The Complete Honey Huckleberry Box Set

by Margaret Moseley

  “I’ve just remembered an asset we have. Those plane tickets to New York and London. Can we cash them in?”

  “I’ve already thought of that. They’re nonrefundable. We do have those English pounds though. About four thousand dollars’ worth. They’re in that lock box with our passports. Guess I could re-exchange them and get dollars.”

  “Or . . .” and Janie’s eyes lit up. “We could use them and go to England. Of course, we’ll have to go to Padre Island first to find out what we’re supposed to be finding there.”

  I protested, “Oh, Janie I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? We can be broke and starve in England just as well as we can here.”

  SEVEN

  Janie Bridges was a plump fifty something who had problems of her own. She had unexpectedly left her husband and moved in with me a few months ago. It was at the same time I was letting down barriers in my life — mainly my self-imposed isolation in my house. I live in a three-story Victorian house slap-dab in the middle of a medical complex. It wasn’t a planned community but rather a matter of squatter’s rights.

  My house was there first.

  Janie was in love with the house. She especially liked my mother’s bedroom, which she had appropriated as her own. The high oak head- and footboards of the bed and the white, starched eyelet covers appealed to her whimsical sense — the same sense that made her love a good mystery whether it was in a book or in real life. Most times I felt as if I was the older woman, repeating cautions and adages, which Janie loved, saying they were directly descended from my mother’s mouth. Which was true.

  Taking our to-do list upstairs with me, I told Janie, “I need to take a bath before I start following this list. I think I’ll start with the electric company.”

  Janie giggled as she followed me up the stairs. “Better make it the water company then. No water, remember?”

  “Oh, shoot. How could I forget? Okay, no bath, but I sure need one. I was nervous as a pig over at Bondesky’s. I’m sure I smell like one.”

  Following me into my bedroom, Janie said, “You know, we got so sidetracked with the bills and the keys that I forgot all about Mr. Bondesky. Now, how come you didn’t try to read his computer files while you were there?”

  I had deliberately avoided telling Janie about Sledge Hamra. Once she found out I had met a real private investigator, she would be asking why I hadn’t asked him to supper so she could pump him for insider information about the investigating business.

  “Thank God for Wet Ones,” I said as I pulled a box from my bedside drawer. “At least I can freshen up before I head out.”

  Janie cocked her head and her muddy-rainbow bobbed hair, ranging from hues of dark brown to silver gray, fell across her eyes. She pushed the hair out of her face and said, “Honey, you haven’t answered my question.”

  “Oh, all right. There was a man there. A very disagreeable man, I might add. He is a private investigator and is looking for Bondesky, too.”

  “A PI? You met a real PI? Why on earth didn’t you say so? And what is he looking for Bondesky for? Is that why Mr. Bondesky is gone? Aha. He’s done something illegal, right? Ran away with all your money and someone else’s, too.”

  I held up my hand, waving the Wet One in the air. “Whoa. Hold on there, Bessie. Before you reach the finish line, may I remind you that you’re the one who assured me Bondesky was all above-board in his dealings? And that my money was perfectly safe with him? Not that I am blaming you, Janie, but you are jumping to conclusions here.”

  “Then why the PI?”

  “Mr. Alvin ‘Sledge’ Hamra is looking for Steven Bondesky because Bondesky handled his finances, too. He seemed as strapped as we are.” I threw the used Wet One in the pink trash can by my bed. “Well, I’m off to make the rounds.”

  “Start at Kroger’s,” Janie told me.

  “The grocery store? I’m paying utilities, not buying groceries.”

  Janie nodded as she trailed after me as I went downstairs. “Yes, their community desk. You can pay most of them there. All of them, I think.”

  “No kidding? Well, will wonders never cease. What a convenience. And I didn’t check Bondesky’s computer files with Mr. Pie looking over my shoulder. Just because he said he was looking for Bondesky for personal reasons, how do I know he was telling the truth?” I went into the kitchen to get my purse.

  Janie remained on the landing at the bottom of the stairs. She called after me, “Is he seven feet tall and looks like Mr. Clean and dresses like Kramer on the Seinfeld show?”

