Killer Moves: The 4th Jolene Jackson Mystery (Jolene Jackson Mysteries) (17 page)

When I arrived back at the house, Clove was standing in front of the garage doors on the left side of the house. He waved his arm, pointing for me to park over by the pool. I did as directed and got out to see what was going on this time.

Clove fiddled with something in his hand and both double garage doors opened smoothly and quietly. He waved for me to follow as he walked into the garage.

I had no idea what he wanted to show me, but when I reached the point where I could see inside the huge oversized garage, I started getting a clue. Two pickup trucks—a white Chevy extended cab and a sparkling blue Toyota Tundra four-door were on the left of the dual double garage. On the right was a silver sporty SUV and a glittery white GMC Yukon. All I could say was. “Wow.”

“There’s a four-wheeler and a golf cart up in front,” Clove said then turned away and walked back toward the pool. He pointed to the garage on the other side. “There’s more.”

“More?” I muttered, following along, the reality slowly dawning on me. “How many cars can one man need?”

“He drove the white pickup mostly. Had a Caddy for a while, but traded it for the Yukon,” Clove said, apparently hearing my comment. “I’m sure you can guess why.”

No, really I couldn’t.

Clove pressed another button and the twin doors on the right hand garage opened. “See what you think of these.”

The other garage was also full of cars. Had this guy been a dealer or collector or what? “I think this is insane, that’s what I think.”

“Take a look at this one,” he said, tapping the top of the car closest to me.

I don’t know what I noticed first, the bluish silver color or the BMW emblem and the letters 750Li, but all I could say was, “Wow.” I had lusted after one almost like it for a while. Then I found out my dream was going to cost me a hundred grand. Needless to say, I kept driving my paid-for Tahoe—the one that was now tumbled and toasted at the bottom of the hill.

“I’m partial to the Buick,” Clove said, now standing beside a sparkly dark grey sedan. “Solid ride. But if you fancy a convertible, there’s one over on the far side.”

I looked over the top of the sedans, wondering what kind of convertible, but I couldn’t tell because there was another car blocking my view—a vintage 1966 powder blue Ford Mustang. A cocktail of emotions flooded me. “That’s my car!” I said, shaking off my shock and hurrying over to it. “I can’t believe this!”

“Brought it back from the cabin while you were back in Colorado. Bob had a big surprise planned to give it to you before things went bad.”

“Well, I’m definitely surprised,” I said, focusing on the words I could deal with and ignoring the ones I couldn’t. “This is incredible!”

“Better than new,” Clove said. “It’s got power breaks and steering now. Top shelf work.”

No doubt about that. And I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. Sparkling spotless paint and shiny chrome gleamed and glared from every direction. The deep gouges on the trunk were gone and I couldn’t even remember now where they had been—not that I’d ever forget the story behind them. I wanted to see inside, to see if it still looked like my memories, but I couldn’t. In fact, I couldn’t even walk up to window and peek in. So, again, I focused on what I could deal with. “This restoration is unbelievable. It had to have cost forty grand.”

“More like fifty.” Clove walked over and opened the door. “Keys are in it. Get in and start up her up.”

“Oh, no,” I said, stepping back as if I was afraid it would bite. “Maybe later.”

A big tangle of emotions was wrapping itself around my mind and my heart. My daddy had given me that car and it was very special to me. And now, it was sitting in the garage of my biological father, who’d had it fully restored for me as a gift, to go along with the house and the ranch and the rest of the stuff. The whole thing was weird, but the Mustang added about twelve layers of weirdness, including my mother’s obvious involvement. She’d been involved in much of the planning and plotting of this whole thing too, and then she turned around and almost got us all killed trying to keep me from knowing about it. There was no logic in any of it that I could see. And what about my whole life? How much of what I believed to be true really was? How much had Lucille made up?

“The BMW only has a few hundred miles on it,” Clove said, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. He walked back to the silver sedan. “Bob drove it in from Dallas a few months ago.”

“What?”

