by Marja McGraw
Eloise glanced at the money before turning to Pete. “Did you remember to lock the door when you came back?”
“I did.”
She nodded and looked relieved. “Dollars to donuts this is what Water Boy was after, although I don’t know how he’d know about it.”
Pete opened another can. “You can bet he’s involved in all of this in one way or another, and I’m sure it has to do with the cash. Maybe he saw the brothers hiding the money.”
I opened another can and to my surprise, something was rolled up in the bills. I pulled them apart and found a rather large diamond, or at least I thought it was a diamond.
“Check it out,” I said. “There’s more to these cans than meets the eye.”
Apparently my friends were becoming immune to the sight of riches. No one reacted.
I thought about what Pete had said. “No, if Water Boy knew about the cans he’d have come back years ago to steal the money. He worked here, so he knew about the storeroom, but probably not the cans. There’s something else going on where he’s concerned. We’ll figure it out. He never should have told us he knows the answers to the questions. We’ll never let go of it.”
Stanley laughed. “You’ll never let go of it. You’re nothing if not tenacious.”
I noticed he was examining the money in another can, possibly looking for gems.
“Yeah, you’re like a dog with a bone,” Pete added.
We heard banging on the front door and Pete left us to see who it was. I heard him mumble something about knowing he should have brought a weapon.
Water Boy wouldn’t be stupid enough to come back and bang on the door, would he?
Pete returned with Rick in tow.
“Pete tells me you had a visit from Bruce Brown.”
“He’s a scary one, that one,” Eloise said.
“What she said,” Felicity added, pointing at our client. “Those eyes are so evil. Not just mean, but evil. Like something you’d see in a movie with lots of special effects. It’s not that they’re blue, but they’re almost transparent. He made me feel like he looked right into my soul.”
“Okay,” I said, “we get the point and couldn’t agree more.”
I turned to Rick.
“Why haven’t you picked Brown up for questioning? It seems like he’s involved in almost every aspect of this case, from the murders to the money.”
Rick looked uncomfortable. “This guy is like the wind. He seems to be in and out without leaving a trace. Considering his age, I’m surprised he hasn’t made a mistake.”
“At the very least,” Pete said, “you’d think that sidekick of his would hold him back.”
“Bubba doesn’t like Water Boy and that says it all for me,” I said.
Rick rolled his eyes before turning to the trash can full of money. “This is amazing. All this in some cans you found?”
“Yep. All of this, and more.” Stanley held up the diamond. “The cans were very tightly packed. We haven’t opened all of them yet, so there’s more. Plus you found that suitcase stuffed with money.” Stanley stepped up and played the Everyday Kinda Guy card. Yep wasn’t normally in his vocabulary.
“Does anyone have any ideas about where the money came from?” Rick asked.
He was grasping at straws to ask for our opinions, and each one of us had one. I wondered if we’d ever know the truth – about anything.
“I believe,” Eloise said, “that this money belonged to Horace and Harley, but somehow I don’t think that’s why they were killed. It’s a gut feeling, but it’s stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before.”
I glanced at Pete. “And we all know how accurate gut feelings can be.”
“They’re much better if followed by fact,” he said.
“Okay, here’s a fact.” I was ready for him. “The money is still here. If they were murdered because of the money, why is it still here? Why was the suitcase left behind? Why were three people killed in three different locations?”
“You’ve got more questions than facts,” Rick said.
“Well, I’ve got one more. If Water Boy knows who did the deeds and why, and he didn’t do it, then why doesn’t he speak up?”
Felicity held up her index finger. “I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe he’s afraid he’ll incriminate himself in some other way. He may not have committed the murders, but he’s sure guilty of something.”
“And maybe if we figure out what that is,” I said, thoughtfully, “we can figure out the rest of it.”
“I hate to admit it,” Pete said, “but we sound like a bunch of amateur detectives. There are clues and there are facts, and we haven’t acted on them.”
I straightened my back. “You’re right. We’ve been running around in circles. It’s time to stop this and get back to work. We’ve had too many distractions.”
“So what’s first?” Stanley asked.
“I want to talk to Marcus Windsor again. I keep bringing him up, and yet I put off speaking to him. I still think he knows a lot more than he’s admitting, and it’s time for him to come clean. I’ll call and ask how his grandfather is doing. That’ll give me an excuse to get back in the thick of things.”
Rick’s cell phone rang and he left the room to answer it.
“It seems like you’re kind of stuck on the Marcus angle,” Pete said. “One of those gut feelings?”
“No, not this time. It just seems to make sense. Don’t you feel like he’s holding something back?”
“I do,” Stanley said. “Just from listening to your comments, I’ve come to a few conclusions of my own.”
“And what would those be?” Felicity asked.
“There’s a rotten smell in here and it’s not the hooch.”
I laughed. “Sometimes you just crack me up, Stan.”
Rick waved at us from the doorway where he’d been listening.
“Gotta go. It seems there are some rotten smells in another part of town, too. Let me know what you find out.”
