Killer Reads: A Collection of the Best in Inspirational Suspense

by Luana Ehrlich

  A group of businesspeople carrying briefcases and laptops rushed by in earnest conversation. Women in ready-to-wear designer suits and heeled pumps. I smoothed the front of one of the three big-shirts I'd brought from Brooklyn. At the spa, there was no doubt I'd been underdressed... plebian, even. Not so much in terms of style, which was relaxed there, but quality. My working stiff status was never in question with my big shirt, a poly-cotton blend, not linen or silk, and my jeans minus a designer label.

  Here I didn't stand out the way I had there. The women coursing through the lobby were more tailored than I. A few sported jeans, all different styles of plaid shirts tucked in, and fancy boots. My big shirt marked me as eastern, most likely, especially the way I had the sleeves rolled up due to the heat. It could've concealed my Glock. Only this morning I'd elected to leave my weapons at the Chuck Wagon. I wasn't working and was in the company of an armed law-mam. My personal safety couldn't be more assured.

  Hughes ushered me to one of the easy chairs and then approached the desk. He spoke to the clerk, and obtained an electronic key.

  I rose and walked toward the elevator, preferring to get there under my own steam. The courtesy he showed might be pure Texas gentlemanliness, but it only accentuated how pathetic I felt, loving to pieces a man who had made a fool of me.

  We rode up to the third floor in awkward silence.

  I searched every recess of my mind and could only come up with a lame, "At least the elevator isn't too slow."

  He held the button and I exited first. He passed me and held up the keycard. "I'll get the door, then if you prefer, I'll wait in the lobby until you're finished packin' his things?"

  "Um... yes, I think that's best."

  The tiny green light on the lock glowed and he pushed the door open.

  Cassidy and another woman stood by the king-sized bed. Mark's brief case lay on its side and appeared to be empty. Next to it lay a GQ and an Esquire magazine.

  Hughes strode into the room. "Ladies, can I be of assistance?"

  The shock on Cassidy's face was priceless. I wished I could've whipped out my cell phone and taken a picture to capture her wide eyes and well glossed gaping maw.

  She ran perfectly polished red claws through her voluminous frosted blond hair. "I came to gather Mark's things."

  Hughes nodded without a smile. "That's what I brought Mrs. Ingels here to do."

  Cassidy flipped her hair over a shoulder. "I see."

  I tried to speak, but no words came. My knees trembled, but I willed myself not to stumble toward a chair to sit. I tried to stealthily steady myself by resting a hand on the long bureau holding a high def television, when actually the piece of furniture held me up.

  Deputy Hughes raised a hand toward Cassidy. "If you would give me the room key."

  "But Mark gave it to me," she whined.

  The deputy nodded. "This room is part of an on goin' police investigation."

  "Fine." She handed it over.

  The other woman picked up the briefcase and clutched it to her chest. Even though I thought I might be violently ill, the private investigator part of my brain registered this behavior as odd.

  The deputy turned his attention to the woman. Swathed in a coral-color summer-suit and a crème silk blouse, she proclaimed elegance. "Ma'am, and you might be?"

  She dropped the briefcase onto the bed and extended a hand with long tapered fingers. A large silver cocktail ring with a carved sun motif adorned the fourth finger. A silver bracelet with a geometric design hung from her wrist. "Ava Chandler... Big Sky Ranch. The pleasure is all mine."

  I couldn't help blinking twice. Her tone had said: the pleasure is all yours.

  "Deputy Dawson Hughes." He shook her hand. "How did you know Mark Ingels?"

  I needn't have been there. The conversation swirled around me. I wanted to shout about my rights as a wife. I longed to disappear into thin air.

  The woman pushed a lock of auburn hair away from her face, revealing deep-set brown eyes. "I can't say I knew him well. We were both members at Estella Ranch."

  "If you didn't know him well, why are you here?" I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, but it seeped in.

  The Chandler woman gazed at me, with a kind of noblesse oblige reserved for the masses. "Why, honey, I came to assist Cassidy, of course."

  I lifted my chin and met the woman's eyes. "It seems you had a particular interest in my husband's briefcase."

  The deputy took a quick step toward me and touched my wrist.

  I said no more.

  The woman smiled and ran buffed but unpolished fingers through lush burnished tresses. A diamond the size of Dallas sat next to a platinum band on her left hand. "Oh my, y'all surprised me, flingin' the door open. When I'm all nerves, I'll pick up anythin' and fiddle with it."

  The deputy adjusted his stance, so his shoulders squared and he looked directly at them. "So, you know Cassidy quite well?"

  "Mercy, yes. Cassidy and I became friendly two years ago when I married Winslow Chandler. My gown and the dresses for my retinue came from her store."

  Cassidy took a step toward the door. "I think we'd best be on our way."

  The woman glanced at her watch. "Oh my, yes. Look at the time."

  I shifted my gaze to the windows. Shadows would soon be getting long.

  The two women rushed to leave, trotting across the room on spindly high heels.

