Agatha flashed her red laser pointer at the oil producers and waggled it for Hank’s attention.
“How about that, big boy?” she exaggerated her accent. “There’s oil in them there hills.”
“You think oil is how the two families knew each other?”
“It’s as good of a theory as any,” she said. “I’ve got the names of the other three women. Maybe we can find a connection between all their families.”
“We’ll have to do it later,” Hank said, checking his phone. “Time to get back to the cemetery.”
Chapter Ten
A crowd had gathered outside the cemetery—locals trying to get bits of information about the heroes they thought were buried there. People were going to be fit to be tied once they found out the truth. Rusty Gun didn’t have much going for it. The Alamo heroes and the John Wayne statue in the middle of town were pretty much the only tourist attractions for miles.
The line of traffic to get into the cemetery was ridiculous, so he parked the car on the side of the road, and they walked the rest of the way. Hank made sure his badge was visible on his belt, and he waved to Deputy Springer as they crossed the crime scene tape.
“Anything more on that biker you saw earlier?” Hank asked.
“What biker?” Springer said, slapping at a bug on his neck.
Hank blew out a slow breath and tried again. “The guy on the motorcycle you told me about earlier.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, grinning. “Haven’t given it much thought. We’ve been pretty busy here.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Hank said, smiling tightly.
Agatha waited until they’d walked away before she asked. “Still stuck on the Rattlers?”
“Not really. I was just curious about how serious that kid was about his job,” Hank said. “I know the cop out of Dallas that helped us with Buck Hazard’s case recently applied for a job. I think she’d make a great addition.”
“So, you’re making room for her? I thought the sheriff’s office couldn’t afford to bring on any more deputies.”
“They can’t, but Deputy Springer is digging his own hole.”
The backhoe and crane were already at work on the graves, and Agatha went over to watch the process close up.
“Hey, Jakes,” Hank said, coming to stand beside him. “Anything new?”
“Not on my end,” he said, keeping his stare straight ahead. “But I hear Agatha has a solid theory about our first two bodies?”
Surprise widened Hank’s eyes. He knew darned good and well Agatha hadn’t contacted Jakes about any leads. Which meant he was fishing.
“Hey, buddy,” Coil said, coming up next to him. “You showed up just in time for the show. What have y’all been doing?”
“What Agatha does best,” Hank said. “Research.”
The smell of earth was strong as they brought the third coffin up from the ground. The coffin was the same ornate kind as the others with the same seller’s mark. A couple of Jakes’s men undid the chains around the coffin, and they waited for permission before they attempted to open it.
“Go ahead,” Jakes said.
Hank winced as they took a crowbar to the coffin and lifted the lid. And then he heard Agatha and Lawrence gasp.
“What is it?” Jakes asked.
“Another body,” Lawrence said. “Female.”
“And a whole heck of a lot of gold and jewels,” Agatha said. “Holy smokes, if the first two coffins had this kind of loot, the thieves got off with a fortune.”
“If it’s real,” Jakes said.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Lawrence said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get them back to my lab. I can’t wait to dig in.”
“How about a little respect,” Coil said. “There’s still a body in there.”
“Right-o,” he said, but didn’t look contrite at all. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.
“This really complicates matters,” Jakes said.
“How so?” Agatha asked.
“Well, if the other two had the same contents, then we’re dealing with a lot more than simple grave desecrations. I had already assumed we were dealing with murder, but this amount of money implies robbery and fraud at the least, with the possibility of a much bigger mess.”
“I sure am glad the FBI is here to clean up the mess,” Coil said.
There was no humor in Jakes’s laugh. “Thanks, Coil. I’m going to be stuck on this thing through the holidays. I should’ve told that Dot Williams to blow it out her tail pipe and contact her local law enforcement.”
“That’s the breaks, buddy,” Coil said, slapping Jakes on the arm good-naturedly. “Need extra manpower bringing these in?” Coil asked.
“Why? Don’t think the FBI can handle it?”
Coil adjusted his Stetson cowboy hat on his head. It had seen better days, but no matter how tattered, it was always ready for duty. Just like Coil.
“Honestly,” Coil said. “No. You’ve got two juniors that look like they’ve never been out of the office and this guy,” he said, jerking a thumb at Lawrence.
“Is that an insult?” Lawrence said. “I’ll have you know I’m quite proficient in fencing.”
Jakes just closed his eyes and shook his head.
“We know it wasn’t amateurs who carted off the first haul.” Coil said. “Wouldn’t you think whoever cleaned them out is waiting for the opportunity to get the rest?”
“You think there’s an active threat in the area?” Jakes asked.
“Don’t you?”
“I do,” Jakes agreed. “That’s why I’ve got a SWAT team down the road waiting for my signal.”
Chapter Eleven
Agatha had enjoyed watching the FBI’s special operations SWAT unit arrive and take possession of casket number three. She paid particular attention to the way they conducted themselves around reporters, other cops, and the public. They were swift, silent, and as she assumed, deadly.
“You think they’ll have time to get the other two up before it gets dark?” Agatha asked.
