The Rented Mule (12 page)

As the Client handed Clarence another envelope, he had an evil twinkle in his eye.

“Fine. What about this place?”

The Client reached into his front pocket. “Here’s a map. The property’s three hundred acres in Coosa County—one of the poorest, most isolated counties in the state. It’s about an hour northeast of here. Here’s the key to the gate and the house. It was the main house of an old plantation. It’s got electricity and runnin’ water. And it’s very remote. Since it belongs to my family, you don’t have to worry about anybody botherin’ y’all.”

Clarence quickly studied the map. Jesse Ray studied Clarence’s expressions and watched the Client out of the corner of his eye. Jenny was still observing from a distance and trying to determine if anyone could be eavesdropping.

“We’re cool.”

“The clues you’re plantin’ need to be found… but not too obvious… and they gotta be incriminatin’.”

“Shut up! I know what the hell I’m doin’! Do you?” Clarence snapped. “You just keep that phone with you and turned on all the time! Ya feel me?!”

The Client jumped back slightly, “Okay, man. Relax. You don’t gotta yell at me.”

Clarence almost laughed. A few harsh words reduced this weasel to tears.

Clarence held up the map and said, “I’ll check it out and call you Thursday night.”

With no small amount of relief, the Client said, a little too excitedly, “Sounds like a plan. Oh, I almost forgot.” He pulled from his pocket a small empty Coke bottle inside a Ziploc freezer bag. He handed it to Clarence.

“Plant that someplace obvious wherever you snatch her.”

“A Coke bottle?”

“Believe me, it’ll point the cops straight to him.”

“His prints?”

“Oh yeah, that too.”

Clarence studied the unusual markings and then handed it to Jesse Ray. “I’ll call,” Clarence said, and then he and Jesse Ray backed away from the Client.

In the toughest-sounding voice he could amass, Jesse Ray added, “We call you. You don’t call us!”

“Man, you are just like my wife: always gotta get in the last word,” Clarence growled in a whisper when they turned to walked away.

“No, I don’t,” Jesse Ray responded.

1
^ST
THURSDAY

K
elly Dixon’s day started just like most. After frantically rushing the kids to get ready, she delivered them to school one minute before the bell. Then she pulled into Starbucks, placing an order at the drive-thru for a cinnamon chip scone and a large caffé latte. It was in the Starbucks parking lot each morning that she planned the balance of her day.

Mrs. Millie Brown, the Dixon’s faithful housekeeper came to their house three days a week to vacuum, wash dishes, change sheets, and do whatever else Kelly didn’t want to do. She would be coming in this morning, provided her high blood pressure wasn’t bothering her too much. Kelly wanted to let her go last year because she had slowed down so much recently, but Cooper wouldn’t allow it. He claimed that Millie needed the money more than they needed the house to be spotless. So Kelly made Millie an extensive to-do list and did her best to ensure that she got it all done.

“That’ll be six dollars and twelve cents,” the drive-thru attendant said.

Kelly opened her huge purse and scrambled to find correct change, removing some of the larger objects during her search.

“Did you know you had your television remote in there?” the attendant inquired. “I’ve never seen anybody carry one around in her purse.”

“Well, I’m doing it just to piss off my husband,” she said without even looking up.

The attendant laughed and said, “How long have you had it?”

“Since last Friday night,” Kelly replied with a smirk.

“Has he noticed it’s missin’?”

“Oh yeah… and I
highly
recommend it,” Kelly emphasized as she handed the attendant exact change.

“That’s hilarious. I hope you have a great day! Here ya go.” The attendant laughed again as she handed Kelly her order.

Kelly pulled into a parking space to eat breakfast while she studied her Day Planner. She only had a month before the tea, but she felt confident that if she offered to pay a little more, everyone would find a way to get everything done. Her cell phone rang, and she quickly swallowed a bite. Recognizing the number, Kelly pressed Answer and said, “Hey, Gates,” as she placed the phone to her ear.

“Hey, good lookin’! What’s cookin’?”

“Not much. What are you up to this mornin’?”

“Tryin’ to make your husband some money,” he answered with a laugh.

“Make him a bunch. I
need
it.” She was dead serious.

