Killer Moves: The 4th Jolene Jackson Mystery (Jolene Jackson Mysteries) (20 page)

“I called you here to arrest this woman!” Director Hall yelled. “I showed you the videos!”

Dots were connecting quickly and I did not like the picture they were making. Taking a deep breath and swallowing the sick feeling lodged in my throat, I walked nonchalantly past the door and the window, glancing over as I went.

Lieutenant Daniel Perez sat in the chair in his casual shirt and shorts, arms crossed and scowling. He spoke, but since he wasn’t screaming, I couldn’t hear what he said.

Not to worry, Paula Hall was saying plenty that I could. “She is the only problem I’ve got. I don’t want you to watch her. I want her gone! Right now!”

I didn’t know if Perez’s cover had been blown or if the director had been in on the deal from the beginning. What I did know was that “arrest that woman” meant me and I had no desire to help fulfill her wishes. I scurried back to Lucille’s room.

When I opened the door and stepped inside, Lucille jumped, her eyes flying open wide.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” I said. “But I probably need to be going now for sure.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” she said, scooting up in bed.

“Well, for one, I found Perez in the director’s office.” I walked over toward Lucille. “And it wasn’t a patient intake interview. She was ranting and raving about me, wanting me arrested. I’d rather not wait around to see how that plays out.”

“Well that just ruins everything,” she said, slapping a hand down on the bed. “If she’s in there squawking at Perez about that, then he’s already blown it. Nothing’s going to happen now.”

“Well, except my arrest.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Nobody’s going to arrest you.” Lucille shook her head. “If Perez was going to do that, he already would have.”

“Actually, he can. I stole stuff from their lab. It’s a minor thing, but if she wants to push it, he might have to do something, or at least appear to.” I paced in front of the bed. “I better call Jerry and let him know.”

Turned out I didn’t have to because he’d sent me a lengthy message. I read fast and gave Mother the short version. “Perez has two other people here posing as employees. We’re not to talk to Perez, although he didn’t say why. And, confirming what I overheard in the hall, the only suspicious activity around here is mine.”

Lucille frowned. “You should go.”

“That’s what Jerry said.”

My phone rang in my hand. Another unknown local number. I glanced at my mother, sighed and answered. “This is Jolene.”

“Miss Jackson, this is Phillip Finch.”

“It’s Miz, not Miss or Misses.” Was everybody here still living in the 1950s? Yes, it was a rhetorical question since the answer was beyond obvious. “Just call me, Jolene, please.”

“Jolene, ma’am, we have a situation here.” He sounded very official and in command—or at least pretending to be. “We need you onsite immediately.”

“What’s going on?”

He cleared his throat. “I’d rather not say over the phone.” His voice wavered, betraying either his lack of confidence or his fear over something really bad. Yeah, probably both. “We were getting ready to shut down for the day and, well, we’ve had a situation that should be aware of.” He paused for a minute. “You should hurry.”

Click.

Chapter 26

I put the phone back in my pocket, gave Mother a quick explanation of trouble at the jobsite and then hurried out of the building. I wasn’t happy being summoned without an explanation, but I was also worried. I’d tried calling Finch back, but he wouldn’t answer. My first thought was that there’d been some kind of accident involving the drill rig. And since Gilbert Moore wasn’t answering his phone either, it only amped up my imagination and my anxiety.

When I finally pulled off the highway and onto the property, I was a little surprised that nothing looked unusual—no smoke or sirens anyway. I slowed the Buick to a crawl to keep it from dragging high center on the ruts and crept toward the staging area behind the mesquites. As I headed into the last curve, I saw bits of red and white through the scraggly limbs. Emergency equipment was on the scene. When the white canopy tents came into view, so did a mass of vehicles, including the Bowman County Sheriff’s truck and a deputy’s car.

Finch was at my window before the car came to a stop. Parking, I stepped out of the car and asked the obvious. “What happened?”

“It looks bad,” he said, twisting his hands. “I don’t know when he got here.”

“Who?” I asked, walking toward the circle of vehicles with flashing lights. Then, I saw Waverman’s truck. “Waverman? Here? What happened?”

Finch nodded, still twisting his hands. “I was over with Gilbert at the drill site. I’d just brought some core samples back to send to the lab, and that’s when I saw him, sitting in his truck. I went over to see why he’d come out here when we have everything under control. Of course, he just said he had to, because that’s how he is.”

