Red Ochre Falls (29 page)

“No!”

“Mattie, don’t be
so rude.” Mom hissed.

“Give us a few
minutes, please!” She may have been right, but I was still mad. I stood there
accusing her. “You’re dying aren’t you? The trip to grandpa’s? Aunt Eileen’s
concern? The note on Hank’s desk?”

“I’m fine.”

“Mom, please don’t
lie. I’m a grown-up, tell me!”

“I’m FINE! While
the move hasn’t been easy, everything is okay. I wanted to see dad, but I may
have overdone things a bit. Eileen probably wanted to make sure I rested. She
knew you’d help. And the meeting with Hank is just exploratory. I wanted to
learn more about pre-needs. It’s really nothing.”

“Why would you do
that?”

“It’s necessary.
After the heart surgery, I vowed to get things in order in case anything worse
happened. So it would be easier on you.”

“Mom!”

“Mattie, please!
Don’t worry so much. I’m okay, just a little worn out. Call my doctor and ask
her yourself.”

She was right. Too
much was happening, and it was starting to drive me over the edge. I heaved a
sigh, and rushed to hug her. Such a hard squeeze can sometimes keep tears from
streaking my face, but not this time. When I looked at her, she had her
concerned mom face on. The last thing she needed was to have to take care of a
grown kid.

“I’m sorry.” I
wiped my face with the back of my sleeve and vowed to get it together.

“It’s okay. A lot
has happened.”

Thank God, she
didn’t know the half of it. “I have a lot on my mind. Guess you can relate. Is
there anything I can do?”

“No. But if I need
help, I’ll let you know. Now, how was school?”

“It was school. I
think the class could be interesting.”

She huffed at my
vague answer, but let me off the hook. “Interesting is good. Keep at it, and
you’ll be finished before you know it.” She always encouraged me to keep after
things I wanted. “How is everything with Garrett?” She knew me well.

“He’s fine. We’re
fine. I guess.”

“You don’t have to
have all the answers. Have some fun. Be happy. Just be discreet until we can
figure a way to tell the others.”

“Thanks, mom. I
love you.”

We talked a little
about the bills and the business. Then she shooed me downstairs to talk with
Garrett.

I got to the office
just as Tess was leaving. Garrett watched her go. And it burned. Every ounce of
strength I had barely contained my tears. Instead of talking, arguing, or
whatever, I turned and ran to the apartment.

Mom tried to ask me
what happened, but I rushed past her. I grabbed my bag, my keys, and my jacket.
I lied. Told her everything was fine. Said that I’d forgotten to pick up
something for school, and I’d be back in an hour.

Garrett called when
he heard me rushing out, but I didn’t stop. As I got to my car, Millie appeared
out of nowhere and stopped me.

“Where ya goin so
fast?”

“Out.”

“Seems to me, you
leave a lot.”

“So.” I crossed my
arms.

She huffed back. “I
can see you’re upset. If ya won’t talk to him, how ‘bout me?”

I wasn’t in the
mood to listen to Millie’s or anyone’s wisdom right now. “I’ll think about it.”

Before I could run
out of there, she caught my arm. “Be careful. You can be stubborn, but no need
to be stupid.”

It didn’t matter
what she thought, I just wanted out of the place.

The door slammed
when I wrenched it closed. I didn’t care. I hit the gas and chirped the tires
pulling out. It was dumb because someone nearly clobbered me. The Hellcat
rumbled, and I sped away. No idea where I was headed.

CHAPTER 28

Downtown bustled. I snagged the first available space, got out, and
beeped the locks.

After a frantic
series of texts, first warning Cal about Tess, second to Jos who, thankfully,
agreed to meet. She wouldn’t be around for a while. I wandered aimlessly until
I made my way to Fountain Square.

Chloe should have
met me here. She should be alive, but she wasn’t. Mom’s health was fragile.
Dead bodies came through the funeral home frequently. I knew life didn’t last
forever. But if I wasn’t careful, mine would end sooner than expected.