“You know he isn’t easy to help. Everything has gotta be done a certain way and that really slows down my ideas sometimes,” Gates said, trying to act as if he was in control of work and himself.

“When’s the sale gonna close? Cooper won’t tell me shit. We hardly even speak these days.”

“Not soon enough, but I’m pushin’ hard. I’m confident I can pull it all together shortly. Go ahead, spend the money.”

“Oh, I’m spending it all right,” she said laughing.

“Look sweetheart, I need a favor.” Gates was turning on the charm.

“What now?”

“I need to borrow fifteen grand real fast. As in today.”

“That’s a lot of money. I don’t know. Why can’t you go to the bank or borrow it from the business?”

“My banker’s out of town this week, and I don’t want to risk messin’ up our books because MidState Bank is checkin’ everything
very
closely. Baby, I really need it or I wouldn’t be askin’. I swear, I’ll pay you back in one week, plus five hundred extra for your troubles. Promise.”

“Cooper will
freak
if he finds out.”

“One week. It’s important. Coop will never know.”

“Are you gonna tell me what it’s for?”

“I’d rather not. I can say this: it’ll help me sell the business and get you a big-ass payday.” Gates knew that this approach would seal the deal.

“All righty, then. I’ve got some cash Cooper doesn’t know about, nor does he need to know about it.”

“Understood. When can I get it?” he anxiously asked.

“And you gotta pay me back in a week!”

“Promise. I will, babe.”

“It’s in a safety deposit box. I can get it when the bank opens, but I gotta get dressed first.”

“Great! Call my cell, and I’ll meet ya someplace. Thanks, Kelly. I really appreciate this,” Gates said, with noticeable relief in his voice.

“You okay?” Kelly asked, and then took a sip of her latte.

“Never better… everythin’s fine,” he lied, rubbing his irritated nose. “Just dandy.”

J
enny applied the finishing touches to her lipstick while looking in the rearview mirror. She was parked in front of the RSA Tower. She checked her briefcase and the business cards that Jesse Ray made with his high-end laser printer. The cards looked and felt like a professional offset print job.

Dropping a quarter into the parking meter, she did a quick scan of the area and then started walking toward the twenty-two-story building. Three construction workers leaned against their shovels to watch her. She wore an expensive black business suit. Her hair fell down onto her shoulders. Her only accessory was a single string of real pearls. She looked like a million dollars.

Jenny took the elevator to the eighth floor. When the door opened, she walked out confidently and turned toward the Tower Agency. Opening the glass doors to the office, she quickly took in the surroundings. The receptionist looked up and smiled.

“May I help you?” the lady asked, spinning her chair around to face Jenny.

“Yes, ma’am. My name’s Meagan Massey. I’m with the insurance carrier for RSA Tower. I’m reviewing all the tenants to ensure everything meets the NFPA standards.”

Mrs. Riley just stared blankly, not responding.

“Oh, I’m sorry. The National Fire Protection Agency—the fire codes. It’s just routine,” she explained politely.

“Oh, okay. The fire marshal was just here a few months ago. He didn’t see anything wrong.”

“Yes, ma’am, we know. For extraordinary properties such as this, we conduct our own inspections,” Jenny said as she handed Mrs. Riley her business card. She continued, “All I need to do is look around and ask the tenants a few questions, if that’s possible.”

The telephone rang before Mrs. Riley could comment. She set down the business card to answer the call. When she realized that her conversation would take a while, she gestured for Jenny to proceed.

Jenny mouthed, “Thank you.”

When Mrs. Riley turned her attention to the caller, Jenny surreptitiously retrieved her business card. As she started walking down the hall, she pretended to take notes regarding fire extinguishers, the sprinkler system, and electrical loads. The occupants of the first two offices she came to were not there. She glanced around and then moved on, scribbling on a notepad. The third room was the office of a chatty male art director, who wore his hair in a ponytail. On the wall behind his desk was a framed print of a flying pig. She chuckled to herself. She went through the motions of examining the wiring in the artist’s room, acted satisfied and then moved on, trying not to engage the guy more than necessary.

The next office door was closed. She knocked and just as she was about to turn the doorknob, it opened.

“Oh! Excuse me,” Jenny said, truly surprised.