“You can’t keep driving your mother’s car.”

Sure I could. But I knew what he meant. He wanted me to pick one from the fleet. I didn’t want to.

“The Buick’s a good car too. You can drive it if it suits you better. Bob bought it for your mother a while back.”

What? I felt my head start to spin even faster. “Bob tried to give my mother a car?”

“She wouldn’t take it.”

“Of course, she wouldn’t, she’s Lucille.” I didn’t know what I really meant by that, but I was beginning to find it funny. “You know, she just didn’t have the right motivation, that’s all.” A strange little giggle bubbled up. “Run the old Buick off the cliff and then she’d have to take the new one. That’s how it works, right? Sure how it’s working for me!” And then I laughed—and I couldn’t stop. I was laughing so hard I had to sit down.

I held my stomach as images of fancy ball gowns dresses and expensive musical instruments flashed in my head. Who’d paid for all that stuff? Mom, Dad, Bob? Did it matter? “I don’t know what’s true anymore,” I said, hearing the words gasp out as I sucked in gulps of air. Then, in a rapid 180 turn, laughter turned to tears, and there I was, sitting on the garage floor, sobbing. “My whole life is a lie.” 

“Well, hell,” Clove muttered.

I stopped crying quickly, but I didn’t get up. I just sat there, thinking. Then, I noticed Emmajean standing over me, trying to get me to stand up. I made it to my feet and she guided me to a door in the garage that went directly into the master bedroom. I kept telling her I was fine, but she suggested I take a few minutes to collect myself before joining Melody, Doris and Lucille, who were finishing breakfast at the dining table. I didn’t disagree with the plan, but considering I already had two meltdowns under my belt, self-collection was setting the bar a bit high.

This latest unravelling had been triggered by the car, or more accurately, the version of reality the car represented. My multiple pasts—only one of which I happened to be familiar with—had somehow melded together to create a surreal present that I just couldn’t wrap my head around. A little time out wasn’t going to fix that, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt either.

I moseyed into the bathroom, figuring I could amuse myself for a while by playing with all the goodies and gadgets in the luxurious high-tech habitat. I found some fancy face stuff that promised I’d have younger looking skin in no time. So, I washed, scrubbed, toned, moisturized and firmed as directed, and then I waited. And waited. I gave it a good two minutes, but the same old Jolene still stared back at me. Deciding it was probably like watching a pot boil, I decided to play with the toilet while I waited for my youthful transformation. It was another pleasant encounter and I came away not only further educated and refreshed, but in love.

With more cabinets and drawers to explore, I settled myself on the thick rug covering the tile floor and got busy. Besides all the thick oversized towels and such, there were all kinds of shampoos, conditioners, soaps, toothpastes and the like, including first aid supplies. The place was fully stocked with every kind of personal care item you could think of. A lot of the stuff was the same as I used at home—my real home, the one in Colorado where I don’t have serial meltdowns.

“Hey.”

I snapped my head toward the voice. “Jerry!”

Sheriff Parker stood at the end of the hallway from the bedroom. “May I come in?”

The morose musings vanished and relief melted through me. I let out a big rush of air and my shoulders dropped away from my ears. I was so happy to see him and emotions began welling up again—good ones. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

He kept his eyes locked on me as he walked toward me. He said nothing, but from his gaze and the unspoken words he was sending it sure seemed like he was glad to be here too.

In the swirling craziness that tracked me like a tornado after a trailer park, Jerry was my storm shelter—my safe place. Not a romantic analogy for most people, but for us, it was almost erotic. And from the way he was staring at me, the master bath had a good shot at hitting that mark as well. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but it sure looked like he had anything but official business on his mind. And if I was right, I liked what was on his mind way better than what had been on mine.

Sharing a few magic moments wouldn’t technically fix anything about my situation, but it would certainly be a nice reboot for body and brain. Maybe even clear the slate and restart the day on a much better note. Deciding it was definitely worth the risk to see if I was reading him right, I stood and smiled. “I was thinking about taking a shower.” I pulled up my top and tossed it over my head. “Want to join me?”

