The Maude Rogers Murder Collection

by Linda L. Dunlap

  “Is this what you’re referring to, Mr. Thomas?” Maude said, showing him the bag with the sharpened chisel in it, then went on to describe it for the tape.

  Leroy looked stunned. “Where did you get that?”

  “It came from an inventory of the items in your tool box, Leroy. When your van was impounded an inventory of the contents was automatically done.”

  The inmate looked down, now fully realizing the quantity of evidence they had against him. “What now,” he asked.

  “Tell what you did to the girl.” Joe said.

  “Well, after I got done with Sharpy, I cut her hair off. The boss said to do that. Then we took their boat. It had a motor, made it easy to get out of that mosquito hole. We left that piece of crap tied up. Took the party barge back, got the cars, and left.”

  “What about Spillar?

  “I don’t work with screw-ups, so I shot him for getting the wrong kind of boat. Didn’t kill him though; he hid out at the lake that night, so I had to go back.”

  Leroy went on with more details about Spillar, but they had heard enough, and both detectives were content to sit for a minute. They left the interview room and returned shortly.

  “Tell us about the boss,” Janie said, the tape still running.

  “I never met him outright,” Leroy said, “like I told you before, just phone and email.” He rattled off phone numbers, the post office box number, and email contacts. The introduction of the chisel had broken the killer, and he couldn’t say enough.

  “Where is the gun? The one you used to shoot Spillar?”

  “Threw it away into the Gulf, in Houston.”

  “You’re lying, you wouldn’t carry a gun all the way to Houston to throw it away, so where is it?” Maude demanded.

  The inmate was done, refusing to say more, realizing that his life was over. If the boss knew what I told, Leroy thought, I’m a dead man--said too much already.

  The interview was over, the detectives gone from the cell block, and Leroy back in his cell alone. He heard it first, really low, then a little louder, ‘Snitch’. It came from different places in the day room, from the tables where inmates gathered to eat and play cards together, ‘Snitch.’

  Driving away from the jail, Joe was sitting in the passenger seat, pensive after the long drawn out session with Thomas. “I hope I never have to see that scum again,” he said. “What do we do now?”

  “Sounds like we’re going to go to Houston, or we have to bring Houston to us. What you think about playing their game a little bit?”

  “Sure what do you suggest?” He asked , interested.

  “Let’s call Harry--say we talked to Perla, and we’re wise to the couple scam they played on the victims. We’ll tell them we want our part of the money. When they ask what money, we can say that Aaron Dennis had several thousand dollars with him. It had to be them who stole it, and we want part of it. They’ll come because of the murders. If we know about the scam, there’s a chance we know about that too, and they’ll want to shut us up.”

  “Then Sheriff Jack nabs them when they try to kill us.” Joe said, his listlessness gone, his green eyes sparkling. “That’s great.”

  “Why Joe, you sound more like yourself. Haven’t been shot at lately?” Maude asked.

  “How about food?” he said, suddenly ravenous. “I’m starved.”

  The phone call came in as Harry was returning from the car after a fruitless search with Ginger, looking for the transport company. The company existed only on paper, with no oil holdings, or equipment of any kind. The lot where B&G was supposed to be had a small building toward the back, with nothing identifying it. Thick, cinder block walls in a rectangular shaped defined the place as a small Fort Knox.

  Harry had beaten on the door, but no one came to answer. He went to one of the side windows that were covered in black, iron bars, with window tint underneath shutting out all light. He beat on those with the same result.

  “What the hell?” Harry said to no one in particular. “What is this place?”

  “Looks like one of those import places, where they bring in big bags of coffee beans.” Ginger said, fixing her lipstick.

  “No coffee bean I know of needs that kind of security building. I think we may have made a mistake coming here. It looks like mob.”

  “Mob? Are you crazy? What would the mob want with a dinky little brick building?” Ginger was getting on Harry’s nerves. He had forgotten how irritating she was at the resort. He’d been forced to spend some time with her, and hated every minute of it.