“Can I help ya?” Gates Ballenger asked, shocked to see such a beautiful woman standing at his door. The sudden sight of her excited Gates. He had just finished listening to the Phantom, a local radio authority on college football betting, and felt confident that he had the inside track on the weekend’s game.

“How do you do? I’m Meagan Massey. I’m with the insurance carrier for the RSA Tower. I’m just doing a routine inspection,” Jenny explained as she showed him her card. Gates took it. “Wow, you have a gorgeous office. I see you like antiquities.” She extended her hand to shake.

“Thanks, Meagan. I’m Gates. Gates Ballenger,” he said, holding her hand a little longer than necessary. “I do love historic pieces. They tend to be very well
built
.” Gates stressed the word “built” as he gave her a lascivious appraisal and continued, “Come on in.”

Gates sat behind his antique desk, doing his best to look important and ten years younger. “Have a seat.”

Jenny gracefully sat down in a leather chair in front of the desk. She slowly crossed her legs, allowing her skirt to slide upward. “This is a very impressive office. And what a view!”

“Thank you, Meagan. So… what about you? Where’s home?” Gates asked, focusing on her exposed, firm upper thigh.

“I do love that print,” she replied, pointing to the far wall. Gates was so enamored with her that he failed to catch the nonanswer.

“Actually, it’s an original. Will you be in town for a while?” he asked, noticing that she wasn’t wearing any rings on her left hand.

“It’ll take two days to inspect all the offices in the building. I must say, yours is the most impressive… so far,” she replied, playing with the pearls around her neck. Opening her briefcase, she produced a form and then waved it at Gates. “I need to fill out this form. Are you the business owner, Mr. Ballenger? Gates, correct? That’s an interesting name.”

“Gates is an old family name. Yes, I’m the principal owner. I have a minority partner.”

“Impressive,” she said as she wrote on the form. “What is your partner’s name, please?”

“Cooper Dixon.”

“May I get both of your e-mail addresses for our files?”

“Absolutely. Here.” He handed her his business card. “It’s all there.”

“What about Mr. Dixon’s?” she asked professionally, writing down everything.

“Um, I think I have one of his cards in here, somewhere.” Gates started rummaging through a desk drawer. “Here ya go.” He handed it to Jenny. “Can I have yours? Your e-mail, I mean.”

“It’s on my card,” she said with a smile.

“Oh… right.” Gates looked down at the card and saw the address.

“Do you have a comprehensive policy covering all assets in your offices, including a rider for antiques and art?”

“I’m sure we do, but, you know, I have Cooper handle all the mundane stuff around here.”

“Is he here?”

“No, he’s out. Mrs. Riley out front should be able to help you, though.”

“Okay, great. What about an alarm system?”

“None. The Tower’s security is so good I don’t see the need.”

“From what I’ve observed that makes sense.”

“Since you’re here for a couple of days, why don’t I take you out for a wonderful meal tonight?”

“I don’t go out with strange men,” she coyly replied, and then slightly grinned.

“Okay. First off, I’m not strange… well, not too strange anyway. And second, you gotta eat while you’re in town. It might as well be exceptional food from a great restaurant with a delightful atmosphere… and free.” Gates was bringing his A game—being slightly self-deprecating, appealing to reason, while proposing a safe, neutral, public place to dine.

Jenny didn’t respond immediately, so he took her silence as a positive and pressed forward, “Look. I’m a gentleman; ask anybody. I know a great little local place—it’s unbelievable.” Gates couldn’t get her legs out of his mind and each passing second pushed him closer to dropping to his knees and begging.

Jenny had not listened to the last couple minutes of Gates’s pitch. She was trying to decide what value Gates could be to the job. She had less than zero interest in an actual date with him, but she realized that if he had a few drinks, he might tell her everything they needed. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ear and slowly recrossed her legs. She brought the pen in her left hand to her lips and paused a long moment.

Finally, with a sly smile, she drawled out, “I don’t know. You seem like trouble.”

“Oh, you’re good. You pegged me pretty quick. But, look, I promise to behave. Scout’s honor.” He held up the Boy Scout sign and was grinning like a little kid.

“I’ll think about it… but first, I need to finish here. May I look at Mr. Dixon’s office?”

“Certainly… follow me.”