Danger Comes Home (Kelly O'Connell Mystery) (7 page)

Mike reached over to pat Em’s hand. “Don’t place any bets, Em. We could use more room.”

Later that night, I told Mike about my lunch with Claire.

“Oh? How is she? You just saw her yesterday.”

“She’s got a mission. She’s going to save Mona Wilson—and Jenny in the process.”

Mike had gotten up to go to the kitchen for a second beer, but now he turned and looked at me, his expression serious. “How does she plan to do that?”

“By bolstering Mona’s self-confidence, starting with a haircut and makeover.”

“I doubt Mona will go for that. And I’d really rather Claire stay away from that situation until we find out what’s going on. You and I both know Todd Wilson is not cashing paychecks. And Claire could put herself, even her girls, in danger. Bad idea on her part.”

He was probably right, but Claire wasn’t going to like being told to stay away from the battered wife. She felt too passionate about abuse. “You tell her,” I said.

“I will. Tomorrow. First thing. I have another errand to run early too.”

I didn’t think any more about his having another errand until he called the office mid-morning the next day, laughing as he talked. He even snorted at me. “Kelly, Miss Lorna is growing marijuana in her back yard. Lots of people mistake it for tomatoes, so I wouldn’t want you to feel bad. I peeked over the fence.”

Not hard for a man his height in good shape to do, even with a slightly compromised leg. Hah! He was delighting in telling me this. But I had a tidbit for him.

“She told me she used to smoke opium in China. Maybe she’s switched to pot.”

His answer was patient. “It’s still against the law, Kelly. I’ll send a patrol officer around. We won’t arrest her or anything. Just tell her to cease and desist.”

I envisioned the encounter between an officer and Lorna. It wouldn’t be pretty for the officer! I almost giggled. But then I said, “You said drugs were everywhere in Fairmount? Are you telling me Lorna McDavid is part of whatever’s going on?” I was hands-on-the-hips indignant.

He hooted. “Kelly, there’s a whole huge difference between dealing cocaine and growing pot in your backyard for your own use. Let’s not get carried away here. That patch isn’t big enough to raise enough to deal. It’s obviously for her private use. I suspect she dries it and rolls it into cigarettes.” He paused a moment. “She hasn’t offered you any brownies, has she?”

“No, no brownies. I had to beg for water.”

When I told her this conversation, Keisha merely rolled her eyes. And then she said, “You’re going to move into that house, you know. It may be a while, but you will.”

I wished she’d stop predicting the future. There might come a time when her prediction would be bad—something evil happening to one of us—and I didn’t want to know. I preferred her warnings, which I swore I’d listen to. But this moment, about moving into Lorna’s house, I laughed. “Not on your life. I live in my dream house.” And I turned back to work.

****

That night at the dinner table Mike made the solemn announcement that none of us were to go near Jenny or Mona or, heaven forbid, the mysterious Todd Wilson who, so far, had not been known to emerge from his fortress. “And that goes for Claire too. I talked to her this morning, but you could reinforce the message.

Issuing orders again. I bristled but kept quiet. How could I reinforce a message I didn’t agree with?

Maggie’s next idea was quashed. “I can—what’s the word, Mike?—pump Jenny for information.”

A stern voice. “Maggie, did you hear what I just said? You may talk to her at school, if you don’t ask anything about her family. Okay?”

She hung her head.

“You befriended Jenny at school and I’m proud of you, but for now, leave it at that.”

When the girls were in bed, I asked Mike what prompted that pronouncement or orders.

“Our surveillance has made us really suspicious. We’re pretty sure there’s drug trafficking at the Wilson’s house. We’re working on a search warrant right now and will be going in one night soon.”

The next morning, I barely had time to sit down at my desk before the phone rang. I heard Keisha say, “Sure, Joe. She’s right here.”

“Hi, Joe.” I tried to sound upbeat and normal, rather than let on that I was worried sick about him and Theresa. I never was good at acting.

“Miss Kelly, I got to talk to you. You got any time this morning?”

“Sure. You want to come to the office?”

“No. I respect Keisha and trust her, but I…well, this is private. Miss Kelly, I’m scared.”

“Where are you?” I asked, gripping the phone tightly now.

“In a phone booth, drugstore at the corner of Rosedale and Hemphill.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I heard huge sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

That corner was not far from where Joe and Theresa lived. I didn’t know if he was calling from a public phone because he didn’t want Theresa to hear, though she probably was already at her job, or if he was afraid the walls had ears at his apartment. Surely not.

Hemphill is the eastern boundary of Fairmount and not a desirable street. Rosedale, once also pretty disreputable, was getting better, now a mixed bag of professional buildings, stores, and, still, a few dilapidated, rundown buildings. Rosedale is technically a block north of the boundary of Fairmount but close enough to home to seem like the neighborhood. It took me five minutes to get there.

