by Catie Rhodes
I wanted to tell him again that Chase wasn’t dead because I hadn’t seen his ghost, but I said nothing. I helped Dean put some bloody leaves in one of his endless supply of plastic bags. We walked back to our cars. Dean walked in silence, his brow furrowed in thought. Once we reached the cars, Dean opened the Nova’s door and held it while I got inside. His mouth worked as he tried to think of a suitable goodbye for me, but something had been flitting around my mind, and I wanted to ask him about it.
“What did Hannah mean when she said it wasn’t my fault?”
Dean jerked and dropped his notepad. He bent to pick it and plucked absently at his jeans leg on the way back up. His lips pressed together, and his eyes darted away from mine. “A stupid decision I made that got somebody killed. I blamed everybody but myself and even moved away to escape it. Then I met you, and I’m reminded of it every time I see you. Makes me feel stupid all over again.”
I nodded. Sometimes there was nothing to say.
“You’re not going to tell me it’ll be all right?” Anger danced in Dean’s eyes.
“Nope,” I said. “Sometimes it’s not all right until you tell yourself it is.”
The anger faded from Dean’s eyes, and a crooked smile took its place. “You’re an enigma. Has anybody ever told you that?”
“My ex-husband said I was an enema. That the same thing?” It made him laugh. I started the car, and he closed the door.
***
To my complete and utter shock, the search on Veronica’s name turned up pages of results. Judging by the short previews available with every result, she had been responsible for a notorious crime spree back in the early 80s.
I clicked on a link to a reasonably well known website dedicated to profiling criminals and crimes. The bold headline read, “Romance and Murder: The Couple Who Kills Together Is Arrested Together.”
Young, charismatic, creative, and deadly. Twenty-one-year-old Billy Ryder and eighteen-year-old Veronica Spinelli were all those things plus one more: ruthless.
Dallas police were unaware of this couple and their misdeeds for much of their criminal career. The young lovers preyed on their fellow criminals who wouldn’t report being robbed or attacked for fear of their own crimes coming to light.
That all ended on January twenty-ninth of 1982. Spinelli and Ryder knocked on the door of Natasha Whitmore’s home on the pretense of buying some cocaine. Once inside Whitmore’s home, the couple beat Whitmore until she agreed to give them all the drugs she had on the premises as well as all her money. Once the two had what they wanted, Veronica held a gun on Whitmore while Billy raped her.
Whitmore stayed in her home, afraid to call for help, until her children came home from school. Though Whitmore begged her children not to involve police, they knew their mom needed medical treatment. They called on a neighbor to summon law enforcement.
As soon as Whitmore talked to police, calls poured in from other victims of Veronica Spinelli and Billy Ryder. The couple targeted females likely to be home alone. They stole what they could and sexually assaulted the women. Using descriptions provided by victims, police tracked down Spinelli and Ryder at a residence in a rundown area.
After a short standoff, police took the deadly couple into custody. The home’s owner, a sixty-four year old retiree, was found buried in the dirt floor of an outbuilding. Police recovered an estimated $25,000 worth of jewelry, drugs, guns, and cash.
And that was only the beginning.
Billy Ryder turned out to be a fake identity. The name belonged to the man whose house the couple had commandeered—the one they buried under the floor of a clapboard storage shed behind the house. Police were unable to identify Ryder using fingerprints. They suspected he had a juvenile record, but were unable to find him in the system.
With time, law enforcement probably could have figured out Ryder’s identity; however, Ryder escaped during his arraignment hearing. He left three people dead. The man police knew as Billy Ryder was never captured. The only known picture of him is the mug shot featured on this website.
Veronica Spinelli refused to cooperate with law enforcement. She claimed not to know Billy Ryder’s real name and told police she had no idea where he might have gone. Despite the nature of her crimes, Spinelli was given a sentence of thirty years in the Texas prison system.
The website noted she was up for release this year.
I stared at the only known photo of Billy Ryder. The mug shot showed a frowning man with bottomless dark eyes and a derisive smirk. His bushy dark hair and goatee could have belonged to anybody. Even the tattoo on his neck was an unidentifiable blob.
