything that stupid.”
Belton.
THE SETUP in Belton was similar to the one in Round Rock. An outdoor rodeo arena in the fairgrounds. “Looks like fewer vendors in the field,” said Travis. “We might have scared some off.”
They walked with the crowd of browsers past all the booths and Travis slowed down next to the third from last. He glanced at Pablo and his partner nodded. “Chris Cadieux.”
Pablo retraced his steps circling behind the row of tents while Travis examined some of the merchandise on Chris Cadieux’s display table. “Somewhere we can talk, Chris? A few questions I’d like to ask you.”
“You fuckin cops are following us and wrecking our business,” Chris hollered at the top of his lungs. “Get lost would you, so decent people can make a living.”
A few people crowded around to see what all the yelling was about, and Travis pressed in closer. “Come on, Chris. Don’t make this hard on yourself. Come talk to me and let your girlfriend watch the booth for a minute.”
The girl was taller than Travis when she jumped to her feet and pointed a long, curling nail at him. “You beat it, cop, and leave Chris alone. He ain’t done nothing and I can prove he didn’t kill that guy. I been with him every minute since we left home.”
“You’re his alibi?” asked Travis.
“Damn right I am.”
A gust of wind blew the rear tent flap up and the woman caught a glimpse of Pablo behind the tent. She let out a roar, dove through the opening and knocked Pablo flat on his ass.
Pablo grabbed for her to take her down, caught her by the hair, but before he could gain control, she whipped out a switchblade and stuck him in the gut.
Travis grabbed the edge of the table and dumped it. He jumped over top, slipped on a few of the knives strewn on the grass and lunged for the woman’s wrist. He wrenched the knife out of her hand and dragged her kicking and screaming off Pablo. Travis pushed her face down into the mud and cuffed her hands behind her back.
Chris Cadieux sprinted out of the tent and disappeared into the throng of people. Nothing Travis could do about it but let him go. They’d get him later.
He attached the woman’s ankle to one of the tent poles while he called for backup and an ambulance. With that done, Travis whipped off his jacket and used it to press on Pablo’s wound.
Response time was only minutes and after the paramedics took Pablo to the hospital, Travis and the two uniforms who responded to his call helped get the wild and willful Manuela Cadieux to the truck. They secured her in the back seat with her hands cuffed behind her.
“You okay to drive back to Austin, Ranger Bristol?”
“Yeah. I feel bad leaving my partner in the hospital, but I’ll send somebody for him later.”
“We can check on him if you like and let you know.”
“Thanks, that would be great. I need to know if they’re admitting him or if we need to pick him up later today. Appreciate it.”
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
BLAINE got the update from Travis as the former marine drove back to Austin from Belton.
“Chris Cadieux is on the run, boss. I need a warrant for his arrest if you can manage it.” Travis went into detail about the woman, supposedly Cadieux’s wife, and her stabbing Pablo.
“Don’t fuckin tell me we have another man down.”
“We do, boss. Don’t know how long Pablo will be out. She got him good in the gut and it looked to me like she twisted the knife and made a dandy size hole. Somebody has to get up to Belton and check out Pablo’s condition.”
“Okay, I’m sending Lily and Rick right now. I want to be here to talk to Annie before the two of you go to the game.” Blaine paused. “Are you going to be okay for another shift?”
“Yeah, sure. After I drop the wild woman off at DPS, I’ll go home, shower and have some dinner. I’ll be okay.”
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
TRAVIS was beat when he got back to Austin. Coming down off an adrenaline high always did that to him. He left Mrs. Cadieux secured in the back seat of his truck until he went inside and got help. Ranger Rockford, smiling as always, strode out to the parking lot to help Travi
s bring the woman inside to booking.
“Is Jesse here yet? Asked Travis. “I called and asked him to come and question her.”
“Ain’t seen him, but he has a fair drive from his ranch.”
Travis opened the back door and Manuela spit at them.
Rocky took a step back and chucked. “Hello there, Missy. Ain’t you the feisty one?”
They got her out of the truck, but then she dug in and wouldn’t walk. “Ain’t going in there. Chris told me never to go in the cowboy jail.”
“Well, Chris ain’t here to save your ass,” said Rocky, “and believe me, you are going in there.” Between the two of them, they half-dragged, half-carried her to booking.
