by Carolina Mac
JESSE SLEPT most of the way to Toronto, his long legs stretched out in front of his first-class seat. They landed in the midst of a rainstorm that became all the more formidable when temperatures dropped below freezing with the onset of darkness. Torrents of rain switched gears and turned to pounding ice pellets. Black ice formed as the thermometer plummeted and roads became skating rinks.
“Roads are going to be slippery,” said Annie, as she rented a four-wheel-drive vehicle. “Dozens of fender-benders.”
Jesse stood beside her, holding a sleeping Jackson in his arms. “Is he dressed warm enough, sweetheart? Looking at the Canadian people coming in from outside, I don’t think our jackets are warm enough.”
“We’ll get a hotel here on the airport strip, cowboy. We can’t drive until the roads are sanded. The roads in the north are always worse than the ones down here.”
“Good idea. We’ll order room service and hunker down with the remote.”
Annie smiled at him. “I like the sound of that plan.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Wednesday, March 15th. The Ides of March.
BLAINE ATE BREAKFAST early with Farrell and Annie’s cowboys and avoided having to look at Race or listen to him. The big ganger always came to the kitchen after Annie’s hired hands had gone to the barn to do their chores. Smart move. The cowboys on staff had been with her for years and hated Race with a passion. And for good reason. Prior bad acts were not easily forgotten.
Farrell was right. The introverted Race Ogilvie that Annie brought home from the hospital was by far preferable to the newer version emerging from his cocoon. The neurologist had predicted changes in Race’s future, but the doctor had no clue what the changes might be—brain cells had a mind of their own.
Blaine was in his bathroom brushing his teeth and wondering what he could come up with to get Race off the ranch when the Governor called.
“Morning, son. I’m pleased you decided to help with the Markwood case. With a big mix of bureaucracy, local and federal law enforcement, the investigation is sure to get bogged down before it gets off the ground.”
“Something came up that changed my mind.”
“I’d be interested in knowing what the something was.”
“Lunch at the Grille at one?”
“Absolutely. Any day I get time to eat is a good day.”
FARRELL STOOD on the porch smoking, ready to go. Blaine came out the door, briefcase in hand and hooked a thumb towards the garage. “Take the unit, pick up Travis and come to Austin. I’m meeting with Lopez to see what he’s got, but in the meantime y’all are on the wife.” He handed Farrell a post-it and a printer photo. “She’s staying at the Hilton downtown for the time being.”
Farrell stared at the picture. “She ain’t a beauty queen. You hacking her, boss?”
“Investigation, bro.”
“You think the wife is a suspect?”
“Top of the list until someone replaces her.”
“Gotcha.”
BLAINE PICKED up two large coffees at Starbucks before meeting with Lopez at police headquarters.
Lopez eyed the containers in Blaine’s hands and his black eyes flashed his gratitude. “My prayers are answered.”
“Me or the coffee?”
“Couldn’t ask for a better combo. You always shed light on my dead-end cases.”
“Hope that holds up.” Blaine sank into the vinyl chair next to the metal desk. “No Nielsen?”
“Root canal.”
Blaine made a face.
Lopez tilted his head towards the office phone. “Number one called me this morning to get me off on the right foot.”
“Number one… as in the Chief?”
“Number one in Texas.”
Blaine grinned. “Oh, Scott.”
“Fuck, you know his first name.”
Blaine sipped his coffee as Lopez sifted through reports on his desk. “Don’t they e-mail you the results?”
“Jesus, for sure they do, but I’m better looking at a sheet of paper. Know what I mean?”
“Not really, but okay. Give me the news as we know it.”
“The bullet matched nothing in the system. No surprise. Why not use a throw-away, if you have one?”
“Uh huh.”
“All DEA agents in the Austin field office have been
interviewed and alibied.”
Blaine raised a dark brow. “Solid alibis?”
“A couple were what you’d expect. Home watching TV, but could have been the truth. I’ll see that you get copies.”
“Bank records? Phone records?”
Lopez nodded. “Asked for but not received—not yet.”
