Fast Money: A Shelby Nichols Adventure

by Colleen Helme

  “Me? Why?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Ah…so blunt, you Americans. It is only a small matter, nothing to be concerned about.”

  Yeah, right. “Okay, sure.”

  “Gracias, you are very kind,” he said. “I am hoping you can help me locate a certain individual. An American. Senor Joseph E. Manetto. I understand you worked for him. Have you received any recent letters or mail or phone calls from him? It would help us very much.”

  “Nope.” The lie came easily. “I don’t know anything about him, and I want to keep it that way. I hope you understand, but I’d rather not be involved.” Then something occurred to me. “How did you get my name and number? I haven’t worked for Uncle Joey…a …Mr. Manetto for a while.”

  “It is nothing,” he said. “We are only following up on some leads. Sorry to bother you. Buenos Dias.” The phone clicked and the dial tone buzzed in my ear. My heart sped up. What was that all about? How did they get my name and number? If I were a swearing person, I’d be swearing a blue streak right now. That’s how bad it was.

  I checked the Caller ID, hoping to get something official like “Mexican Police Department” but the number just said Out of Area. It had a zero-one-one area code, so that was probably legitimate. But that didn’t mean it was really the Mexican Police. It could have been anyone. So why call me? Did it have something to do with Kate? Was she trying to find out if I had the money?

  I started to chew my fingernails and realized I was getting seriously stressed out. I had to call Chris. This was getting out of hand. “Hey,” I began when he answered the phone. “Guess who I just got a call from?” I tried to sound like it wasn’t a big deal.

  He took a breath before speaking. I hadn’t fooled him. “Who?”

  “Someone calling himself Inspector Salazar, from the Mexican Police.”

  “What? That’s crazy. What did he want?”

  “He said he was trying to locate Uncle Joey, and wondered if I’d had any letters or calls from him recently. Sounds pretty fishy, huh.”

  “Yeah,” he sighed, clearly distraught. “This just gets better and better. Have you talked to the bank yet? I think it’s time the money disappeared from that account. If there was some way we could just send it back where it came from, that would be even better.”

  Now it was my turn to sigh. “I’ll call them right away and let you know.”

  “Okay, thanks.” We disconnected, and I slumped in my chair. He was right. That money was nothing but a headache. Why did Uncle Joey have to give it to me? This was getting to Chris too, and I felt bad.

  I called the bank and set up an appointment for ten, called Chris back, and jumped into the shower. At least the bank people didn’t seem sorry to have that much money in their bank. If only it were that easy for me.

  I arrived at the bank and told them who I was. The worker immediately led me to a private office, and offered a choice of soft drinks, water, coffee or tea. The bank manager, Blaine Smith, stood to shake my hand with a friendly smile. After I was seated, he took a box from his desk and handed it to me, telling me it was a gift that they reserved for their best customers. I opened it to find a pair of earrings. They were small diamond studs about one quarter of a carat, and the manager assured me they were real diamonds.

  Wow. I didn’t know this side of the bank existed. Chris came in soon after that and was given a gift of a tie clip accented with diamonds. He wasn’t surprised like me, but when he caught my eye he winked. He was thinking that with what the bank could use this money for, the gifts were hardly a pittance. A pittance? I almost laughed, but managed to only raise my eyebrows at him. He grinned and we settled down to looking at the portfolio Blaine had put together for us.

  While he explained the portfolio, Blaine was thinking how thrilled he was to have all that money in his bank and was hoping we’d leave it there. Chris was thinking of moving it somewhere else, like an investment firm with higher-yielding money market accounts. Among other things, there were taxes to consider, and all the ways to get out of paying them.

  Things got complicated, and I started to zone out, mostly because I was worried about the phone call from the Mexican Police. Who probably weren’t who they said they were. There was also the CIA. What would they do if they found out we had all this money? Could we go to jail? Could they subpoena our records if they suspected anything? Would they think we’d stolen it, or worse, were working with Uncle Joey and his illegal operations? What if it was drug money? That would be bad.