  “Listen you dumb skirt, this is Houston, the big city. They got stuff covered up right in front of the cops. Somehow Leroy has mob connections.”

  “Then let’s get the heck out of here,” Ginger said, “What are you waiting for? Drive!”

  When he heard the phone ringing, Harry began to worry that they were found out by the men with the iron-barred windows. He didn’t want to answer it, but he didn’t think he could ignore the shrill scream.

  “Hello. Is this Harry?”

  The voice was male, not shaky or old. “Yeah. It’s Harry. What do you want?”

  “Funny you should ask. We know who you are,” Joe said, mysteriously.

  “Yeah. So what?” Harry decided to play along, pretending it was someone else at B&G Transport besides him.

  “I saw you.” Joe said, “I know where you were, know you been where you shouldn’t have been.”

  “Hey, what the hell you want. I made a mistake. How did I know B&G was something else, that they were connected?”

  “What did you say?” Joe asked him, confused by the response from Harry.

  “You need a sign says: ‘Mob. Stay the hell out’.”

  “What?” Joe repeated, even more confused. “B&G. Mob? Jerk-wipe, I’m talking about money, the money you owe us. The money you took from them people you murdered. We want some of it.”

  It was Harry’s turn to be confused. “What the hell are you talking about? What money, what murder?” By that time, Harry was yelling, the relief of knowing the mob wasn’t on the phone replaced by the icy fear in his gut that something entirely worse was stalking him.

  “THE murders, little Perla told us all about you and your lady friend, about the scam, the girl’s jewelry, the five thousand dollars. NO more talk, you got two hours to get here. Come to the lake, to Jackson Park, you and Ginger, plus two thousand dollars. Or I go to the cops.” With that, Joe disconnected the pay phone outside the motel.

  “Joe,” Maude said, “I think you missed your calling. What was that all about, B&G , the mob?”

  “Danged if I know, Maude. He thought I was mob; that I worked for B&G.”

  “The company that told us they sold the vans to someone else?”

  “Yeah, that one. Harry thought he was in trouble with the mob. Sounds like he made a trip to B&G, found out it wasn’t at all what he had thought, no warehouse. He sounded scared.”

  “Can’t blame him, if it’s true,” she said, reflectively. “They scare most people. It’s like a whole group of armed Leroys on speed or PCP. I ran into some in Chicago.”

  “We have two hours to get to Jackson Park. Do you have any suggestions about what to do when they try to shoot us? “Joe asked.

  “Shoot back.” She said. “I’m calling Jack. I wouldn’t want him to miss this. He loves a good fight.”

  Chapter 22

  Harry checked his phone hoping to see a phone number that could be traced, but nothing came up on the screen. If the guy who called wasn’t a wiseguy, who the heck was he, and how did he find out about him and Ginger? He said that girl Perla told him. That little Mex who cleaned the rooms, she must have been the one.

  “Ginger, Harry here. Get ready and pick me up. We gotta go right now.

  Someone knows about us, about the resort, the scam. They think we stole some money from the doc. Its blackmail-two grand they want.”

  “Harry, I ain’t got two grand. My rent’s due and I can’t pay that. Whe
re would I get two grand?”

  Harry gritted his teeth. God he hated this stupid woman. “I didn’t say you had to get it, I said the knuckle-head on the phone wants two grand. We’re not going to pay him; we’re going to kill him.”

  “Oh, that’s different. I’ll be right there.”

  Ginger showed up within fifteen minutes in the black SUV, the big doors and windows opening to reveal a plush, seating area, and lots of bells and whistles on the dash. Harry climbed in, and the vehicle shot forward, the GPS loaded with the quickest route to Jackson Park on Edwards Bay. It seemed like karma to Harry, going back to where they had started the job, although, Harry didn’t believe in luck. He thought people made their own opportunities.

