As tired as she was, she couldn’t stop replaying the events of the past twelve hours. They were missing something. She had no idea what, but since everyone seemed to be dying, there was a good possibility they would never find out what it might be.
Before she fell asleep, she thought she heard her cell phone ring, but when she got up to check it, there was no missed-call message. She figured her nerves must still be on overdrive.
Just when she’d thought she’d worked past the jitters, a scary feeling settled over her as another thought crossed her mind. She’d seen Cooper running away from the two murders at the beef-distributing plant earlier, and he was still out there.
Was he looking for her? Did he even know she was there when the shots were fired?
For the second time that night, Jordan was thankful for her brother, who was asleep on the couch with a Glock under his pillow.
Danny had already left the apartment by the time Jordan woke up. With only four hours of sleep, she decided to put a late afternoon nap on the day’s agenda. Since she’d planned on spending her Saturday on Lake Texoma with Sandy and sleeping over one more night, she now had nothing scheduled for the day.
Polishing off a quick Strawberry Milkshake Pop-Tart, she picked up the phone and dialed Bella, proud that she’d gotten part of her daily requirement of both milk and fruit.
Bella picked up on the fourth ring, and without bothering to say hello, began to speak. “Have you heard the news?”
“Danny told me.” Jordan stopped before mentioning she’d actually been there when it happened. Bella would find out sooner or later and have a million questions. Right now she wasn’t in the mood to relive the terror of the night before.
“The police left a few hours ago. They think Diego might have been involved with the cattle theft. And they said Cooper was definitely involved. Do you believe that?”
Jordan hedged. “I only know what Danny told me. I guess we’ll learn more soon enough, but that’s not the reason I’m calling.”
“Is something the matter?”
“I’m worried about Maria. Do you know what’s going to happen to her now?”
Jordan heard Bella sigh. “The poor woman is beside herself, as you can imagine. I went over there as soon as I heard and helped the night nurse pack her things.”
“Pack her things? Where’s she going?”
“Since the only family she has left is an elderly aunt in Mexico, social services took over. With no one to care for her, they moved her to a nursing home in Connor early this morning. She’ll be there for a few days until they can arrange around-the-clock care for her at home or a place at an assisted living facility that allows wheelchair patients. I’m heading over there as soon as I make sure Lucas is okay.”
“What’s the matter with Lucas?”
“Nothing to worry about. The last few days he’s been really fatigued, and his blood pressure’s up. He says he can feel his heart pounding in his chest and his ears. The doctor upped his beta blockers, but if he isn’t feeling any better by tomorrow, I’m going to drag him into Connor to see the cardiologist so they can make sure his blood thinners don’t need to be adjusted.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Jordan hoped the impatience in her voice didn’t travel across telephone wires. It wasn’t that she was heartless. It was just that right now she was more concerned about Diego’s widow. “So where did they take Maria? I’d like to go see her, too. She must be hurting and feeling so alone right now.”
“I didn’t realize you knew her that well. Hold on while I get that information.” After a moment Bella returned. “She’s at the Connor Center for Continuing Care off Texas Parkway. When are you planning to visit?”
“Probably tomorrow,” Jordan answered quickly before remembering her mandatory luncheon with Bella and Lucas.
After a brief silence, Bella replied, “It might not be a bad idea to cancel your visit tomorrow with Lucas feeling so weak. He’ll be disappointed he won’t get to see you, though.”
“Maybe I’ll drive out that way to say hello after I run over to Connor.” Jordan crossed her fingers, hoping God wasn’t keeping track of her lies. She had no intention of swinging by to see Lucas if she didn’t have to.
“He’d like that,” Bella said. “He thinks a lot of you.”
Jordan was absolutely positive she detected a hint of frostiness in Bella’s voice despite the cheery delivery. Maybe the woman was finally tired of the old man’s antics with other women.
Good for her.
Jordan glanced up just as Danny sauntered into the apartment, looking like he hadn’t seen a bed in days. The cowlick he fought every morning had definitely won out over his hair products today.
Without a word, she muted the TV and walked to the kitchen to fix him a cup of coffee.
Slumping down on the couch beside him, she handed him the cup, careful not to spill it. “What’d you find out at the Taylors’? Did Marcus admit to hiring the waiter? What was his name again?”
“Jake Richards, and no, neither Marcus nor Brenda Sue knew the guy very well, or so they said. Seems all the hiring at the ranch is done by David Whitley, the husband of the woman who has the greenhouse out back. Whitley oversees the ranch for the Taylors. He hired Richards, your fake waiter, about a year and a half ago.”
She snapped to attention. “How convenient that his wife just happens to grow and sell the exact powder that was used in the killing. Does David Whitley have a motive for wanting Rusty dead like it seems the whole rest of the world did?”
“None we could find. We talked to his wife alone to feel her out—see if maybe there was something going on with her and Morales since he seemed to be irresistible to every woman who laid eyes on him.”
Jordan harrumphed, thinking there was a real possibility her name might have been added to Rusty’s list of conquests if she’d been able to get to know him better. The man had definitely been eye candy and could probably charm the pants off a nun.