It was foolish not
to have asked Garrett about Tess, but it hurt too much to see him look at her
that way.

Having grown up
with one parent, I worked hard to be responsible and self-reliant, which made
me wonder why I felt so sensitive. Before I analyzed my feelings too much, the
water distracted me. My attention shifted to the murders.

The facts didn’t
quite add up. Why would three supposedly unrelated people end up dead, marked
with the same red powder in some way or other?

The Coroner ruled
the other two homicides. Cal mentioned the bodies were found in Ruggiano’s
territory with spear points, something called a buckler, and other artifacts
belonging to the tribe involved with the casino deal. Could Ruggiano be sending
a message, or was someone trying to send him one?

If the others were
homicides, why say Chloe committed suicide? To hide the truth? To close the
case and keep the police from investigating? Or because it was the truth? An
answer I still couldn’t stomach.

We needed to figure
out how these people were linked. And we needed to do it out before the bad
guys caught up with us.

My eyes darted
around. Everyone looked suspicious. I stood out like total bad-guy-bait. Why
hadn’t I waited to meet Jos?

Someone touched my
shoulder. I jumped up and took a swing.

“Whoa! Take it
easy. I come in peace.”

Relief set in even
though my pulse still raced.

“I saw you here,
and thought we might talk.”

I wasn’t excited to
chat with my old flame, but it was nice to see a familiar face. So, I went
along.

We walked around
the square. Ethan apologized for being so distant the past three years. I
admitted it was my fault too—my body relaxed as we cleared the air.

Jos sent a text.
She was running late. There was time, so Ethan and I stopped for a drink. We
joked about our lives, and before I knew it the second round of drinks were
nearly gone.

“If I drink anymore
without eating, someone will have to drive me home.”

“I’m available for
dinner.” The way he said it was so playful, it was hard to say no. I only
agreed to appetizers just to be safe.

We spent the time reminiscing.
Jos showed up when he was finishing a story about his first ‘real job’.

“Hey, girl.”

“Jos!” I got up and
hugged her. She eyed me with Ethan, so I felt obligated to give her the short
version of how we got here. She gave me a look. I knew it meant she’d need the
full scoop as soon as possible.
 

“Can I buy you
ladies dinner?”

Jos was thinking
about it when I stopped her. “Actually, we have some important things to
discuss. Rain check?”

“Sure.” Ethan paid
the tab, shook my hand then left.

Jos didn’t waste a
minute jumping on that one once we were alone.

“A hand shake.
Wow.”

“Don’t start.”

“Don’t start? How
about you tell me what’s going on. Why are you with him, and not Mr. Hottie?”

“Mr. Hottie—I
mean, Garrett, had hands full with Tess when I left.”

“So, you fell back
into old habits with Ethan?”

“It’s not like
that.”

“I remember how he
charmed you into bed the first time. And how he conveniently cooled off when
you took a job sophomore year. He wanted a girl on his arm, and found one, but
she wasn’t you.”

“I didn’t make much
effort to keep things going.”

“Yeah, but you
didn’t sleep with the first freshman who came along either.”

“Jos, it’s in the
past.”

“Are you gonna
answer my question? What about Garrett?”

“Why don’t you ask
him?”

“Mattie, what did
you do?”

“What?”

Jos knew me too
well.

“I might have seen
Tess at the funeral home. And I might have been so mad that Garrett watched her
walk away that I might have stormed off, texted Cal, and you.”

“What were you
thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Apparently not.”

“What do I do now?”
I sank onto a barstool.

“Go talk to him.”

“I knew you’d say
that.”

“If you already
knew, why’d you call me?”

“Moral support?” I
smiled at her, and hoped she’d let me off the hook.

“You mean crutch. Nope.
We’ll talk once you’ve cleared the air with Mr. Wonderful.” She nudged me off
the stool and out the door.