  What he was doing was thinking about how they were going to draw this guy out in the open to kill him and who else might be a part of the deal. He wondered about Leroy, and where he went with the money. It was all Leroy’s fault. If he had paid his debt, Harry would have been in Florida, and wouldn’t have got the call. Now he had this and the mob to worry about, but that would be after he killed Leroy.

  Ginger drove hard, the big vehicle taking the curves in the road at roaring speeds as worry took over her thoughts. She hoped she got the money to make the next car payment, because the way things had been happening, she would be walking soon. Harry wasn’t a friend, but he was the nearest thing she had to one. He had found her in Houston, looking for work at Burger King, offered her a quick job. All she had to do was drive her big car to Edwards Paradise Resort, pretend a little, and then she was done. But it hadn’t happened that way.

  When it was time for her to leave, after she had done her part, Leroy said, “UH-UH, nothing doing. She’s coming with us.”

  The mosquitoes were the worst thing about the whole trip, waiting around for the two palookas to take care of their business got Ginger bitten all over. She was glad when they were finished, a girl could only take so much embarrassment and discomfort. At the time of the rape, because that’s what Ginger thought of when she remembered, she was kind of turned on. Not that she wanted anybody to force her, but watching the girl get it from two guys made her tingle a little. That was a surprise. The killing didn’t worry her too much; people died every day; that was just the mark’s day. She gave an exaggerated shudder, running the fingers of her left hand ran through her hair, remembering the girl’s ponytail in the tree.

  Jack was a happy man; he was out of the darned bed and back to work, off the desk, with the doctor’s permission. There were weight restrictions on the arm, but he could manage that-those strong young deputies could handle the heavy loads. Maude Rogers was a blessing to him and his department, the way she had taken care of his business was first class, just like her. He was hoping they could wrap up this murder business so that fine lady could go home.

  They took the back road to Jackson Park, one Maude knew nothing about in advance. The potholes were fierce in the mud and gravel road bordered by mesquite trees and briars, and Jack grimaced once and apologized lightly but didn’t dwell on it. The road was a way to get there without being seen by anyone watching the park entrance. Even though the officers knew the Houston couple wasn’t supposed to be there for another forty-five minutes, they might have connections in Rhodes County.

  Just before leaving for the park, Maude had made a trip to the jail to see Leroy once again even though she didn’t look forward to the trip. The male inmates began cat-calls when she walked in the door, smooching up to her, calling her sexy grandma. Even one was making masturbation signs to her as she walked across the corridor toward him. They were the trusties, the men who did the cleaning and maintenance of the building for jail credits, a kind of ‘get out of jail free’ card. She eyed them all, shook her head at their nonsense and continued about her business with Leroy.

  Leroy didn’t want to see or hear from Maude ever again. He had already been sucker punched twice and called a snitch enough times to last him forever. Maybe he made the wrong choice. Maybe he should have tried to bluff his way through as he had done most of his life. Now here she was again and the trouble would start all over.

  She had decided to help Leroy, to keep him from getting beat up in county jail. Enough of that would happen when he finally began his prison sentence. Meanwhile, keeping him safe was her responsibility. She told the control room operator that an official visit had been approved for her and sat down to wait for Leroy to enter the room accompanied by a guard.

  In the two hours since she had seen him, Leroy had been punched in the jaw and forehead, his right eye already showing the bruise. “What do you want?” he asked sullenly.

  “I want the guns, the gun that you used to kill Jenny Marx and Spillar and the one you used on the sheriff. Keep in mind, I have most of what I need from you, and nothing about this place draws me to return.”

  “It’s in the post office box. Same one I gave you before. You would have found it anyway. How did you know it was me that shot the lawdog?”

  “You’re right, but better for you to give it up than we find it accidentally, and as far as the bullet in Jack Fuller, I didn’t know for sure it was yours until just now.”

  “The next thing, my concern for your safety-that’s really why I’m am here- as well as to tell you that if you make any attempt to call any of your coconspirators, the deal is off. We will prosecute and ask for a death sentence.

