Mystere

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Mystere Page 10

by Carolina Mac


  “That would be a requirement,” said Blaine, “We don’t work nine to five. There are no regular hours and if we’re called out, we have to be ready to go in minutes.”

  Peyton nodded. “Understood.”

  “Are you staying in Austin for a while, Miss Starling?”

  “I can if you’d like me to wait.”

  “Since you’re first this morning, obviously I have to speak to the other applicants. It would be convenient for me if I could see you again later in the day.”

  “I have things I can do,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  Lily showed Peyton out then stuck her head in Blaine’s office. “What did you think of her?”

  “Good choice, Lil. Nothing negative in her resume. The only thing that bothers me is a woman fitting in with an all-male staff—except for you, of course.”

  “Of course.” She winked at him.

  Round Rock.

  JESSE and Farrell attended Kevin Telfer’s funeral service at Haven Memorial Chapel, a small well-appointed chapel inside the sprawling one-storey funeral home. The service was brief with a few family members and friends in attendance, along with a large number of city employees.

  Because Kevin wished to be cremated, there was no cemetery interment and the guests proceeded directly to the reception afterwards at his father’s house.

  Jesse and Farrell took their time and waited until most of the crowd had come and gone before making their presence known to Mr. Telfer.

  A man in his sixties, he seemed to be taking the death of his only son extremely hard.

  “Mr. Telfer, I’m Ranger Jesse Quantrall, and this is Deputy Donovan. We’re investigating your son’s death. I realize this is a difficult time for you, but if you can manage it, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “Okay, Ranger, I want the person who killed my son to be caught and executed in Huntsville. Kevin was a good person and deserved better.”

  Mr. Telfer saw two more groups of people to the door, said his goodbyes, then motioned to the small living room and sank into a chair. “I think this is the worst day of my life.” He covered his face with his hands and Jesse gave him a minute.

  “Mr. Telfer, I wondered if Kevin mentioned anything about the fairgrounds—about the rodeo or the knife and gun vendors who were following the rodeo circuit. Just anything he might have said in passing?”

  “Let me think.” The senior Telfer sat quietly for a few minutes. “He came home the day the rodeo was setting up and told me about it. He loved the rodeo when he was a kid and I took him every year. He asked if I wanted to go watch the bull riding.”

  “Uh huh.” Jesse tilted his head towards Farrell, and he pulled out his notepad.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not being very helpful. I can barely think.”

  “That’s okay,” said Jesse. “I understand.” He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “Let me read you four names and see if Kevin ever mentioned them to you.”

  Mr. Telfer nodded. “Okay, that might help me.”

  Jesse read each name, then paused for a beat to let Mr. Telfer process it. “Alex McLaughlin. Frenchie Fulton. Dave Brightman. Chris Cadieux.”

  “One of those sounds familiar,” said Mr. Telfer. “Give them to me again.”

  Jesse repeated each name with a pause between.

  Telfer nodded. “I can hear him talking to me in the kitchen when I was making dinner. He said, I saw a guy I went to school with, Dad. Do you remember Dave Brightman?”

  “Did you remember him?” asked Jesse.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Was that it, or was there more to the story?”

  “I’m trying to remember if there was more to it, but I can’t think right now.”

  “Don’t worry, sir. You did well. It may come back to you, and if it does, call me at this number.” Jesse gave him a card.

  Mr. Telfer saw them out and they gave him their condolences and promised to be in touch.

  On the way to the Range Rover, Jesse said, “Dave Brightman told me he never heard of Kevin Telfer.”

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BLAINE was at his desk rereading Peyton Starling’s resume when he got the call from Jesse. “Funeral go okay?”

  “Sad for Mr. Telfer,” said Jesse. “With a little prompting, he remembered Kevin asking him if he remembered Dave Brightman, the day the rodeo came to set up.”

  “Great,” said Blaine, “that connects him to the vendors, and that all but rules out a random robbery or killing.”

  “Driving up to Killeen. Talk to you later.”

