by Melissa Rees
His nerves were shot. He felt jumpy and distracted. Those damn women were going to be trouble, he just knew it.
He stormed into the kitchen and tossed the keys onto the kitchen counter, then continued into the living area.
The warm orange color of the walls and the white molding gave the living room a welcoming impression. He and Otis had bought and renovated the 1890's Victorian five years before. Although they spent the majority of their time in New York, Savannah was where they headed when they wanted to unwind or when the show was in town.
He ran his hands over the dark walnut antique sideboard and wondered if the piece, over the last two hundred years, had ever been a silent witness to murder.
He sighed in frustration and picked up a crystal decanter filled with ten-year old scotch. He poured himself three fingers before replacing the glass top back on the bottle. He walked stiffly to the wing-backed chairs that was positioned next to the fireplace and sat down.
He crossed his legs and took a sip of scotch. He had to figure out what the women were after. Did they know any thing for sure about Warren Jones? Somehow, he doubted it. If they had, they would surely have already informed the police.
Therefore, by elimination of the fact that the police had not paid them a visit, they must just suspect them of being involved with Warren Jones but did not know for sure.
What would motivate two middle-aged ladies to follow them to Savannah? Jones had no relatives that he knew of. That was one of the reasons that he had decided to hire him in the first place.
He took another sip of scotch and settled his head back against the leather chair. How had things gotten so out of control?
He wondered if killing Jones had been the smartest move he could have done. They could have continued to pay the blackmail money, he supposed. However, that had infuriated him from the beginning.
When he heard Otis's drive the pick-up into the garage, he wondered how much he should say. He listened as Otis shut the engine off, then the sound of the garage door closing.
He stood and moved to the sideboard, then poured Otis a small snifter of brandy.
Holding the glass out when Otis walked in, Wagner waited for him to take the drink, then turned and sat back down.
"What happened? Are they okay?" Otis asked before taking a sip.
“I don't know if I hit her or not."
"Who? What do you mean?"
"I think I tagged the one that was out at Warren's but I'm not sure."
Otis sat down on the facing wing-back chair. "I think we should leave. Move to France like we have been planning. Buy a villa, we have enough money saved. They may know nothing."
"Then why are they here?"
"I don't know.”
“Perhaps you're right. Maybe we should get out."
Otis jumped eagerly to his feet and hurried over, then sat on the arm of Wagner's chair. Putting his arm around Wagner's shoulder, he pulled him to his side. "It would be wonderful to leave. Put all this behind us."
Wagner patted Otis's hand and sighed. "Okay, we'll start discussing this tomorrow. We'll put the house up for sale. We'll need to inventory our furniture and began deciding what we should take."
Otis leaned down to give Wagner a kiss on the cheek. He had never felt such enormous relief in his life. He hadn't wanted to kill Warren Jones and he certainly didn't want to harm two women.
Otis stood and pulled Wagner to his feet. "Let's make some dinner, and then we'll celebrate our retirement."
Annoyed at Otis's obvious relief, Wagner allowed himself to be led into the kitchen. They were going to lose millions of dollars because of two nosy middle-aged women and that pissed him off. He had told Otis that they would go but if there were any way for them to stay, then he would make that happen. Living in the south of France was expensive, especially if one wanted to live well.
***
Miss Pettybone woke slowly, dismayed to discover she was once again in a hospital bed. She felt a fleeting sense of de ja vu. Bright lights and scurrying nurses floated just outside her vision. She was vaguely aware of Lynn's worried voice and the deeper baritone of Eli Rawls. Her body felt sore, especially her hip.
However, she felt a lot angrier, than hurt. To think that those two-piece-suit men had the nerve to try to kill her. Again! Unbelievable!
She supposed they would probably think they had scared her off. However, they didn't have a clue who they were dealing with, she fumed. She not only wanted them punished but she thought they could use a huge dose of humiliation.