  “The way I’m going to help you is to let you yell at me when I leave. I will walk out of here, right by that feral group that’s waiting over there, and you may yell at me that you aren’t saying anything, that you will take your chances with a jury. You may not cuss me, but you can make it sound real. Then when you’re done, I will look back at you and tell you that you had your chance. Now, do you have all that?”

  Leroy nodded, uncertain what she wanted from him, but able to see some relief to part of his situation. She reminded him again about talking to anyone and he nodded, agreeing.

  “I won’t.” he whispered.

  The inmate played his part admirably, yelling at the top of his voice that she could stuff her offer, and Maude told him in the presence of the trusty’s gossip train that he had been given the only opportunity he was going to get, and deserved whatever happened. She wished him well and left the building.

  She was thinking about that conversation bouncing around in Jack’s county vehicle. He noticed how quiet she had been for the last few minutes, and asked if she was okay.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Sometimes I get really sick of criminals.”

  Jack laughed his one short bellow, his face never changing. Maude looked straight at him, wondering if he was having a seizure.

  There was still some time left before the killers were to show up, time for the lawmen to get in position. If their plan was good, the killers wouldn’t suspect a trap, and would come fully expecting to find a blackmailer ready with his demands. They would try to kill him, having no reason to hear him out. The minutes crept by until it was time for the couple to show up.

  Jack’s private vehicle was parked where anyone could see it as they drove into the park, its blue tinged, silver paint job hard to miss. He had already stated that the person who put any scratches on it would walk the plank. Maude translated that to mean the offender would be sorely chastised.

  Whiz, a bullet flew overhead, followed by another from somewhere out in the grass flats away from the park.

  “Get down, everyone. Joe,” Maude whispered, “Come with me, let’s circle around, come in behind them. Jack, you and Ernest got this?”

  He motioned her off, acknowledging that he and Ernest could take care of themselves. He knelt low after finding a place of cover behind a park sign.

  “Be careful.” Jack said to the departing figures.

  Picking a trail around wet cow-pies and prickly pears was never Maude’s favorite thing to do, but getting shot wasn’t either. She had been there before. The polecat had got one up on them and sneaked into the park without being seen. S
he would have to see about that. A small bell of alarm was dinging; those people had no mercy and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot anyone who came into view.

  Joe followed Maude for a few feet then took the lead moving away from her, keeping his eyes on the grass ahead. He spotted the black SUV off to the right, about a quarter mile from the park. The shooter must have seen Maude and fired, hoping the gunfire would discourage any action, having no idea who made the phone call or how many might be involved in the blackmail.

  Joe didn’t believe there was more than one shooter, there had been no more bullets flying. He whistled to Maude, catching her attention. A figure sat in the vehicle, the tinted windows blocking any identifying features. What he saw was a shadowy figure darting below the window.

  “I think it’s the woman,” he whispered. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Crawling as fast as he could through the tall dead grass, Joe came up behind the vehicle. The door handle was close, in reach of his fingers. He tried it quietly, hoping it was unlocked. The warning bell of the big door started sounding and the engine revved, surging forward, with Joe hanging onto the door handle. He was afraid to turn loose where she could run him down.

  Quickly, Joe pulled himself up and grabbed the door above the window, holding on as the moving truck bounced his legs and feet against objects on the ground. Ginger saw the blackmailer trying to get in her car and punched the accelerator, but in her panic she lost control of the steering wheel, and ran the left side of the vehicle into a huge clump of prickly pear cactus. The big wheel rolled over the obstruction and rose in the air as the spines of the cactus penetrated the thin rubber tires.

  Joe was hanging on, his shoes covered in cow pie and cactus spines. When the driver’s side rose in the air, the passenger side tilted downward and Joe manipulated his legs inside, pulling his weapon as he gained control.

  “Stop the vehicle!” he yelled above the sound of the engine. “Get your foot off the gas.”

  “It ain’t going nowhere.” Ginger said. “The tire is flat. I knew I should have bought new ones when I had the money.”