The Bogus Biker (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

(Friday)

The women pulled another two AM without drawing any firm conclusions. Penelope put the ‘Do not disturb’ sign on the door so they could sleep late without being wakened by housekeeping. It was noon before she opened her eyes to see Sam sitting in a chair by the built-in desk. “What are you blessed doing here?” she gasped, pulling the covers around her.

Her outrage woke Shana, who saw Sam and dived under the sheet.

“How did you get in?” Penelope asked. “I made sure the deadbolt was on.”

Sam smiled, which made her blood pump faster and not entirely from anger or fear.
“Never mind. I’m in.”

“Then you can just get out!”

“I need more answers.”

“About what?”

“About Danny Holmes.”

“How…”

“If you’re going to use a public computer, clear your history when you’re done.”

Penelope struggled to sit up without letting the sheet fall away. “Oh.”

“Tell me about Danny Holmes.”

“You’re the one who knows things. You tell me.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have time to play games, Penelope. Start from the beginning, and tell me everything.”

He knows about the money, and now he’s trying to find out what I know about the fire and the rest of the mess…and when he finds out, then what?

“Spill it.”

Shana’s disembodied voice, high-pitched with fear, came from beneath the covers on the other bed. “Tell him, and get rid of him.”

“I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Not even a small one.”

Penelope sighed and began to talk. When she’d finished, Sam stretched his blue-jeaned legs in front of him and put his hands behind his head. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“What made you take that direction?”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to do what I told you.”

“Why? What kind of authority do you have?” The sheet fell away as Penelope leaned forward, and she made a grab for it.

Sam laughed. “Your virtue is safe with me. Not that you don’t look fetching in that faded nightshirt.”

Penelope bunched the sheet under her chin. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Two helpless women…”

Sam rose. “You’re far from helpless, and no, I’m not enjoying this. Not any of it.” He walked to the door and opened it a crack. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Is he gone?” Shana’s eyes appeared above the edge of the sheet.

“Yes.”

Shana sat up. “He gives me the creeps.”

He gives me something besides the creeps, something I couldn’t say to Fr. Loeffler in confession, and I’ve never felt that way before in my life, not even when Travis was giving me the rush.

“Shana, think. We’ve got to figure this out before he does.”

“And do what with the information?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Then why strain our brains any more?”

“Listen, we’ve got a man with a criminal record possibly trying to blackmail Travis, and we’ve got half a
million dollars lying around in a safe. It’s not cotton money. It’s…”

“Drug money,” Shana finished.

“Very likely. What if Travis was running some drugs to pay him off? They used to ship cotton from the landing at the bayou, so why not drugs?”

“Bradley knew what his father was. Why would it shock him to find out he had a half-brother?”

“I guess it wouldn’t have, but maybe Danny Holmes was agreeing to disappear for a price. Relinquish all claims on Pembroke Point whenever the time came.”

“I guess it could have happened that way, but where does Sam figure in?”

“He’s part of the drug thing. With Danny Holmes dead, the money’s all his, and he wants it.”

“He didn’t make you tell him where it was.”

“He knows I’ve got it.”

“But if he’s after the money, why doesn’t he want it right now so he can disappear?”

“I might tell him if…no, I wouldn’t. If it’s drug money, it doesn’t belong to him.”

“Well, I don’t want to find out who it belongs to.”

Penelope threw back the covers. “Travis knows, I’ll bet. Maybe we need to track him down and find out.”

“Oh, he’ll tell his ex-wife and his ex-mistress a lot, won’t he?
Especially if they gang up on him.” Shana jumped up. “I’m starving.”

“Do you want me to call room service?”

“I want to get out of here and go somewhere that ghoul Sam can’t find us.”

“I think he could find us anywhere we went.”

Shana slammed the bathroom door.

****

They ate in the restaurant downstairs and went to lounge by the pool. “I think Sam already knew everything I told him this morning,” Penelope said.

“Then why did he let you talk for ten minutes?”

“To find out what I know.”

“I guess if he’s one of the players in the drug deal, he’d know it all, wouldn’t he?” Shana scanned the empty pool. “I think I’ll go upstairs and put on my swimsuit.
How about you?”

“May as well. It’ll be happy hour down here at five, and that crab dip they had the other night was really good.”

As they approached the elevator, Penelope had a thought. “I’m going to see if I can find out anything about Sam online.”

Shana rolled her eyes. “I’d as soon not know, I think, but go ahead. Just clear your history afterwards in case Sam is lurking.”

Penelope checked first for Eldred Mooney Frish and came up empty.
That mug shot was a plant, but why? Bradley had to know I saw it, but he never asked me about anyone except the man who spent the night at the B&B.

She typed in
Sam
,
Tiny, Tiny Sam, Arkansas drug crimes
, before giving up.
I don’t even know enough about him to find out anything. The way he questioned Shana before and how he had false IDs for us—all that makes me think he’s legit, but something tells me he’s not. And Shana and I are at his mercy. Even if we tried to get away, he’d find us. And if I call Bradley, I could get him involved in something really dangerous. He’s already involved in the fire at Pembroke Point, and he knows Daddy and I are gone, but who knows what Sam might’ve told him to make it all look on the up and up? Surely he’d have checked up on Sam’s story, but then again…

“Nothing,” she said to Shana as she let herself into the room with the key. “I’ll go put on my suit.”