Just as she had felt humiliated after bouncing off the brick front wall of the bar, in front of God and everyone else that was standing around, staring down at her.
She pushed herself up and leaned on one elbow, then motioned for Lynn. Hurrying over, Lynn bent down and grabbed Miss Pettybone’s hand. "Loraine, are you okay? You were almost killed."
"Did anyone get the license plate number?" Miss Pettybone demanded.
Eli stood just behind Lynn, his face concerned and unhappy. "No one saw anything. It happened so fast and unfortunately, most of the people standing in front of the club were slightly inebriated. The only information they agreed on was that it was a sedan."
Miss Pettybone closed her eyes and thought about the car. It had to be them. The car had come right at her. She hadn't time to see the driver but she had a fleetly memory of a man's shoulders and head above the steering wheel.
She opened her eyes and met Eli Rawls's concerned dark blue ones.
"Miss Pettybone, did you know who he was? Just before you passed out, you called them bastards."
"I did? I don't remember doing that."
"If you have any idea who tried to run you over, you need to tell the police." He pleaded, bending over her.
Miss Pettybone threw her friend a warning glance and said firmly. "How would I know who he was? Lynn and I don't know anyone who lives in Savannah. The guy must have been drinking."
Eli gave her a skeptical look and straightened. "I think maybe you and Lynn might be safer at my home. I would consider it an honor if you and your friend stayed at my Plantation."
"Shadowleaf Plantation?" Miss Pettybone asked, feeling disorientated.
"That's the name of my plantation. It’s a lovely place. My mother named it."
Miss Pettybone thought about Louise and Mildred arriving in two days and shook her head. "We can't. I appreciate your offer but we can't."
Eli sighed and stared at Miss Pettybone a few moments. "If you change your mind, here is my card." He reached inside his pocket and took a card out of his wallet.
Miss Pettybone accepted it and was surprised at how badly her hands were shaking. Taking the card from him, she hurriedly tucked her hands under her back.
"I need to get back to the club and talk to the police. I will call you tomorrow to see how you are feeling." Eli promised.
He nodded good-bye to Lynn, then turned and walked away.
"Are you crazy? You were almost run down and killed by some lunatic and you don't want to stay someplace safe?" Lynn asked, her voice shaking quivering.
"I can take care of myself." Miss Pettybone said. "Besides Louise and Mildred will be here the day after tomorrow."
"I know, I know. But this scared the PJesus right out of me."
"Can I leave?"
"No, the doctor said you need an X-Ray, and then the police want to talk to you."
Unhappy, Miss Pettybone closed her eyes, willing this day over.
Chapter 37
Eli strolled out of the hospital, then paused on the steps and lifted the cell phone out of his pocket. Punching a number in, he waited until the person answered. "She's in the hospital. She's going to be okay but it was close."
He listened a few minutes, and then agreed with the person on the other end of the line. He flipped his phone shut, his eyes narrowed in thought as he climbed into the waiting taxi. Providing the driver with the name of his club, he sank back into the seat. He would give a great deal of
money to know who Mrs. Cooper and Miss Pettybone really were.
He didn't for a moment think that they were ordinary tourist. Ordinary tourist weren't normally run down outside his nightclub. There was a possibility that the women were involved in what he was caught up in. But they were from out-of-town tonight or were they?
But Eli trusted his gut instincts and his gut instincts warned him against the two women. They were involved somehow. It would probably be in his best interest to find out what that might be.
He climbed out of the taxi and handed the driver a twenty, then walked back into his club. Strolling into his office, he took his revolver out of a desk drawer and loaded it. Placing it under his belt in the small of his back, he turned and walked out.
***
Eli stepped carefully around all the construction equipment the city kept stored in a huge building along the edge of town. As he walked into the dark area of the vast warehouse, Eli pulled his gun from under his belt. Lacing his hands around the handle, he slipped silently through the warehouse.
