Hide & Find (Mayfield Cozy Mystery Book 3) (13 page)

“You have a plan?” I croaked.

“No. More like a phantom, ad-libbing, wishful dream.” Josh chuckled ruefully.

“That’s better than what I have,” I said.

“So you’ll take me on as a partner?”

“Are you kidding?” I almost whooped. “Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

I could hear the smile in Josh’s voice. “One other thing, now that you know you won’t be receiving a ransom call — leave your phone, the original one, at home at all times. I don’t know if the FBI’s put a roving bug on it, but if they have, it can be used as a live microphone to record and transmit everything you’re saying, even when it’s turned off. Put it in some quiet, unused corner of that old mansion and only check it periodically for messages.”

My jaw dropped. A blotchy, barrel-shaped form bolted in front of my truck, and I blinked. “I gotta go.”

“Something wrong?” Josh’s tone returned to stern urgency.

“Nothing a little grub won’t solve. See you when you get here.” I gave him Tarq’s address and hung up.

I quietly opened my door and slid off the seat. “Psshht. Psshht,” I called, barely above a whisper.

A solid snout bumped against my calf.

“There you are.” I bent to scratch the bristly skin on the pig’s neck. “Is your brother around here too?”

A grunt sounded from my other side. I couldn’t tell them apart in the dark, but I definitely had the rapt attention of two very hungry pot-bellied pigs.

They trotted faithfully behind me like obedient dogs, and I let them into the kitchen. This was a major violation of Clarice’s housekeeping protocol, so I lured them into a corner with a full package of Oreos and built a sort of corral around them with tipped-over and interlinked ladder-back chairs. There wasn’t much I could do about the odor that was sure to follow in short order. I didn’t know what kind of effect all that sugar would have on the pigs’ digestive tracts, but at least I could contain the mess.

“The Terminator’s still at large, huh boys?”

But I only received short, blinky stares from their beady eyes while they masticated. Oreo filling appeared to create quite a gooey compound when mixed with pig saliva. Good thing it was well past Clarice’s regimented bedtime.

“Right. Well, just make yourselves comfortable. If you value your lives and limbs, you’ll also keep very quiet. Got it, boys?”

Orville rippled the sensitive edges of his nose at me, and I took that as agreement.

Clarice was absolutely going to pitch a fit over this latest stunt, and I was immensely grateful that I wouldn’t be around to witness it even though I was the cause.

I printed a short note on a paper towel and folded it, then I slipped upstairs and left it on Emmie’s pillow. Her hair was tangled over her face. I gently brushed it free and planted a kiss on her forehead. She was so peaceful, a little smile lifting the corners of her mouth, her breathing deep and regular. I wanted this sense of security for her every hour of every day — a childhood the way it should be, without worries.

At least I could dream about that. The reality seemed impossibly out of reach.

CHAPTER 14

I had planned to get up early, but Matt made sure of that by returning my call while it was still pitch black — no hint of daylight or even moonlight seeped around the window shade. Seeing his name on the phone’s screen immediately dashed all grogginess from my mind.

“Is he okay?” I blurted.

“Yep,” Matt said. “We worked out a schedule with Arleta, brought in some undercover agents to keep an eye on things. Your dad likes chocolate pudding.”

“Yes, he does,” I whimpered in relief. “It has to be Jell-O brand, with sprinkles.”

“Okay,” Matt said slowly. “Anything else I should know?”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you, thank you.” I wiped my eyes on the sleeve of my pajamas.

“We’re going to show Cindy, the receptionist, our Bay Area organized crime photo book, see if she can identify your dad’s visitor.” Matt carried on as though I wasn’t a weepy mess. “Might give us a lead. Although I think we might have prompted the harassment.”

“What do you mean?” I sniffed.

“We raided the Turbo-Tidy Clean office and Skip’s residence.”

“What?” I screeched. “When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Day before yesterday. And I’m telling you now. I wasn’t in on the decision, just the bearer of the news.”

“You knew I wanted to make sure the employees were treated well. They deserve at least a couple weeks’ severance each. I left money in the accounts for that,” I hollered.

“Yep,” Matt replied calmly. “The legal team in our San Francisco office got you a sympathetic judge to handle the bankruptcy, but it was time to seize the remaining assets — what little there was left, thanks to you.”

“What, did I spoil your bonus?” I grumbled.

“I wish my compensation worked that way, but no. By the time the judge has doled out what’s owed to the employees and the IRS, there won’t be much left. They figured the amount you designated for Skip’s ransom was moot now.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

“Your corporate attorney — Freddy Blandings — has been fussing about, making a minor stink,” Matt added.

“Because he’s greedy — and cold-hearted. If somebody doesn’t get paid, it’s him,” I said firmly. “Vulture. Couldn’t be bothered to help when I needed him.” I scowled into the phone. “But why now?”

“We needed the computers,” Matt replied.