Low_Ryder. Billy Ryder. Coincidence? I doubted it. Not when I added in Veronica Spinelli. Had those two baddies reunited to carry out some plan? Wade Hill, the bouncer from Long Time Gone, said Low_Ryder and Veronica had some sort of relationship with Olivia the beak-nosed bartender.
Like everybody else in Burns County, I knew the rumors about illegal activity at Long Time Gone. Most of the talk had to do with an outlaw biker gang roaming Texas and parts of New Mexico. But that didn’t mean other stuff didn’t go on out there. I remembered hearing about a truck driver turning up with a slit throat and an empty trailer. Maybe Veronica and Low_Ryder were back in business. They might have brought Rae in as a partner. She got involved with Low_Ryder and Veronica killed her for it.
My eyes itched and burned with fatigue. I shut off the laptop and put my face in my hands. I didn’t think Billy Ryder/Low_Ryder and the horse-faced BJ were the same guy. Low_Ryder wore biker clothes while BJ wore cowboy suits. However, Veronica Spinelli had shown up both where Rae hung out with Low_Ryder and where she hung out with BJ to kick Rae’s ass.
I still couldn’t reason out how Billy Ryder kept from being recognized. That internet article listed all the true crime documentaries featuring Billy Ryder and Veronica Spinelli. How had he eluded arrest for so many years?
***
I had my proof that H & H Week had arrived on Tuesday morning. My cellphone woke me up, and I booked two appointments for local businesses later in the day. Those appointments had to be fitted in around the ones I already had. I would be stretched thin, but I had no choice if I wanted to make this year’s H & H Week worth it.
For the day’s first gig, I agreed to serve refreshments at a press conference for the mayor’s office. The mayor’s secretary demanded I wear business attire for the event. She specified pantyhose. As I shimmied into the unforgiving little bastards, Michael Gage overdressing for Rae’s memorial service entered my mind.
I remembered his words about the “many conversations” he claimed to have had with my cousin. What had those two talked about? I wondered if I could get Michael Gage to tell me if I agreed to go on that date with him. It might be worth suffering his company.
In the kitchen, I poured myself a cup of coffee and waited until Memaw closed her Bible before I spoke.
“What did Michael Gage mean at Rae’s memorial service when he said he’d had many conversations with her?”
“I introduced them. Michael wrote Rae in prison at my request.” Memaw packed away her Bible and took out the three-inch-thick romance novel she’d been reading.
“Why did you do that?” I cooked some toaster pastry. Breakfast of champions.
“Rae wrote asking to live with us when she got out of the pen. They were going to put her in a halfway house if she didn’t have family to go to.” The grim set of Memaw’s mouth spoke volumes about the conflict she must have experienced. No grandmother wanted to tell her grandchild she couldn’t help her, but I knew Memaw always wondered if she’d done the right thing. “I talked to Michael, and he said he would feel her out—you know, try to figure out her intentions.”
“He sure didn’t do a bang up job on that.”
“He did the best he could.” Her tone of voice indicated I had better watch it. “They seemed to connect. I could see the change in Rae after he started talking to her. You know, Michael spoke on her behalf and mad
e sure she got her time off for good behavior.”
“And they continued their relationship after she came home?”
“The powers that be at the prison agreed not to put her in a halfway house on the condition she submit to counseling by a licensed professional.”
Michael Gage’s counseling hadn’t made Rae behave herself. I kept that observation to myself. No reason to put Memaw through any more misery. My toaster pastries popped out of the toaster, and I ate them while standing at the counter.
“What brought all these questions on?” Memaw set her romance novel aside and focused her attention on me.
“Just rehashing the whole thing in my head.” I wadded up my paper towel and threw it in the garbage can. “I guess I’ll do that for a long time.”
I glanced at the clock. I had to leave or risk being late. The mayor’s secretary wouldn’t hire me again if I was even one minute late. Her influence stretched beyond our tiny City Hall, and I couldn’t afford to have her blacklist me. I kissed Memaw goodbye and left.