  Blaine was jotting down Dave Brightman’s name when Lily came in with John Thomas Hilder. Tall man with a military bearing, short hair, about forty five, clean shaven and neatly dressed in khaki pants and a blue long-sleeved shirt. She introduced John then turned to leave the room.

  “Lil, find out if Dave Brightman made bail, and if he did have him picked up.”

  “Yep.”

  Blaine stood up and shook hands. “Have a chair, sir. Nice to meet you. I’ve read over your resume and it’s quite impressive. We have one former army ranger already, although he’s injured at the moment. Have you been out of the service long?”

  “Not long. I retired, and three weeks of down time was about my limit. I did a bit of fishing and tried to decide what I wanted to do, then I registered with a couple of employment agencies and they called with this opportunity.”

  “You a resident of Austin?”

  “Uh huh. Close by. My mother lives out near Lexington.”

  “I know the area. My mother lives north of La Grange.” Blaine went back to his notes. “What was your specialty in the rangers? You were a shooter?”

  “Mostly. They drop you in and you do your thing.”

  Blaine nodded and realized Pablo hadn’t said a word about his missions. Maybe he talked to Farrell about his specialty. Everybody talked to Farrell.

  “Have you worked with a partner?” asked Blaine.

  “Yes, sir. I have. Good to know someone has your back.”

  “Stay in town, John. I’m going to do call backs later this morning after I talk to everybody once. Injuries are killing me, and I’ve got several open investigations.”

  “Happy to do that. I’ve followed your career and you’ve accomplished a helluva lot for someone your age.”

  Blaine smiled. “As long as you don’t call me Super Cop.”

  “I hear ya.”

  Killeen Hospital.

  AFTER A QUICK inquiry at the desk in the lobby, Jesse and Farrell headed upstairs to the third floor where they found Kenny Kovaks surrounded by a swarm of pretty cowgirls.

  “Morning, ladies,” said Jesse, “mind if we have five minutes with Mister Kovaks? We won’t take long.”

  “Aww… do we have to leave?” asked a blonde one, making a pouty face.

  “By the time y’all get a Coke, we’ll be finished,” said Farrell.

  “You guys cops?” asked a slim brunette. “Y’all hurry up and catch the guy who stabbed Kenny.”

  “Ranger Quantrall, ma’am,” Jesse touched the brim of his hat. “At your service.”

  “Ooh… Texas Rangers. Okay, we’ll be back.” They scurried from the room and Jesse closed the door.

  “Your fan cub will be back, Kenny. We need to ask you a few questions about the man who stabbed you.”

  “I told the cops what happened.”

  “And we probably have a copy of that report, but I’d like to hear it from you,” said Jesse.

  Kenny tried to prop himself up on an elbow, winced in pain and changed his mind. “This is all I remember. I bedded down my horse and was walking from the stall to my trailer when a guy jumped me. It was dark, and I didn’t see his face, but he didn’t have a mask on or anything. Just a guy with a knife. He asked for my wallet and I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to him. Not much cash. He pulled out the bills—couldn’t have been more than sixty bucks—tossed
the wallet on the ground then stuck the knife in my side.” Kenny clenched his teeth thinking about it and his hand went to the blanket covering his wound.

  “I thought when he tossed my wallet, he would run off. Kind of took me by surprise when he spun around and knifed me.”

  “How old would you say he was?” asked Farrell.

  “Older. Thirties, early forties. Tall. A big guy.”

  “Hair long or short?” asked Jesse.

  “Not short,” said Kenny.

  “Nobody with him?” asked Farrell.

  “Nope. Nobody. People are always around until you need them. There wasn’t anybody in sight at that moment. Weird when you think about it—all the trucks and horse trailers parked in that field and not one person around.”

  “Did you bring the mugs in?” Jesse asked Farrell.

  Farrell nodded and took the pictures of the gun vendors out of his pocket. “Take a minute to look at these guys.”

  Kenny studied each of the pictures. “These look like the guys selling guns and knives in the tents. They started following us back in Bryan.”

  “Uh huh,” said Jesse, “these are the vendors with police records.”

  “We have Fulton in custody,” said Farrell, “but the others are out on bail or probation.”