Jos dropped me off
by the car. I got inside. Jos waved, and drove away. She’d made it clear I had
to find Garrett and apologize for storming off. I’d probably have to answer for
telling Cal about Tess, too.

My life was a mess.
I ran my hands over the steering wheel, but couldn’t shake the guilt. Garrett
deserved answers. He’d called in favors to help search for answers to my
friend’s death. He was the same guy who set me up with his mechanic to fix my
car for free, and made sure I could borrow any ride I wanted. He was polite,
and sexy. But he was also the guy Tess kept trying to manipulate—the same
one who ran to her when summoned. My stubborn nature prevailed. I drove home
determined to finish the investigation on my own.

CHAPTER 29

The next day I did my best to avoid Garrett. The funeral business was
in full swing, so he was around the parlor, but tied up with meetings and
funeral preparations.

It wasn’t hard to
avoid him once I figured out a school and job interview schedule that kept me
away most of the day. The hardest part came when mom needed me home to give her
a break, or run her to appointments.

Eventually, I told
Garrett bluntly, “I have responsibilities.” He got the message and stopped
trying after that, either to give me space, or because he’d given up.

Mom, Mrs. Jacobson,
studies, the job search, and my quest for answers kept me busy. Each day, I’d
share breakfast with mom, straighten the kitchen then make myself scarce. I ran
errands for Mrs. Jacobson, attended class, and studied at the library, where I
spent more time researching possible suspects than actually studying.

I learned the
allure and controversy of mobsters and casinos. Some mobsters claimed to
promote order and protection; casinos boasted economic returns; but the studies
I’d read concluded both increased violence and crime, which outweighed the
benefits.

I’d witnessed the
extremes Ruggiano was willing to go to get what he wanted. I resisted him and
ended up in the hospital. Maybe he’d pushed Chloe, and killed her when she
wouldn’t budge.

Based on Chloe’s
files, he bought a large stake in the casino—worth zilch if it didn’t get
built.

There was a series
of articles that ran in the Enquirer detailing some of Ruggiano’s shady
business dealings. One source was quoted as saying Ruggiano swayed a couple
officials to vote in favor of the project by giving them hefty contributions.
No one admitted to it, and no one wanted to testify, so he was never arrested.
Slippery sucker.
 

The papers also ran
photos of Ruggiano and the councilmen in question getting chummy at a charity
fundraiser. The date surprised me. It matched the number on the back of Chloe’s
photo—the one taken at the lake. There was even a photo of the dead woman
delivered to our door covered in red ochre powder.

I felt an
adrenaline spike and searched every clip and news blurb Chloe kept related to
the event. It was a benefit for the Children’s Literacy Coalition. The same
project Mrs. Jacobson had mentioned at tea.

Did she know
Ruggiano? Did she have a mob connection? Did she know something about Chloe’s
death?

There were no direct
links to Ruggiano in what I searched. So, I packed up and paid her a visit.

Mrs. Jacobson was
surprised to see me. Even more surprised when I started grilling her about the
Children’s Literacy Coalition.

“I’ve contributed
to them for years.” She’d served us some tea and sipped hers.

“Are you close with
any of the other members?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…well,” I
didn’t know how else to ask, so I just blurted it out. “Do you know Rocco
Ruggiano?”

Mrs. Jacobson was
obviously startled by the name.
 

“I know his
reputation.” She broke my glance. Obviously hiding something. She seemed stuck
for something to do other than answer me, so she signaled me to try the tea. I
declined. Then she stood and indicated I should follow her, maybe to distract
me. I warily followed.

We went from the
living room to a solarium. A lot of windows meant a lot of light. Several
easels held her paintings.

The painting in the
center of the room wasn’t huge, but the scene compelled me to come closer. It
was the painting I’d seen her painting on my last visit.

Mrs. Jacobson stood
at a rolling cart next to the easel and mixed a reddish powder with liquid from
a squirt bottle, like it was as natural as breathing. She dipped her brush in
the mixture and began to paint. I watched her work. After a few strokes, she
put the brush down to touch up a spot with her hands.