  This was all Uncle Joey’s fault. What was going on with him? Ramos was with him, so he couldn’t be in too much danger. So what was with his note? If I could find out what was going on, I’d know what to do with the money. I’d already tried talking to Jackie, but she didn’t know any more than me.

  The room fell silent, and I glanced up to find both Chris and Blaine looking at me expectantly. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  Chris closed his eyes, thinking that since I’d missed the whole thing Blaine would have to explain it all over again, and he didn’t have time for that. Then he had another idea and perked up. He thought, “Just say you like the portfolio, but want a little more time to check out some other options. In the meantime, you agree to transferring most of the money to our other accounts.”

  I smiled and repeated Chris’ words. After authorizing the money transfers, we were done. Blaine was thinking that we should decide soon because we could be making a lot more interest than we were by leaving it in our bank accounts. In a few years, it would be quite substantial.

  As we walked to the parking lot, Chris was thinking about talking to the investment firm handling our retirement funds. It made sense to me. “Maybe we ought to transfer the interest we’ve made so far into our retirement account, and just keep doing that until we give the money back to Uncle Joey.”

  “That’s a great idea,” he said. “We can do an electronic transfer every day, and pretty soon that money can be giving us the best returns. I’ll start on it when I get home tonight.”

  “Great,” I agreed. He was lots happier now and less stressed, which made me happier too. I gave him a kiss and we said our goodbyes.

  I spent the rest of the day cleaning the house, glad I didn’t have to go anywhere else. I toyed with the idea of calling Dimples about Mercer, but shied away because of my terrible dream. I just didn’t want to think about that right now.

  The ringing doorbell sent my heart into overdrive. I ducked behind the curtains, thinking it might be the CIA, and peaked out the window. A deliveryman set a package down on my porch and ran back to his truck. What now? I opened the door and checked the return address before picking it up. It said The Security Store, and I realized it was my stun gun and pepper spray!

  I eagerly opened the package and admired my new purchases. I had to charge the stun gun for eight hours before it was usable, so I plugged it in and read the instructions. With one million tooth-jarring volts of power and an intimidating arc-spark and crackling sound, I was impressed that it would do the job. Plus it was a flashlight. The pepper-spray was extra insurance and seemed easy to use, so I put it in my purse where I could reach it quickly.

  The rest of the day went smoothly, and night came with nothing out of the ordinary to mar my good mood. It was easy to pretend nothing was wrong when I didn’t think about money, or Uncle Joey, or murderers, or the Mexican police. It was still there in the back of my mind, but maybe if I didn’t pay too much attention, it would all just go away. Given enough time, things would resolve naturally. Plus, I had a cool stun gun that was all charged up and ready to go.

  That probably wasn’t the best way to handle it, but for now I was going to read a good book and put it out of my mind.

  ***

  I woke the next morning, grateful to have slept through the night without dreams of anyone slitting my throat. It was Friday, my day to work out at the gym. There was nothing better than a good sweat to release the anxiety and stress of the last few days. I
was feeling better from those happy endorphins, and ready to face reality.

  My phone was chirping, telling me that I’d missed a call. It was from Dimples. He wanted me to come down to the station ASAP. That put a damper on my mood, but I tried to put a positive spin on it. Maybe they’d found the evidence they needed to send Mercer to death row, and I wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

  I got home and peeled out of my sweaty clothes and into the shower. I toweled dry, and hearing my phone ring, quickly slipped on my bathrobe. Thinking it was probably Dimples wondering where I was, I barely glanced at the caller ID before pushing the talk button. “Hello?”

  “Hola. Senora Nichols?”

  Hearing the woman’s accent, I understood why I didn’t recognize the area code. “Yes?” I answered curtly.

  “Oh…Gracias a Dios!! I have finally reached you!!!” Her voice was high-pitched and frantic. “I am the housekeeper for Su Tío …your Uncle. Está en un apuro grande. He is trouble. Los narcos lo han raptado…they have kidnapped him. They wish un rescate…a ransom…or they will kill him muertos. Yo no sé qué hacer. Ah…El inspector de policía …un minuto por favor.”