“You’re not going to learn anything you don’t already know.”

“Probably not,” Matt admitted. “Just following procedure.”

Sometimes the FBI powers-that-be seemed extremely obtuse to me. Following the rules when it didn’t accomplish anything. I guessed they didn’t have any other choice.

I couldn’t keep the frustration from flowing through my voice. “Why didn’t you arrest Skip earlier, when you had the chance, as soon as you realized he was laundering money for organized crime?”

“While we were gathering sufficient evidence to do just that, it quickly became apparent that the scope of his operation was gigantic, bigger than we’d ever seen. The idea was to widen the net and also catch as many of his customers as we could. He had to stay in business for that. He was the central figure in a wide-ranging network. Maybe we were overly ambitious, but we wanted to reel them all in.”

“And then there were none,” I said.

“Three are sitting in a federal penitentiary awaiting trial,” Matt replied. “And another one has gone underground without a peep after kidnapping you. So our efforts haven’t been fruitless.”

“Because I’ve been bait,” I grumbled.

“Your choice.”

He had a point. But how could I possibly have walked away? Gone back to a so-called life with no husband, no job, and the weight of not having even tried. I sucked in a deep breath and curtailed the pity party. Matt was absolutely correct.

I thanked Matt one more time for coming to my dad’s aid and rang off.

He hadn’t said anything about the destroyed surveillance post at the gate. Maybe Violet hadn’t told him. Maybe it didn’t matter because maybe they’d been listening to my conversations with my original, and possibly co-opted, phone which had been on the truck seat right beside me last night while I’d outlined the bulk of my current knowledge for Josh.

Well, no more. I shoved the suspect phone in a bundle of old towels in the back corner of Clarice’s least favorite linen closet. Now the FBI could conduct sneaky eavesdropping on mouse nest-building activities. But there would be no more inadvertent advertising of my intentional indiscretions.

oOo

I knew I could count on Tarq and Loretta being awake early, and I had a narrow window of time in which I could sneak out of the mansion before Clarice arose. I wrote her a gushy, apologetic note and tossed it on the table as I blasted through the kitchen without stopping to inhale. Wilbur and Orville were lying side by side in the chair corral, snoring contentedly.

Once safely buckled inside Lentil and bouncing over the ruts toward the county road, I left a message for Walt suggesting that he find other accommodations for the pigs before someone I knew and admired regrettably made them into sausage. Because cohabitation would be absolutely impossible the moment Clarice became conscious.

I swung by the general store to buy two full cases of Oreos and a few gallons of bleach. With Clarice’s Subaru up on blocks at Gus’s shop, she wasn’t able to go shopping, and I figured we needed to replenish our depleted, or soon to be depleted, stores of those two commodities.

I was pretty sure Etherea had given up trying to speculate on the motives behind my purchases. At least she hadn’t specifically asked what I intended to do with them during my past few visits to the store. We exchanged small talk — mostly about the continuing icy spell — while she rang up the items. I paid in cash which always reinforced her agreeable mood.

We both completely ignored the juicy topic of new residents at Mayfield. It appeared Chet and his family would also settle under the protection of neighbors who knew everything and shared almost all of that same information. It was what they neglected to share, and with whom, that mattered the most. Life or death most, in my case, and I was extremely grateful.

Etherea gave me a meaningful nod. “Don’t get sick now,” she said, waving a gnarled finger toward the boxes of Oreos.

“Never.” I grinned back at her. “With all those preservatives? My shelf life’s shot up to a hundred years.” I lugged the cookies out to the truck, returned for the bleach, then nosed Lentil out onto the county road once more.

I wound deeper into a forest that was deep to start with and turned at the now familiar stump with the three blue reflectors. Loretta was teetering on a rickety stepladder, looping chains on hooks in the bit of roof that overhung the porch.

“What happened to the swing?” I called.

“Came crashing down in the middle of the night,” Loretta chirped. “Tarq and I about clobbered each other in the dark, thinking someone had broken in.” She pressed her hands against a window frame for balance and eased off the ladder. “He’s out back making repairs. Rotted through the handles, but he’ll have it ready for a pair of lovers soon enough.”

“No one’s sparking in this weather,” I huffed, blowing steam clouds into my cupped hands. I squinted at her. Who, exactly, was going to be using the swing for romantic purposes out here in the backwoods boonies? Not the occupants of the cabin, surely?

“Coffee’s on,” Loretta said. “Help yourself to pancakes, too. Give me a minute, and I’ll join you.”

I don’t turn down offers like that. I pushed open the front door and stepped into a completely renewed, cozy little space. Sure, there were still holes in the ceiling, but the carpet was — well, it was actually green, a restful mossy green that replicated the forest floor in color but certainly not in cleanliness. The place fairly sparkled. And smelled good. A light sweetness like maple syrup and coffee and maybe a hint of wood smoke and — I couldn’t quite place it — cinnamon? Cloves?

