After two deep drags, Sheila motioned to the sofa covered in pink chenille. “Please sit down.” She remained standing for a moment, then sat across from the deputies in one of the two matching chairs. She straightened the straps of her halter top and fluffed her hair. “Would you like a vodka and tonic?”
“No, thanks.”
“You don’t mind if I have one?” She was already out of the chair and at the bar. The Waterford crystal decanters on the sterling silver tray glittered in the sunlight.
“Ma’am, we need to ask you some questions,” Conner said softly. “Can’t the drink wait?”
“No, it can’t wait!” Sheila snapped. “I’m sorry, of course it can.” She set the half-raised decanter down and walked back over to the chair. “I’m on edge. My husband didn’t come home last night, and I’m worried about him, that’s all.”
“We’re checking out everyone who is known to have a key to the cabins at the State Park, specifically Cabin 171E. You clean there on a regular basis, don’t you?”
Sheila chewed on her bottom lip and looked down at the floor. “I manage the cleaning company that sometimes services the cabins. I don’t clean very often myself, only when one of the girls is sick or something. Usually I assign one of the others to do the cleaning. Don’t think I’ve cleaned there in over a month.”
“Did you visit Cabin 171E yesterday?”
“No.”
“A park employee cutting the grass says he saw you drive up to the cabin early yesterday afternoon.”
“I told you I wasn’t there.”
Johnson flipped back a page of his small notepad. “You drive a white convertible, don’t you?” He pointed out the window at the white convertible parked outside.
“Lots of people around the lake drive white convertibles.”
“But few ladies who drive white convertibles are as attractive as you, ma’am,” Conner said in a soft voice. “The employee described you perfectly.” He watched as Sheila crossed her legs seductively and casually flipped one of her halter straps lower on her shoulder. Ten years ago she probably was a real looker, he thought. Still was, only now she had that faded-flower look.
“You think I’m attractive?” She glanced his way and batted her eyes.
“A woman with your looks is always noticed, not one a man would soon forget. And the grass cutter watched you drive up to Cabin 171E. He said you carried a white cooler inside. Only stayed a couple of minutes, according to him.”
“Maybe I was there yesterday. I vaguely remember going to the park. It’s just that I’ve had so much on my mind lately.” She put a hand to her temple, thought a minute, then said, “I remember now. Yes, I was there. I returned a cooler that I took home the last time I cleaned the cabin. Yes, that’s it. The renters had left a dead fish in it, and the cooler reeked to high heaven. Didn’t get around to returning it until yesterday.”
“We’d like for you to come down to headquarters with us for questioning.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“No, we just need to ask you some questions.”
As they walked to the police car, Sheila put an exaggerated wiggle in her walk and asked in a throaty voice, “So do you really think I’m attractive?”
Hero. That’s what the nurses had called him. Exhausted is how Luke Stancill felt, not like a hero. All he wanted was to go home, take a long shower, and go to bed. A little comfort from Vanessa would be nice, too. He looked at the clock on the taxi’s dashboard. If the cab driver hurried, Luke could get there before Vanessa left work for the day. Maybe she’d stay with him, not spend the rest of the day at her second job. He leaned over the seat and urged the driver to go faster. Engrossed in warm thoughts of his part-time secretary, he didn’t see how close the taxi came to hitting the doe and fawn that bounded across the road directly in front of them.
The driver slammed on his brakes and jolted Luke back to reality. “Close call,” the driver said.
“Yeah. I’ve had a lot of those recently.” The two men watched the deer disappear into a dense pocket of tall pines.
Vanessa’s red Camaro occupied its customary spot in the gravel parking lot beside the two-story building. Luke thought briefly of going upstairs to his apartment first to take a shower, but decided against it. He needed to see Vanessa, feel her arms around him, listen to her sexy voice praise his actions, boost his now-inflated ego. He paid the driver and went inside. The tweed carpet in the downstairs office cushioned his footsteps, so Vanessa didn’t hear Luke come in. He hid behind the door to surprise her when she came out of the supply room.