“And?” I said, encouraging him to get to the point.

“He started going over what needed to be done, nothing out of the ordinary. I explained that I had already taken care of everything, but he wanted to get out and go check for himself—that’s just how he is.” Finch took a shaky breath. “When he stepped out of the truck, he collapsed. Hit his head on the frame when he went down,” he said, shuddering, his beady eyes blinking rapidly. “Lots of blood. I...I…called 911.”

“Is he okay?”

Finch blinked some more then gave a quick shake of his head. “The EMTs rushed him off, but it was too late.” He looked at his feet. “I’m the site safety officer. I did everything I was supposed to do, but…”

But Waverman didn’t make it. Wow. Apparently, this morning’s episode had not been enough of a wakeup call for him and now he’d paid the ultimate price. I couldn’t help but wonder what was so important that he’d left the hospital and made a bee line back out here to deal with it. I glanced over at the cluster of vehicles. “Wait a minute. His truck was onsite this morning and he left in an ambulance. How’d he get the truck back?”

Finch’s head snapped up. “Oh…I….” His pale face became even paler. “I took it to him and left it in the parking lot. His wife brought me back out here.” He swallowed hard. “We didn’t have a choice,” he said pleadingly. “He wouldn’t stop badgering us.”

I didn’t doubt that last statement for a second. And, I could understand why Dr. Waverman, CEO, would want to make sure things were okay with the project since ultimately he was responsible. More specifically, he didn’t want anybody screwing up his money train. Even so, you’d think that nearly dying would’ve been a good enough reason to take the rest of the day off. Logical, but not palatable to an ego determined never to appear weak. I’d call it the macho-man syndrome, but my mother and her daughter have repeatedly proved the malady isn’t gender specific. All I could think of to say was, “I’m sorry.”

Finch’s eyes darted to the side. “I better go. Today’s samples won’t get to the lab by themselves.”

As I watched him scurry toward the tents, I noticed a familiar face heading toward me. I’d have preferred to talk to the sheriff, but he was nowhere to be seen. His deputy, however, was looking large and in charge as he marched toward me.

Deputy Leroy Harper stopped in front of me, shoulders back and belly forward, almost at attention. “Well, Jolene, looks like you’re in it again.”

No, not this time. Yes, I owned the property, but what happened had nothing to do with me. Unlike previous situations, however, I was not going to defend myself or explain why someone else’s poor choices were not my responsibility. “Where did they take Waverman?”

“Redwater,” Leroy said, frowning in an unspoken “where else?”

I suppose it made sense. The county coroner wasn’t going to do an autopsy. “Do you know what happened? Finch seemed pretty shaken up, so I didn’t get many details.”

Waverman checked himself out of the hospital and hightailed it straight out here.” Leroy narrowed his eyes at me. “His man Finch said he was real worried. Afraid he’d get fired if he didn’t.”

“Nope. That was in his own head,” I said reasonably calmly, considering the implication. “I very specifically told his wife that he could take all the time he needed to recuperate.” I crossed my arms. “Besides that, did you forget who helped him not die this morning?”

“I don’t know about any of that,” Leroy said, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “I just know you’ve got problems out here, and more cropping up all the time. Even before this, there was all kinds of talk.”

Oh, no, I saw where this was going and I was nipping it in the bud right now. “You are smarter than that, Leroy.”

The deputy raised his eyebrows, not sure if he was being complimented or chastised.

I didn’t wait for him to figure it out. “Just because Waverman was acting like some kamikaze homing pigeon, determined to kill himself on this one little patch of red dirt, does not make it my problem.”

“Yes, well…” he said, hopefully confirming that he understood the “not my problem part.”

“As for the local rumor mill, I really don’t care.” As soon as I said the words, I knew they weren’t true. Ignoring grapevine gossip had worked out very poorly for me in the past. “So exactly what are people saying?”

“There’s talk that the stuff you’ve got in the ground here is why so many people have been getting cancer.”

I was a little taken aback, but not totally. Thanks to my ever-helpful attorneys, I already knew that cancer rates in the area were abnormally high and that causal fingers pointed to industrial sources. Other fingers needed to be pointed at food and lifestyle, but those were personal issues that required personal choice and personal action choices, but that was a separate issue. “Unless this one pit of buried waste is flowing directly into the water supply for the entire area—and Waverman’s report says it isn’t—it cannot be the sole cause of everyone’s problems. Besides, there are tons of state and federal regulations to comply with, which is why we’re doing the testing—prove where it is and prove when it’s gone. Go share that with the DQ debate club.”

