A Sporting Murder

by Lesley A. Diehl

  “Hey. Don’t talk about me as if I’m a liability who isn’t here.” I trotted along behind Alex.

  “I can keep an eye on her this way.” Alex stopped and grabbed me, pulling me into him.

  “Oh, goodie.” I looked up into his eyes, hoping to see respect there, but the sliver of moonlight revealed nothing more than an arched eyebrow of skepticism.

  “Okay. I’ll meet you on the road.” Frida jogged off toward her car.

  “Here’s the deal, Eve. I want to see if there’s any evidence that Mrs. Warren and Ermlich have been there, and I want to have a civilized talk with Reed. Let him know we’re aware of his history of poor treatment of his employees, and that we think it’s connected to the recent murders.”

  Alex shoved me into the car, then got into the driver’s seat.

  “We do? I mean how is all this connected?” I was confused by Alex’s approach.

  “Well, I don’t know, do I? It’s just a bluff.”

  “It seems very—”

  “What?” He slammed the car door and started the engine.

  “I don’t know. Very vague.”

  I watched Alex’s jaw work back and forth, a sure sign he was about to explode.

  He put the car into gear and backed up, then turned toward me. “It is vague. This is a situation where you play it by ear. Improvise. It’s a detective technique. I don’t have the foggiest notion why Mrs. Warren and Moses Ermlich are sneaking in to visit Reed, but it can’t be good. Can it?”

  “No, but I—”

  “Leave it at that.” Alex put the car into drive and followed the dirt road back to the highway. He drove past Frida’s car on the shoulder and skidded into the Reeds’ driveway.

  I worried that Alex and I were on different pages when it came to the Mrs. Warren’s and Ermlich’s visit tonight. I thought I should tell him what I thought was happening, but he was not receptive right now. I knew he was close to tossing me out of the car to make my way down a darkened road back to Frida. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of walking a country lane in rural Florida, a place where gators crossed roadways to get to water, food, and mates during the night. And then there were all those feral pigs running around. Nasty tempers, I’d heard.

  I kept silent as we pulled up to the Reed house. I’d tell him after. I could play good girl. Alex went to the door while I sat in mock obedience in the car.

  Blake Reed appeared, and the two men talked for a few moments, then he let Alex into the house. Less than five minutes later, Alex came back out.

  “So?” I spoke the word tentatively in case he was still in a mood.

  “I don’t think he bit. He acted interested, but not particularly worried. And there was no sign of Mrs. Warren or Moses.” Alex backed the car around, and we headed out the drive.

  “Exactly what did you tell him?”

  “I kept it vague. Just said I’d talked to some people who were former employees, and I’d followed them here tonight.”

  “And he said ‘so what.’ Right?”

  “I told him he was foolish to believe these people would keep their mouths shut about his operation or his role in the two murders—David’s client, and the young Indian.”

  “And he gave you another ‘so what’ when you said the people you’d followed here might consider informing on him?”

  “Not even the twitch of an eye. His foreman walked in at that point, and Reed told me to get out or he’d have the foreman throw me out.”

  “You didn’t tell him it was Mrs. Warren and Moses Ermlich who you’d followed, did you?”

  “No.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief, which Alex caught.

  “I know you kind of like Mrs. Warren, but that’s no reason to give her a pass on what she and Ermlich were up to tonight.”

  “You don’t really know what they were doing.”

  Alex’s jaw was working again. I should have left it at that, but I couldn’t.

  “Just because you didn’t find Mrs. Warren and Ermlich and your detective technique of vague bluffing didn’t pay off with Reed doesn’t mean you should take it out on me, you know.”

  Alex opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut.

  Oops. I’d gone too far.

  We turned onto the county road and drove the quarter of a mile until we got to Frida’s car.

  She rolled down her window when we pulled up alongside. “Anything?”

  “Maybe I shook him up. He’s a cagey one. I couldn’t tell.” Alex didn’t look happy.

  “Any word from Sammy? Have Mrs. Warren and Ermlich come back down that road?” I asked.