I wanted to have another conversation with Michael Gage. No way I’d agree to be alone in his house with him again. And no way he’d agree to talk to me after I refused his offer of a date. There was but one solution, and it made me puke in my mouth a little.
On the way to my job, I called Michael Gage. He was thrilled to hear from me, and even more thrilled I had reconsidered his offer of a date. We agreed to meet that evening at Danner’s Landing, Gaslight City’s only nice restaurant.
I had never been less thrilled about going out with a good-looking man.
SEVENTEEN
FOR my date, I chose a broomstick skirt, a peasant blouse, and my vintage cowboy boots. I accessorized with a wide leather belt and dangly earrings. As usual, my makeup and hair were understated. I’d fit in at Danner’s Landing but still look like me.
Gage’s eyes widened as he stood from the intimate corner table for two.
“Peri.” His nostrils flared as he kissed my hand. “You’re beautiful. So exotic.”
Gross. No doubt I looked different. People who never gave me a second glance openly stared at us. The Holzes, Sheriff Joey and Carly, studiously ignored me. I wished my nervous anticipation was for someone in whom I was actually interested. Like Dean.
Gage ordered for both of us—the house specialty—stuffed pork chops with a variety of side dishes. The complimentary bread came out, and Gage cut us each a piece. Manners or a control thing? Interesting. When he handed me my bread, I noticed a white, ring shaped, tan line on his left ring finger. I tried to remember if he usually wore his wedding band and couldn’t. Gage saw me looking.
“My class ring from Princeton,” Gage said. “It didn’t match this outfit.”
I laughed politely and focused on enjoying the food. Danner’s Landing was expensive, and I’d only been a few times.
As we ate, Gage talked about an upcoming vote at his church on televising his sermons.
“I’ve told the deacons more than once it would be nothing but a distraction.” He speared a new potato with more vigor than necessary. “The purpose of our church is to fellowship in the Lord. Not play at being movie stars.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Not for the first or the last time that evening, it occurred to me Gage and I had nothing but humanity in common. We went from Gage’s reluctance to become a local celebrity to the awful work the gardener he hired for H & H Week did. I looked for an opening to ask my questions. It never came, so I made it.
“Memaw said you’d been counseling Rae as part of her release terms.”
Gage’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “How did that topic come up?’
“Your comments at her memorial service. You said the two of you had many conversations about the direction of her life.” I needed a better reason. One that might make him think a need for closure motivated me. “As you mentioned last week, Rae and I were not on the best of terms. But, now that she’s gone, I feel a need to understand her better.”
Gage nodded and took another bite. He frowned while he chewed.
“Rae and I both grew up in San Antonio, in the same neighborhood, in fact.” Gage’s eyes focused on a point beyond my left shoulder, apparently lost in memory. When he spoke again, his smile was gone. “I think I told you my mother was an addict. Rae and I had a lot to talk about.”
Grief swelled in me, aching. Every time I thought I had accepted Rae’s transformation from my childhood playmate into a hard-edged criminal, some haunting thought popped into my head. I imagined the sort of topics Gage and Rae must have bonded over and realized I hadn’t known Rae at all. Gage watched me, waiting for me to speak. I gathered my wits and said the first thing that came to my mind.
“You knew she’d been beaten up a few days before her death.”
Gage flinched and blinked. “I was told.”
“Who do you think beat her?”
“I don’t know, Peri. Rae had a way with words, as I’m sure you remember.” Gage winked at me, his dark eyes sparkling. I realized, with surprise, he controlled the conversation. Not me. Maybe my best bet was to make him believe he wanted to gossip about my dead cousin.
“I guess we’ll never really know what happened.” I ate a bite of pork chop. It wasn’t as good as Memaw’s. “So how are the tours of Mace House going?”
Gage’s eyes flashed with some emotion. Disappointment? I thought so. He wanted me to beg for the information.
