by Carolina Mac
“Medical Examiner isn’t finished,” said Blaine. “Farrell, get some pictures of the scene before he moves the body.”
Farrell went inside with the Nikon and Blaine stood on the little patch of grass with the Governor. “What are your thoughts on taking this one, son?”
“Wouldn’t be ethical, sir. I could be a suspect as well as several other people I can think of. I wouldn’t even have to give it any thought.”
Richardson nodded. “He wasn’t popular. I didn’t care for him myself. Matter of fact, I was trying several different ways to have him removed from his position.”
“See what I mean?”
“We don’t have much interest in who killed him, do we?”
“And that wouldn’t give him the investigation he’s entitled to, would it?”
“No, son. You’re right.”
JESSE AND TRAVIS caught up to the others inside the
condo. “Tight quarters in here,” said Jesse, feeling sweat break out on his forehead. “Might have to wait outside.”
“You go outside, boss,” said Travis, “and find someplace to sit down. I’ll see what Blacky wants me to do.”
I feel like a fuckin invalid and the boys watch me like I’m gonna kick off any second.
Jesse went outside, sat on the front step and inhaled a
couple of deep breaths. He hadn’t worked for a while and he missed it, but not as much as he thought he would. It took too much effort to do the things he used to do. He gripped the handrailing and stood up to let the ME and his assistant pass with the body bag.
Farrell followed the ME out and stood with Jesse on the little patch of grass next to the sidewalk. “Want to go sit in the truck, boss? You look tired.”
“Jesus, Farrell, don’t ever have a fuckin heart attack. You’ll be tired for the rest of your fuckin life.”
“I hear ya, boss, but for what it’s worth, I think you’ll
notice a difference once you have some down time away from the stress machine.”
Jesse smiled. “Think so?”
“For sure. It ain’t all you. That asshole would wear any man down.”
AFTER THE ME took Markwood to the morgue, Lopez
cornered Blaine in the kitchen of the condo. “Got any feelings on this one, Blacky? I’ve learned to trust your instincts, and I don’t place my trust lightly.”
“Can’t say, Detective, at least not yet. Don’t want to point you in a false direction. See what you’ve got in a couple of days and we’ll talk.”
Lopez gave him an open-mouthed stare. “Shit, Blacky, that’s evasive—even for you. Something goin on?”
“Uh huh. Give me a couple.”
“Okay, a couple of days and we’ll compare notes.” Lopez gave Blaine a ‘thumbs up.’ “I trust you, kid.”
Don’t. Don’t trust me on this one.
ANNIE SHRUGGED ON a jacket and grabbed her purse. “Race, are you coming? Time to pick Jackson up.”
“Sure, I’m ready, baby.” He pushed her up against the wall in the hallway and kissed her. “I love you, girl.”
Annie pulled away and continued towards the door. “Remember we had that little talk about you behaving yourself?”
Race chuckled. “Yeah, I forgot.”
“Don’t forget again, okay? I’m married—and not to you.”
“I’ll try to remember.” He winked at her.
BLAINE AND Farrell arrived back at Coulter-Ross and found the house deserted. Travis had been dispatched to drive Jesse back to Quantrall to his trailer. After the outing at the crime scene, Jesse wasn’t up for the interviews.
Rosalie puttered around in the kitchen cleaning up the lunch dishes.
“Where is everybody, Rosie?”
“Picking up little Jacks, Mr. Blaine. He can come home.”
“Yeah, I forgot about that.” He poured himself a mug of coffee and one for Farrell. “Some men will be coming for
interviews in a little while. Will you show them where the office is when they arrive?”
“Of course. Did you let Jose know at the gate?”
“Uh huh. I did.”
“I make sandwiches for you and Farrell. You didn’t eat?”
“No, we didn’t have time. Thanks, Rosie. You are my… I forget the word in Spanish… sweetheart.”
Rosalie dried her hands on her apron. “Why your Spanish so terrible, Mr. Blaine? A handsome Latino like you.”