  In my mind's eye, I tackled them both and handcuffed them back-to-back. I shook my head to dispel the image.

  When the door closed behind them, I stepped into the bathroom and gave it a good once over. "They were looking for something. How well did the police search?"

  "Your husband's body was found in a barren area, but still within the city limits. So, the Abilene PD handled the murder scene and the hotel search. Went through all his personal possessions, took his papers, but didn't toss the place."

  "Deputy Hughes, we need to toss it." Without waiting for an answer, I reached for the top drawer of the bureau.

  He stepped in front of me, preventing me from touching anything. He unsnapped the outside pocket below his right thigh and withdrew two latex gloves. He handed me one pair and put on the other. "This way our prints will be confined to the immediate area by the door."

  "Right, and if we find something we won't have contaminated the scene." I worked my hands into the gloves.

  "I'm not carryin' booties, but whatever our shoes brought in most likely also came in with everyone else. I had a sneakin' suspicion this mornin' that gloves might be in handy."

  That explained the cargo pants. I'd never seen him wear them before. Not that I'd seen him a lot, or even particularly noticed what he wore, much.

  I pulled the drawers out of the bureau and turned them over. I pushed the heavy piece away from the wall, and got down on one knee to examine the inside backboard. Nothing taped anywhere, or to the back of the television.

  I was on my way to the end table when the deputy started groping the pillows and said, "Give me a hand with the bed."

  I ripped the quilt off, gave it a shake, and threw it on the floor.

  He did the same with the top sheet and I pulled the bottom one off.

  He pointed. "Grab that end and let's look under the mattress."

  We stood the mattress up on end. Nothing.

  "Hughes, gotta look under the box spring. Something could be taped to it."

  There wasn't. I paced back and forth and adrenalin seemed to surge upward through me from my toes. I yanked the headboard off its mounts on the wall and it crashed to the floor. Not a thing.

  "Hey, take it easy. Don't want you hurtin' yourself." He tossed the cushion off the easy chair and turned the thing upside down. Zilch.

  I checked the desk drawer, turned its chair over, and ran a hand across the underside of the desk. Zip.

  As I went to get up, I banged my head exactly where I'd smacked it on the frame of the Smart Car. Now my goose egg had a goose egg.

  Hughes t
urned toward me. "Are you all right?"

  "Just fine." I wanted to kick the desk's leg, but didn't.

  "O-kay."

  I pointed to the end table closest to him and walked toward the other one. "Gotta find what those two dumbos were looking for."

  His head jerked up and his eyes widened.

  "Sorry, that's my Brooklynese showing. It's not a gender reference. Guys can be stupid, too."

  He grinned. "Understood."

  I yanked the small drawer out and a Gideon Bible flew across the room. After dropping the drawer, I pivoted and retrieved the black bound volume. Stood there for a second, then took it by both covers and shook. Nadda. "I've spent enough working hours in motel rooms to get to know this book a bit."

  "The Bible won't do you wrong."

  "Not like people will." I placed it on the desk.

  He nodded, removed the drawer, and turned the bedside table on its side. "Nothin' here."

  With the tip of my black leather running shoe, I turned over the drawer I'd dropped. There was nothing taped to the bottom. When I upended the end table, a block of a dark brown powdery substance wrapped securely in cellophane was affixed there. I rubbed my nose due to the sour, vinegary smell emanating from the block. "Not that strong, but still a nauseating smell."

  "Step away! Don't touch it. I want to establish a pure chain of possession from the onset."

  I leaned against the wall and slid down until my butt hit the floor. "Mark changed and I never recognized any of the signs. The man who did this is not the man I married."

  Hughes stared at me and then averted his eyes. "By the dark brown color, that's Mexican heroin... no China White in Texas. And it's gotta be a kilogram, a little over two pounds."

  I gulped and my knees literally knocked together, twice. "We're talking about a few bucks here."

  Hughes jerked his chin toward the brick. "Dependin' on the purity, anythin' from a hundred fifty-thou to a quarter of a million dollars."

  "Yikes, no wonder so many are seduced by it. Mark sure was."

  He paced once across the room and back. "We might be dealin' with somethin' much larger than we'd supposed."

  I pushed off the floor and stood. "We know it extends to New York. Mark would've returned, presumably bringing this brick with him into our home. Sweet, real sweet."

  There must've been a blindness-in-marriage-gene running down the female line in my family. My mom certainly turned a blind eye to my dad's cheating.

  "I've got a box of Marquis test kits in my car, but I can't leave the product to go get it. I've got to be on top of the chain of evidence. I'll test it back at the station. Have to send it to the lab anyway. The results of my test won't hold up in court."

  First Hughes took photographs of the taped block of dope with his cell phone. Then with great care, he separated the brick of heroin from the bottom of the end table and placed it into one of the hotel's unused plastic laundry bags.

