by Carolina Mac
“Me neither, but here I am.”
“Come on up to the twentieth floor. Room three-thirteen.”
“Thanks.”
Annie opened the door wearing a big smile. “Let’s have a beer.” She pointed at the bar in the corner of the room. “Y’all must be tired after your flight.”
“Not bad,” said Travis as he straddled a leather topped barstool. “Maybe it would be better if Jesse and I got a room of our own.”
“Why?” Annie’s gray eyes narrowed. “You don’t want to be trapped in the same suite as me?”
“Something like that. More like—I don’t want to cause you any more problems than I already have.”
Jesse observed the back-and-forth between Travis and his ex-wife and the old feelings of jealousy returned with a vengeance. “Maybe that is a good idea, Trav.”
“Come on, cowboy. We’re all adults and we have to work together. Let’s get the job done so we can all go home,” Annie’s voice rose an octave, “then we can stay the hell away from each other.”
“Fuck.” Travis looked at Jesse and mouthed the curse.
Jesse rolled his brown eyes and chugged the rest of his beer. “Get us another round, Ace, and give us all the information you have so far.”
Annie set three more Coors on the bar and filled them in on Sandra Beauchamp.
“So far the only thing connecting these four dudes is the big game?” asked Travis.
Annie nodded. “But Sandra Beauchamp might be the key. She was Steve Mathers’ date and he was dead the next morning.”
“Did Mathers win a bundle in the game?” asked Travis.
“Yep. Just guessing, I’d say close to three hundred thousand.”
“And do we have a fix on her?” asked Jesse.
“She’s staying at this hotel and she’s on this floor,” said Annie. “Other end of the hallway. “Six eleven.”
“Okay, good,” said Jesse. “Travis, you’re on the woman. I’ll go downtown to homicide and get down-low on Mathers. We’ll meet for dinner.”
“I’ll go back to the game,” said Annie. “Text me when it’s time to meet.”
BLAINE AND FARRELL canvassed the bus terminal in downtown Austin. They showed Fisher’s picture around to staff and waiting passengers alike, and everyone shook their heads. No one had seen him, or if they had, it didn’t register.
“I’ll check the ticket counter,” said Blaine. He waited for the clerk to serve two people before asking his question. “Have you sold any tickets to Killeen today?”
“I don’t know how to look for that, sir,” said the young girl.
Blaine laid his cred pack on the counter and asked for the supervisor.
A large man in uniform came out of the back and glared down at him. “Police? Why are you asking about tickets to Killeen?”
“You have a wanted poster on your wall, sir. That individual may have purchased a ticket to Killeen.”
“You telling me the guy who escaped from the State hospital was here?”
“Could have been. Did you sell any fares to Killeen today?”
“Don’t think so. Not a popular destination. More people travel to Waco.”
Our boy didn’t come from Waco.
“Check for Killeen, would you please?”
The supervisor clicked a few keys and stared at the computer screen for a few minutes. “One ticket to Killeen. The bus left an hour ago.”
“Thanks.” Blaine took off jogging to the truck with Farrell limping behind.
“We gonna race him to Killeen?”
“Might as well,” said Blaine. “We got shit on him here.”
They were a half hour into their drive north when Doctor McIntyre returned Blaine’s call. “You were asking about Zach’s origins, Mr. Blackmore?”
“Yes, I was wondering about his hometown.”
“He talked all the time about his house in Killeen and his flower gardens. Do you think he’ll go there?”
“Possible, sir. We’re checking on it.”
“Bring him back unharmed, if you can.”
“We’ll try, sir.”
He’s already killed four people that we know of.
Farrell looked across the console waiting for an answer.
“Talked about going home all the time.”
Blaine called Chief Calhoun. “Do we have an office in Killeen, sir?”
“Waco, son. What do you need?”
“I think Fisher is on a bus heading for home.”
“Give me his old address and I’ll send a couple of units to watch the house. Are you driving up there?”
“Farrell and I are on our way.”
“Be careful, son.”