Blaine laughed. “I guess my Mom wanted me to speak English.”
“I don’t,” she said with a grin. “Not natural.”
“I’ll try to learn more words.”
“You should,” she said, “Your mother tongue.”
Right, Rosie. It’s disgusting that I can’t speak Spanish.
Blaine set the two mugs on the desk in the office and grabbed for his cell. “Yeah, Blackmore.”
“Don’t hang up, Mr. Blackmore, it’s me, Logan.”
“I’m listening.”
“I don’t think we got off on the right foot, and I want to apologize for a couple of things I might have said.”
“Might have said? No, you said them alright. You insulted my mother and that’s why your ass is fired.”
“I need the job. I’m asking for another chance.”
“We were short-handed in Columbia because of you, and it won’t happen again. Sorry, but the answer is no. You can’t work for the Blackmore Agency.”
“That him again, bro?” asked Farrell.
“I felt kind of sorry for him,” said Blaine.
Farrell smirked, “But not sorry enough?”
There was a soft tap on the door and Rosalie opened it. A tall man, tanned and fit-looking in a navy-blue suit strode across the room with his hand out. “Mr. Blackmore-Powell, a pleasure to meet you in person.” He placed a large Manilla envelope on the desk in front of Blaine.
Judging by the gray in his dark hair, Blaine placed his age close to fifty. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Welsh, have a seat.” Blaine turned, introduced Farrell then removed the substantial contents of the envelope. He leafed quickly through and said, “It appears you have extensive experience.”
“I do, and because of all the time I’ve put in, I’m not
interested in a junior position. I’m also not willing to serve any paper. I’ve long outgrown that chore.”
“I see,” said Blaine, “what would be your ideal workday?”
“Since I’m not willing to take unnecessary risks any
longer, I think managing your office would be ideal.”
You want to walk right in and be the boss. I get it.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Welsh.” Blaine pointed to the wad of printed pages. “Give me a day or two to read through the material you’ve supplied, and I’ll let you know about a second interview. Farrell will escort you to your vehicle.”
“Don’t you want to ask me anything else? I can supply you with more references than the ones listed, if you need them.”
“Not right now,” said Blaine. “I’m just doing screening this morning. I don’t have a lot of time.”
“You’ll let me know as soon as possible?”
“I will.”
Welsh was barely out the door when Jackson came crashing in balancing precariously on a pair of pint-sized crutches. “Wanna see me walk on these, Blaine?”
“I sure do. Look out, you’re going to hit the desk.”
“I’m getting the hang of it. I can’t step on my leg until the doctor says so.”
“You do what the doc tells you and your leg will heal up good as new.”
“Daddy said if I did what the doctor said, he’d take me for a ride when his new Harley comes.”
“Is your Dad getting a new bike?”
“Yep. He lost his old one at the border.” Jackson screwed up his face. “I don’t know what that means.”
I do, but I can’t explain it to you. Race’s ride is probably sitting in an impound yard where it’s been the last six years, since they
first carted him off to jail. I bet I could locate it inside of ten minutes—if I wanted to. Do I? Nope.
The next two candidates were worse than the first. “Jesus, Farrell, are we ever gonna find somebody we can count on?”
“Guess so, when another Travis walks through the door.”
“Good point.” Blaine tapped his pen on his yellow pad. “Do you think we’re good here at the ranch, or should we be looking for more professional digs?”
“Too many strangers coming here to the ranch,” said
Farrell, “and for me, the safe-house is an issue. A lot of
visitors make me antsy for the boys.”
“Yeah, I hear you. Worst scenario, we could use the office I already have in town, at least temporarily.”
“At y’alls lawyer store?”
“That’s the one.”
“Might feel like more of a business location. See what Jesse thinks.”
MONDAY NIGHT at Boots and Saddles wasn’t prime time. No live band meant lots of empty booths to pick from and the
patrons weren’t as hyped. The ambiance stayed the same—cold beer, loud county music, cowboys and bikers.