“Anyway,” Danny continued, “the only thing we got from Karen Whitley is that she had a complaint from one of her regular customers last month. Seems an order of aconite was shorted by one container. Karen said she had no idea how that could have happened since she packs the powder herself and personally carries it to the post office to ship to the pharmaceutical companies.”
“Who else had access to the poison before it shipped?”
“That’s the interesting part. Karen is really the only one who deals with the stuff, except for the workers who help her process it. I had Rutherford send a couple of black-and-whites out there to interview them, but most can’t even speak English and wouldn’t have been at the hotel where Rusty was killed.”
“That’s true, but they could have stolen it for someone more than willing to pay a pretty penny for it,” Jordan interrupted.
“A definite possibility. Hopefully, they can rule that out when they get them in a room alone. Here’s another tidbit to add to the puzzle. When I asked Karen if she ever strayed from her normal routine with the aconite, I was not surprised by her answer. At first she said no, and then she remembered being interrupted about a month ago right in the middle of packaging the powder. Seems she heard her dog barking frantically and thought maybe a pack of coyotes had him cornered. So she grabbed a shovel and ran out to see what all the commotion was about.”
“So either Brenda Sue or Marcus could have sneaked into the greenhouse and lifted just enough poison to do the job.”
“Or maybe it was Jake Richards,” Danny said. “Karen said she found her dog stuck in the shed. Somehow the door had jammed, and the poor guy was howling bloody murder. At the time, she didn’t think it was strange and had assumed the stupid mutt had trapped himself. You know how Labs are. They’re wonderful dogs, but they sometimes eat their own poop.”
“By itself, the dog getting stuck in the shed would just be a funny incident, but when you factor in the possible missing poison from her shipment, it’s too m
uch of a coincidence to overlook. Did Karen see anyone hanging around the greenhouse when she returned?”
“My thoughts exactly, and no, she didn’t see anyone. When I questioned her about whether Richards had access to her greenhouse, she confessed she didn’t keep it locked during the day. Anyone could have lured the dog into the shed and then trapped him there while they waited for Karen to rush out and rescue him.”
“When did this happen again?”
Danny flipped open his notebook. “The middle of last month.”
“That means if the killer stole her drugs that day, he had about three weeks to figure out how to slip it to Rusty.” Jordan shook her head, grateful she wasn’t the one investigating the murder. It was turning out to be a lot more complicated than she’d imagined.
“Assuming she hadn’t just screwed up the order and shorted the customer—maybe all this had nothing to do with Jake Richards serving drinks at the Cattlemen’s Ball. We’re still not even sure that’s how Rusty was poisoned. It might all be a big coincidence that Richards was even at the hotel on the night Rusty died.”
She tsked. “There’s that coincidence again. I don’t believe in them.”
“Neither do I. That’s why I had the department send over Richards’s phone records so I could go over them with a fine-tooth comb.”
Jordan stiffened. “And?”
“And there were several calls made to Rusty’s home phone over the past two months. One as recent as the night before he died.”
“But why would Richards be talking to Rusty?”
“That, my dear, is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Unfortunately, both Morales and Richards are no longer with us, so we can only assume they were cohorts in the cattle-rustling business.”
“Bummer.” She yawned. “What do you say we go back to bed and sleep until tomorrow?”
Danny checked his watch. “Let’s run out first for fast food, then crash. The only thing I’ve had less of than sleep in the past twenty-four hours is food, and I’m starving.” He grinned. “I’ll even treat.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Then before he changed his mind, she clicked off the TV and jumped up. “I’ll get my purse.”
“Oh, by the way, do you remember Officer Rutherford, the Ranchero cop who was out at Sandy’s last night?” When she nodded, he continued. “He called me when I was on the way back from the Taylors’. Cooper Harrison is on the lam.”
CHAPTER 21
Jordan sat in the nursing home parking lot, staring at the entrance. She’d rather be doing anything else, be anywhere else right now. What do you say to a woman who’s lost both her son and her husband in a matter of weeks? Jordan didn’t have a clue, but she did have a soft spot in her heart for the woman and wanted to comfort her in some way, even if it was only by being a familiar face.
From the moment Maria had grabbed her arm and mouthed “Help me” at Rusty’s memorial service, Jordan had made the decision to do what she could. Whatever Maria had been afraid of then couldn’t come close to what she must be feeling right now, facing a future more bleak than anything Jordan could imagine. It must be frustrating to want so desperately to communicate your thoughts and not be able to.
She switched her phone to vibrate. It would be awkward enough facing the poor woman, knowing there was nothing she could do to help, without her phone blaring “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” in the middle of a tender moment.
With every horror story she’d ever heard about nursing homes playing in her brain, Jordan took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before opening the door. Expecting dingy gray walls and dreary-looking hallways reeking of urine, she found herself pleasantly surprised. A pale shade of blue decorated the walls and was complemented by window treatments adorned with little yellow flowers on a background of coordinating blue. She braved it and took a deep breath, delighted when the visual of a garden after a spring rain crossed her mind instead of a men’s room at a roadside park.
“May I help you?”