  The phone was muffled as she passed it to someone else. “Senora Nichols. It is Inspector Salazar. I’m so sorry for you to hear such bad news. Your Uncle has been kidnapped and held hostage for ransom. We are doing everything we can to get him back, but I am not hopeful. These kidnappers wish for money, and say he will only be returned alive if their ransom is met.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” he answered.

  “What do you usually do in these circumstances?” I asked, concerned but wary. Something didn’t seem quite right.

  “If their demands are met they usually let the hostage go, but not always. I am sorry to tell you this.”

  “How much do they want?” If it were five million dollars, I’d know something was fishy.

  “They have asked for one million American dollars. It is a lot, I know, but word got out that he was wealthy, and it put him in danger. We do not have that kind of money or resources, but we will do what we can to save him.”

  “You don’t have much hope?” I asked.

  “Not unless you can send the money, there is very little hope.”

  “But if I send you the money, you would see that he was rescued alive?”

  “I would do all in my power to save him, yes.” He spoke passionately. It almost made me sorry to disappoint him.

  “Hmm…” I let him think I was considering it. “A million dollars is a lot of money. More money than I have. I don’t know what to do. I’m not sure there is anything I can do.”

  “What about your Uncle’s bank accounts? Surely you can get it from there?” My lack of emotion was getting through to him and he was starting to sound desperate.

  “Nope.”

  “You can’t? That is bad news. Your Uncle…he will probably be killed. They are usually beheaded. It is most painful and very tragic.”

  I swallowed, imagining Uncle Joey’s head on a spike. Gross. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I’m late for an appointment, so I’ve got to go. Good luck.”

  “What??” His voice went up a notch. “You would let your Uncle die without doing a thing for him?”

  “Looks that way,” I said.

  “If you don’t help him, you will have to live with his death on your shoulders for the rest of your life. Are you willing to live with that?”

  Now he was going too far. “Just a minute,” I said angrily. “In the first place, Uncle Joey is not really my uncle. Second, I don’t believe a word you’ve said. I know a scam when I see one. And third, I do not have access to Uncle Joey’s money, and if I did, do you think I’d send it to you? That’s just plain crazy. So I’m hanging up now. Please don’t call me again!”

  I ended the call on his muffled curse. Luckily, it was in Spanish, so I wasn’t offended. My hands were a little shaky when I set down the phone. I hated to admit it, but I was rattled. A niggling doubt brushed my mind, but I pushed it away. Uncle Joey was fine. He had Ramos to take care of him.

  But what if it were real? What if Ramos had failed or was dead himself, and Uncle Joey had truly been kidnapped? Of course I would feel bad. But deep down where it counted? Maybe not so much. What about keeping all that money? Hmm…I didn’t think I would feel too bad about that either. Did that make me a bad person? I hoped not.

  I got ready, but couldn’t stop thinking about Uncle Joey. When I checked the clock, it was ten-thirty, later than I thought. I hoped Dimples had not given up on me, so I called to let him know I was on my way. He sounded relieved that I was coming, but his voice held a tinge of something else. Resignation? Despondency? Depression? Whatever it was, it wasn’t the good news I was hoping for. Major bummer.

  That meant I might have to face Mercer again. I shivered with dread and it was hard to drag myself to the car. I sat behind the wheel with worries of Uncle Joey still on my mind, and realized the Inspector had succeeded in putting a major guilt trip on me. If I was going to get through the day, I needed to do something. Should I call Uncle Joey’s phone? He’d told me not to. What about Ramos? Unfortunately, I didn’t have his number.

  There was nothing I could do except call Jackie, and I really didn’t want to talk to her again. If she thought Uncle Joey was in trouble she’d probably want me to send the money, and I wasn’t going to do that. If there weren’t so many kidnappings going on in Mexico, I wouldn’t have all this doubt.