“Rae was full of secrets.” Gage ignored his half-eaten food and turned his full attention on me. The effect both set my teeth on edge and drew me in at the same time. Creepy feeling. “She was dating a married man, you know.”
The blackmail note. That’s who she had wanted to blackmail. Was Billy Ryder living right here in town, married, living a double life, and carrying on an affair with Rae? I hid my excitement as best as I could.
“Probably best not to gossip about it,” I said. It was impossible to miss the pleasure in Gage’s eyes. If I threatened to end the conversation, he might tell me even more. “It’s over. Maybe whoever the guy was will change his ways.”
“You’re right. But she was so cavalier about it.” He leaned forward. “Rae was only using…this man. For money. She let herself become pregnant, thinking he’d give her money to leave town.”
“We had a conversation the day she died about the Mace Treasure,” I said. “I suspect she wanted to find it, thinking it would solve all her financial problems. Do you know why she needed money so badly?”
“As I said at her memorial service, she was disappointed in where she’d ended up. It’s likely she wanted to start over. I’m sure she thought having money would make things different. We all have our vision of what would make us happy.” He had a point. “It’s normal—especially for someone like Rae—to think she can use money to erase a bad childhood and to forget the habits she learned when she was so young.”
“I found a blackmail note in her things.”
Gage raised his eyebrows and snorted. The information didn’t surprise him a bit. “I’m sorry you had to face such an unpleasant task.”
“I wonder if she gave the guy who got her pregnant the blackmail note?” I asked.
“Well, it’s a good guess she did. If she’d been beaten.” Gage smiled, all traces of amusement gone. An arctic bead of sweat slid down my back and stopped at the waist of my skirt. I’d never claim to read minds, but I’d have sworn on a stack of Bibles Michael Gage would have beaten Rae if she’d handed him a blackmail note.
I wanted to get away from him. Right then. A dozen excuses raced through my mind. One of them had to be good enough. Someone tapped my shoulder as I tried to figure out which one. I glanced up, halfway expecting the waitress to be there to refill my tea glass. It was Hannah Kessler. My fork clattered onto my plate.
***
“Peri,” Hannah dragged my name out and held out her arms as though we hadn’t talked in ages. Awkwardly, I stood and hugged her. She whispered, “You look
miserable.”
“He’s a lecher,” I whispered back and broke the hug. Uninvited, Hannah sat down with us. Gage’s eyes widened at the addition to our dinner party.
“I saw Peri over here and just thought I’d say hi.” Hannah’s voice dripped sincerity, and she gave Gage the widest, shit-eating grin I’d ever seen. An air of excited anticipation hung about her.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you in church.” He held out his hand. “I’m Michael Gage.”
Hannah and Gage said their howdy-dos and shook. Hannah openly stared at Gage, evidently wondering what I didn’t like about him. It would have been funny had it not been so obvious and embarrassing. Seeing the beginning of the end, I ate my food quickly.
Gage, to his credit, made small talk about an upcoming revival at the church. A Christian radio station in Tyler would cover the event and encourage listeners to attend. Hannah asked questions in the right places, but Gage wasn’t fooled. His suspicions grew, and so did his annoyance. His sentences became short and clipped.
The waitress stopped by for our dessert order. Hannah ordered peach cobbler with ice cream for three. By this time, Gage was so annoyed he drummed his fingers on the table and glared daggers at Hannah. When the bill came, he paid without comment and stood to leave when Hannah was in the middle of a sentence.
Hannah gave me a victory salute everybody in the restaurant saw. Gage walked ahead of Hannah and me as we exited Danner’s Landing. Outside, he said nothing to either of us and left us standing underneath the green awning at the front door.
Gage’s shoulders, pulled high with tension, nearly touched his earlobes. He’d never hire me for another job or ask me on another date. I felt one emotion: relief. I’d deposited his check into my bank account, and our business was finished.
Hannah burst into laughter as soon as Gage’s sedan sped out of the parking lot. She howled for a few minutes, but reigned herself in when she saw I wasn’t laughing with her.