BEFORE ANNIE went up to the penthouse to play poker she rehearsed in her head how to tell Lance Ogilvie about Kristal. She had another Coors then bit the bullet. She called.
“Annie, how lovely of you to call.”
“Might not be so lovely, Lance.”
“Sure, it is, dear. You’re one of my favorite people.”
Not after I tell you this.
“I know it’s none of my business, but because I care about you, I felt compelled to have Kristal Ducharme vetted.”
“What? Are you telling me you checked into Kristal’s background?”
“Exactly what I did, and it didn’t turn out well, I’m afraid.”
“Well, I don’t want to hear it, and you’re right, Annie, it’s none of your business.”
Lance ended the call and Annie stared at the screen. “Dammit, Lance. You are as stubborn as your son and you are in big trouble.”
TRAVIS PACED between the long run of elevators and the end of the hallway where he could see the door to room number six eleven. He’d been at it for close to an hour, watching and waiting, and he needed to take a piss and worse than that, he needed a smoke. He circled around by the windows and a tall, blondie model-type dressed fit to kill came out of the room in question. She walked straight towards him, flashed him a perfect set of teeth and pressed the down button on the wall.
Travis watched the elevator doors close, then pushed down and took the next car. She was half way across the lobby when he caught sight of her again. He jogged through the throng of new arrivals pulling luggage behind them and jockeying for a spot in the check-in line and stayed just far enough behind to keep her in sight.
“Got her, boss,” he spoke into his head set, “she’s leaving the hotel.”
“Good job, Travis. Don’t lose her.”
JESSE PARKED at Clarke County Police Headquarters and ventured inside. He made several inquiries, showing his creds to three different officers before he was directed to the homicide division.
Lieutenant Ted Zystra welcomed him into his office and pointed to a vinyl chair in front of his desk. “What can I do for the Texas Ranger’s violent crime squad, Ranger Quantrall?”
Jesse outlined his mission in Las Vegas and how it linked to the latest victim, Steven Mathers.
“Autopsy on Mathers isn’t scheduled until tomorrow, but I had a look at the body and there isn’t a mark on him. The ME couldn’t come up with a COD. Nothing.”
“Like the others,” said Jesse.
The lieutenant raised an eyebrow. “There are others?”
“You might not have noticed, because they wouldn’t have come to you as homicides,” said Jesse, “but this is the fourth one fitting the criteria.”
“Don’t tell me that. The last thing I need on my turf is a serial.”
“I’m afraid it’s true.”
“Well, Ranger Quantrall, as soon as you explain to me what authority you have over four murders that took place in Las Vegas, I’ll be happy to co-operate in your investigation in every way.”
Jesse passed a card across the desk. A plain black card bearing only a cell number.
“What’s this?”
“My authority.”
“Okay.” The loot wore a skeptical look. He picked up the hand set next to his elbow and punched in the n
umber. He sat stone-faced listening to the response, then said, “Yes, sir. Happy to help, sir.”
The lieutenant’s eyes widened as he nodded at Jesse. “Uh huh. I understand.”
Jesse grinned. “Sometimes, I don’t understand myself.”
TRAVIS DIDN’T KNOW how in hell he could follow Sandra Beauchamp if she jumped into a cab and took off into the endless Vegas traffic. Luckily, when he stepped out of the revolving doors and paused under the porte-cochere, he caught a glimpse of her handing a ticket to the valet nearest his station. Travis beckoned one of the other lads wearing a hotel shirt and did the same without drawing attention to himself. In such a crowded area with so many guests waiting for vehicles, she wasn’t likely to notice him.
At least he’d have a fighting chance to tail her if she was driving her own vehicle. If he was close enough when she parked, he might be able to tag her and make his job a lot easier later on.
One of the valets brought her vehicle around, hopped out and laid a huge grin on her. She tipped him and slid behind the wheel. Black Lexus. Travis made a metal note of the tag number, got his tip ready and jumped into the Jeep when his guy brought it around. He was ready to go just as she pulled out onto Las Vegas Boulevard. Traffic was heavy, and she crawled along, waiting at every stoplight along with all the rest. It was easy to keep an eye on her in such a slow-moving grid.