“Glad we’re out of the house for a while,” said Farrell. “I’m sick of listening to the new Race. The one that talks and gives his opinion on every fuckin subject. I liked him a lot better when the asshole was brain dead and mute.”
Blaine smiled at his foster brother. Farrell didn’t have much of a filter. “Jesse and Ty are meeting us here.”
Farrell waved to Julie, the waitress. “Boss didn’t look good this morning at the crime scene. He was worn out and sweatin like a pig and he was standing still. Shouldn’t be working yet, but I’m no doc.”
“He hates sitting around and taking it easy,” said Blaine, “Goes against his hard-working nature.”
“Yeah, it would be hard after all those years of training horses and working in the barn all day. I feel bad for him.”
Julie brought frosted glasses and a pitcher of Lone Star and set them up. “More coming?”
“Yep,” said Blaine, “Jesse and Ty are driving down for a couple.”
Julie’s face lit up. She’d carried a torch for Tyler Quantrall for a long time and didn’t care who knew it. “Nice. Any snacks?”
“Sure,” said Farrell. “Bring us a couple baskets of those suicide wings.”
“Sure thing.”
“She’s nice,” said Farrell. “Why don’t Tyler pick up the slack on that one?”
Blaine shrugged. “Can’t say. I think I heard he took her out once.”
“She’s pretty,” said Farrell. “And she’s hot for him. What’s the hold up?”
Blaine laughed and pointed. “You can ask him in one
minute, as soon as he sits down.”
Blaine and Farrell shifted over to make room for Jesse and Tyler. “Your girlfriend was asking after you, Ty. You should jump on that wagon.”
Ty grinned. “Think so, Farrell? Why don’t you give it a shot, if you’re interested?”
“Might, if you’re standing down.”
“I am.”
Farrell gave Ty a ‘thumbs up.’ “Good to know I’m clear.”
Julie rushed over wearing a huge smile when she saw
Tyler. “Heard you were coming tonight. How’ve you been?”
“Good enough,” mumbled Tyler.
“I’ll get y’all another couple pitchers.”
“Not many here tonight,” said Jesse. “Won’t be any fights.”
“Damn good thing,” said Tyler, giving his brother the stink-eye. You ain’t to be fighting. Brian said so.”
Jesse chuckled. “Kind of miss it. At least one a week.”
“Yeah, you haven’t been filling your dust-up quota,” said Blaine. “Put it on your list for when you’re stronger.”
Blaine’s cell rang and he checked the screen. Enright.
“Yes, sir, something I can do for you?”
“I know what you think. Need to talk to you.”
You’re in Texas and Markwood is dead. I can add.
“Do you know where Boots and Saddles is? A roadhouse south of Giddings on seventy-seven?”
“Fuck, y’all are way the hell out there?”
“Yep, just got here.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Wait for me.”
This should be interesting.
Farrell tipped up his glass and emptied it. “Who was that? You have a funny look on your face, bro.”
“Enright.”
Jesse leaned in closer. “He in Texas?”
“He’d have to be, wouldn’t he?” asked Farrell.
“If he did it,” said Blaine. “But if he did, and he had a brain, he’d already be back in Columbia.”
“What are you assholes talking about?” asked Tyler. “This is a social outing and don’t forget it.”
“Okay, Ty,” said Blaine, “Let’s have some fun.”
“Never seen you have too much fun, Blacky,” said Tyler. He pointed at a table across the room. “Why don’t you go dance with one of the girls in the short skirts.”
“I’m right behind you, Ty.”
“Yahoo,” hollered Ty. “I’m dancing.” He bolted out of the booth and slid across the dance floor towards a table of four girls with no apparent dates. He held out his hand to one of them and she stood up.
“Get going, bro,” said Farrell. “You said you were
dancing.”
“I was only fucking with Tyler,” said Blaine. “I don’t dance.”
“Here comes trouble.” Farrell sat facing the door, “and by the way he’s walking, I’d say he’s jacked up already.”
