Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 12 - Murder Among Friends (3 page)

“So, what you got today?” He plopped down behind his
desk. The chair groaned as he leaned forward and pulled
out his ubiquitous bottle of vodka and knocked down a
couple of slugs.

I looked on in amazement. A liver as tough as his belonged in the Smithsonian. “Not much. Should nail down
the Simmons thing today.” He frowned. I explained. “The
old boy who’s been cheating on his wife.”

“Is he?” Marty shrugged.

I nodded and hefted a Canon 440D camera with an EF
70-200 mm lens. “Yep. Got a couple of shots yesterday. A
couple more today ought to nail the guy.”

He grunted. “Good”

“Yeah. And I’ve got a decision you have to make. I know
the answer, but you’re the one who has to give the word”

His pan-shaped face twisted in a frown. “About what?”

I told him about Debbie’s visit the night before, mentioning also that she and I had once dated.

He pursed his lips as I went into detail. For some reason,
I didn’t like the look on his face.

When I finished, he said, “So all they want is for us to
find the old boy?”

“Yeah. That’s all. But I told her it’s an open case with
the cops. They aren’t going to want us to nose around in
it” I paused, and then added, “And I’m not too crazy about
it.19

“Because you two once dated?”

“Yeah.19

Marty studied me a moment, and then shrugged. “You’re
probably right” He reached for a pen. “Give me her name,
and I’ll give her a call and explain our position. Don’t worry
about it”

I should have known that the time to start worrying was
when Marty told me not to.

But I didn’t. Pushing the next evening with Janice from
my mind, I went about my job, tagging after my mark, getting half a dozen shots of the couples’ amorous clutches
even before they made it into the motel.

A few more shots as they bade each other adieu, and I returned to the office, ran the film through the computer, and
dropped it off with our client’s lawyer.

When I returned from the attorney’s office, Marty called
me in and informed me that we could take Debbie Reeves’
case.

At first I thought he was joking. “Come on, Marty. It’s
late, and I’m ready to call it a day”

He poured a shot of vodka and offered it to me. I declined.
While I hadn’t been attending the AA meetings, I was keeping my vows, most of the time. He slid the bottle back in
the drawer. “No joke. I talked to Chief Pachuca at the police station today. Went down to see him, in fact. They have
all they need to put Edwards away for a long time. But they
can’t find him. He’ll welcome our help” He paused. `By the way, Reeves and her mother will be in tomorrow at nine
to sign the contracts”

I eyed him narrowly. “I don’t want the job”

“Huh?” His eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t want
it? Why not?”

“I told you. Because I know them, and because whatever
we find out for them is going to hurt them, and I don’t want
to be the one doing it.”

He shrugged. “Someone’s got to do it. If not us, another
agency. Besides, being their close friend, you could probably handle it more gracefully than anyone else”

I shook my head and stared at him in wonder. “You don’t
miss a bet, do you?”

A puzzled frown knit his brows. “What do you mean by
that?”

“Nothing,” I replied in disgust. “Nothing”

Muttering obscenities under my breath, I headed for
my apartment. On the one hand, I couldn’t blame Marty.
Debbie and her mother were simply another client for
Blevins’ Security.

Yet, because I had known her so long, and because we
had once been fairly close, I wasn’t comfortable being the
bearer of bad news. I might never find her father, and if I
did, he was going to prison. Either way, she wouldn’t have
him at home. I just didn’t want to be the one responsible.

At my apartment, I tossed my tweed jacket on the couch
and fell into my evening routine, nuking milk and putting
out fresh water and another handful of nuggets for A.B.
I was so busy cursing Marty that I failed to notice A.B.
wasn’t around.

Usually, the little guy was under my feet, weaving back and forth through my legs like it was his mission on earth
to see if he could trip me.

I reached the bathroom before I realized I hadn’t seen
him, and that’s when I spotted the torn screen on the bathroom window.

That window was one of his favorite spots, and I always
left it open for him.

I cursed again, and hurried outside. For twenty minutes,
I wandered the neighborhood, calling him. Finally, I stood
on the corner, my thumbs hooked in the pockets of my
washed out jeans, and stared up and down the street.

A neighbor ambled out to the curb. He was an older man
who tended his flowerbeds constantly. I guessed him to be in
his seventies or so. He waved. “You looking for a white cat?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. He got out through a
torn screen. You see him?”

“This morning. About ten. Mildred, that’s my wife, sent
me to the mailbox. I saw a white cat chasing another cat down
the street there,” he said, pointing east on Payton-Gin Road.

I swore a little more, thanked him, and then climbed in
my pickup. I found no sign of A.B.

Back in my apartment, I slammed the door in disgust.
First Marty sneaks behind my back and manages to get a
case I didn’t want; Janice wants to “talk”; and now my cat,
the one I saved from being used as alligator bait in a
Louisiana swamp, had run off.

“What else could go wrong?” I muttered.

At that moment, the phone rang.

I growled into the receiver. “Yeah?”

“Tony, this is Bob Ray Burrus. We got your old man in jail
down here. They say he’s involved in some guy’s murder.”

Come on, Bob Ray,” I replied. “This has been a tough
day. I don’t need any jokes”

There was no hint of amusement in his voice. “No joke,
Tony. John Roney Boudreaux. Brought in this morning
passed out. They found him at the rail yards. And they found
another guy down there, but he was dead. They figure your
father might know something about it. Maybe did it”

I was speechless. After a couple of moments, Bob Ray
lowered his voice. “They got no real proof against him, but
he was laying there by the dead guy. There was a busted
beer bottle near his hand, and the blow to the head is what
killed the other dude”

“This other dude, he got a name?”

“The hobos called him Salinas Sal”

In frustration, I muttered, “I can’t believe it.”