He followed her to Aria. She gave her car keys to one of the valets and strutted inside, walking ram-rod straight on four-inch heels.
Travis hung back a little, holding the door for two other couples to go ahead of him. When he crossed the sumptuous lobby, he caught a glimpse of her sitting next to a potted tree with her phone in her hand. Was she waiting for someone? He found a bench on the opposite side of the lobby with a clear sightline to Sandra and snatched up a discarded magazine.
It wasn’t long, maybe six or seven minutes, a guy in a well-cut suit about fifty years old or a bit younger walked over to her and gave her his hand. She smiled at him, stood up and they walked together to Blossom. Travis didn’t have a reservation and he didn’t think he would like the food in there anyway. He figured them for at least an hour in the restaurant—maybe longer if they drank a couple bottles of wine.
He found the men’s room, then grabbed a beer at a nearby bar and called Jesse. “She’s having dinner with a guy at Aria. Did you get anything from the cops?”
“Autopsy is tomorrow if we want to go.”
“We’re invited?”
“Uh huh. And I got the coroner’s reports on the other three victims. They weren’t classified as homicides.”
“Good job, boss.”
“Call me when she’s on the move. I’m going up to watch the poker game.”
“You better play, boss. Less obvious.”
“Uh huh. You could be right.”
JESSE CLEANED up in the second bedroom in Annie’s suite, splashed on cologne and took the elevator to the top floor where Annie had said the private game took place. He knocked on the door and was greeted by a stocky Italian fellow in a burgundy uniform.
Jesse almost choked on the invisible cloud of cologne escaping through the half open door. “Did you call ahead for a seat, sir?” He looked Jesse up and down, eyeballing the jeans, the hat and the cowboy boots.
“Sorry. No, I didn’t, but I think my wife is playing,” Jesse drawled. “Can I come in? If you don’t have any seats open, I can just watch her.”
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Jesse Quantrall.”
No hint of recognition. “Uh huh, and your wife is?”
“Annie Powell-Quantrall.”
The door swung open at the mention of Annie’s name and Jesse was welcomed in.
The poker boss strode over to the table and said, “Your husband is here, Mrs. Powell, and he’d like to play?”
Annie turned around and beamed a smile. “Hey, cowboy. Come play with me.”
“I’ll get him some chips.”
Jesse whipped out a roll of cash, peeled off a few bills and handed them over. Before taking his seat, he leaned down and kissed Annie’s neck and at the same time whispered, “Is it okay for me to be here, Ace?”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Rudy stepped closer to the table to introduce Jesse, but Annie did the honors. “This is my husband, Jesse Quantrall. Don’t be too hard on him.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Quantrall,” said Walt Atherton, offering a hand across the table. “Been thinking of getting one of my mares bred, and I know you have the finest Appaloosas in Texas.”
“True enough,” said Jesse. “Be happy to show you my stock anytime, sir.”
“We’ll talk later.”
THE BUS PULLED into the terminal and the lady sitting next to Zach stood up in the aisle with her bag in her hand. She smiled down at him. “Time to get off, Zachary. Nice talking to you.”
Zach nodded and followed her to the door of the bus. He stood on the sidewalk wondering which way his house was from here. Downtown Killeen, the town where he grew up, but everything felt so different. Looking around in all directions, he recognized nothing—none of the stores on this street had been there twelve years ago. Where was Hank’s Hardware? It couldn’t be gone.
He hummed as he got his bearings and figured it out in his head—Fort Hood was that way, so he had to go the opposite way. His house was at the other side of town.
It took him an hour to walk the distance from the terminal to the older residential area where he and Mary had bought their house. His feet hurt. The shoes were too small and were killing him. He stood out front for a couple of minutes just staring at the two-bedroom bungalow and remembering his life in this house. Life with Mary.