  “Yes, that’s him exactly. Did I tell you that?”

  “No, he’s standing on our front porch. Does he always have that angry look on his face?”

  We both peered through the lace curtain covering the glass front door. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “That may be his natural expression. It’s the same one he had at Bondesky’s. Isn’t he awful?”

  “I don’t know. I think he’s kind of cute.”

  I gave her a disgusted look as I opened the front door. “Honestly, Janie.”

  Sledge Hamra was reaching for the doorbell key. “Hello,” I said. “That didn’t take you long.”

  “I had to stop for gas.” Hamra went ahead and turned the key to the doorbell. “Sorry, I’ve always wondered how those sounded.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “Can I come in? I’ve been thinking about our mutual predicament and have an offer for you.”

  I looked at Janie. “Is it okay with you? I’m not scared of him.”

  She nodded her head. “I’m not scared of him.”

  “Okay, you can come in. But make it quick. I have to go to the grocery store. This is my friend and housemate, Janie Bridges. Janie, Mr. Hamra.”

  Hamra gave the first smile I had ever seen on his face and reached for Janie’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Bridges.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Hamra. Would you like a Coke? We still have some cold ones in the refrigerator. I haven’t opened the door much. Well, they won’t be ice cold, but . . .”

  “That would fine, yes. So, you’ve had your electricity turned off?” He turned from Janie to ask me.

  “Temporarily. That’s where I’m going. To get it turned back on. As well as the water and hopefully to pay the telephone bill before they cut it off, too.” I waved him into the living room and indicated he should sit down on the sofa.

  The big man just stood in awe as he gave the room the once over. I’ll admit the floor-to-ceiling dark paneled doors that also were on the other wall that opened into the dining room were magnificent and impressive, but I didn’t think the velvet-covered furniture with tatted doilies was his cup of tea. He sat down gingerly on the sofa, as if he was afraid it wouldn’t hold his bulk. I had my doubts, too.

  “What a house,” he said. “Lady, you must be loaded. I had that feeling when I saw you at Bondesky’s. Especially when you drove off in that new Plymouth Voyager. That’s why I came up with this idea.”

  “What idea is that?” asked Janie for me as she came in the living room with a tray full of Cokes and tea cookies.

  I was surprised that Hamra had such good manners. It didn’t go with his looks. He thanked Janie, took a napkin, and then the Coke and a few cookies from the tray. “It’s like this. We’ve both got the same problem. Finding Steven Bondesky and, consequently, our money.”

  “True,” I agreed.

  “So, it’s clear to me,” he said.

  “Clear to me,” echoed Janie.

  “Why am I the one in the dark here? Janie, can I have a Coke, too?”

  “Oh, sorry, Honey.” She handed me the tray.

  “Gee, thanks. Okay, what do you two know that I don’t?”

  Janie opened her Coke and said, “Why, Mr. Hamra is a private investigator, Honey.”

  “Right.”

  “We hire him to find Steven Bondesky. What could be clearer than that?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Janie shook her he
ad. “No.”

  Hamra shook his bald head. “No.”

  Janie got up and took the Coke can out of my hand. “Honey, you better run along and pay the bills so we can have the lights on before dark. And the water, so I can cook.” She turned to the private investigator perched on the edge of my great aunt’s couch. “Mr. Hamra, surely you’ll stay for supper?”

  EIGHT

  It was a muggy day that turned into a muggier early evening as I drove through the heavy air to Steven Bondesky’s west side office for the second time that day. The threat of imminent rain was as clear as the bankruptcy I was going to have to declare if I didn’t find the dear man. In fact, the dark clouds overhead contributed to the gathering gloom as much as the early fall sunset.

  I didn’t know how to do what Sledge Hamra had done to get in the office, so I just used my emergency key. The one Steven Bondesky had given me in case something ever happened. It was to be used for an unspecified occasion, and I figured now was the time. I hadn’t wanted Mr. Hamra to know I had the key, and even now, as I fit it in the lock, I turned and looked over my shoulder at the quiet neighborhood.