Many drug addicts and prostitutes chose the warehouse area to buy and sell their wares. It wasn't unusual to find people high on crack or cocaine lying about, anxious and ready to relieve you of any money you might have on you.
When he heard voices coming from an office at the back of the building, he walked softly to the door and stood listening. Smiling slightly opened the door and walked in.
"Eli!" Caleb Hopkins said, pleased to see his cousin. He jumped up from behind the desk to shake his hand, and then turned to his partner. "You know Eli, Jesse."
Eli slid the gun in between the small of his back and shook hands with Caleb and Jesse, then took a chair opposite the desk.
"Is she okay?" Jesse asked, leaning against a tall filing cabinet.
"She's banged up and she's going to hurt like hell for a few days but she was lucky. It could have been worse."
"Do you think these women could have any connection to our boys?"
"I don't know. I don’t see how they could. It may be something else entirely."
"What kind of women are they?"
"Nice. I only just met them. But I know nice women from those, shall we say, that are questionable."
"Have you heard from Keel or Wagner?"
"They've been out to the plantation a couple of times but clam up about anything except work. You two still can't find anything on them?" Eli inquired.
"As we told you. They are sending a lot of money out of the country and we're concerned it might be connected to the show, although neither one of us can figure out how."
“Why did the Feds contact you in the first place?"
"The FBI contacted us because their initial suspicions were directed our way. Apparently the treasury department keeps track of any large amounts leaving the country."
"Nice to know we're so well monitored." Eli drawled.
"Politics." Caleb said, shrugging.
"Anyone see you coming in?" Jesse asked, glancing at Eli.
"Just a couple of local girls."
"Good, we need to keep our meetings secret until we know what those two are up to." Jesse pointed out.
"And they are up to their ears in something." Caleb pointed out.
"There is no way they make that kind of money." Jesse agreed.
Eli rose to his feet. "I’ll keep trying. Let me know if you find out anything."
"And you will keep an eye on our two lady friends?" Caleb asked?
"I’ll keep two eyes on the ladies." Eli promised, as he slid out the door.
Chapter 38
Dwight answered the phone on its second ring and listened as Edgar Cooper ranted.
"So I finally got a hold of Lynn last night and she told me that they were in Savannah, Georgia! She was supposed to be in New York attending some Broadway shows and then I find out they are trying to track the murderers of that guy who was killed out at Zeb's old house."
"Calm down Edgar. If you spoke to her, you know she's all right." Dwight pointed out.
"She's not alright. She's upset because Loraine was hit by a speeding car, well almost was hit by a car. The police think the car tried to run her down on purpose."
Dwight straightened in the chair, his hand gripping the phone. "What do you mean Loraine was almost run down. Is she all right?"
"She had to stay in the hospital over night." Edgar said, gratified that Dwight was finally sounding as upset as he was. "But don't worry; they will both be on the next flight home."
"They'll be home today?" Dwight asked.
"No, Lynn said Loraine couldn't travel tonight. But I put my foot down. They will catch the next flight home tomorrow." Edgar promised.
"Are you sure?" Dwight asked skeptical. He personally could not see Loraine Pettybone listening to Edgar, whether his foot was on the ground or not.
"Of course I'm sure. Don't you think I know my own wife?" Edgar exploded. "Imagine two middle-aged women chasing murderers. I know very well this was Loraine's idea. Lynn would never be involved with anything so outrageous."
Dwight tried to block the image of Loraine being hit by a car and agreed that it was probably Loraine's idea. Edgar thanked him for listening and hung up.
Dwight didn't know who Loraine and Lynn were following but he was determined to find out. And he knew just the place to go.
***
Dwight found Zeb Murdock in The Bent Twist Cafe the next morning. He strolled over and stood looking down at the old man.
Zeb Murdock was in his seventies. His slightly bent body had started out taller but now rose only a little over five feet seven. His thin gray hair lay flat on the top of his head. His face and neck was covered in a farmers tan. He had gray shaggy eyebrows over intelligent faded blue eyes. Dwight had always liked Zeb and considered him a very smart man.