  “They look familiar, but I don’t think it was one of them,” said Kenny. “Not big enough.”

  “Why don’t we have a mug shot of Buster Donaldson?” asked Jesse. “I remember him as being a big guy.”

  “Dunno,” said Farrell. “Let me get Lil to send one to my phone.” Farrell stood by the window and talked to Lil, then came back with a picture on his phone. “Buster Donaldson is over six feet tall, two twenty. Bigger than the rest.”

  Kenny stared at the picture long and hard. “That might be him, but I’d hate to say for sure if it’s the wrong guy.”

  “No problem,” said Jesse. “You did well.” He placed a card on Kenny’s table. “Call if you think of anything. I’ll tell your groupies they can come back in.”

  “Thanks, guys. Hope you catch him.”

  When they got back to the Range Rover Jesse said, “Have Lil pick up Buster Donaldson. We need to have another little chat with him.”

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BLAINE refilled his coffee mug before beginning the third interview. The first two candidates had been excellent, and he was thinking hard about hiring both of them. “I need to get this over with and research Alex McLaughlin.” He took a sip of his coffee then stared at it thinking it needed more cream.

  Lil opened the office door chatting to a large, muscled up Hispanic dude and he forgot about the cream. “This is Carlos Rios, boss.” She pointed to the leather club chairs in front of Blaine’s desk. “Have a seat.”

  Blaine shook hands with Carlos and sized him up. The guy was in great shape and if he was a half decent shooter he’d make a great addition to the team. Blaine jumped right in. “Tell me why you want to work violent crime.”

  Looking a bit surprised by the question, Carlos took a minute before answering. “I have to. There’s a lot of shit going down these days and if I don’t do it, who will?”

  “You worked gang squad in Laredo?”

  “Two years in gangs. My specialty and I thought you might need me.”

  “How’s your shooting accuracy?”

  “I like to keep sharp. One day a week at the range.”

  “I have someone who can give you an edge,” said Blaine. “I’ll test y’all in a day or two.” He stood up and pointed at the door. “I think we can use you, Carlos. Let me show you where Lil’s office is, and she can tell you how we do things.”

  “Y’all work from your nice house here?”

  “It works best for me,” said Blaine. “I’ve tried other offices, and I work best at home.”

  “Wherever you do your heavy thinking best. I like hanging with smart people.” Carlos grinned. “Makes me smarter.”

  Blaine stopped at the end of the narrow hallway. “In here. Sit down and tell Lil all your secrets.”

  “Thanks, man. Appreciate you giving me a shot. I know this is an elite squad.”

  PLEASED with his choice of Carlos, Blaine trudged back to his office with only one more interview to do. His cell was ringing on his desk and he hurried to catch the call.

  Saint Michael’s Hospital. “Yes, Ma’am, this is Ranger Blackmore.”

  “You wanted to be notified when Jack Prima woke up.”

  “That’s right. Is he awake?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s still in intensive care but he can now have visitors for five minutes at a time.”

  “Thank you so much for calling.” Blaine heaved a big breath.

  “What, boss?” Lily was standing in the doorway with the last applicant, Luke Hyslop.

  “Jack’s awake. Run out to the carriage house and tell the Junkers.”

  “Yahoo,” hollered Lily, “Rick will be stoked.”

  Blaine smiled at Luke. Average height, long auburn hair, ripped jeans and a concert t-shirt. He didn’t dress up for the interview—or maybe he did.

  “One of our guys was in a coma,” Blaine pointed at the chairs. “and he woke up today. Sit. Do you want a coffee?”

  “Yeah, sure, coffee would be welcome.”

  He talks like Misty.

  “Are you from Louisiana?”

  “Yes, sir, I’m from West Monroe.”

  Blaine fetched the coffee and set a mug in front of Luke. “My girlfriend has the same accent as you.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Not much of a talker.

  “Did you move to Austin recently?”

  “Uh huh.”

  Blaine read through his resume again. “Can I ask why you left the force in… Baton Rouge?”