  The first bolt of lightning and resulting thunder sent me scurrying inside the office building. Hard rain began to fall as I closed the door behind me and surveyed the still — I hoped — empty office.

  I shut the door to the reception room and hurried to pull the curtains over Bondesky’s one outside window before I switched on the overhead light.

  One press of my thumb was all it took to activate the silent computer. Quickly I gave the Clover password and watched as the screen began to fill with rows of files. I clicked on Client List and was scrolling to the Hs when my eye caught a name that stood out like a neon sign: Harrison Armstead.

  My Harry.

  I again moved the mouse and clicked on Harry’s name. Just as it came up, there was a tremendous clap of thunder and the whole room blinked and the computer shut off. I knew Bondesky had surge protectors — he had certainly warned me about them enough — so I waited a few minutes and pushed the On button again.

  The computer didn’t respond, but the telephone rang.

  Without the benefit of a caller ID, I didn’t know what to do. Answer or not answer? Suddenly, I remembered that Janie knew I was at Bondesky’s office. What if something had happened at the house? I took a deep breath and answered the phone, but it was a tentative “Hello” at best.

  “Huckleberry?” Steven Bondesky’s gravely voice was unmistakable.

  “Bondesky?” I replied in kind.

  “What are you doing at my office? I did call my office, didn’t I?”

  I nodded. “Yes, well . . . you were gone, you know. And I was worried about you and why my bills weren’t paid . . .”

  He cut me off. “Listen, I don’t have much time. Is anyone else there with you?”

  I looked around the office. “No. Just me.” I added, “Bondesky, are you all right? Where are you?”

  “It’s not like they’re making me stay, you know,” he said.

  “No, of course not,” I answered. “But, who is they?”

  There was some static on the line, then “. . . about the money.”

  “Yes, yes.” I said excitedly. “Tell me about the money.”

  Three things happened then.

  Bondesky said, “Oh, no.”

  Lightning struck nearby, and the line went dead.

  The lights in the office didn’t even blink as they went to black.

  I groped my way to the curtained window. It was only marginally lighter outside when I thrust the curtain aside, and most of the light came from lightning flashes. Something nearby must have been struck. As far as I could see, there was only darkness and blowing rain.

  As I drove home in the rain, I thought of another cryptic phone call I had received earlier in the year. A call that had led me down some strange and dangerous paths. That call had been from a Steven, too. I tried to look on the positive side. At the end of the first Steven phone call, I had found my four million dollars. Maybe I could re-find it if I concentrated on the latest call. My mind totally refused to recall the dead bodies that had accompanied the ensuing melee.

  The lights were out on the south side of Fort Worth, too. That is, they were out in my house.

  “The lady at Kroger’s was glad to take my money, all right,” I told Janie and Hamra as we ate Taco Bell salads by candlelight. “But she said it would be tomorrow before the utilities would be reconnected. Do you know what they charge to reconnect electricity? It’s highway robbery.”

  Hamra tried to slip Bailey a broken piece of his taco shell. I caught the movement in the glimmer of light and rebuked the big man. “We don’t feed Bailey from the table. He has his own diet and own eating vessels on the back porch.”

  “Sorry,” Hamra said, but I noticed Bailey gulped down the meat-laden chip anyway.

  Words cannot begin to describe how I had felt when Bailey had fallen on Hamra like a long-lost relative. Disgust and betrayal were just a few that came to mind. “No, honest, I’ve never seen this dog before,” the investigator had denied when I accused him of being an impostor. “Dogs just like me. Always have.”

  “Sit, Bailey,” I commanded the dog.

  And he did.

  “Hey, good trick. Can he do this one? Down, Bailey.”

  And Bailey lay down.

  “My personal favorite,” I said in one-upmanship is ‘Dance, Bailey.’ ”

  And the happy dog rose on his back legs and crossed his front paws and “danced.”

  With a gleam in his untrustworthy eyes, Hamra said, “You’re a dead dog, Bailey.” And the damned dog fell to a flop on the floor.