  Frida shook her head. “Did Sammy call Alex?”

  Before Alex could say no, his cell rang. It was Sammy.

  “I walked back up the road to the end right after you left. I thought I might spot Ermlich’s truck. It was parked at the end of the road, so they hadn’t gone on to Reed’s place after all. The truck just sat there with its engine idling. After a few minutes, I saw headlights coming down the road fast from Reed’s place. Before Ermlich could leave, the other vehicle pulled up beside him and Reed’s foreman jumped out, ran up to the truck, and yelled for Ermlich to ‘get the hell off the property.’ Ermlich pulled out, wheels spinning, and took off back down the road. If Frida didn’t spot the truck coming by her, I guess it must have headed east when it hit the county road.”

  An uneasy feeling crept up my spine. I grabbed Alex’s phone and said, “Did he see who was in the truck, do you think?”

  “How could he miss? His headlights lit up the cab of that truck like it was daylight.”

  “Oh, crap,” I said.

  “You okay?” asked Sammy.

  “Not really.”

  “Listen, I’ve worked my way to the road and I can see your cars. You want your cell back?”

  “We’ll grab it before we leave here.” I disconnected.

  Alex gave me a questioning look, as did Frida.

  “I’ve got a really bad feeling. Now the foreman knows who was sneaking around the ranch tonight. And we don’t know if Mrs. Warren and Ermlich met with Reed tonight. I mean, did they go in the back way so no one—like us—would see them or was it so that no one at the ranch would see them?”

  “And it matters for what reason?” asked Frida.

  Alex started to answer her, but I beat him to it. “If they were trying to hide from anyone following them, then it means they’re somehow involved with the murders. That’s what you think, right Alex?”

  He nodded, but didn’t look so certain of his suspicion now.

  “And if they went there to spy on Reed and the crew, then they may be in trouble now,” I said.

  “Because the foreman saw who they were?” Frida was quick, but did she get what I meant?

  “I don’t quite get why that’s an issue, Eve,” said Alex. “Who cares if Reed and his foreman know they were trying to spy on the ranch?”

  “I don’t think Reed likes anybody down his back,” Frida said.

  We could all agree on that. Reed wanted privacy when it came to what he chose to do on his land. But that’s not what worried me.

  “Did you see any pictures at the Warren house of Mr. Warren?” I asked Alex.

  Chapter 20

  “I don’t remember any photos,” Alex said.

  “Well, I do. She had a kind of altar set up at the end of the couch. There were pictures of her son, most of them as a baby or from childhood, but none of her husband. I should have been more observant. That boy had bright blue eyes and freckles.”

  “Lots of kids have those features. I don’t understand where you’re going with this, Eve.” Not only did Alex look confused, but his face was beginning to take on that look of aggravation I seemed to inspire in him so often.

  “I think I know what Eve’s saying.” Frida’s eyes shone with understanding. “Maybe the next time you visit Mrs. Warren, you might ask to see a picture of her husband. Meantime, I should be tracking down the specifics of his death.�
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  Alex shook his head. “I already did that.”

  “Frida,” I said, “if you do that, you should make sure there’s someone in the office you trust to help you. Your captain will have your ass if he finds out you’ve been poking around a case you’re no longer on.” I chuckled to see Alex’s expression remain so confused.

  I took pity on him. “You remember the circumstances surrounding our getting tossed out of the Warren house this afternoon?” I asked.

  “We both do. I was talking about Reed’s foreman and his treatment of the employees being worse than Reed’s and then—”

  “Then you described the guy, and we got thrown out. We both thought something changed between Mrs. Warren and Moses at that point. It made us suspicious, and it led to you following them,” I said.

  “I figured they were feeling pushed by my questions about Reed. I stirred up something. What do you think is going on, Eve? Frida? So Mrs. Warren doesn’t want pictures to remind her of her dead husband. Why is that so odd? Maybe it’s just too hard for her to remember how he died.”