Blaine glanced up from his phone. “Oh, shit. Not another round with him.”
Jesse didn’t turn his head to stare. “Who is it?”
“Logan. I didn’t mention it, but he called earlier today and asked for his job back. That’s the second time.”
“Don’t think he’s right for us,” said Jesse. “His mouth gets him into trouble, and besides, Houston PD let him go for a reason.”
“Course they did.” Blaine hoped Logan and his buddy would walk right on by and not notice him, but no such luck.
“There’s the kid I want to see,” Logan stepped close to the table and leaned down towards Blaine. “I need my job back and Clarke needs a job too. You’d be well advised to hire both of us on.”
“No openings,” said Blaine. “The position has been filled.”
Farrell raised an eyebrow, took a wing out of the basket and dipped it.
“Liar,” hollered Logan at the top of his lungs. “You fuckin liar.”
“Who you calling a liar?” Tyler returned from his dancing marathon and spun Logan around.
“The Latino ganger with the hot momma, that’s who.”
Tyler drew his arm back and delivered a solid fist to
Logan’s face. Logan hit the floor and his buddy grabbed for Tyler’s shirt.
“Let me out,” hollered Farrell. “I ain’t missing this.”
Blaine jumped up and placed a vicious kick with his
Harley boot to the back of the buddy’s knee. Buddy groaned and fell to the plank floor beside Logan.
“Enough,” hollered one of the two bouncers running
towards the skirmish. They each took one of the downed combatants and hauled ass to the door.”
“Shit,” said Farrell, clenching and unclenching his first. “I didn’t even get one lick in.”
Jesse ordered another pitcher of beer after Logan had been tossed out and things settled down.
Julie brought their order and was about to move onto the next table when a deep voice said, “Bring me Glenfiddich, sweetheart. No ice.”
“Yes, sir, be right back.”
Enright squeezed in beside Blaine and nodded to the rest of the group. “Gentlemen. We meet again.”
Jesse introduced Tyler and they shook hands.
“So we’re all family here?” aske
d Enright.
“Yep,” said Blaine, “you can speak freely, or you and I can go to another booth. Your call.”
“Nothing personal, boys, but I need to speak to Blaine for a couple of minutes.” He stood up, turned and zeroed in on an empty booth at the back of the row.
Blaine brought his glass of Lone Star with him and set it down. “Go ahead.”
“When you saw Markwood’s corpse, my name probably came to mind first,” said Enright. “And you would have been correct—no doubt about it—if somebody hadn’t beat me to it. When my flight arrived from Columbia, I went directly to his address and found the deed was already done. To say I was disappointed was an understatement. The whole long flight I thought about how much pleasure it would give me to make him beg for his life.” He picked up his glass, drained it and gave Julie a signal. “A bit of the starch went out of me when I found him already dead.”
“Any thoughts on who got there first?”
“Jankovich wasn’t fond of him. I think Markwood passed him over on a couple of promotions. Rambocas, I’m not sure about. He was a bit of an ass-kisser.”
Julie brought another round and Enright gave her five bucks. “Markwood had personal enemies too. His wife found out about his girlfriend and he was on thin ice at home.”
“How do you know this stuff?”
“Fab knew the office gossip. She hated working for Markwood and liked to see him sweat.”
“Markwood had Zahn killed to cover his ass—that’s your theory,” said Blaine, “Who would he have used?”
“Somebody he could manipulate. Fab told me, Markwood kept personal files on all the agents in a locked cabinet in his home office.”
“Fab told you?”
Enright nodded. “Does it upset you to talk about her? If it does, I’m sorry. She told me you were a couple for a time and I got the impression she wasn’t over your relationship. I could’ve been reading her wrong, but I don’t think so.”
Blaine nodded. “It couldn’t work for us because of the… nature of her assignments.”
“Uh huh. The way she got her information. It was hard for me too, at first. But I learned to compartmentalize. I loved her, heart and soul.”
Blaine nodded again and stared hard at the table.