Chapter Thirty-five
While my friends continued to open tin cans, I excused myself and walked to the diner part of the building.
Picking up my cell phone, I willed it to ring. I wished Marcus would call me and I wouldn’t have to make the first move. If wishes were nickels… Of course it didn’t ring.
I’d temporarily put Marcus’ number on my contact list and now clicked on his name. Somehow I expected the call to go straight to voice mail, but he answered on the second ring.
“Marcus,” I said, “it’s Sandi Webster. I just wanted to check in and ask how your grandfather is doing. Any improvement?”
“He’s not doing well, but thank you for asking. His doctor said he hopes Grandfather has his affairs in order. They can’t do the hip surgery and infection is setting in. They’re looking at the possibility of pneumonia, too.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. And I really was. The old man was about ninety-nine years old. It didn’t seem right that he’d have to go through this. What happened to the Golden Years I’d always heard about?
“At least he had a long life.” I didn’t hear a lot of emotion in Marcus’ voice, but maybe he had to make himself remain aloof.
“Marcus, I know the timing is lousy, but I wondered if we could get together to talk. Whether you realize it or not, I think you have information that might help our investigation.”
He didn’t reply right away. “Tomorrow morning at ten, at the hospital. I don’t really feel like getting into Grandfather’s past, but we might as well get it out of the way. I have the distinct feeling that you’re not going to let old lives and secrets die easily.”
Interesting play on words. “I’ll be there, and thank you. Tell your grandfather that I met Water Boy and I want to know more about him. Maybe that will turn him into a fighter.”
“Or not.” Marcus hung up.
I took a moment to contemplate our meeting and watched the dogs. Butch and Clementine were restless, but Bubba slept soundly. Ev
ery once in a while his tail would wag as though he was having a good dream. Maybe he dreamed about having his way with Water Boy.
With that thought and a smile, I returned to the store room.
All the cans had been opened and the trash can was about half full. One of the tin cans held a few gems and it had been placed on top of the cash.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Eloise asked.
Stanley shook his head. “What’re we going to do with all this cash?”
Pete smiled. “I’m going to put a lid on the can and wheel it into Rick’s office. He can be responsible for it. I don’t want to give Brown a reason to come back.”
“There’s one thing we haven’t really thought about,” I said. “Would money this old still be worth its face value? I’m going to call our bank and look into it.”
“Believe me when I say I’m most curious,” Eloise said, grinning from ear to ear. “Especially if it turns out it’s mine to keep.”
“Details, details,” Felicity said. “Sometimes there are just too many details to try to remember.”
“Which is exactly why I’m going to sit down and write notes to myself about what I want to learn from Marcus,” I said. “I spoke to him and his grandfather isn’t doing well. I’m supposed to meet him at the hospital in the morning.”
I glanced at Pete.
“My gut says things are about to become even more interesting than they are as they stand.”
Pete coughed. “Do you have any more cough drops?”
“For you? Anything.”
~ * ~
We spent a few more hours combing through every nook and cranny of the old speakeasy, but nothing new turned up, so Pete and I decided to go home. Nothing new? We’d found plenty already. What more could we ask for, except maybe a few answers.
He was ready to rest, and for him to admit that was huge.
While Pete relaxed in his chair, I retreated to the kitchen to call the bank.
I explained what I wanted to know to the woman who answered, and she said she’d have someone call me back – someone who knew more than she did.
And I patiently waited for a return call.
In the meantime, I began gathering my thoughts so I could be to the point and succinct when I spoke to Marcus.
I thought I was having another gut feeling until I realized I hadn’t eaten. It was too late in the day to eat a sandwich, and nearing dinnertime, so I pulled a chocolate bar out of my stash drawer – the place where I kept plenty of sweets. The only comfort food that rivals chocolate is an In-N-Out hamburger.
Not a bad idea. Maybe I’d run out and bring home burgers for dinner. Pete’s an In-N-Out fan, too.
I fed the dogs and checked their water before leaving to pick up dinner. My husband was happy with my choice. The dogs would be happy, too, when they each got a few French fry treats.
While I waited in the drive thru lane, my cell phone rang. Caller ID said it was my bank, with good news I hoped. I was told that if the money was brought to the bank, they’d replace it with current bills for the same value as the old money. If I wanted information about antique value, I’d have to contact an expert.
I wasn’t interested in antique value. If we’d found coins, I’d feel differently. I’d already lived through that scenario after finding a treasure my great-greate-great-grandfather had buried. Long story, better left for another time.
Taking the hamburgers home, I found everyone waiting for me. Pete was hungry, which was a good sign, and the dogs never passed up a handout.
After dinner Pete went to bed, needing more sleep.
I sat at the kitchen table and thought about what I wanted to ask Marcus, realizing I simply wanted to get him talking. I’d know what to ask him based on what information I could glean from him. He hadn’t sounded happy, and yet I had a feeling he had a few things he wanted to get off his chest.
One more potty break for the dogs and I went to bed, too.