Vanessa, her back to the door, spoke into her cell phone. “Mom just called. The cops have her. A park employee saw her go in the cabin yesterday.” She paused, then said, “Hold on a sec. I thought I heard something.” Vanessa faced the doorway and listened. Luke stayed hidden behind the door. “Guess I’m just hearing things. I’m a little nervous. Back to Mom. She sounded shaky, scared, like her drugs are gone. Where’s Dad?”
She listened for a minute, then said into the receiver, “Dead? Are you sure? You know if Mom finds out what you’ve done, she’ll squeal on us.” Another pause. Luke held his breath. Then, “Hell no, I don’t have any desire to spend time in prison. Do what you have to do.”
Stunned, Luke decided not to reveal his presence. He pressed harder against the wall.
“Nope, haven’t heard a word from Luke,” Vanessa continued. “If he doesn’t call soon, I’ll assume he didn’t survive the swim.” Pause. “Yeah, that would simplify things. Anyhow, I think this operation is over here; time to move on. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
She put away her cell phone and turned around. Luke blocked her way.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.”
“I’m leaving. Get out of my way.”
“No.”
“You will have to hit me to keep me here. Now move.”
No matter what she had done, he couldn’t hit her. Instead, he grabbed her left arm. “You’re not going anywhere, Vanessa.”
“Let go!”
“No.”
With her right fist, Vanessa punched him hard in the throat and jerked out of his grasp. Luke grabbed his neck and struggled to breathe. With tires squealing, the Camaro sped away before Luke reached the front door.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Judge Anderson and Sheriff Rogers stood beside the hospital bed and watched the man struggling for each raspy breath. The doctors said the unidentified man might die, that the next few hours were critical. Charlie knew the man could provide some answers if he survived. He jumped when Aurora put her hand on his arm. “I didn’t hear you come in,” he said. “Is Sam okay?”
“Don’t tell anyone, you two. I sneaked in. And in answer to your question, Uncle Charlie, Sam is fine. He sent for me because he remembered something important. Do you recall how he couldn’t wipe the song ‘Blue Suede Shoes’ out of his mind? Well, there’s a reason. As he lay on the floor in my parents’ house, the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a pair of blue leather sandals. And I’m pretty sure I know who was wearing them.” She pointed to the bed. “That man’s wife—the first time I saw her she was wearing sandals that match Sam’s description. She and this man—her husband—surprised me on the dock and said they wanted to breed King with their female Lab. I saw the sandals again when the crew came to clean the house after the attack on Sam. The same woman was in charge.”
“Do you know her name?”
“Sheila. She’s Harold Johns’ sister. Don’t know her last name, though. But that man,” she added, pointing to the hospital bed, “is one of those who held us captive on the houseboat. I think his name is Clyde.”
“I’ll throw the book at ‘im!” declared the sheriff.
“We’d be dead if not for him,” she said. “I don’t know why, but he knocked Harold Johns down. That gave us the extra seconds we needed to get off the houseboat. That man saved our lives.<
br />
“Speaking of Harold Johns,” she said to the sheriff, “have you caught him yet?”
“No, but it’s not because we’re not trying. Every available cop in Bedford, Franklin and Pittsylvania counties is searching for him.”
“Sam trusted Harold, liked him, worked with him. Would you believe they even have a couple of patents together?” Aurora shook her head in disbelief. “I never liked him, though. Didn’t like his arrogance or the lack of warmth in his eyes. It was as though he had no soul. And he treated his wife Melinda like a trophy to show off at big events to clients. No wonder she wanted to live in Paris instead of with him.”
A nurse entered the room. “You must leave now,” she said to the judge and the sheriff. “And what are you doing in here, miss?” She glared at Aurora.
“We’re leaving. Come on, Aurora,” Charlie said.
Lieutenant Conner lit Sheila another cigarette. When the phone rang, he leaned over his desk and answered it. He scribbled notes on a piece of paper and slid it across the desk to Sergeant Johnson. When he hung up, Conner looked at Sheila and said, “Ms. Perkins, I really hate to say this, but you’re under arrest.”