“Yes, they’ll have to,” Hank said. “We’re in too deep. We’ve got the lights that Coil brought over yesterday, and I don’t think it’s wise or safe to abandon the site until everything is done.”
“Yeah,” Agatha said. “I figured you’d say that.”
“Hey, at least Lawrence is out of your hair,” Hank said, hugging her around the waist.
“Maybe so, but I’m still cold. I already miss summer.”
“Bite your tongue, woman,” Hank said. “I’m still not used to that heat. But I can keep you warm if you’re cold.” He pulled her in tighter.
“I bet Dot would love to watch that,” Agatha said, nodding her head toward the barricade. “Doesn’t that haggard woman have a life?”
They were loading the next coffin onto the back of a flatbed truck, and she and Hank moved in that direction.
Agatha heard the commotion on the other side of the barricade. She looked and saw that the crane was gently setting the next casket on the back of a flatbed truck. She tugged Hank by the sleeve of his windbreaker, and they both headed over to join Coil and Jakes.
“Anyone want to make a guess?” Jakes asked.
“I’ll guess it’s the same thing as the last one,” Agatha replied.
“Wow, you really like to go out on a limb, don’t you?” Hank taunted her.
“Well,” Agatha said. “If you look at it logically, I can see the same amount of strain on this one that was caused by the last one. Gold is heavy.”
“Very observant,” Hank mused.
“I’m always watching, big boy.”
The FBI crime scene techs opened the lid and gave Jakes the affirmative, and Jakes radioed his second unit of SWAT operators who had been assigned to remain on site to escort the casket and contents back to their forensics lab.
The other SWAT team had radioed earlier that they’d safely delivered their package and were returning to Rusty Gun. It looked li
ke they’d have the third casket up and open before midnight. It didn’t make Agatha any less cold, but it did mean she’d be in bed before dawn.
“Let’s get the last one going,” Jakes said to the crew.
Agatha could see Jakes was exhausted. Things hadn’t started smoothly with his arrival in Rusty Gun. But after he’d gotten back on equal footing with Hank, he’d really shown his skill at organizing the investigation.
Coil came over with boxes stacked two high. “Look what the Taco and Waffle sent over.”
Agatha grabbed the top container and helped Coil hand out Styrofoam cups of piping hot tortilla soup. They all moved into a mobile command post that had been requisitioned by Coil to support their operation. It was like a luxury mobile home. Agatha snuck her cell phone out to take pictures of the interior. It was definitely going into a book.
The excavation of the fifth and final coffin would take about an hour, so sitting in a very cozy command center watching cable television wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
Agatha was into her second episode of Murder She Wrote when Jakes pulled the exterior door open.
“Let’s see if the third time is the charm,” Jakes said.
Agatha moaned as she unfolded her aching body out of a comfortable chair. Sure, it was exciting to see those amounts of treasure, but to be honest, she’d already witnessed it twice. How much more exciting could a third casket get?
“You want to do the honors?” Jakes asked Agatha as he held his hand out to help her up and onto the flatbed transport truck.
“Umm, yeah,” she said.
Agatha stood back as they jimmied open the lid and removed it. She slipped on her phone light and shined it into the coffin. It was empty.
“Well?” Jakes asked.
“It’s empty,” she said.
“I don’t know if that’s disappointing or our big break,” Hank said.
“What do you mean?” Agatha asked, hopping down from the flatbed.
“Maybe Lawrence’s outlier is actually the one who buried them here. When that much money is involved, there’s no honor among thieves.”
“I just got a text from Lawrence,” Jakes said. “He says it’s imperative that he speak with us about the third victim.”
“Does that mean we get to go back inside?” Agatha asked.
“Yes.”
“Then count me in.” she said.
Jakes dialed up Lawrence on the computer screen in the command post. “Dr. Lawrence,” Jakes said. “You don’t have to put your face so close to the screen. We can see you just fine.”
“Right,” Lawrence said. “It seems my deductions were correct about the other victims. Number three is identified as Emma Gurtz. History has her as something of a rabble-rouser in her day. Was something of a Tom-boy, spent her time fishing and hunting with her brothers. And drinking in the bars. She’d been known to throw a punch or two, but her family was quite prominent and was able to keep the law off her. Found she had quite a talent at pouring drinks and lending an ear to those drinking her supplies.
“How’d her family get their money?” Agatha asked.
“I believe you call it Texas Tea,” Lawrence said.
“Oil,” Hank and Agatha said together, and shared a look.
“What about the contents of the coffin?” Coil asked.
“Jakes’s boys have removed the contents and taken them into another area. They’re still cataloguing the contents and getting an assessment on the dates and value of the gold and someone is coming in to appraise the diamonds. They did confirm it was Confederate gold that had probably been stolen by the militia in an attempt to launch a fight for Texas to regain their independence.”
“Anything else?” Jakes asked.
“There was a cache of documents. They’ll have to be sorted, but it looks like an accounting journal and deeds.”
“Deeds?” Jakes asked.
“Yes, property and mineral rights mostly.”
“Interesting,” Jakes said. “Very interesting.”