“Okay,” Blaine ticked items off his list. “Wife? Girlfriend?”
“I notified the wife,” said Lopez. “She shed a couple of tears over the deceased, but confirmed that the marriage was over. She’s staying in a hotel. Good thing too, our people tossed the condo.”
“Anything there?”
“The lab is working on whatever they found. Patience.”
“Heard there was a woman on the side.”
Lopez cocked his head to one side. “Where are you getting your info?”
Blaine smiled. “Where I get most of it. Cyberspace.”
“That’s somewhere I don’t go.” Lopez glanced at his watch. “Interviewing the girlfriend this morning, but you probably already knew that. Come with?”
Blaine grinned. “Wild horses.”
SYLVIA TEMPLE-DAY lived in an upscale building not far from the Capitol. Lopez flashed his creds at the doorman and Blaine didn’t have to bother.
“You’ll have to sign in, sir,” said the dark green uniform. He pointed to an open guest book on the galley desk next to a huge vase of fresh flowers.
“This is police business, sir. I’m here to see Miss Temple-Day and if you have to write that down, do it.”
Lopez was testy already. Maybe he didn’t sleep well.
“What floor?” Blaine had already pressed the ‘up’.
“Penthouse.”
When they reached the top, the elevator doors opened
directly into Miss Sylvia’s foyer. Her front door was ajar, and Lopez called out before entering. “Detective Lopez, Miss Temple-Day.”
“Come in, please. I’m almost ready. A few more touches to my makeup and I’ll be ready for gentlemen callers.”
“This is my colleague and consultant on the case, Blaine Blackmore-Powell.”
Sylvia beamed and shot a slim hand towards him. “Lovely to meet you at last, Blaine.” She cocked her head slightly and said in a little-girl voice, “May I call you, Blaine?”
Blaine’s black eyes flashed anger as they always did when a stranger knew who he was. “If it would make you answer my questions more easily.”
Sylvia was a wannabee. Bottle blonde hair cut in a shaggy style, slim to the point of skinny, manicured nails and lips that were exaggerated and too red. She wore black yoga pants—too tight and revealing for a stick woman—and a white silk blouse unbuttoned low with no payoff.
Lopez rolled his eyes and sat down on the extremely low white sofa where Sylvia pointed. He set his recorder on the glass table in front of him.
Sylvia stared at Blaine’s black jeans, his Harley boots and the bandana slung around his neck and kept up her chatter. “Y’all are number one on the who’s who list in Texas, Blaine.
Everybody wants to meet you, at least everybody I know. But you don’t socialize with the rest of the A-list.”
“I don’t socialize, period,” said Blaine, “and I’m not on any list.” He held up a finger, “Hold on—on second thought, maybe one that starts with ‘H’. I’ve been on a couple of hit lists and I think I’m on one now.”
Lopez looked away.
Sylvia giggled. “Aren’t you the storyteller. Please have a seat.” She sat on a long, upholstered bench opposite Lopez and crossed her stork-like legs.
“I’ll stand,” said Blaine, his contrarines
s empowered by the tension in the air.
Lopez smiled and settled in for some good fun. He gave Blaine a nod to take the lead, turned on the recorder and set up date, time and case number. Lopez kept his dark eyes glued on Sylvia.
Blaine paced while he tossed out the questions. “Tell me about your relationship with Philip Markwood.”
Sylvia reached for a tissue and dabbed at her freshly made up eyes. “What a tragedy. Who would kill a sweet man like my Philly?”
“Somebody who didn’t like him,” said Blaine. “Do you know anybody like that?”
She managed a smile, “Of course I do. Phil was a complex man. Not easy to like until you got past the tough exterior.”
“But you knew him well?” Blaine had a notebook in his hand but wasn’t writing anything down.
“As well as anyone.”
Blaine sat down next to her and leaned in close. “As well as his wife?”
“Do we have to talk about her?”
“I want to.”
“JoAnne is a disagreeable woman,” said Sylvia. “She made Phil’s life hell.”