  “I didn’t know he knew how to do that! How did you know? Did you teach it to him? You can get up now, Bailey.”

  “Yeah, while you were messing with supper, Bailey and I had a little fun. Yeah, I just taught it to him.”

  “Well, he’s a smart dog, yes, but let’s cut to the chase, Mr. Hamra. Just who are you, and why on earth should I hire you to find Bondesky?” I wasn’t about to tell even Janie that I had heard from the missing man — not with Sledge Hamra still dominating our household.

  “Whoa. You do get to it, don’t you, Honey?” I didn’t even like the way he said my name.

  “I’m tired. I find out today I’m broke. What do you want me to do? I’ve been just about as nice as I can be. Now it’s your turn.” It was time for the mud to hit the fan. I’m almost thirty years old, and I still can’t say the popular vernacular for what actually is supposed to hit the fan. Guess I’ll never outgrow my mother’s training.

  Hamra glanced sideways at Janie and patted Bailey’s adoring head before answering, “I am a private investigator. I told you that. I’ve been away on an assignment—down Mexico way. Actually, I don’t even live here. I’m from Arizona, but I had heard about Steven Bondesky and his financial connections. Sometimes I make money that’s hard to report.” He glanced at Janie again, who nodded at him like she knew what he was talking about.

  “Excuse me? You have illegal gains, and you give them to Bondesky?” I was indignant. Janie frowned at me, and I remembered we weren’t quite sure where my money had come from, either. “Go on,” I said.

  “Not illegal. I earned the money. It’s just that it’s mostly always in cash, and the best way to cover my gains, as you put it, is to give it to someone who can . . .” and he hesitated as he looked for the right word.

  “Launder the cash. That’s what he means, Honey.” Janie jumped into the conversation. “You know in your heart that everything Mr. Bondesky does is not one hundred percent kosher.” She turned to the man on her left. “We understand, Sledge. What we don’t know is where Mr. Bondesky is. Or where Honey’s money is.”

  “Okay, I’ve got contacts that can help me with the investigation. With finding your accountant. What I need from you is information. Like — when did you last see him, and what was his state of mind at the time? And has he ever disappeared
before? Did you ever see anyone suspicious hanging around? One other thing: Are we talking really big money here? That would make a difference, you know.”

  Lord, I felt I was betraying my very own flesh, but I was as worried about Bondesky as I was the money. I think. Anyway, I answered, “First of all, there were always suspicious characters hanging around Bondesky, and I saw him last over a month ago, and it was a very emotional event. The funeral of his childhood sweetheart. I helped him spread her ashes, and he was very distracted. Distraught. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

  “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. Why didn’t you see him after that? I gather you two were close? Closer than just client/accountant relationship? And you didn’t tell me how much money.” Hamra was good at this.

  For the first time today, I started thinking for myself. Questions swirled around in my head. “Let’s just say it’s a very large amount of money, Mr. Hamra.”

  Janie yawned. “Can we do this some more in the morning? I’m asleep on my feet. Anyway, we won’t find Mr. Bondesky tonight. And tomorrow we’ll have lights and gas and, I hope, water. I’ll make breakfast, and we can start again.” When Janie winds down, she goes out fast.

  “Yes, sounds good to me,” I said.

  Hamra grimaced. “Well, I can’t come back, because I have no place to go. I mean it when I say I’m broke. Surely in this big house you have a spare bedroom. Just some place for me to crash? I’m all done in, too.”

  “There’s just three bedrooms, and one of them is my war room, so, no, we don’t have a spare bed,” I told him. I was ready for this hulk to go.

  “War room?” he asked.

  “Honey, there’s the top floor. Where Joaquin and Steven Hyatt stayed.” Leave it to Janie to spill the beans.

  “No. No, he definitely cannot stay up there.” I said the words, but my mind suddenly zeroed in on one bit of information that had played at the edge of my consciousness ever since I had visited Bondesky’s office. If Bondesky had called his office, he had expected someone to answer. I knew it wasn’t me, so the question was: Who had Bondesky expected to answer the phone?