Apparently, he did, because Sheriff Parker was at my side before the shirt hit the floor.

Chapter 22

Just for the record, I can vouch for the sturdy construction of the bathroom cabinetry and the plushness of the towels atop the sparkly quartz countertop. Indeed, all are of impeccable quality, substance and strength. I can also confirm that having a thick designer rug in the center of the cavernous bathroom is appealing for more than decorative purposes. The dual heads in the huge techno-steam-shower are very nice too, making it easier to shower at the same time, amongst other things.

After the shower, I’d wrapped myself in a luxurious robe and curled up on a lounge chair, content to watch Jerry get dressed. I knew I needed to get dressed too and go out and face the world—and my mother—but I was really enjoying just being with Jerry, hidden away from everything.

“I like the way you say good morning,” Jerry said, tucking in his shirt then turning toward the mirror.

“I’d like saying goodnight like that too.”

He turned and tipped his head. “I know, honey. I’m really sorry”

“No, no, I’m not complaining about last night,” I said, shaking my head. “I just wanted you to know how much I really enjoy being with you, sleeping together, sharing space, just touching you—just being.”

“Me too,” he said, smiling as he combed his damp dark hair back from his face. “I plan to be here tonight to do all that and more.”

“Sounds wonderful” I said, allowing myself a wistful sigh. “I’m not going to count my chickens just yet though. You know how things go as well as I do. You probably wouldn’t even be here now if not for the Waverman situation.”

“Actually, I was already headed this way.” He smiled. “I missed being here last night.”

His words sent a warm flutter through my heart. It was still a little unsettling to have him talk openly about wanting to be with me. I’d always felt like I had to beg or manipulate Danny to get what I wanted, and when I did there was a big price to pay. The comparison was really fair since Jerry wasn’t a narcissistic insecure child as my ex-husband had been. Of course, that definitely begs the question of what kind of idiot would have married such a man. And since I hooked up with only a slightly different version in the next guy, I think we have our answer. Not liking that answer, I changed the subject. “Have you heard how Waverman is doing?”

Jerry turned from the mirror and leaned a hip on the counter. “He’s still being evaluated in the ER. Nothing conclusive, but whatever the case, he’s lucky to be alive. If you hadn’t found him when you did, he would have choked to death.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. He looked dead, so I figured so there was nothing to lose by pounding out what little CPR I remembered. At least it made him cough and I could tell he was breathing.”

“You did good, Jo,” he said.

I hoped so, but I didn’t want to talk about me. “Do they have any idea what’s wrong?”

“They’re running to tests to see if there were any drugs or toxins in his system. Since he was working on a site with hazardous chemicals, there’s a possibility he could have experienced an overexposure.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good,” I said, visions of lawsuits dancing in my head. Then, I remembered that the whole reason I’d gone down to talk to Waverman was to debate his remediation plan before he implemented it. “I guess it’s possible, but it would have to have been from a soil or water sample. The buried drums with the concentrated crap are still buried. And besides, Waverman’s a stickler for safety. I’m happy to detail his other flaws, but I don’t think doing stupid things around toxic waste is one of them.”

“That’s good information,” Jerry said. “I’ll pass it along to the hospital so they don’t focus just in those areas.”

I sighed and stood up. “I really wish this day could go a different way right now. A way that included just you and me and no distractions.”

“Me too.” Jerry walked over and pulled me close. “And it will. Tonight.”

I leaned close and rested my head on his chest for just one more moment. “But now,” I said, leaning back. “We have to go back to reality and deal with it.”

“Afraid so.”

I moved away to get dressed. I wasn’t putting the same clothes back on, so I went to the closet for clean and fresh options. I hadn’t had time to unpack anything, so I was limited to what was in the suitcase. I was running low on shirts, but managed to find a white tailored one with buttons and a collar that only had a few tiny wrinkles. I grabbed my last dark jeans, the slim kind that hugged my legs, and slipped them on. “Hey, have you talked to Travis after last night?”