Blaine smiled, “And you made him feel better?”
She tossed her hair, “Well, I certainly did my best.”
“I’m sure you did,” said Blaine, “you must be angry at the person that killed Phil.”
Sylvia jumped to her feet. “You are so perceptive, Blaine. When I woke this morning, I wondered where all the anger was coming from. I could hardly contain myself.”
Is that when you took your first hit?
“Retribution is cleansing. I always found it to be.”
“Is that a sentiment from the gang days of your youth?”
Lopez stifled a guffaw.
“No, it’s something I learned from my mother.”
“Do you think we could have lunch with your famous mother sometime, Blaine? I would so love to meet her.”
“Is she on the A-list?”
“Of course, she is. Annie Powell is at the top of the list, right next to Governor Richardson. Everyone who’s anyone in Texas knows the powerful, beautiful one, Annie Powell.”
“Sylvia, let’s talk about where you were when Phil died. Your prints are going to show up all over Phil's condo, and do you know what I think?”
She sucked in a breath and her eyes widened. “What?”
“I think you were there,” Blaine pointed a finger in her face, “in Phil’s bed when the killer came to do his work.”
Lopez held his breath and kept silent.
Sylvia jumped up off the sofa like a startled gazelle, and grabbed her phone from the glass end table. “I’m calling my lawyer.”
“Make sure he’s on the A-list,” Blaine called over his shoulder as his Harley Boots clunked towards the elevator.
THE ELEVATOR DOORS closed, and Lopez laughed long and loud. “Amusing. You shook her up good, but do you think she’s capable of murder?”
“Anybody is in the right circumstance.”
“The wife had a better motive,” said Lopez. “He was going to divorce her.”
“We’d have to see the separation agreement—she might have been better off financially without old cheating Phil.”
“I took the wife’s statement and she has a solid alibi.”
“She would if she hired a hitter.”
“You’re brutal, know that?”
“Just say’n. If she used somebody, she’d make sure she was covered off. They always do.” Blaine and Lopez walked across the marble lobby to the exit.
“Why aren’t your guys with you?”
“They’re on the wife.”
Lopez stopped dead in his tracks. “What? You’re running surveillance on Mrs. Markwood?”
“Problem?”
“It would be a definite problem for me to get a warrant to do that.” Lopez beamed. “My wheels turn a lot slower than yours. I like having you on my side.”
Blaine checked his phone. “I have lunch with the Governor in ten minutes. Want to join?”
“Can’t. I have two other cases to catch up on, but thanks for the invite. Never had an A-list lunch offer before.”
RACE STORMED out of the garage when he found out
Annie and Jesse had gone away together. He’d overheard two of the boys from the safe-house talking about Annie’s trip to her cabin in Canada, and he’d questioned them on it.
Yep, she was gone for a week with Jesse and they had taken his son—his son, Jackson—without even asking him.
Annie had lied to him—out and out lied. She said she was taking Jacks to see his grandmother in Sante Fe and she’d be back today.
She’d pay for this. He loved her with all his heart, but a line had been crossed and she would have to pay. He’d make her pay.
He closed his bedroom door, tossed a duffel on the bed and began to pack.
BLAINE SAT in his truck behind the Capitol Grille and called Travis. “She doing anything worth watching?”
“Nope, nothing. Still in her room. We’re sitting in the
lobby reading the paper and drinking coffee.”
“Okay, leave her until I pay her a call. Move to the parking lot of the girlfriend’s building.” He gave Travis the address. “Lopez and I interviewed her and she’s interesting. I shook her up as much as I could on the first round. You might pick something up. She was about to call her lawyer as we were leaving.”
“Lopez see you plant it?”
“What do you think?”
“Good job, boss. Moving out and getting lunch on the way to the new location.”
THE GOVERNOR was twenty minutes late for lunch. Blaine had finished a draft and ordered another. He had written a set of notes on Sylvia Temple-Day’s interview. He liked her for Markwood, but figured she was smart enough to be devious.