Leroy hitched up his pants as he thought about that. “All I know is that Waverman went down twice out here. Gotta be a reason.”

Before I could give him a reason—such as stupidity—I heard an engine start up behind me. I turned and saw an older dark green and tan pickup pull out from the mass of vehicles. Since I was standing sort of in the road, I took a few steps back. Good thing too, because the truck was picking up speed. As it whizzed by, I saw Phillip Finch behind the wheel and bunch of ice chests in the back.

“Jerry’s coming now,” Leroy said, then frowned. “It’d sure make it easier on all of us if you didn’t get yourself mixed up in some kind of trouble all the time.”

No kidding. I would be especially pleased about that myself.

Deputy Leroy turned and walked away. He stopped for a brief chat with the sheriff then headed back to the center of activity.

As Jerry walked toward me, the compulsion to defend myself—again—gurgled up, but I swallowed it down and just said, “Hey.”

“Looks like a heart attack,” the sheriff said, cutting to the chase. “But we won’t know for sure until he’s evaluated.”

Evaluated. That was a gentle term for what Doctor-Doctor-Doctor Travis did with dead bodies. Not wanting to delve into that any deeper, I gave Jerry a rundown of what I knew, including the calls from Waverman’s wife and Finch.

“It will be a while before we know anything more,” Jerry said. “You don’t have to stay here.” He dropped his official face for just a moment and smiled. “Go home, Jo.”

That did sounds good. “Okay,” I said, nodding. “First though, I better go talk to Gilbert Moore and make sure he doesn’t do anything else until we figure out who’s going to be in charge, assuming we can continue to work.”

“This isn’t a crime scene.” He hadn’t said “yet,” but it sure sounded like he could have. “You can keep working.”

Again, I heard the unspoken words “for now.” It could have just been my imagination and past history toying with me, but I sure got the feeling that Jerry was suspicious of something. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

He smiled a little. “Gilbert’s still here if you want to talk to him.”

Okay, got it. Whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t ready to share. “Yeah, I do. As nauseating as the idea may be, I’m thinking he could run things temporarily. Finch would be the logical choice, but he’s not a leader. He seems to get things done when he knows what to do, but without someone telling him what to do, I think he’d just fold.” I shook my head. “Never mind all that. Do you know where Gilbert is?”

“He’s at the tents. I’ll send him over.” Jerry paused and looked at me with the non-sheriff look that I far prefer. “Then go home and relax, okay?”

“Any chance you’ll get to join me when you finish up here?” I asked, already knowing the answer. When he started to explain, I stopped him. “Just call and let me know what you can Jerry. I’ll see you when I see you.”

I was not happy about any of this, but not seeing Jerry somehow seemed to be the biggest blow. I could see that he wasn’t happy about it either. Apparently I was still frowning when Gilbert Moore walked up, because he said, “I’d be pissed off too. Can’t catch a break, can you?”

Obviously not, but my personal trials and tribulations weren’t the point at the moment. “Do you know what happened?”

“No. I was over at the rig.” He tucked his left hand in his pocket, probably to relieve pressure on his unhealed shoulder. “Can’t do a damn thing about all that, but I can make sure this job gets finished.” He paused, a serious look on his face. “I’m going to be blunt.”

“When are you not?”

He grinned. “It’s part of my charm.”

“No, really it isn’t.”

Gilbert’s face became serious again. “I meant what I said about Finch. He’s not capable of running this job. I am. If you want to get this done, I’ll take over in the morning.”

“You’d make it a whole lot easier for me to do that if you weren’t such a jerk.”

“I’m good at what I do,” he said simply. “You don’t have to like me. I’ll get the job done anyway.”

I hated admitting it, but I believed him. I also believed I probably wouldn’t like his methods. “What about Finch?”

Gilbert straightened his tall frame even taller and looked down at me with a blank face and unwavering gaze. “He doesn’t have the backbone to fight. He’ll do what he’s told.”

The whole intimidation thing was impressive—I’d give him that—but it wasn’t going to work on me. I straightened myself up to my own lofty height of almost 5’4” and crossed my arms. “Explain to me again why I need to hire a narcissistic bully to run my project?”

“Because I’m good,” Gilbert said, grinning and crossing his arms to match my gesture. “You also don’t have any other choice.”