Chapter Twelve
Thursday
Agatha skipped out on her morning run. She’d slept fitfully the night before, her brain processing all the information she’d learned about the victims. She finally gave up on sleep and spent the last hours before sunrise in the war room, and she wasn’t surprised to get the early morning text from Hank. They were a lot alike when their minds started clicking, and she wasn’t surprised to find he’d spent a sleepless night as well.
She agreed to meet him and Coil for breakfast at the Kettle Café before the team briefing at the sheriff’s office. Hank was already waiting at their usual table, but Coil wasn’t there yet.
“Sleep good?” Hank asked.
“Nope,” she said. “My mind was racing all night.”
Hank held up three fingers when the waitress looked over. He’d already taken care of their drinks.
“Me either,” he said. “I figured you were in the same boat. I keep thinking about the empty coffin. I wasn’t surprised by it. If Lawrence is right about these five women and their friendship and business partnership, then it makes sense to think the nun is the key to this whole mystery. She’s the missing piece.”
“I agree,” Agatha said. “Sister Rosa Anita Immaculate was her ordained name, but I’m having trouble finding a given name. Maybe Lawrence was able to find something more on her, but my resources don’t run as deep as his do.”
“Looks like my timing is perfect,” Lawrence said from behind Agatha.
She jumped in surprise when he scooted into the booth next to her, and she gave Hank an accusing stare. He could’ve warned her.
Lawrence looked terrible. He hadn’t slept for the last forty-eight, and he was still dressed in the same canary-yellow shirt and tan trousers he’d worn the day before. And it was obvious he hadn’t showered, combed his hair, or shaved.
“What are you doing here?” Hank asked. “I thought Jakes ordered you to submit a written report and get some sleep.”
“This is too good not to share in person,” he said, and then called out the waitress. “I need coffee. Black.”
“How about you wait until everyone gets together for the briefing?” Hank suggested. “Jakes isn’t going to be happy.”
“I figured I’d relay it to you. I’m quite fond of this group. Jakes, not so much. Besides, I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to stay awake, so this may be the only time I get to say it.”
“Okay,” Agatha said. “Let’s hear it.”
“Hear what?” Coil asked from behind her.
Agatha jumped. “Crud, is everybody going to sneak up on me today?”
“To be fair, they only snuck up on you because your back was to the door,” Hank said. “Good timing, Coil. Lawrence was just about to brief us.”
“But, didn’t Jakes…”
“Just sit down,” Agatha said, unable to wait any longer. “Go ahead Lawrence. And maybe scoot over a little bit.”
“I’ve discovered the identity of victim number four,” he said. “And I was right. The exotic dancer. Ruth Anne Wilkerson was her name. But get this, she might have been dancing in the evenings and carousing with her girlfriends, but in the daytime, she was the administrative assistant to the superintendent of the Texas Rangers.”
“What?” Coil asked, his eyes going wide. “I’m assuming they didn’t know of her nighttime activities.”
“Oh, I think some people knew. You don’t work the underground without coming across a few people who live on the wealthy side of the tracks. But if they told her secret they’d also be exposing their own sins. Her family was well connected and wealthy, which was how she got the job.”
“Let me guess,” Hank said. “They’re an oil family.”
“Quite right,” Lawrence said, his grin somewhat maniacal in his sleep deprived face. “It’s quite unusual if you follow the paper trail. County deeds showed an expansive plot of acreage having been redesignated from agricultural to industri
al in the early part of the century. A lot of people lost their land, and the Wilkerson’s became one of the wealthiest families in the state when those oil rigs went up on their newly designated property.”
“That gives other people a reason to hate the Wilkerson’s,” Hank said, “but it doesn’t explain why Ruth Wilkerson was killed and buried in a false grave, or how millions of dollars in Confederate gold was buried with her.”
“Well, it’s not like these women were pillars of the community,” Agatha said. “Their families had money, but that would only take them so far. They struck out on their own and chose a dangerous path. A bootlegger, a madam, the speakeasy owner, and the exotic dancer joined forces and made sinning easy for the people of San Antonio. They knew who was breaking the law, cheating on their wives, and drinking away their troubles. They’d have been very powerful in their own way in the underbelly of that city. And people would be afraid. Maybe they were also blackmailers.”
“That’s a good angle,” Hank said. “Maybe some of the papers recovered can be salvaged.”
Coil put a ten down on the table to cover the coffees and tip. “Time to get to the briefing. Lawrence, I’d make myself scarce. If you show up in that office Jakes is liable to shoot you.”
“Excellent advice.”
Chapter Thirteen
Special Agent Jakes monopolized most of the space inside the conference room at the sheriff’s office. Hank slipped in between the gaps of people and found an empty seat, and he waved for Agatha to join him.
Coil rolled a beat-up leather chair out of his office and settled into a corner across from Hank. They tended to situate themselves opposite from one another in social settings so they could communicate across the room.
Jakes ushered in the new batch of FBI agents who had been assigned to him. They were dressed in starched khaki tactical trousers and matching navy-blue polo shirts.
“Welcome everyone,” Jakes began. “I’ve got a report from Dr. Andrew Lawrence detailing his latest findings. You should each have a copy.”
Gone With The Sin (Book 8) (A Harley and Davidson Mystery) Page 5