Tomorrow would be a new day with, hopefully, answers coming my way.
~ * ~
I asked Pete to stay home because it didn’t seem right to take him to the hospital while he was recuperating. I didn’t want to expose the patients to whatever he had.
He refused to stay home but went to the office instead of the hospital.
“I don’t think you’ll need to worry about Water Boy or his sidekick in a place like the hospital,” he said. “Where are you meeting Windsor?”
“He’ll be meeting me in the waiting room on the third floor. I know I shouldn’t worry about it, but I hope his mother isn’t with him. I don’t think she’d be too excited about Marcus spilling his guts to me.”
“From the way you described her, I think you’re right.”
I left early and drove to the hospital which was a very long drive. It took me about two and a half hours of following the coastline. The drive was becoming tiresome, but the hospital was close to the winery.
I was about ten minutes late, thanks to traffic, and I hoped Marcus hadn’t given up on me. Thankfully, I found him sitting in the waiting room.
He tapped his watch. “Time is money.” He sounded irritated.
I wasn’t in the mood for his irritation. “It’s a long drive up here. Give me a break.”
He looked surprised, as though most people didn’t stand up to him.
Raising my eyebrows, I took a seat across a table from him.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asked. “I don’t know what I can tell you that might make a difference.”
“I think you do. I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I believe you know a lot about your grandfather that you haven’t shared.” I stopped talking and looked directly into his eyes, hoping for just a smidgeon of the intimidation Water Boy emanated.
Again, he looked surprised. “You don’t take prisoners, do you?”
“Not unless I have to,” I replied. “Let’s be realistic. This case has us dealing with a lot of older people. One of them has already passed on and from what you said I don’t think your grandfather is going to make it either.”
Was I going too far? I bit my tongue and waited. I’d dealt with people like Marcus in the past and sometimes being forward and pushy worked where being polite or politically correct wouldn’t.
He sat quietly and stared at me before responding. “My grandfather is dying, yes. I guess it can’t hurt to be honest with you, although I want you to understand that the only way I’ll tell you about his past is if it stays between us. I don’t want any publicity about him.”
He studied me for a reaction.
I whipped out my poker face.
“Our company has a reputation to maintain. I want it kept intact.”
“I understand that.”
“By the way, I mentioned this Water Boy person to Grandfather. The name made him laugh, and it wasn’t a humorous laugh. Who is this man?”
“He was a player back in the day. I have reason to believe he may have been an enforcer who started out working as a busboy at the speakeasy. He’s still alive, and let me tell you, he’s a really scary guy.” I hadn’t actually meant to tell Marcus that last part.
“You think he’s involved in the murders?”
“In one way or another. He says he knows who the killer is and why these people were killed, but he’s not willing to tell us who or why. I think your grandfather knows more than he’s let on.”
Marcus sighed and sat back in his chair. “I never thought I’d share this story with anyone, but I guess it’s time. You say this Water Boy character is scary? He’s probably nothing compared to my grandfather.”
Chapter Thirty-six
I sat forward in my chair. Marcus was about to open doors for me. I could feel that he had the answers I needed, or at least some of them.
“Tell me about the real Rusty,” I said.
“I’m sure you’re aware that my grandfather wasn’t one of the good guys. In his defense, he had a rough childhood. His father
died young and his mother… Well, she wasn’t very motherly. He more or less raised himself.
“Grandfather was a self-made man. He was greedy, mean and out for himself. When Prohibition hit, he jumped in with both feet and practically cornered the rum runner business. Even though he was a kid, he hired people to make the booze and he delivered it, charging speakeasy owners exorbitant amounts of money. They paid because he never let them down. Actually, I think he nosed around until he had something on them.”
“He blackmailed them into buying from him?” I asked.
“I believe so because he didn’t change his habits when he went legit. He found people’s soft spot and… Let’s just say he had no conscience and no morals. He finally realized that he had to change his ways to make a go of the wineries. His personal life didn’t change, but his business practices did.”
He sat quietly for a moment before continuing his story.
“But you want to know about the old days, don’t you? It’s a sordid story. Once I tell you how things were, I’ll never repeat it and I’ll deny I ever told you.”
I nodded, but made no promises.
“Grandfather knew the woman who was murdered – intimately. I don’t know how much you know about the people involved, but – “
“I know quite a bit.”
He frowned before speaking with vehemence. “I have to be honest. I can’t stand my grandfather. He’s a sleazy old man who probably should have died in the streets years ago. We all would have been better off.”
I tried to retain the hold I had on my poker face. It wasn’t easy.
“Before you go on, let me ask a question,” I said. “How do you know so much about Rusty?”
“He bragged about his life and over the years he’s told me everything, laughing as he told the stories. I don’t think he left anything out.”
“Okay,” I said, thinking I should probably be taking notes.
“Everything revolves around Horace and Harley, and that singer, Loretta.”
I nodded.
“Before Loretta became involved with Horace, she and my grandfather had an affair. I don’t know why, because it wasn’t like him, but he kept it quiet. He – “