“I have,” Jerry said, frowning. “I wanted to talk to you about that. He doesn’t even sound like himself. What did you do to him?”

“Me? Oh, no, this one’s not my fault,” I said, shaking my head. “Melody is the culprit.” Remembering that he hadn’t met her yet, I said, “She’s Doris’ daughter.”

“I was introduced a few moments ago.” He paused and stared at me as I buttoned my shirt. “I like the outfit.”

That was good to know. Unlike his two predecessors, he appreciated me with clothes on. “Thank you.” The jeans were my one wardrobe indulgence. The damn things cost over a hundred bucks each, but they felt good and fit, so they were all I wore anymore.

“She seems really nice,” he said, still watching me.

“She is,” I agreed. “But not at all who I would have paired Travis with. She’s definitely different, especially for around here.”

“So is he. That could be the connection. But are you really sure that’s what’s going on?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, chuckling. “You should see them together. Actually, you’ll have to see them together to believe it.”

A chime erupted from a panel on the wall that also now had a video screen illuminated with Emmajean’s face on it. “Miss, Jolene,” she said. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Doctor Travis is here and he needs to speak with the sheriff. And don’t worry, I can’t see you, the camera is only one way unless you push the button.”

“Good to know.”

“And you have to pick up the telephone handset or push the speaker to talk back to me, which you don’t have to do, I’m just letting you know.” And with that, the screen went blank.

I turned to Jerry. “Well, here we go.”

Jerry and I proceeded to the dining area and joined the group.

Melody’s silver hair was brushed back from her face, exposing dangling turquoise earrings. Wearing a soft blue straight dress that was somehow both simple and elegant, she looked lovely and radiant. Doris sat beside her, appearing reasonably coherent. Lucille was next to Doris, looking unreasonably annoyed, strumming her fingers and huffing her impatience. Travis sat directly across from Melody, leaving two seats for Jerry and me.

“So that’s what took you so long,” Lucille said, narrowing her eyes at my still-wet locks. She reached up and patted her perfectly poofed pink-blonde designer hair for added emphasis. “I suppose you had to have a shower after all of your carryings on this morning.”

“I suppose I did,” I said. I wasn’t sure which she considered my biggest crime—my failure to be properly coiffed or the “carryings on.” I didn’t care either. I smiled—sort of. “And now I feel so much better, thank you for asking.”

Lucille snorted and glared, but said nothing.

As Jerry and I settled into our seats, two steaming mugs appeared before us—coffee for him and tea for me—courtesy of Emmajean.

Lucille pushed up the sleeves on her track suit jacket. “Alright everybody’s here now and has something to drink, so let’s get to it.” She pointed at Travis. “I know you had a reason for coming out here this early in the morning and I want to know what it is.”

“We all do, Miss Lucille,” Melody said, turning her gaze to Doctor-Doctor-Doctor Travis. “And we’re very glad you took the time to come tell us about it in person.”

“Yes, well, it seemed best.” Travis’ face bloomed and cleared his throat.

I glanced at Jerry to see if he’d caught the exchange. The subtle twitch of his lips said he had.

“Sheriff,” Travis said, tugging at the neck of his stiffly-starched dress shirt, his usual work attire becoming unusually uncomfortable. “I appreciate you meeting me on such short notice.”

I sucked in my breath as the old feelings flooded me, but before they took hold I grabbed my mug and took a sip of tea.

Jerry leaned over and whispered where only I could hear, “I was already on my way here. To see you.” His soft deep voice rumbled through me. “It’s okay, Jo. You’re okay.”

And, just like that, I was. The twisting in my stomach eased and I let out a deep sigh. Funny how different it feels when the man saying the words is telling the truth. Changes everything. I turned toward him and smiled. “Thank you.”