“Charge her with assault with a deadly, resisting arrest, attempted murder of a police officer, suspicion of murder, and I’ll think of more later,” said Travis.
Rocky raised an eyebrow. “Blacky won’t be happy with her after Farrell got stabbed yesterday. That’s a thorn in the Chief’s side too.”
“Farrell’s off until Monday,” said Travis, “but he don’t take orders too good.”
Ranger Headquarters.
JESSE arrived at headquarters just as two Rangers were bringing the newly arrested, Manuela Cadieux from booking to interrogation room one. Yelling and screaming obscenities in Spanish, Jesse figured he’d have his work cut out for him.
“Thanks, guys. Not sure I can handle her on my own, I might need backup.”
Rocky chuckled. “No might about it, Jesse. You will.”
“Now I’m nervous.” Jesse went into room one and sat down across from Manuela. He turned on the recorder and set up the interview.
“Miss Manuela, I’m Ranger Quantrall and I’m going to ask you a few questions. I’ll be recording our conversation.”
“Fuck you, Ranger. I got nothing to say to no goddam cowboy cops and specially nothing to say to no goddam Rangers.”
“You’ve been advised of your rights, Miss Manuela,” said Jesse. “Why did you feel the need to attack one of my men?”
Her dark eyes narrowed, and she sneered. “Your main man was hassling Chris for no fucking reason, that’s why. And when I saw the other guy—the big black-haired asshole—at the back of the tent, I guess I lost it for a minute.”
“You stabbed a deputy, ma’am. An unprovoked attack on a police officer. We don’t take kindly to that.”
“They set us up—like surrounded us—and that’s what made me so goddam mad.”
“Partners work that way. They cover each other off. They weren’t setting you up. They were doing their jobs. Nothing more.”
“Too damn bad. It is what it is. I can’t change it now.”
“Any idea where Chris might have gone?”
“No clue.”
“We have your home address. We’ll check there first.”
“He ain’t at home.”
“Your prints brought up your police record, Miss Manuela. You’ve been busy.”
“I do what I can.” She stared at her hands. Her right still stained with Pablo’s blood.
“Did you kill Kevin Telfer, Miss Manuela?”
She didn’t look up. “Who’s he?”
“The park worker who was killed in Round Rock when y’all were there with the rodeo.”
“Why would I kill him?”
“Maybe you were defending your husband, or thought you were. I heard you can be quite protective.”
“Is it a crime to love your husband?”
“Nope. It’s admirable.”
“There you go.”
“So your husband got in an argument with Kevin Telfer about something and you jumped in to help?”
Manuela laughed. “That’s a story you made up, not what really happened. Once the rain started, Chris and I packed up our tent and we went to a bar.”
“Can you remember which one?”
“Yep, I think so. Wasn’t far from our motel. You can check with the manager and he’ll remember us because we were so fuckin drunk, he tossed us out at closing time.”
“I’ll have someone check that out, Miss Manuela. Thank you for your candor.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever the hell that is.” She jerked against the cuffs. “Can I go now?”
“Sure, you can go back to your cell.”
“No, I mean, can I go home?”
“You stabbed a police officer, Miss Manuela. I’m afraid you can’t go home.”
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
ANNIE arrived at Blaine’s house at seven to meet Travis before the game. She wore one of the dresses she’d bought in Vegas, a snug black number with rhinestones decorating the ‘V’ that dipped low in the front. She carried a black velvet bag large enough to conceal her makeup bag, her wallet, fat with cash, and her Beretta.
Blaine met her in the foyer and gave her a big hug. “You look fantastic, Mom. Those guys at the game should just hand over their money.”
Annie giggled. “I’m up for some fun, and I love working with the soldier.”
“He was actually a marine,” said Blaine. “More of a sailor.”
“I always get that mixed up.”
“He should be here soon, Mom. Come into the kitchen and have a beer with me.”
“Okay, you’ve got that look on your face. What are you going to tell me?”
“Umm… Pablo was stabbed today by a crazy woman up in Belton.”
“Oh, no. How bad is it?”
“I’m not sure. I sent Lil up there to get the details from the hospital and arrange a transfer when possible.”
“Aw, that’s sad. He has a bit of a thing for me.”
“But that was all it was, right, Mom?”