“It’s beautiful,” I
said of the landscape.

She worked on the
deep sky by the tree. “Thank you. I’ve been painting some version of this for
years.”

“Where is it?” I
asked.

“A place far away.”
She sounded distant, so I didn’t press her for the exact location.

“The colors are
incredibly vibrant. How do you get it to look so real?”

“It’s the red
ochre.”

What? Did she know
about the murders? Could she be involved? “Where did you get the paint?”
 

“It’s a lovely
color from Old Holland. I’ve been buying supplies from them forever.”

“Oh,” I tried to
sound natural.

“What dear?” She
stopped momentarily and looked at me.

“It’s nothing,
really.” I tried to figure it out, but I just couldn’t put the pieces together.

“Many ancient
people buried remains with artifacts. Some natives sprinkled red ochre powder
over the graves as part of their burial ritual. It’s quite fascinating.” She
smiled, briefly, studied my face then went back to painting.

“It sounds
interesting,” I told her, wondering if this old woman was killing off people,
and sprinkling red pixie dust on their bodies like some kind of lunatic fairy.

“You should hear
some of the stories I heard as a child. About the people that lived here long
ago.”

If she knew that I
thought she killed those people, and it turned out to be true, I could be next.
She could hardly walk, so maybe she had an accomplice. It was just the two of
us now. My chances of escape were pretty good. I kept a sharp eye on the exit
though.

“Well, one I
remember most is about a young girl who fell in love with a native boy.”

This sounded like
the story Garrett told me. How much did Mrs. Jacobson know?

“She was a beautiful
girl. Happy, sweet, and carefree. She had a habit of going off into the woods
near her house and exploring them for hours.

One day she chased
a bird far into the woods, where she came across the most glorious tree. She
admired it, touched it and stayed by the tree until sunset. She realized it was
late and started toward home. But, the light had faded and she got turned
around.

The girl began to
worry until a young boy came to her aid. He had dark skin, dark eyes and black
hair. He startled her, but reached his hands out gently to help guide her home.
After he brought her back to the edge of the wood, she asked him, “Who are you?
How can I find you again?”

Of course, he
didn’t understand her language, so all he could manage to do was nod and smile.
They met several times after that, and fell in love. Her fate had been sealed.
Destined to marry a wealthy landowner, her father forbade her to see the native
boy.

As some young women
are inclined to do, she ignored her father, and went into the woods anyway.
After being caught again, her husband-to-be broke off their engagement. Soon
after, the landowner married her cousin.

The young girl was
forced to live across the street from them, which she wouldn’t have minded,
except the landowner had his men cut down the trees and burn the woods.”
Something caught in her throat and she stopped.

“Are you okay, Mrs.
Jacobson?”

There was a longing
in her eyes. She told the story as if she’d been there. But it was well over a
hundred years ago. No way she was alive then.

“Fine.” She focused
on the painting again.

What did this
story, the mixed paints, and murders have to do with Mrs. Jacobson?

“If you ever find
true love, Mattie. Never let it go. Don’t take it for granted, or look for
anything else, and if necessary, fight to keep it.”

She was fiery, but
I didn’t have a chance to respond. The doorbell rang. I got nervous thinking
her story was meant to distract me, which it did. Confused and nervous, I
prepared to bolt.

“Would you get the
door?”

For a murderer? No
thanks!

As if Mrs. Jacobson
sensed my unease, she tried to calm me with a gentle hand. Instead, I ran as
fast as I could out the back door. On my way to the car, I noticed the old
Cadillac that had been there before. It must have been her gentleman caller. I
hoped they weren’t evil killers, but I didn’t stick around to find out.

Mrs. Jacobson knew
where I lived, so if she had anything to do with the killings, we could all be
in trouble. I needed help.
   

