The Advocate - 02 - The Advocate's Betrayal (13 page)

“Give me the info.” She took his paper and walked to another room.

JP sat down in a chair against the wall. He picked up a copy of “Texas Parks and Wildlife” magazine and thumbed through it, admiring the beautiful countryside. Stella was gone about ten minutes before she returned to the counter.

“JP,” Stella called to him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t find anything that’ll help you. There are no deaths that day recorded for James or Jim or any Taylor. I spelled it in all the possible spellings. There was no one with that social security number or birth date. I even tried two days prior to his death and two days after. Nothing.” She shook her head, “Sorry.”

“Thank you very much. You’ve been a big help. At least now I know what I have to do and the heirs will just have to wait a little longer for their money. Thanks again.”

Before he drove off, JP picked up his cell to call Sabre and then stopped. He didn’t really have anything important to share yet. Although he’d like to talk to her, he needed a better reason to check in. He opened an envelope and retrieved the address Betty had given him of her residence in Austin and punched it into the GPS system. Nothing came up in Austin. He double-checked the address. “Damn it, that woman gave me the wrong address. What the hell is going on with her?”

JP pulled away from the government building. He turned right on to Sunshine Drive and then made a slight right on to North Lamar Blvd. He drove for three or four miles before he realized he was heading away from his hotel. He reached over to enter the address in the GPS system, but this model wouldn’t work while he was moving. Trying to follow his instincts to get to the freeway he made several turns then spotted a coffee shop. The big red ball on top of the building had white letters that read “Jo’s.” He was ready for a cup of ‘Joe.’ He could regroup, figure out his next step, and maybe even find something—anything—about Betty before he called Sabre.

The quaint coffee shop welcomed him as he walked in. He picked up his hot, black, half-caf coffee and found a seat in the corner. He opened his envelope and shuffled through the papers until he found the death certificate he had confiscated from Betty’s home. He had also taken a few other things he thought might help him, but it was difficult to find anything with Austin, Texas on it. He was starting to wonder if Betty ever lived in Austin when he realized the death certificate had an address.

JP finished his coffee, walked to his car and typed in the address. The GPS guided him to a mobile park. He drove into the park past the garden setting entrance. Trees lined the driveways, providing shade to the campers and residents and lending a country atmosphere. There was no park space listed on the death certificate and JP didn’t have any photos. He would need to be careful with his questions. He parked his car and walked until he found the area containing primarily permanent residents. He spotted a wavy, gray-haired gentleman in jeans and a t-shirt that read “Remember nine-eleven.” He looked at least sixty-five and was sitting on an aluminum lounge chair in front of his trailer, drinking a bottle of “Lone Star” beer.

“Hello. How are you this fine evening?” JP asked.

“Finer than frog fur,” the man answered without a smile. “You?”

JP hadn’t heard that expression since his grandfather passed on. He liked using his grandpa’s “Texas talk.” It made him feel closer to him. “I’m good, thanks. Warm day, huh? Is this typical for this time of year?”

“’Bout normal.”

JP wondered how he was going to obtain information about Betty out of these people if he couldn’t even get a weather report. “You live here year around?”

“Yup.”

“It appears to be a nice park. I’m thinking about renting a space here. Thought I’d look around a bit first.”

“Yup, nice place.” He took a long sip of beer.

“You lived here long?”

“A few months. I like it. Not so sure ‘bout the Mrs., though.”

 “You have a good day, now,” JP said as he walked off.

JP continued to walk around the park, receiving similar responses to his questions. He needed to find someone who was living there at the time of Jim’s death. He came upon another gentleman who was outside smoking a cigarette. “Good evening,” JP said.

“Good evening.” The man smiled, looked JP over, and asked, “I don’t recollect seeing you before. Are you a new resident or just a camper?”

“Neither. I’m thinking about renting space here and wanted to have a look at the place first,” JP said, excited someone was actually having a conversation with him. “You lived here long?”

“Just over five years. It’s quiet and comfortable.”

“I had some friends who lived here a few years back, but I lost contact with them. I was hoping they were still here.”

“What’s the name?”