“Maybe he doesn’t exist.” Shana’s voice came through the bathroom door where Penelope was changing. “Maybe he’s just a figment of our imagination. Maybe…”

“He’s real enough. Real good or real bad is the question.” Penelope came out of the bathroom with a towel slung over her shoulder. “Let’s go float our cares away.”

“I may drink mine away at Happy Hour.”

Penelope laughed. “I almost envy you.”

****

T
hey stayed in the pool into the evening and took liberal advantage of the Happy Hour spread set out by the restaurant staff. Saying she had a feeling she’d better stay completely sober and alert, Shana drank one glass of wine and switched to water. Their suits were dry by the time they headed for the elevator.

“I’m going to the lobby for a paper,” Penelope said stepping off quickly before the door closed. “I’ll be along.”

The door slid shut before Shana could reply. Penelope wrapped the towel around her waist before she entered the lobby. Purchasing two state newspapers, she started back toward the elevator and ran up against a solid familiar bulk.

“Hello, Opie,” Travis said softly. His eyes crinkled at the corners the way that had made her heart flutter when she was eighteen.

“I wondered how long it would take you to track us down.”

“Us?”

“I’m with Shana. Sam stashed the two of us like he stashed you.”

“Who’s Sam?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

“I don’t have a clue. Why are you here with Shana?”

“I told you—we’re stashed.”

Travis frowned. “How about a drink while we hash this out?”

“I can’t go into the restaurant in my swim suit.”

“Then go change. I’ll wait for you.”

“What am I supposed to tell Shana?”

“I’m sorry she’s involved in all this. She was a mistake.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. “You’re the one who made a mistake, Travis. More of them than I probably know about. Hitting on Shana in front of your own son was one of the worst.”

His jaw tightened, then relaxed. “I think we need to talk, Opie. Go get changed and come back down. I’ll meet you at the bar.” He spun around and strode away.

Shana’s chin dropped when Penelope came in breathing fire and ranting about Travis’s non-existent morals and his arrogance. “Are you going back down to meet him?”

“You bet I am. I want to know what’s going on. He says he doesn’t know any Sam.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I gues
s I’ll find out.”

Five minutes later, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and no makeup, Penelope flounced into the bar and joined Travis at an isolated table behind a post. “If I’m not back in forty-five minutes, Shana’s going to come looking for me.” She patted her purse. “And I brought George with me.”

“Ah, George. Him I know.”

“I’ll just bet you do. Now tell me what the heck is going on.”

Travis ordered another drink and a soda for Penelope. The waiter brought a basket of chips and two bowls of hot sauce. “Opie, I’ve been sitting here going over everything in my mind, but I can’t figure things out.”

“Start with Danny Holmes.”

Travis’s tanned face went pale, even in the low lighting. “How did you know about him?”

“I know he’s your son.” She felt a vague regret for the venom in her voice, but satisfaction at having wounded him took the upper hand.

Travis sipped his drink. “It’s the damnedest thing that ever happened to me.”

“Another son or…never mind.
Are you dealing drugs?”

He set his glass down hard on the table. “No!” Then he slumped back in his chair. “I know it looks that way.”

“Then change my mind.”

He appeared to consider his words. “I didn’t know about Danny until Mother died. Uncle Travis did though.”

“Is that what you argued about at her funeral?”

“Part of it.
He thought I should man up and take financial responsibility for the kid.”

“Well, he
was
your kid.”

“I wasn’t so sure then, and I’m still not, but for the sake of argument…”

“For the sake of argument, let’s say you could’ve spawned a whole tribe.” Her voice quivered with suppressed rage. She knew she’d hit a nerve, but he didn’t react.

“You’re better than that, Opie,” he said after a moment.

“It’s the truth.” She refused to waver from his withering stare.

He looked away first.
“All right.”

“Well, go on.”

“I didn’t hear anymore about him—the boy—until Uncle Travis died last year. Then his partner Ames Harrow contacted me and told me the guy was trying to contest Uncle Travis’s will. He wanted me to sign an affidavit that Lawrence—or Danny or whatever he called himself—was my son, not my uncle’s. I wouldn’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t be sure, and because…”

“Because you were hanging on to Pembroke Point for Bradley.”

Travis nodded. “He’s my son. I love him.”

“I know you do. You love him, but you don’t understand him.”

“I guess I don’t. I always thought he’d be there to run Pembroke Point when I’m gone. I was going to teach him everything I know.”

“So what happened when you wouldn’t sign the affidavit?”

“Ames didn’t like it, but he didn’t pressure me. He insisted on a DNA test, but Danny refused it, and the judge threw out his claims.”

“You know he was the other body in the gin.”

“I saw him go in there, and I knew he didn’t get out, but I’m not responsible for that. Or for Roger Sitton.”

“How did they get there?”

“Roger had  gotten wind of the deal and…”

“Back up. You said you weren’t dealing drugs the way I was thinking about them. Explain it to me.”

“After Uncle Travis died, it took a couple of months for Danny to get in touch with me. He thought he had a family connection to Uncle Travis because he’d helped support him.”

“Was your uncle dealing drugs?”

“And guns.”

“
Why did he help support Danny?”

“Mother knew what he was doing. I don’t think she’d have turned in her own brother, but they weren’t close, and he couldn’t be sure. So she more or less bought his help for Danny with the promise of her silence. She knew I wouldn’t do it, and the mother was going to smear the family for money.”