Jordan turned to find a smart-looking, middle-aged woman with a smile that matched the soft voice. “I’m looking for Maria Morales. I believe she came in yesterday.”
The smile disappeared. “She’s in room 104 down the hallway to the left. Since she’s arrived she’s been inconsolable, and nothing we do seems to help. Maybe you can comfort her.” She extended her hand. “I’m Sophia Bradley, the assistant administrator here.”
Jordan reached for her hand and shook it, immediately noticing the strong grip in direct contrast to the soft voice. “Jordan McAllister.”
Recognition flashed in the administrator’s eyes. “The Kitchen Kupboard’s Jordan McAllister?”
Jordan would never get used to people saying her name in the same breath as her column. “Guilty. I’m flattered you recognized the name.”
“The residents here love your recipes. Last week, the chef made the Beef Stroganoff, and now they’re insisting we make it a weekly thing. We didn’t use that expensive cut of beef, of course. They love the Potato Chip Chicken dish, too.”
Jordan hoped her cheeks didn’t crack from smiling. Hearing things like this made her appreciate the opportunity she’d been given, even if she still yearned to be on the sidelines at sporting events. “I’ll share that with my boss.”
The administrator laughed. “No need. At least fifteen of the residents have personally telephoned the newspaper to rave about the column.”
“Let them know I appreciate that,” Jordan said, wondering why Egan had kept that little tidbit to himself. Then she smirked as it came to her. She knew exactly why the cheapskate hadn’t shared the compliments. God forbid if her fan base—or her head—got too big. Her editor might have to dip into the old piggy bank and bump her salary up a notch.
She smiled once again at the administrator, then headed down the hallway. Maria’s was the last room on the right. Hesitating only briefly, Jordan pushed through the door and saw Maria sitting by the window staring out. She didn’t even bother to look up when Jordan approached. It was heartbreaking to see the woman’s state and know how much pain she must be in.
“Maria?”
Startled, Maria jerked her body around. For a second, Jordan thought she saw a smile crinkle her eyes before she plunged her hand under the blanket on her lap. Pulling out a picture frame, Maria held it out to Jordan, pointing repeatedly to the photo it held.
Reaching for it, Jordan realized it was the same one she’d seen on the mantle when she’d visited Maria at home. It was also the photo that had upset Maria so much that Diego had practically kicked her out of his house for asking about it.
“This is a lovely picture of you and Diego and your sister,” Jordan began cautiously.
Maria leaned forward and banged on the photo with her hand, all the while uttering sounds that could have been mistaken for the cry of an injured animal. With each thump on the glass, her voice escalated. It was obvious she was trying to convey something important, but for the life of her, Jordan couldn’t tell what.
She decided to get right to the reason she’d come all the way over to Connor in the first place. “I know you’re sad because Diego was killed. I’m sad, too, Maria, but this looks like a lovely place.”
Are you freakin’ kidding me? The woman has just lost her husband and her son, and here I am insinuating everything will be okay because the place didn’t stink.
Seriously! It was like saying, Too bad your world has just crumbled around you and everyone you love is gone, but hey, how about that nice firm mattress on your bed!
Somebody should write a book about stupid things not to say to a grieving person.
As if to emphasize how incredibly dumb her last statement had been, Maria violently shook her head from side to side, then pounded the picture again.
Jordan concentrated on the photo. “This is your sister, Gia, right?”
An excited look crossed Maria’s face as she nodded as aggressively as she had shaken her head minutes befor
e.
“You must miss her, too.”
The older woman’s face took on a frantic look, and tears welled up in her eyes.
Great, Jordan. Your comforting skills are matched only by your cooking talents!
Maria grabbed the picture from her and shoved it back under the blanket. With one hand she spun the chair around and wheeled herself away from the window, totally dismissing Jordan.
Unable to make any sense of it, Jordan eased down into the chair beside the bed, hoping for some miracle that would help her figure out how to comfort the poor woman.
Fifteen minutes later, she decided that was not going to happen, at least not today. Discouraged, she walked over and gently touched Maria’s shoulder. “I’m going now, but I’ll come back to visit, if it’s all right with you.”
Hoping for some sign that she would be welcomed, Jordan was disappointed when there was none. Maria remained trancelike, humming to herself in a low mono-tone.
Feeling totally inadequate, Jordan walked to the door before turning one last time to try to communicate with Maria. When it was obvious the woman was in a world of her own and unaware—or uninterested—that anyone else was in the room, Jordan left, her heart heavier than when she’d arrived.
On the ride back to Ranchero, she felt her own tears forming, unable to stop thinking about Maria. Life wasn’t fair sometimes, and the woman she’d just left at the nursing home was a perfect example of how cruel it could be.
She was startled when her cell phone vibrated, and she figured it was Danny reminding her to pick up lunch on the way home.
Without looking at caller ID, she answered. “Hey, Danny, I should be home in about twenty minutes.”
“Jordan?”
It was a good thing she was stopped at a red light, or she might have swerved across the road at the sound of that voice. She glanced in her rearview mirror to make sure he wasn’t behind her before she spoke. “Where are you, Cooper?”
Beef Stolen-Off Page 19