  “She had photos of her son all over the place, and the memory of how he died can’t be pleasant,” I said. “Either Mrs. Warren doesn’t want anyone to know what her husband looks like or she’d rather forget the guy. I saw how she reacted to talking about Mr. Warren. I got the feeling she was afraid of him.”

  “So she put away the photos of a violent husband. Now he’s out of sight, out of mind,” Alex said.

  “That’s what I think too, but when you described the foreman, she and Moses exchanged looks that I think meant they both recognized the guy. I think they sneaked into the ranch to see if they could get a look at him without Reed, Elvira, or the foreman knowing. They weren’t trying to make contact with anyone there at all.”

  Frida interrupted the discussion. “If Warren is the foreman at Reed’s then he’s no ghost. And Mrs. Warren and Moses Ermlich may be in danger.”

  “Warren is dead,” Alex insisted. “I checked with the company he was contracted to do work for. He was killed by a car bomb.”

  Frida shook her head. “The army would find DNA to link the body with that of a dead soldier, but do you think a private company would be willing to go to those lengths for one of their employees? Maybe Warren wanted everyone to think he was dead.”

  Alex looked puzzled. “Why? Unless there’s something fishy about the guy.”

  “Well, there’s something fishy about this whole night, don’t you think? Why would Mrs. Warren and Moses rush off to spy on the Reed place? Let’s do what Sherlock Holmes suggested,” I said.

  “And that would be what?” asked Frida.

  “We’ve ruled out all the possibilities. Now let’s assume the impossible. Let’s assume Mr. Warren is not dead.” I smiled at my cleverness.

  “You read too many mysteries, Eve.” Alex kicked a clod of dried mud at the side of the road.

  “We’ve got nothing to lose with Eve’s plan, and if we don’t make that assumption and we’re wrong, Mrs. Warren and Moses Ermlich could end up in trouble or worse.” Frida grabbed her cell. “I’m calling Linc now. At home. I can trust him to do some digging on Reed’s foreman. And then we’ll see if we have a ghost or not.” Frida punched a number into her cell.

  The truth of what I’d said finally hit Alex. “He saw them in the headlights of his truck.” Alex shifted into gear. “We’ll be in touch, Frida.”

  We sped down the road, screeched to a stop when we saw Sammy to grab my phone and then did a U-turn back toward the Warren house, hoping we’d find Mrs. Warren and Moses there, watching television and drinking coffee.

  Alex slid to a stop and shut off his lights. The Warren house was dark. The truck was not in the drive and the gate was open. The only one at home was the dog, who got up, turned once, and settled back down with hardly a look at us.

  “It looks the same as when I left to follow them.”

  I ran to the door and banged on it. No answer. Mrs. Warren and Moses Ermlich were in the wind. If the impossible was possible, Reed’s foreman would be after them. I hoped they had a good hiding place.

  I awoke only an hour after Alex and I rolled into bed at my house, not so much exhausted by the physical activity involved in chasing down Mrs. Warren and Moses as emotionally drained by the worry that they were now in danger from Reed’s foreman.

  Alex must have heard me jerk to consciousness. “What’s up, babe?”

  “If Mr. Warren is alive, and he wants us to think he’s dead, why would that be?”

  It was a question I knew was on Alex’s mind and on Frida’s as well. And all night long each of us would be wrestling with the answer.

  Alex got out of bed and headed toward the kitchen. “I’m making coffee, because neither of us is going to sleep.”

  I dragged myself from the bed and followed him. I perched on one of the kitchen stools and leaned on the counter. “We go back to the beginning. Who had the motive and the opportunity to make it appear David was the killer of his client?”

  “Reed or someone at his ranch.” Alex stopped filling the coffee pot and looked at me. “Mr. Warren blames David for his son’s death. What better revenge than to have David accused of killing the client.”

  “And of Dudley being the killer of Sammy’s nephew. With no one to run the ranch, David would be forced to sell, which is what he wants, but he’d have to practically give away the place. Who would want to buy a place from an a convicted murderer, a man who killed one of his clients and on that property? Creepy. But Reed would be standing right there, eager to take it away from him.”