“I’m under arrest?” Sheila stared at Lieutenant Conner in disbelief. “What’s the charge?” She puffed hard on her cigarette.
“Breaking and entering, burglary, assault, attempted murder.” The detective read Sheila her rights.
“And just who was my murder victim supposed to be?”
“Sam Harris at 210 Spawning Run Road.”
“I didn’t touch the man. I just went there to help find some stuff. He surprised us. Jimmy Ray hit him with the bat.”
“Do you want to call your lawyer?”
Sheila trembled. “Where’s Clyde? I want Clyde.”
“Who’s Clyde?”
“Clyde’s my husband. Where is he? I need him.”
“A man named Clyde is in the hospital. He was stabbed several times.” Johnson hated this; Sheila wasn’t such a bad person. He didn’t want to hurt her. “I’m afraid he’s in pretty bad shape.”
“No! It can’t be! Not Clyde!” Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Aurora Harris just identified him as one of the three men on the houseboat where she and Sam were held captive. She did say, however, that Clyde knocked Harold Johns down, giving Aurora and Sam time to escape. Apparently, Clyde was knifed in the process, then dumped into a small boat and set adrift in the storm. He’s in intensive care. He might not survive.” He watched Sheila. She looked determined and angry.
“My maiden name is Johns, Sheila Johns. Harold Johns is my brother.”
“You mentioned a Jimmy Ray. Who is he?” asked Conner. He handed her a tissue.
Sheila stopped crying and looked at the detective. “I’ll tell you everything.” She wiped at the streaks of smudged mascara on her cheeks and blew her nose. “But only under two conditions.”
“Let’s hear ‘em.”
“Number one: I want a guard posted at Clyde’s door ‘round the clock. If my brother discovers Clyde’s alive, he’ll kill him.”
“We can arrange that. What else?” Lieutenant Conner pitied Sheila. He hated to admit it, but he respected her, too. Here she was, shaking—obviously having withdrawal symptoms—under arrest, and she was thinking of her husband. She actually loved him.
“Number two: I want protection at all times, too.”
“Harold Johns is your brother; he wouldn’t harm his sister.”
“Yes, he would. I know too much. And don’t let Red, my daughter, near me or near Clyde, either. She takes her orders from Harold. Does anything he says. She’s cold and calculating, just like him.” She fidgeted with her hair and wiped her eyes again. “I must look a sight.
“Hey, I’ve gotta have a drink, somethin’. Cain’t y’all get me somethin’? Then I’ll tell you ‘bout Jimmy Ray.”
A buzzer sounded a warning. Two seconds later, Red stepped into her Uncle Harold’s lair. That’s what he liked to call his secret cabin, his lair. And why not? Foxes, bears, mountain lions, they all had lairs they could retreat to. So did he, and he was just as dangerous, maybe more so.
“Welcome, Red. Meet my associate Jimmy Ray.”
Jimmy Ray’s eyes lit up when he saw Red for the first time. Harold bristled.
“Listen to me, both of you. Jimmy Ray, no fooling around with Red or I’ll shoot you right through your ugly head. Period. Are you understanding me?”
“Yeah, boss. Pity, though.” Red smiled her sexy, come-on smile at him.
Jimmy Ray looked her up and down. This one just might be a good match for me. Maybe some other time….
“Red, get the packing materials out of the back room. You know where I keep them. Start boxing up the jewelry and silver. Jimmy Ray, you roll up the rugs, box the paintings, anything that Red’s not working on. Understand?”
“Yeah, I understand. But why? We can’t git ‘em outa here. By now every cop on the lake is looking for your speedboat, probably the houseboat, too. Ain’t you heard the helicopters? We wouldn’t git a mile.”
“We’re not moving them by boat. We’re going by van.”
“If you think I’m gonna lug all them things outa this here cabin and up that there steep hill to a truck, you’re nuts!”
Red laughed. “Shall I show him the way, Uncle Harold?”
Harold smiled. “You just keep on packing, sweets. I’ll show ‘im.” He motioned for Jimmy Ray to follow. They went through the middle room and into the warehouse area.