  I started the car with a sigh, and pushed the doubt away. For now, I had to believe it was a set-up, and that the inspector and the housekeeper were just trying to scam me out of my money. It made sense looking at it that way. Besides, it was probably how Uncle Joey would handle it, so really, he’d be proud of me, right?

  The drive to the police station was over before I knew it. All that thinking about Uncle Joey had kept me from being nervous about the reason for my visit. After parking my car, it hit me, and my stomach clenched. If they didn’t have the evidence they needed to put the killer away, I would probably have to talk to him again. Yuk.

  Getting out of the car was like going to the dentist. Something I had to do, but dreaded with a passion. The way I got through my dental appointments was thinking that I could do anything for an hour. That’s hardly any time at all. Before I knew it this visit would be a thing of the past, and I could go on with my life. I might have to go back, but I had other things to concentrate on, and this was only a small part of my day.

  That got me out of the car and into the police station. They were expecting me, and I was waved back to Dimples’ desk. He stood, grateful to see me, his dimples doing that crazy dance when he smiled.

  “Shelby, thanks for coming. I have good news.” He was thinking it was always best to start positive, then the negative wouldn’t seem so bad.

  I smiled back, trying not to let my disappointment show. “Oh really? What’s that?”

  “The mayor has agreed to pay you a consulting fee. He was impressed with your…abilities the other day. When I filled him in on the progress we were making with the art theft, he felt it only right to compensate you for your time.”

  “Sweet.” That was good news. “So does that mean I need to keep track of my hours?” I asked.

  “Yes. He’s hoping fifty dollars an hour is about right. What do you think? Will that work?”

  “Um…” I stammered. I hadn’t expected that much. “Yeah, that should be all right.” I smiled.

  “Good.” Dimples smiled back, hoping that would help me deal with the bad news. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll fill you in on what’s going on.”

  I sat down with dread tightening my chest. “This is about Mercer, right? I hope you’re not going to release him.”

  “Um…well, we don’t have any choice.”

  “You can’t release him! He’s a killer!” I blurted.

  “I know that’s what you think,” Dimples said. �
�But we couldn’t find the gun or the fake nose you told us about, and we’ve run out of time. We’ve done everything we can to link him to Abigail Johnson’s murder, but the crime scene was clean. The word in the department is, it was done by a professional hit-man.” He glanced away from me. “He’s got a lawyer and he’ll be out in about an hour.”

  I was stunned. I had to do something quick. “Let me question him one more time. Maybe I’ll pick up something that will help.”

  Dimples hesitated. He wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. Besides, what kind of questions could I ask that would make any difference? On the other hand, what did he have to lose? “Okay, I’ll have him brought out, but he probably won’t say anything.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. I followed him to the interrogation room and took a seat.

  “I’ll be back.” He left, but without much hope.

  I thought I was prepared to face Mercer again, but his narrowed eyes and sardonic smile had me cringing inside. He shook his head in disdain before taking a seat. He was wondering why I was there, more curious than anything. Now that he was getting out, he wasn’t as angry as he was before, which gave him the opportunity to study me more objectively.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly to settle my nerves. “I know you killed Keith Bishop,” I began. “I just don’t know how you did it, or what you did with the fake nose and the gun.”

  “You’re crazy,” he said. But in his mind I caught a glimpse of an open window, and it came to me in a rush what he did with them.

  “I get that a lot,” I answered, wondering if I should ask him about the other murders. Probably not a good idea. I didn’t want to give him a heads up that I knew any more about him. He was curious enough about me as it was. I glanced at Dimples. “I’m done. You can take him back.”

  Dimples hid his surprise with a quick nod and stood. Mercer couldn’t understand what was going on, and it was driving him crazy. I just didn’t make sense, and he didn’t like that. He prided himself on reading people, and understanding their vulnerabilities. I didn’t fit any mold he’d ever come across. At least he was getting out soon. He would be glad to put this fiasco behind him. Maybe he’d better lay low for a while. But he wouldn’t forget me, and someday, he’d figure out what…