Joe was standing on a corner, watching. He slipped into the car with a grateful, “Thanks.”

“Of course. Where to?” I swear he looked around to see if anybody was watching him.

“A park bench somewhere,” he suggested, and so we went to Trinity Park and sat on a bench overlooking the Trinity River. The river always has a calming effect on me, and I thought maybe it would on Joe too. Across it, we stared at some chain restaurants, the freeway, and slightly to our left the skyline of downtown Fort Worth. It made me think we lived in one damn fine town.

I waited silently for him to speak, and he twisted his hands thoughtfully and stared at the water. Finally, “I didn’t tell Theresa I was calling you. Didn’t tell her about the call I got a few nights ago. She was sleeping and didn’t wake up.”

I waited some more.

“Guy I used to run with, name of Little Ben—don’t ask me more—called a few weeks ago. I don’t have nothing to do with him anymore. He’s bad news. But he called to say he was on to a good deal and wanted me to be part of it.” Joe looked down at his clasped hands. “I told him flat out I didn’t want any part of his deal, but he insisted I had to hear it. He said he thought when I heard what they had to say, I’d change my mind. I know Little Ben well enough. There was a threat behind his words.”

Alarm bells went off! “A threat? What kind of threat”

“If I tell the police anything I know about any of them, including Little Ben and Nathan and some others, they’ll hurt Theresa. He said as much when I finally met him one night.”

The sky was blue, no clouds, the temperature just right, with a small breeze. A perfect day in North Texas. Except, how could this be happening?

“What do you know?” I had to drag information out of him.

He shrugged. “I hear things now and then. I told you I go for a beer with some of the guys, show them what a good life I got.” Hastily he added, “But never Little Ben or Nathan. I haven’t even heard much about either of them—the guys I’m still friends with don’t talk about them.”

He turned to me with a frantic look. “Miss Kelly, you can’t tell Mr. Mike. Promise me you won’t.”

I put a gentle hand on his arm and said, “Joe, Mike could help.”

He was vehement. “No! I can’t take a chance with Theresa.” Fear ran across his face and settled in his eyes. “She’s the whole world to me. I can’t take a chance.”

“Joe, I have to tell you something in confidence. She’s worried sick about you, afraid you’re going back to your old ways. She says you go out all the time, won’t talk to her about it.”

He hung his head. “I know. Things aren’t good between us right now, and I hate that. But I don’t know what choice I have.”

“Why are you telling me now?”

He shook his head miserably. “I don’t know. I just had to tell someone. And I saw you watching us last Sunday night. You knew we weren’t right with each other.”

We sat in silence, talked a bit more without getting anywhere, and then I offered to buy him an early lunch at the Old Neighborhood Grill. Fear hadn’t affected his appetite, and he ate a cheeseburger and fries. I drove him out to the Southwest YMCA, where he was really early for his job, and left. All I could tell we’d accomplished was that he’d given me something new to worry about and, maybe, unburdened himself just a bit. That part wouldn’t last.

Keisha, being Keisha, never asked. She just watched me all afternoon, until I felt like a specimen under a microscope. The girls were quiet after school, as though they sensed my mood, and Mike, at the dinner table, commented, “Creamed tuna on toast again. It must have been a bad day.” I avoided looking at him.

Mike had a firm theory that we should never go to sleep with something hanging between us. He said his parents had that rule, and they’d been happy together for over fifty years. I thought possibly that was a case of faulty logic, “After which, therefore because of which.” At least that’s what went through my mind when we sat in bed, each with a book, and he suddenly slammed his shut and said, “Okay, Kelly. What’s on your mind? We’re not going to sleep until the air is clear.”

We had always been truthful with each other, so I turned to face him. Looking at his bare chest and his earnest face, I wondered if seduction would distract him, but I knew Mike better than that. “Something’s bothering me, but I have promised not to tell you about it.”
Whoa, Kelly, lead with your chin!

“We’re not supposed to have secrets from each other,” he said like a little boy pouting.

“Mike, I gave my word. It could have serious consequences.”

“And you promised because I’m your husband…or because I’m a cop?”

When I didn’t answer, he said loftily, “Okay, I’ve got my answer. Kelly, it’s a misdemeanor to withhold information from an officer of the law.”

I almost giggled. I couldn’t tell if he serious or using that line to get his way. I didn’t say anything.

“We picked up a small-time jerk today for loitering on Hemphill. Truth is I thought he was probably looking for a chance to make a deal, though we patted him down and he was clean. He asked if we were looking for dope and said we should talk to Joe Mendez.”

I nearly fell off the bed.