“Betty and Jim Taylor. Do you know them?”

“Hmm…maybe. What’d they look like?”

“I knew her better than him, but she’s a little, short thing with bright red hair. At least it was red when I knew her. You never know with these women what color their hair will be from one day to the next.”

The man chuckled. “There was a couple living a few spaces down, right over there,” he pointed to a spot with a trailer and built-in porch, “when I moved in here. The woman who lived there was named Betty. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, but I don’t remember any red hair. They were only there a few months after I moved in.”

JP sighed. “Well, thanks for your information. They always spoke highly of this place so I’m going to look around a little more and make my decision.” JP turned to leave.

“Wait, my wife might have more information on your friends. She lived here for five or six years before we got married. She knows everything that goes on in this place. If she doesn’t know them, then you have the wrong park.” The man laughed at his own joke. “Let me get her.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

“My name is Bill, by the way.” He put his cigarette between his lips and reached out to shake hands.

“JP,” he reciprocated.

The man walked up to the door and called, “Alice, could you come out here a minute?”

 Alice stepped out of the trailer, a short, round woman with her gray hair pulled back in a bun and a white apron wrapped around her bright red dress.  JP thought she looked like Mrs. Claus. “Yes, dear, what is it?”

“This nice gentleman used to have some friends who lived here. He was wondering if you remember them…Jim and Betty Taylor. Does that ring a bell?”

“Of course I do. They were delightful people. They lived right over there.” She pointed to the same spot her husband had earlier. “How are they?”

“I’m not sure. I kind of lost track of Betty after Jim died.”

“Oh!” Alice took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. Jim was such a nice man, always so kind to everyone. What happened?”

“A heart attack, I believe.” JP wrinkled his forehead. “Weren’t they living here when he died?”

“No, they left together.”

“I was hoping I could find some information that would lead me to them. Do you happen to know where they went when they left here?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.” She shook her head. “No one here knows.”

“Why’s that?”

“They left in the night, about three in the morning, actually. They never said a word to anyone. One of the neighbors saw them hitch up and leave, but he didn’t talk to them, just saw them from his window. That was about four or five years ago. No one here in the park ever heard from them again.”

“You’re sure of that? Did they have other friends here, maybe?”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure. I was Betty’s best friend. If she’d have contacted anyone, it would’ve been me. We were very close.”

“So you knew their friend John?”

“There’s a John who lives here. We were all friends, but he wasn’t that close to them.”

“No, this John knew them both for many years before they moved here.”

“I don’t know him.” She rubbed her hand on her chin. “I don’t remember them ever having anyone visit them from outside the park. We were their family.”

JP thanked them for their information and left. He called Sabre and left her a message to call him. He needed to let her know this wasn’t adding up. JP snapped his spiral notebook shut and shoved it into his pocket. Frustrated with Betty’s lies, he drove back to the hotel, showered, changed his clothes, and went out to eat some dinner and have a drink.

The concierge gave him a recommendation for a restaurant/bar where they served ribs; after all, this was Texas. He ate his dinner, then went into the bar and ordered a Tecate. His watch said nine o’clock, but that meant seven in California. No wonder he wasn’t tired. A band took the stage and began to play a Garth Brooks song. He thought of Sabre. Just then a tall, thin, closing-time attractive, thirty-something woman walked up.

“Hi, cowboy.”

“Hi. How are you this evening?” JP said.

The woman smiled, showing sparkling white teeth against her deep red lipstick. “Yer not from these parts are you, cowboy?”

“California,” he said.

“Wow, I’ve never been, but I hear it’s beautiful. Do you know any movie stars?”

“No, I’m from San Diego. We don’t see too many movie stars there.” JP took a drink of his beer.

“Would you like to dance, cowboy?”

“I’m not much of a dancer.” He felt badly turning her down. No one likes to be rejected. He added, “Maybe after a few beers.”

She spotted someone else she appeared to know at the bar. “Okay, cowboy. I’ll be back a little later.” She flitted off.

JP thought about Sabre. He would dance with her if she were here.