When Zeb glanced up to see the sheriff standing over him, he smiled and waved at a chair opposite him. "Sit down, Dwight, I'm eating some breakfast. I'm running a little late this morning. One of my Heifers ain't doing so well."
Dwight pushed a chair back and sat down.
Studying the man sitting across from him, Zeb frowned. “What's going on Dwight? You look like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders."
"I have a request." Dwight said, motioning Jewel for some coffee.
Zeb sat back in his chair and studied Dwight. He had known Dwight Caruthers all the man's life and respected him a great deal. He wondered if it had anything to do with his wife leaving and moving in with her mother. "Okay?"
"I need access to your farmhouse where Warren Jones was murdered."
"You already have that." Zeb reminded him.
"No, I mean, I would like to really search the farmhouse. That might mean tearing some boards up or walls down."
"What are you looking for?"
"I think Warren Jones may have hidden some information about himself and we haven’t had any luck searching the usual places."
Zeb took a sip of coffee and thought about what Dwight was saying. "Tell you the truth, Dwight; I was thinking of tearing the old place down. I won't ever be able to rent it out, now someone was murdered in it and all."
Relieved Dwight sat back. "Thanks, Zeb."
“What makes you think he hid something in there?"
"I think Loraine Pettybone and Lynn Cooper found some information out there and may be using it to track down the man responsible for the murder."
"Loraine Pettybone and Lynn Cooper, huh? Ain't that against the law? I mean, interfering with police business."
"It is. What am I supposed to do? Arrest them?"
"I guess not." Zeb agreed. "I always thought a lot of Loraine. She's a handsome woman."
"She's a cranky, hardheaded woman." Dwight said, thinking of Loraine Pettybone.
"She's prickly as a rose but roses have a certain attraction, don't they boy?"
Zeb grinned, noticing Dwight avoided his eyes.
Dwight got stiffly to his feet, and then looked down. "W
hen can we start on the house?"
"Just let me finish my breakfast and I’ll follow you out there." Zeb said, grinning at Dwight's discomfort.
Dwight took the cup of coffee from Jewel and sat back down.
Zeb swallowed back a laugh and changed the subject. “I heard Lenny Crabtree’s butt has a load of buckshot in it?”
Dwight smiled. “Yea, he won’t be sitting on his laurels anytime soon.”
“Tell you the truth; I was mightily surprised Nora shot him. She’s an easy going woman.”
“I guess everyone has limits.” Dwight said, blowing on his coffee.
“I also heard Susie Wilson is no longer sucking Lenny‘s money out of his wallet.”
“That‘s what I heard too.”
“You think they‘ll be okay?”
"Yea, I think so.”
‘That’s good.” The old farmer said, wiping moisture from his glass of water.
“So, how's the weather affecting your crops?" Dwight inquired, changing the subject.
**
Dwight, Randal and Kooter Brown followed close behind the old man, dust seeping slowly inside the squad car. Dressed in blue jeans and t-shirts the men were not looking forward to a day spent in the old farmhouse with temperatures rising in the high nineties.
"How long do you think it will take us?" Randal asked, gloomily.
"We'll work as long as we have to." Dwight answered, aware that neither man wanted to spend the day in the hot farmhouse.
"We looked all through the house before, Sheriff." Kooter pointed out.
"And didn't find anything." Dwight acknowledged.
"So, maybe there's nothing to find." Randal volunteered.
"Maybe." Dwight agreed.
Dwight pulled in and parked behind Zeb's new Chevy S10. The men stepped out of the squad car and stood resigned under the baking rays of the sun.
Zed jumped out of his truck and chuckled at the expressions on the faces of Randal and Kooter. "Sure gonna be a hot one today. You boys got plenty of water? Because I had the electricity turned off, so the pump don't work now." He informed them grinning.