“See that closet over there, Jimmy Ray? Open the door and go in.” When Jimmy Ray stood in the empty closet, Harold pushed a button and the closet floor lifted several inches before Harold stopped it.
“Whoa! What the hell’s goin’ on?”
“It’s an elevator, goes into the garage up top where the van’s parked. I want you to load the goods on this platform, raise them to the garage, then pack them into the van. It’ll take several van loads to move all this stuff, so get busy. When the first load is ready, Red will drive it away from the lake. Now get going; I doubt we’ve much time left.”
“What are you gonna be doin’? Damn if I’m gonna do all the work.”
“You’ll do what you’re told. I’ll be making arrangements for disposing of the merchandise.”
Forty-five minutes later, Red drove the white van out of the garage. Jimmy Ray continued packing and moving boxes up to the garage level. An hour later, Red returned.
“How the hell could she git to where she was going, unload, and git back here in that short a time? Ain’t possible.” Jimmy Ray stared at the empty van.
Harold grinned. “What if there were two vans, or three, like the one you loaded? It’s simple. Red delivered the full van, stepped into an empty identical one, and returned. We’ll repeat the process until we’re finished. By the time Red’s delivered the third load, the first van will be empty and ready to load again if need be. My associate’s men on the other end are experts at unloading in record time. Ingenious, don’t you think?”
Jimmy Ray scratched his head and said. “Damn right. Smart, too.” Harold smiled.
Within four hours, Johns’ entire warehouse had been cleaned out. Its contents now resided in a metal storage building on a Franklin County farm.
“While you were putting that last load on the van, Jimmy Ray, I checked on Sheila. The cops have arrested her.”
“What about Dad? Have they found his body yet?” asked Red.
“Worse than that. They found his body, but it’s still breathing.”
“Then we’re good as caught.” Red stared at her uncle.
“Wrong, darlin’. But it is time for us to go. Jimmy Ray, thanks for your help; we couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I didn’t help you out of the goodness of my heart. I expect to be paid what’s due me.”
“Of course, Jimmy Ray. You’ll get exactly what you deserve.” Harold smiled and stepped aside.
A bullet slammed into the back of Jim
my Ray’s head. He was dead before he hit the floor.
Red walked over to Harold, handed him the smoking pistol, and looked down at Jimmy Ray. “Can you believe him? Did he really think we’d let him live? Just can’t understand some folks.”
“It’s just you and me, Red.” Harold grinned. He put his arm around his niece’s shoulders and tucked the pistol inside his pants pocket.
“Just the way I like it, Uncle Harold. Let’s go.”
Harold pushed the elevator button. Nothing happened. At the same instant, the lights went out.
“What’s the matter? Why won’t the elevator work? And why’d you turn off the lights?”
“I didn’t. Something must have tripped a circuit breaker.”
“Well, do something about it!”
“Calm down, Red. I’ll check the circuit breaker box.” He lifted a flashlight off the wall beside the elevator. “I keep a flashlight beside each door for emergencies such as this. Stop worrying.” He shined the beam across the room. “Wait here.”
“Like I’m going anywhere!” Red hoped he’d hurry. She didn’t like being alone with Jimmy Ray’s body.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Saturday, May 15
Tantalizing aromas wafted from the kitchen, across the living room, and out onto the screened porch. Even Sam, busy grilling striper on the porch, turned his head toward the kitchen and sniffed. King and Little Guy did the same.
“What is that delightful smell?” asked Robert Reeves.
“I’ll go see.” Jill rose and started toward the kitchen. “Maybe Aurora will let me sample it.” Little Guy trotted after her.
“I guarantee it’ll be delicious if Aurora made it, whatever it is.” Charlie licked his lips. “She inherited her mother’s culinary expertise. Annie and I have devoured many a meal in this house, and every one delicious. Can’t believe Jack never put on pounds.” He chuckled. “I’m giving you fair warning, Sam. As long as you’re eating the meals Aurora cooks, you’d better be getting plenty of exercise.”
Secrets at Spawning Run Page 22