Travis cleared his throat again. “I received a call early this morning from the rehab center. “Normally I wouldn’t have been in my lab at that time, but I since I planned to leave early…” His eyes darted to Melody and his cheeks turned a rosy tint. He took a sip from his own mug then said, “Anyway, the call was about a death at the center. A new employee had been told to ‘make the call’ and instead of calling the funeral home, she dialed 911. My office was informed and I responded immediately. The mistake had been discovered by the time I arrived, but I still had an opportunity to view the body and take samples.”

“Well, I am not surprised there’s another dead one,” Lucille said. “They’re dropping like flies out there.”

“Did you have time to run any tests?” Melody asked, staring intently at Travis.

“He wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Lucille said astutely. My mother is highly intelligent and savvy about a lot of things—when she wants to be. She eyed Travis. “Of course, it could be a social call too, but I’ll just bet you found they’d hopped that one up with the same stuff they did Doris. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Travis nodded. “An initial analysis suggests the presence of statin drugs, yes.”

“See! I told you so!” Lucille wagged her finger at Jerry. “Now, Jerry Don, you get yourself on out there and arrest those murderers! I’ll be your star witness and we’ll put an end to this!”

Jerry leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, but said nothing.

I was not as wise. “Mother, the rehab is in a different county and Jerry has no jurisdiction and you know it.” Before she could respond, I turned to Travis, “So what happens next? Is there enough evidence to do anything with? And what can you do about it? What can anyone do about it?”

Travis focused his attention on Lucille. “As I mentioned before, Miz Jackson, many people are prescribed these drugs by their doctors, so it isn’t automatically suspicious. Still, there are unusual circumstances at the facility that would seem to warrant an official investigation.”

“Well, it is about time somebody finally paid attention.”

“I talked to Redwater on the way here,” Jerry said. “And even without knowing this latest information, they’ve agreed to open an investigation” He paused for a moment, then rubbed a hand across his face. “They’re going to send someone in as a patient later today when the paperwork is arranged.”

“That’ll take too long to do any good, especially when they don’t even know what all to look for.” Lucille tapped her fingers to her lips, her head bobbing harder with every thought. “They need someone on the inside, somebody who already knows what’s going on to show them the ropes.” She shot icy glares at Jerry and me. “This would all be a whole lot easier if you two hadn’t forced me to leave. Now, I’ll have to pretend to have a relapse just so I can get back in there and help out.”

“No!” I said, almost coming out of my chair. 

“Well, Jolene, I don’t see that you have any say in the matter.” Lucille crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air.” I’ve been feeling rather poorly ever since I got here and not letting me go back to the hospital would be endangering my health. That sort of thing gets reported, you know.”

“Oh, for godsake.” I knew this argument. My children had threatened to call the authorities on me because I didn’t get them ice cream or something equally stupid. I’d fixed that problem by handing them the phone and suggesting they pack a bag. That wasn’t going to work in this case though. I looked beseechingly at Jerry. A quick shake of his head told me not to bother. Oh, I was going to bother. After the hell we’d gone through getting her out yesterday, she was for damn sure not going back on self-appointed mole duty today. “People are dying in that place, Mother, apparently pretty rapidly.”

“Dropping like flies,” she agreed.

“Well, you aren’t going to be the next one!”

“Oh, good Lord, Jolene, I’ve already outsmarted them on than that. And now that I know what they’re up to, they’re sure not going to be pulling anything over on me. It’ll be easy for me to play along and keep an eye out. And this time, I’ll be sweetest patient they ever did see.” She put her hand to her cheek. “What’s this pill for dear?” she said in a sickly sweet voice. “Oh, well, isn’t that nice. Does everyone here get that or is it special just for me?”

While she batted her eyes, I rolled mine. “You’re going to convince them you had a personality transplant overnight?”

“Now that’s just a plain hateful thing to say to your mother. I’m nice to people all the time, unless, of course, they’re being ignorant and hateful to me, in which case being nice only makes things worse, so I don’t do that.” She paused and frowned at her own logic—or lack thereof. “I’m always nice.”