He trudged down the walk at the side of the house and opened the gate he’d built himself when he’d put up the fence between his house and Joe Bradshaw’s place.
A ‘good-neighbor’ fence they called it at the lumber store, but it was a fucking lie. Joe wasn’t a good neighbor at all. Joe Bradshaw was screwing around with Mary. When the fence was finished, and he’d finished planting all the new shrubs and flowers around the yard, Zach told Mary he wanted to have a barbeque to celebrate. Mary was excited and made a big bowl of potato salad.
Zach watched her that morning, making hamburger patties, and baking a cake. She looked so pretty in her cut-off shorts and her halter top, her blond hair bouncing as she hurried around the kitchen.
“Mary had a little…” Zach sang as he stood on the bare patio. Weeds were poking up between the patio slabs and the barbeque was gone. He gazed at the hard dirt in the barren flower beds. Two of the bushes he’d planted were clinging to life, all the rest were dead.
He looked down and stopped singing as he stared at the dark brown stain on the patio stones. “I’m sorry, Mary.”
He turned and tried the back door and it was locked. He picked up a rock from the nearest flower bed, smashed the glass and reached inside for the lock.
In the basement he found everything he needed. Nothing had changed on his workbench. He soaked rags in paint thinner, spread them around the kitchen and the bedrooms, then tucked a few under the dusty old drapes in the living room. After one last look around, he lit the rags on fire with the barbeque lighter and went out the back door.
BLAINE MADE the drive to Killeen in just under an hour. He didn’t bother with the siren, but the flashing lights definitely helped ward off highway patrol. The navigation system plotted the route to the house Fisher had lived in with his wife, Mary. The house where he’d been arrested after the bloodbath in the backyard.
“Wonder what made him go nuts at the barbecue twelve years ago and kill his wife and the neighbors, bro?” asked Farrell as they cruised down Fisher’s street.
“No idea,” said Blaine, then he hollered, “What the hell is happening?” A cloud of black smoke reduced visibility to almost zero.
Farrell lowered his window. “Smoke,” said Farrell, “and fire—I can barely see through the
smoke, but I think a house is on fire.”
“Fifty says it’s Fisher’s house. Goddam fuck it to hell.”
CHAPTER FIVE
TRAVIS ALMOST missed Sandra Beauchamp when she came out of Blossom. He’d grown tired of sitting and his eyes had closed of their own accord. Only by sheer chance did he awaken in time to see her cross the lobby to the exit with her dinner date. He jumped to his feet so fast, his head spun a little, but the scaly trunk of the tree next to him offered a moment’s support.
“Shit get it together, man.”
Travis hustled outside, gave his ticket to the valet and tried to zero in on his prey, but they were gone.
“Dammit. If they don’t go to the poker game, I am screwed and tattooed. Jesse will be sorely pissed at me.”
The valet brought the Jeep around and Travis took off. “How in hell did she get her car so fast?”
Maybe they drank a lot at dinner and took a cab. That would explain it.
Fifteen minutes later he was back at Caesars’ in the elevator on the way to the top of the world. He tapped on the door of the private suite and Rudy opened it.
“Ah, Major Bristol, welcome. Haven’t seen you for a while. I don’t have an open seat, but you are welcome to wait at the bar if you wish.”
“Thanks, Rudy. I need to speak to one of the players, but I don’t need to play.”
“Come in and make yourself at home, sir.”
Travis walked over to Jesse and leaned down. “Talk to you a minute?” He walked over to the long buffet table set against the window wall and Jesse followed.
“What’s up, Trav?”
“I lost her. If she doesn’t show up here, I don’t know where in hell she went.”
“Okay, maybe she’ll come here. Did she recruit a new guy?”
“Uh huh, they had dinner at Aria.”
“Maybe that’s her pattern—they go to dinner, then she suggests a poker game. Don’t worry.” He pointed, “Make a plate of food and have a beer while you wait.”
“How’s the game going?”
Jesse shrugged. “Annie is winning and chatting people up. I’m mostly folding.”