  “That’s good work, wrapping Reed into this suspicion.” Alex poured us each a cup of coffee. “You think Reed knows anything about what Warren is doing?”

  I set down my cup. “I don’t know, but I think he’s dirty too. I’ll bet it has to do with Bernard’s death, and I think that’s tied to the treatment of his workers.”

  “How?”

  “Damned if I know.” I yawned. “This caffeine isn’t helping me think, and it’s not even waking me up. I’m going back to bed.”

  We had settled back into the bed and were snuggling ourselves into either sleep or romance—neither one of us seemed to care which—when another thought occurred to me. I untangled from Alex’s arms, turned on the light and sat up.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “Mrs. Warren has a reason for wanting David in jail too, you know. I should have thought of this before.”

  “Go on.” He propped himself on his elbow.

  “The same reason as Warren’s. David killed her son.”

  “You think that poor, sad woman positioned herself at David’s ranch, got a hold of his rifle and shot that client. And then she grabbed Bernard, planted David’s card on him and killed him also. I find that hard to believe, Eve. Forget it.” He turned off the light. “Now where were we?”

  I turned the light on again. “She has Moses to help her.”

  Alex sighed and stared at the ceiling. “Maybe.”

  We both lay there pondering this newest possibility. Neither of us was much in the mood for romance now. I turned off the light and rolled over.

  A few moments later, I turned the light back on. “Boy, are we stupid.”

  “Okay. I’ll bite. How are we stupid?”

  “Because Mrs. Warren could be protecting her husband. She and Moses may have known all along that he was alive, and the three of them are working together to make David look like a killer.”

  Alex was silent for a moment. I thought he’d fallen asleep, so I jabbed him in the side. “Hey.”

  “It’s possible, I guess, but honey, I’m too tired to think this out right now. And anyway, we don’t know if Warren is alive.”

  “We know Mrs. Warren is alive,” I insisted, “but here’s something we haven’t considered—”

  My phone rang.

  It was Nappi. “I know it’s late, but I just got a call from Mr. Reed, saying he had a special hunting treat f
or me this coming Sunday. He wouldn’t be specific, but he indicated it was something challenging, and he termed it just the kind of adventure for a man like me, ‘someone who would be comfortable taking his street game into the woods.’ ”

  “What does that mean, do you think?” I asked. My bedside clock said it was nearer to one in the morning than midnight. “He sure does business at odd hours, doesn’t he?”

  “I don’t like this, Eve. This man is without principles. And his foreman appears to be worse than he is.” Nappi sounded worried, not what I expected from a man so used to dealing with criminals.

  I shared with him our suspicions about Reed’s foreman.

  “Hmmm. What was the name of the company he worked for in Afghanistan?”

  I put Alex on the phone to tell Nappi what he had learned about Warren’s supposed death.

  Alex ended the call. “He said he’d get back to us. And he also said we should get together and talk, maybe over drinks tomorrow night.”

  “You mean tonight.” I pointed at the clock. “Maybe we can go to the Biscuit. I didn’t get my rib fix, and the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had when we got home just isn’t doing it.”

  I rolled over toward Alex, and he wrapped his arms around me.

  “Sleep or …?” he asked.

  I was still wide awake and the “or” part of his question sounded appealing.

  As we were getting well into the “or” thing, the phone rang. Caller ID said it was Nappi.

  “That was quick,” I said. “Just a sec.” I covered the receiver.

  Alex hopped out of bed and said, “The man must have spies planted in the house. When he’s around we never get any time to ourselves. I’m going to make myself a Scotch while the two of you talk, or plan something, or hatch a not-so-legal plot.” He stalked out of the bedroom.

  “I contacted my associates,” Nappi began. I never questioned him about his associates. He seemed to have a great many in many places of significance. He probably wouldn’t have been willing to tell me much if I had asked, and to tell the truth, I really didn’t want to know about them—names or positions or titles. For all I knew the President of the United States was one of them.