The cabin’s condition was light years away from what it had been just a couple days ago. I popped my head back through the doorway. “You’re a magician,” I hissed.

Loretta gave me a beatific smile and nodded. “Keeping busy.”

Tarq banged through the back door the moment after I’d stuffed a large, sticky, buttery bite of pancake into my mouth. He acknowledged me with a grunt and headed to the sink to wash his hands.

He refilled his mug with coffee and sank onto the chair opposite me. He was dressed in clothing adequate for the temperature, and he had shaved.

Wow. Just wow. Loretta had also made significant headway in the old man housebreaking process. I knew that he knew how to be sociable and socially acceptable, but he’d never really bothered before, except once, on Christmas day. It was almost like we were having a tea party.

I grinned at him. “Seen a tall, dark-haired man yet this morning?”

“Should I have?” Tarq slurped the steaming liquid. “Likely I would have put buckshot in him if I did.”

I knew he was kidding. Well, maybe not. Especially not if Loretta and Tarq were on edge due to the swing mishap in the middle of the night. I shrugged. “He’ll be here soon then.”

Tarq thunked his elbows on the table, obliterating my fanciful tea party image. “I expected to be bored in my old age. You have certainly eliminated that possibility. This fellow have a name? I’m not running a boarding house for all your hardship cases, you know. Except one, and there’s nothing hard about her. Just lonely.”

I blinked. Opened my mouth. Closed it. Pursed my lips and nodded and considered it wise to leave the last part of his remark alone. I opted for the question I could safely answer. “Josh Freeney.”

Tarq’s eyes narrowed. “I know that name.”

“Skip’s friend who was also an FBI agent. The one who got canned for aiding and abetting.”

“Is he still aiding and abetting?” Tarq leaned forward, giving me a steely glare.

I was momentarily flustered by noticing that Tarq’s nose hair had also been trimmed. And the ear tufts — gone. Probably also a subject I shouldn’t comment on. “Uh, yes,” I stammered. “More than that. He’s taking the lead on this one. At least, I hope he is.”

“Lead? This one?” Tarq’s palm landed on the table with a resounding thud. “Tarnation, girl, what are you up to? Have anything to do with those paintings stashed in your storage unit? Worst things I’ve ever seen. Don’t know why the artists bothered.”

Loretta bustled into the room. “What am I missing? Anything exciting?”

And then a soft rap sounded on the front door.

Loretta jumped. “I was just out there,” she murmured, her face dropping all hint of color. “There was no one — no one in the clearing out front.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, rising. “Trick of the trade. You’re safe.”

Tarq’s front door didn’t have a peephole, so I moved an eye to the crack as I eased it open an inch.

“It’s freezing.” Josh pushed inside, turned and scanned the meadow — empty except for where I’d parked Lentil up close to the carport — and gently clicked the door closed. He smelled of eucalyptus — probably his aftershave — and a piney scent mixed with a little sweat.

“How far away did you hide your car?” I whispered.

He grinned down at me. “Far enough, nosy. I wasn’t followed on the drive from Salem. They’re not wasting manpower on me — yet.”

“Get your butts in here,” Tarq growled from the kitchen. “And speak up. You’ve got some nerve using my place as command central.”

I made the introductions. Josh was especially polite to Loretta, the mother of his good friend — the good friend who’d gotten him into so much trouble. She offered him a heaping plate of pancakes, which somehow seemed to dissipate much of Tarq’s wariness. It also meant we all hunched around the table together, elbows and knees practically bumping as Josh and I finished eating and the others sipped coffee.

I had a vague sense of déjà vu since the first time I’d met Josh we’d also eaten breakfast together. It seemed ages ago but had only been a few weeks.

Josh should have gone to work for the state department. A job negotiating foreign policy would have been a better use of his talents. By the time he finished presenting a detailed analysis of our current situation, he’d not only completely placated Tarq, he’d engrossed us all.  Loretta’s eyes glistened, and I think she realized just what kind of sacrifice and risk Josh was engaging in to be here.

He made my problems sound elaborate and intriguing and complicated in a textbook sort of way. But it was also my life. I’d just been logged like a progress report. He also made me realize that I hadn’t actually been losing my mind.

“Go back to that part about Ziggy Beltran,” I said. “He’s my Numero Seis. What makes you think he’s involved too?”

“I called a couple of my old informants. They confirmed Ziggy’s been promoted. He basically has a monopoly on loan sharking collections in Vegas now. And if he’s in Vegas, then he’s associated with Lutsenko.” Josh took a moment to swirl his last forkful of pancake in the remaining puddle of syrup on his plate. “One of my informants heard a rumor that Ziggy had been to one of the parties at Lutsenko’s Tahoe place. I’d like to speak with Chet, get his description of the other men he saw there with Lutsenko.”