15

JP awoke at five o’clock Texas time, too early to call Sabre. He donned a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and went to the hotel gym. The early morning workout was just what he needed to start him rolling. Still too early to call Sabre, he showered and then went downstairs to eat breakfast at the complimentary buffet. He went through the line, picked up some scrambled eggs, bacon, and country fried potatoes, put two slices of sourdough bread in the toaster, picked up a pack of butter, and then put it back down. He had enough cholesterol on his plate already.

Only a few people were sitting on the veranda, so JP found a seat close to the coffee pot. He filled his cup, all caffeinated, and sat down to eat. He poured catsup on his eggs and potatoes. Sabre used to tease him about his overuse of catsup, but she used it on her eggs and potatoes, too. She just didn’t use it on everything else she ate, as she had often accused him of doing. He missed her living at his house, seeing her every day, smelling her cologne. He was sorry her condo had burned to the ground, but he was thankful for every minute he had with her because of it. Maybe Bob was right; maybe he should’ve let her know how he felt, but he was too old. She needed someone her age, like Lucas…but not Lucas. He didn’t like that guy. He wanted to like him, for Sabre’s sake, but he didn’t. He knew he wouldn’t like anyone who was with Sabre. It wasn’t Lucas’s fault. Who could blame the guy?

He finished eating and sat there awhile drinking his coffee. He made his second cup half-caf and his third all decaf. He went outside and took a little walk, killing time until he could call Sabre. At about nine o’clock, he decided he had waited long enough.

“Good morning, JP.” She sounded so cheerful and close. He felt warm inside.

“You sound rested this morning.”

“Yeah, I went home yesterday and fell asleep. I didn’t wake up until about five this morning.”

“How’s Betty? Any word?”

“I called the hospital and spoke with the nurse. She seems to be stable, but very groggy and weak.”

“But she’s awake?”

“Yeah, but she still has the tube, so she can’t talk yet. I’m going to court this morning, and after that I’ll stop by and see her,” Sabre said. “What’ve you found in Austin?”

“Well, there’s no death certificate filed for Jim or James Taylor on that day or any day close.”

“What does that mean?”

“Not sure, but I don’t think he died where Betty says he did.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, the address Betty gave me for where they were supposedly living doesn’t exist; nothing is even close. There’s no street by that name in Austin. But the copy of the death certificate for Jim that Betty had among her things listed his residence at time of death at a trailer park in Austin. I went there and spoke with someone who knew her, a woman named Alice. She said Betty and Jim left stealthily in the night, and no one ever heard from them again.” Sabre was silent. “Sabre, are you there?”

“Yeah, just trying to make sense of it.” She paused again. “So, where do we go from here?”

“I wouldn’t say anything to Betty yet. I have a hunch I want to check out, but I need you to do something for me.”

“Sure, what’s that?”

“I need you to fax me a copy of John’s photo from the police file. Since that’s the only picture we have of him, it’ll have to do. Also, I’d like you to go through Betty’s cell phone, get me her most recent calls, and write down the names and numbers of anyone in her contact list you don’t know.”

“May I ask why?”

“It’s just a hunch. Let me play this out. If I come up with anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I don’t know.” Sabre hesitated. “This makes me uncomfortable, but I guess you’re right. If she’s hiding something we need to find out what it is.”

JP walked to the business office of the hotel and picked up his fax from Sabre with the information he had requested. Not much in the phone numbers looked too promising; no phone numbers appeared for anyone in Texas. He put the faxes in his envelope and drove back to the trailer park to see Alice.

“Good morning, Bill,” JP said as he walked up. “Is Alice around?”

“Yup, she sure is.” Bill took a puff on his cigarette, dropped it on the ground, and stepped on it. “I’ll get her.” He walked up to the door. “Alice, that feller, JP, is here to see you.”

Alice walked outside with another woman about the same age. “Hi, JP. Nice to see you again. This here’s Rose. She lives five doors up.” She nodded in the same direction as Betty’s old lot, then turned to Rose. “JP here is friends with Betty and Jim Taylor. He was wondering if anyone knew where they moved to. I told him no one here knew; the last we saw was them moving out in the middle of the night.”