Bob Ray worked the Evidence Room down at the police
station. He and I had gone through the first three years at
U.T. before he transferred to Sam Houston University at
the end of his junior year, changing his major to criminal
justice.

He was one of those free-thinking rebels who preferred
remaining just within the bounds of convention for the sake
of comfort, the comfort of a steady paycheck. From time to
time, depending upon how a proposition struck him, he pushed the envelope, even on occasion kicking a hole in it.
For the most part, however, he played it straight. Like most
uniforms, he wanted his pension.

“I’ll be right down”

“Won’t do no good, Tony. You know that. He can’t go
before the judge until morning.”

I grimaced. He was right. I should have thought of that,
but the telephone call had caught me by surprise, and on top
of everything else that was going wrong, the news about my
old man was just about one straw away from snapping the
back of that proverbial camel. “Thanks, Bob Ray”

I hung up and my eyes shifted to the refrigerator where a
chilled bottle of Janice’s Merlot lay on the top rack. I
chuckled. It had been several months since I’d had the desire for a drink.

Two or three times during the night, I hopped out of bed
and hurried to the front door, swearing I heard A.B. clawing to get in. Each time I was disappointed.

The last thing I got that night was a sound sleep. With
questions about Debbie’s father, my missing cat, Janice’s obsession with marriage, and my old man suspected of murder,
what little sleep I managed came in snips and snatches.

Before I left home the next morning, I quickly placed all
my valuables in the garage with my Model T and locked
the door securely against the likelihood that I would be
bringing my old man back. The only alcohol in the refrigerator was Janice’s Merlot. That was okay. I’d pick up a
couple of cases of beer today for my old man.

I popped into the office a few minutes later, informing
Marty I would not be at his meeting with Debbie Reeves and
her mother. I was in no mood for his clumsy efforts to shame me into attending the meeting for my sake and the company’s
sake. “No way, Marty,” I said, my eyes blazing fire. “I got my
old man to worry about. He isn’t much, but he is blood kin.” I
stared into his flat black eyes. “If you don’t like it, then fire
my tail” I spun on my heel and stormed to the door.

Behind me, Marty stuttered and stammered. “Hey. Tony!
I didn’t mean it like that. Go right ahead. I’ll fill you in
when you get back” Good old Marty. He was as flexible
and adaptable as duct tape.

Half a dozen denizens of the street slouched on the
bench in front of Judge Simon. I knew the judge, and he
was a fair man-a hard one, but fair.

I studied the backs of the defendants, unable to pick out
my old man. After all, I told myself, it had been several
months, almost a year, since I last saw him. I paused and
chuckled wryly to myself. The last time I saw him was when
he robbed me blind and pawned the goods for booze.

Bob Ray Burros stood at my side. He pointed to the second set of slumped shoulders. “That’s him”

“Thanks,” I muttered, moving to the side for a better
look at his angular face.

We got lucky. I don’t know if it was because the Austin
PD didn’t want to have to put up with John Roney for several months until a trial, or because the judge knew me and
realized I would have my old man to trial when and if it
came up, or because the evidence against him was pretty
flimsy, but I got my old man out on a two-thousand-dollar
bond.

I never liked riding with my old man. He never bathed,
and even with the windows down, the stench was enough to gag a dog on a gut wagon. And that thirty minutes back to
my place was no different.

But during that drive, I told my old man in no uncertain
terms that if he left my apartment, I would be the first to
turn in his sorry tail to the police. And if I did, he might as
well never expect any help from me again.

The frail man looked around at me. “That ain’t a kindly
thing to do to your old man, boy”

I snorted. “Come on, John. Every time I’ve helped you,
it’s ended up with you pawning half my stuff so you can
buy your cheap Thunderbird wine”

He frowned, feigning hurt feelings. “That ain’t so. A
couple times, I used the money for train fare”

All I could do was shake my head and roll my eyes.

I picked up a six-pack of Old Milwaukee beer from a
convenience store before we reached my apartment. Leaving the pickup door open to air out, I escorted my old man
inside, pointing out the shower and my dresser of clean garments, and suggesting he take advantage of them. “Toss your
clothes in the washer. I’ll run them though the cycle tonight.
TV dinners are in the freezer.”

He nodded, but from the glaze over his eyes, I knew the
first thing he would do was open a beer, guzzle a couple of
swallows, and then pass out on the couch.

I wagged a finger at him. “Remember. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll find out what I can about what they have against
you. Then we’ll have a better idea of where we stand. I left
my cell number and office number on the pad by the phone.
Call me if you need anything”

It was noon before I reached the office. To my surprise,
Debbie and her mother were waiting patiently for me. Debbie’s eyes lit when she saw me. Both ladies rose quickly.
Debbie hurried to me and threw her arms around me.
“Thank you, Tony. Thank you. I knew I could depend on
you” Before I could reply, she gestured to the older woman
at her side. “You remember Mother.”

There was no question from whom Debbie had inherited
her physical attributes. Margaret Edwards was perhaps a
few pounds heavier, but still a striking woman. The black
business outfit she wore was as conservative as it was becoming. She smiled and extended her hand. “Hello, Tony.
Nice to see you again”

I glanced around for Marty, but he was nowhere to be
seen. One of his typical moves, vanish until tempers cool.
“Thank you, Mrs. Edwards” I hesitated, looking from one
to the other.

Debbie must have seen the puzzlement on my face, for
she explained, “We gave Mr. Blevins all the information
this morning, but when he said you had volunteered to handle the case, we decided to go over it again, this time with
you in case there are any questions we didn’t make clear.”

“I see” I drew a deep breath. “That’s a good idea.” I
glanced around the empty office. “I haven’t had lunch yet.
Would you ladies care to join me?”