The door to the private dining room opened and the Governor strolled in. “Sorry, son. I’m running behind as always. Did you order me a beer?” He smiled. “Oh, I see that you did.” He turned to the server. “What’s the special. I’m in a bit of a bind for a two o’clock meeting.”
Blaine glanced down at the time on his phone. “Can’t they cut you some slack—at least a few minutes to eat? You’re going to get an ulcer.”
“Already have one, but don’t tell Annie. She freaks out over my schedule.”
“She and Jesse went to Canada for a week and took Jackson. Race is trying his damndest to drive a wedge between Annie and Jesse.”
“I’d like to drive a wedge into Race Ogilvie. Would it do any good for me to call her?”
“We’ve already had words over it,” said Blaine. “I can’t keep quiet when it comes to Race hassling Jesse. He’s been good to me.”
“I’m glad they’ve gone to Canada. They need to be far away from Ogilvie to have any peace. Is there anything he can be arrested on? Something outstanding? Anything old?”
“That’s a good thought. Let me look into it.”
The food arrived quickly, and the Governor spent the next few minutes eating. While he enjoyed his dessert, Blaine brought him up to speed on the case.
“I’ve seen Miss Temple-Day at some functions at the Capitol. Last I heard, she was fawning over an old senator.”
“She’s a social climber. She asked me if I’d arrange a lunch date for her with Annie.”
“You’re kidding me?”
“Nope. She’s aggressive.”
“How aggressive? Had Markwood outlived his usefulness?”
“Why would he be useful to her anyway? He wasn’t good looking, and from all reports he was a miserable bastard. Dynamite in the sack? I doubt it. He was edging over the hill. A sugar daddy? Slipping her coke when she wanted it? I need to see who paid her rent.”
“Do you think his death was drug related?”
“If he was on the take, and I’m thinking he had to be, why would the cartel eliminate him if he was their free ride into Texas?”
“They wouldn’t kill him. They’d want to keep him calling the shots,” said th
e Governor. “Make their business run a lot smoother.”
“Exactly.”
“When you find the ‘why’ you’ll be closer to the ‘who.”
“Uh huh. Now Zahn isn’t that hard to figure out. Zahn knew that Hernando’s operation was ready to bust. The crop was in the storage sheds and Fabiana had given the go ahead. But Markwood didn’t move in. All he had to do was give Enright, who was the muscle in place in Columbia, the green light. But he didn’t do it. Zahn was Fab’s handler and she reported her progress through him. Zahn probably confronted Markwood—or whoever he answered to—might have been lower down the ladder—Jankovich or Rambocas. Doesn’t matter. Zahn put it out there that they had to execute the bust in a hurry and get Fab out or they would lose her as well as the product. Zahn made waves and had to be silenced.”
“I agree with that,” said the Governor. “It makes sense. But it doesn’t tell us who was on the take. It will be a job to get evidence, I’m thinking.”
Blaine checked his phone. “Go to your next meeting. I’ll take care of this. Are you attending the funeral tomorrow?”
“Yes, that’s tomorrow... already. Mrs. Warburton will have it on my calendar.”
TRAVIS AND FARRELL sat in the surveillance unit in the back row of the parking lot behind Twin Towers Apartments where Sylvia Temple-Day resided.
“Is that all the bitch does, talk on the phone?” asked
Farrell.
“She’s been at it for the past two hours,” said Travis. “Just yapping to her friends. “Nothing we can use.”
“Boss said she’s good looking, in a scary way,” said
Farrell, “Wish I had a picture of her.”
“Why would a good-looking young girl want to have an affair with a middle-aged bozo like Phil Markwood?” asked Travis.
“She didn’t care about his looks, because he didn’t have any. It was something else she was after. What could a DEA guy on the take give her besides drugs and money?” asked Farrell. He was making a few notes.
“Maybe that’s all he was doing. Giving her drugs and money and she was paying him off with sex.”
“You mean like there was no end game for her? She was good with him supporting her, keeping her in a high-class place, and supporting her habit?”