“If you’re asking me if I slept with him, the answer is no. It was a more a hanging out thing. Mostly target shooting and having a beer afterwards.”
“And that was it?”
“For me it was,” said Annie. “Can’t speak for him.”
“You don’t need to,” said Blaine. “I need more men and when they’re hired I’m setting down some ground rules.”
Annie smiled. “I love you, baby. Nothing will ever change that.”
Travis entered the foyer to a chorus of barking dogs and he too was dressed for the occasion in black dress pants and a gray silk shirt. Over his harness, he wore a black leather jacket. No tie.
“Looking good, soldier,” said Annie. “As soon as we get our marching orders, we’re out of here.”
CHAPTER SIX
Friday night. April 3rd.
West Lake Hills.
LIGHTS were ablaze at the Selecky residence and the parking area in front of the garage was crowded with expensive conveyances. “Some pretty dazzling rides, here, sugar. Good thing I picked up this Maserati at the dealership. I said I’d try it out over the weekend and if I liked it, they’d have a deal on Monday.”
Travis chuckled. “Think you’ll buy it?”
“I guess I might. I miss my other one more than I thought I would, and I have the insurance money gathering dust in the bank.”
“Go for it, then, girl. You deserve to have your car back.”
Annie parked and a man in uniform stepped out of the shadows. “Could I bother you for your keys, ma’am? I might have to move vehicles from time to time.”
“Umm… why don’t you come see me inside if you have an issue.”
The guy didn’t look happy, but he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Travis rang the bell, then stood a little behind Annie and to her left. The door was opened immediately by a short blonde-haired woman in uniform. “Could I have your names please?”
“Annie Powell, and this is my bodyguard, Major Travis Bristol.”
She smiled and opened the door wide. “Mrs. Powell, you are at the top of the list. Welcome. Please come in and I’ll show you to the poker room.” They followed the woman through the expansive residence, well-decorated and elegant in every respect. Annie took note of several paintings she believed were originals. “Here we are. E
njoy your evening.”
Annie entered the poker room and Mark Selecky came barreling towards her with a huge smile pasted on his tanned face. “Mrs. Powell, you came to join us. How wonderful.” He took her hand in both of his. “I’m Mark Selecky, and this is indeed a pleasure.”
Annie turned and introduced Travis. “This is Major Travis Bristol, my bodyguard.”
“Aw, yes, Major Bristol, I recognize you. Weren’t you recently guarding DA Leighton?”
“I was.”
“I thought so. I think we have some file photos of you and your boss at the station.” He motioned them in and pointed at the bar. “Let’s get you both a drink and then I’ll introduce you to the other players.”
“I’ll pass for now,” said Travis in his slow Texas drawl, but Miss Annie would like a Lone Star in a glass.”
Selecky gave instructions and the bartender poured her beer and handed it to her with a napkin.
“Thank you,” said Annie. “Are all the players here?”
“Certainly enough to get us started,” said Selecky. “Let’s get you seated.”
“Do you play, Mr. Selecky, besides hosting the game?” asked Annie.
“I do. I’m a bit of a Hold-em addict,” he said, “And please call me Mark.”
“We’re all a little addicted to the game, aren’t we?”
Selecky walked her over to a full table, all male, a couple of the men wearing jackets, but most in slacks and a casual shirt. “Mrs. Powell will be joining us tonight. Please make her welcome.” He went around the table and mentioned each player by name and Annie promptly forgot them.
She’d remember the names at her own table. That was always part of her game plan.
“You’ll be sitting over here, Mrs. Powell. Will Major Bristol be playing?”
Annie glanced at Travis and he shook his head. “I’ll watch for a while.”
Selecky introduced the men at her table and she listened carefully. “Sam Crawford is in seat one, Ortiz De la Vega in seat two, Price Gunderson in seat three, I’m sitting in seat four,” said Selecky, “my lucky seat.” He smiled, then continued. “Seat five, Ned Newton, Paul Corvero in seat six.” Selecky pointed, “You are in seat seven as requested. Everyone, this is Annie Powell, who needs no introduction. In seat eight we have Ken Roberts and in nine, Warner Picard. That rounds it out for this table. I’m sure you’ll meet the others from table three at the bar or at the buffet. If everyone is ready, the dealers can shuffle up and deal.”