  “Uh huh. “I resigned because of a personal issue. I wasn’t fired, if that’s what you’re thinking. My…” He took a big breath, then spewed it out. “My wife and baby were killed by a drunk driver and I packed up and moved to Texas.”

  Blaine sat silently for a minute, feeling Luke’s pain. “I’m sorry for your loss. Is the move helping?”

  “It’s been six months now, and nothing seems to help. I need to work.”

  “Right, work might help. You sure you want to work violent crime?”

  Luke nodded. “I’m suited for it.”

  “Okay then, let’s give you a shot,” said Blaine. “Come with me and Lil will get you set up. I have a couple people to call in and we’ll have a meeting.”

  Luke stood up and shook Blaine’s hand. “Yes, sir. Thanks for the chance.”

  Blaine stepped into Lil’s office where Carlos was completing his paperwork. “Get Luke set up, Lil, and call the first two in for one o’clock. I’ll give Carm a head’s up.” To Carlos: “Carlos, when you’re finished in here, have a coffee in the kitchen and talk to Carm in Spanish until the others get here. She’ll appreciate someone more fluent than I am.”

  Carlos grinned. “I’ll do that.”

  Blaine returned to his office, closed the door and called Annie, “Mom, Jack’s awake. I can’t go until later.”

  “Fantastic. I’ll go right away, sweetheart. Is he still in ICU?”

  “Yep. Five minute visits. I have orientation for new people and I won’t be able to go until tonight.”

  “I’ll call you after I see him.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

  Blaine hunkered down and spent a few free moments digging up everything he could on Alex McLaughlin. “What’s his home address?”

  The one listed on his mug shot wasn’t the one he found online. He wrote down both, hoping one was the real deal. Thirty-seven years old. He’d done time for armed robbery in Travis County.

  Wonder if Fletch knew him when he worked at the jail?

  He wrote that down. Ask Fletcher.

  “What’s his connection to the other gun vendors? Is that how they know each other?”

  “Why did he target Selecky? Does he know him? D
oes he know the wife? Tanya Selecky?”

  He was about to go to the kitchen and start the meeting when Chief Calhoun called. “Morning, son. Haven’t had an update in a while.”

  “Hang on, Chief. I’m having some guys brought in and Jesse should be there later to give you the downlow on how we’re going—or not going. Interviews all morning for more manpower.”

  “Anybody good?”

  “I think so. How’s tomorrow morning looking for you, to get them deputized?”

  “Sure. I’m anxious to meet them. How many?”

  “Four.”

  “Four at once?”

  “Hate interviews,” said Blaine. “Maybe this will hold us for a while if any of them don’t work out.”

  “Hope so.”

  AFTER INTRODUCTIONS to the new staff members, Carm served burritos and salad and when the crowd couldn’t eat another bite, she gave them coffee. Carlos thanked her in Spanish for the wonderful food and she smiled at him.

  Blaine glanced around the table at the largest staff he’d ever had. “Okay, let’s start. As y’all already know, the Blackmore Agency is not a regular law enforcement agency. Yes, we answer in a minimal way to Chief Calhoun, Chief of the Texas Rangers, and y’all will meet him tomorrow morning when y’all are formerly deputized, and we help out Governor Campbell from time to time, but other than that, Jesse and I work on our own.”

  John Hilder asked a question. “If we don’t work for any of the normal employers like city or state, who pays us?”

  Jesse smirked. “Are y’all worried that you won’t get paid?”

  “No,” said Hilder, “I’m not worried. I can’t figure it out is all.”

  “You work for me,” said Blaine. “Jesse and I are partners and we cover the costs. On some specific cases we’re subsidized by another party, or on occasion by the state, if Cat’s involved, but not always.”

  “Whose Cat?” asked Peyton.

  “Governor Catherine Campbell,” said Jesse. “We work closely with the Governor. Right now, she’s wounded, but she’ll be back to work soon.”

  “I heard she got shot by that maniac y’all caught,” said Carlos. “Ewing Thompson.”

  “The governor is working at home this week,” said Blaine, “but should be back at the Capitol on Monday—even though I think it’s too soon.”

 

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