“Hit a nerve, didn’t I?

“Yes. But you know Joe doesn’t have anything to do with stuff like that.”

“I do, but Conroy’s not convinced. He’s never truly believed either of us that Joe has turned his life around since he tried to vandalize your house and nearly destroyed the one you were renovating. I’m doing what I can, but Conroy wants to pull Joe in and question him. He’s convinced himself that Joe and the Wilson house and that punk we picked up are all tied to the increase in drug traffic in this area.”

I scoffed. “Conroy even wanted to question Joe when old ladies in Fairmount were being killed. Some innate detective sense he has!” When Joe did vandalize my house and ever since, whenever I had a misadventure—okay, call a spade a spade—whenever I got involved in a murder, Conroy suspected Joe, no matter how much Mike and I protested that Joe was now family for us and we trusted him implicitly.

“Mike, that would look bad for Joe’s academic record and for his job at the YMCA. It could ruin everything he’s accomplished.”

“I don’t think it’s quite that bad, Kelly. I may try telling Conroy I’ll talk to Joe myself.” He put his book aside and reached over to stroke my hair. “I won’t push you to tell me what you promised not to tell, and I’ll do all I can to make it right.” He gently took the book out of my hand, reached to set it on the bedside table, upside down—hadn’t I told him that ruins the spine?—and turned out the bedside lamps.

We didn’t sleep for a long time after that.

****

Claire called the next morning, sounding petulant and unlike her. “Mike called yesterday—I just didn’t have time to call you about it all day.”

That, I thought, was a good sign—she was busy with other things and not just focusing on Mona Wilson. But Claire’s resentment of Mike’s order seemed petty to me now in light of what was going on with Joe. Yet I knew she wanted to talk about Mona.

“He told me to stay away from Mona Wilson. Kelly, you know I’m not good at taking arbitrary orders from men. Gotten me in trouble all my life.”

Me, too, but there it is. What can we do about it?
“Claire, it’s a police matter…and I think it will be solved pretty soon. Then you can do whatever you want to help Mona. But not until Mike gives the okay….”

“A police matter? What the heck is going on?”

Of course she didn’t know about Joe either. “I guess we should have lunch. Carshon’s?”

“No, my house. I made stroganoff last night, and we have leftovers. We can talk there without being overheard.”

Claire’s stroganoff was way better than mine, and I was grateful for the suggestion, even though I didn’t need such a heavy lunch. I agreed to be there at eleven-forty-five, and I was there promptly. Claire gave me a hug, but it was quick and almost perfunctory. Her mind was elsewhere. I sat on a stool at the counter in the kitchen—how many times had my girls and I sat there when we lived in this house? Brought back memories, some good, some not so good. Claire had repainted the kitchen but left it otherwise untouched. She was better than me at keeping dishes neat in glass-fronted cabinets.

She bustled around, dishing up stroganoff with egg noodles on microwave-safe plates, heating it—it smelled divine—and then adding a bit of buttered green beans. As the plates came out of the microwave, she put a half tomato, quartered, on each and handed me a gourmet presentation. Without asking she poured small glasses of wine and large glasses of ice water. I tasted the meat tentatively and then could hardly keep from gulping it down.

“Stop eating and start talking.” She chuckled as she said it, but she was only trying to lighten the mood.

So I spilled the whole thing, beginning with drugs in the neighborhood

“I’m not at all surprised,” she said mildly. “Liz has been offered cocaine at the high school. But I’m sure that’s true for every neighborhood in the city, even the upscale ones, and even more so in the high falutin’ private schools. What’s different this time?”

“Okay. Did you notice anything about Joe and Theresa Sunday night?”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, I did. I just assumed they’d had a spat, like young marrieds do. As we both know only too well, the early stages of marriage aren’t easy….for that matter, marriage is never easy.”

“It’s more than that. I can tell by watching them. I know them too well. They’re each worried about the other, but why? I think Theresa’s afraid he’s going back to his old ways.”

“He wouldn’t dare! I’d beat him senseless, and I bet Keisha would help too.”

“Joe finally called me yesterday, and I’m sworn to secrecy. I didn’t even talk to Mike about it, but he’s between a rock and a hard place, and he’s trying so hard to do the right thing. I’m afraid everything they’ve built up will come crumbling down on them.”

“What does that have to do with Mona and Jenny?” she asked. Claire could be tenacious when she got an idea in her mind.

“It all has to do with the upsurge in drugs…and dealing…in Fairmount, so anybody is under suspicion. And since Jenny’s father is so controlling and secretive, he might bear watching.” I rushed on. “Gosh, Claire, Mike even thinks Lorna McDavid is growing pot in her back yard.”
Good job, Kelly. Try anything for diversion.