The only person I
trusted with the details of Mrs. Jacobson’s connection to Ruggiano, and her
suspicious choice of paints, besides Garrett, was Cal. Cal was at a crime scene
and temporarily unavailable, the dispatcher informed me.

Reluctantly, I
reached out to Garrett.

I was on my way to
meet him when a blue van came dangerously close to rear-ending me. The Hellcat
had tons more power, so I hit the gas to outrun them.

I checked the
rearview mirror, there was no van. Before there was time to celebrate the van
sideswiped me. I tried to turn out of the spin, but the car was going too fast.
It jumped the curb into someone’s front yard and crashed into a tree.

The hit knocked me
around good, but the passenger side door took the brunt of the damage. I was
disoriented. Zorro, the guy with the sword, I mean scabbard tattoo was there.
He and another guy grabbed me out of the car. The Hellcat was going to need
bodywork, maybe a new passenger door, and plenty of paint. Zorro and his buddy
put a bag over my head and shoved me into the van.

They drove and I
bounced around in the back of a van that smelled like incense. I wondered if
Zorro was a recreational user, or just a big fan of patchouli. The scent was
cloying. So much so, I almost missed something that smelled like a bowling
alley. I contemplated what that meant then the van stopped.

The men pulled me
out, bag still on my head, and shoved me into an elevator. It sounded like we
were in a garage, but it was muffled. I guessed by the chimes we ended up on
the fourth or fifth floor.

Someone pulled the
bag off my head. I was standing in an office fit for a king, or rather, a
Sultan.

A familiar figure
stood next to me facing the firing squad. I’d recognize those biceps anywhere.

When the bag came
off, Garrett shook his head. He looked at me with a mix of pain and relief. I
felt the same. It had been too long since we’d talked, but to make things
worse, this was not what we’d planned when we agreed to meet Sultan. Without
Cal as backup, it was just the two of us against an army of who knows how many
guys in black carrying who knows how many weapons. I didn’t have a good feeling
about this.

“Ah, welcome.
Welcome!” He surveyed us, probably wanted to see how we’d respond.

Even though we had no
shackles, making a break would have been stupid. We needed information. Besides
all they’d done up to now was take us by surprise, blindfold us, and bring us
to Sultan’s place, which was some sort of loft overlooking the city. Also,
there were too many goons around for us to make a move.

I couldn’t place
exactly where we were, but if I had to guess, we were somewhere on the
Covington side facing Cincinnati.

We were in a great
room with floor to ceiling windows draped in decorator grey fabric that spilled
onto the floor. The curtains were pulled back so we could see the view and a
set of doors that led to a balcony perched above the river. It wasn’t some
dark, hidden lair. For that I was thankful. Light was a good sign. Wasn’t it?

I caught a glimpse
of Garrett. He looked like he was getting a lay of the land. I wondered if he
could figure out a way to break us out of here.

“My apologies for
the manner in which you were brought here, but one cannot be too careful these
days.” Hard to tell where he was from. I hadn’t exactly traveled the world. He
had a warm olive complexion—the wrinkles and paunch made him look about
fifty—and he spoke with some sort of European accent.

He walked up to me.

“I’ve been wanting
to meet you. And not just because you have some information that will help my
business.”

Garrett tensed.
Sultan wagged a finger at him. “I’m glad to see you too, but let’s not be hasty
Mr. Mackenzie. By now, you’ve seen that you are outnumbered and outgunned. It
would be a pity if anyone got hurt.”

Garrett smiled as
if he knew something I didn’t, like how to deal with this guy. The tension in
his shoulders remained, so maybe dealing with the henchman wouldn’t be easy.

Sultan circled us
before he took a seat behind a mahogany desk.

“Shall we start with
you lovely?” He rolled his chair up to the desk, put his elbows on the
armrests, and laced his fingers together under his chin as if he was waiting
for me to explain the meaning of life.

I had no idea what
to say, so I kept quiet, which wasn’t like me at all.