  He phoned housekeeping and explained the room was in disarray due to an ongoing investigation. After tossing my latex gloves and his into the trash, he snapped the fancy leather latch on the briefcase closed. "Don't know what Ava Chandler's interest in this thing was, but I'll take it along with me."

  A maid came right up and he gave her two crisp twenty-dollar bills which brought a smile to her face.

  "Would you like me to call you a cab... or I could take you with me to the station, then drive you back to the Chuck Wagon?"

  I was exhausted, but for some reason my fragile world seemed to hold together around this way too chivalrous guy. Besides, I wanted to see the reaction at the station to this dope find. "I'll go with you."

  "I can wait downstairs while you gather up your husband's things."

  "No, I can't handle that chore tonight. Give me the key. There's nothing left here that's pertinent to the investigation. I'd like to get his stuff tomorrow."

  Laundry bag and briefcase in one hand, he handed over the key with the other, then opened the door. "After you, ma'am. Let's vamoose."

  Chapter Five

  Abilene, Texas

  Day Four, Evening

  Deputy Sergeant Dawson Hughes

  I returned the cruiser to my spot in the parking lot behind the county law enforcement facility, then escorted Mrs. Ingles into the building. It took only a few minutes to log in the evidence and lock it up. I was satisfied I had my motive for murder. Drug running in Taylor County. The Abilene police chief would be none too happy to learn us county boys had one-upped them. That's what he gets for assigning a greenhorn detective to the case.

  After convincing the lady to let me take her for a bite to eat, I took the bag with her clothing from her so she could more easily climb into my Ram. The drive to the Chuck Wagon was a quiet one. With hands secured at ten and two o'clock, my body relaxed and sank into the driver's seat. I kept a smile off my face to keep my thoughts private. A weight had been lifted, albeit a small one. I was gratified the county had broken open the case, and was thrilled this lady would be having dinner with me. Things seemed to be going my way.

  I dropped her off and hurried home to change out of my uniform. The thrumming shower invigorated me. Not a cologne type of guy, I slapped on a palm full of brisk after-shave. Left, then right and I was good to go.

  I set my Stetson low on my crown and let my white oxford shirt fall outside my jeans to cover the gun holstered at my back. Then I fired up the Ram for a short drive through the back streets of Arroyo and returned to the Chuck Wagon. I pulled the cruiser next to her mite of a car and honked.

  She strode out, a mass of blond hair swirling around her shoulders. Wow! She sported a big shirt I hadn't seen before, this one dusky lavender. It could've very well concealed a weapon. Instead of running shoes, she was turned out in a pair of black leather boots, eastern style.

  She slid into the front seat, gave me a once over, and grinned. "You clean up pretty good, Deputy."

  I stole a glance at her and grinned back. So did she. "Thank you, ma'am." Smelled good too, like one of those clean and fresh fragrances they have at Bath and Body Works.

  The drive east on 20 had Arroyo disappearing behind us, its few streetlights shimmering in the growing darkness. We were heading back toward Abilene.

  "I'm starving."

  "Well then, ma'am, how about I take you to a gen-u-ine Texas roadhouse?"

  She tossed me a wicked grin. "Is that where they serve road-kill?"

  "Most of the game around here could take on that little green buggy you drive... no sweat." I chuckled.

  "A roadhouse sounds fine. By the way, my name is Veronica. My friends call me Ronnie."

  My hands gripped the steering wheel. "What would you like me to call you?"

  "Ronnie's fine."

  "Yes, ma'am… er, Ronnie." I couldn't hold back a chuckle.

  She laughed, then pointed as we approached the intersection of 20 and US 83. "I think that's the wrong turn I made that first night, when I got lost."

  I nodded. "That's an easy mistake to make if you're not familiar with these parts."

  I made the turn, drove a few miles north on 83, then eased the cruiser into Billy-Joe's Roadhouse.

  She turned toward me. "I remember passing this place that first night when I realized I wasn't going right and had to turn around."

  I parked the Ram and we got out. The frame building had the traditional rectangular shape with a shingled pitched roof. A sign over the door read: Get Smoked.

  Billy, a graceful, half-Kiowa brunette, greeted us with two menus and led us to a table with a red and white checked cloth. The aromas of grilled meat and barbecue sauce permeated the dining room.

  I pulled out a sturdy wooden chair with a wide, comfortable seat and Ronnie obliged.

  "I could eat a bear. No seriously, I can eat." She grinned up at me once she'd settled herself.

  "Sorry, no bear, but they got every kind of steak, ribs, pulled pork, fried chicken, chili, and sausage. That guy from Food Network oughta come out
here. Food's that good." I sat opposite her.

  Joe Junior, a slim, muscular kid with straight, dark brown hair and a hooknose like his pa's, advanced to our table and pulled out his order pad. "Evenin', Deputy Hughes. Ma'am. Get you anythin' to drink?"

  "An ice-cold glass of your fine sweet tea." I looked across the table. "I highly recommend their delicious home-brew. They freeze these big old glasses they serve it in. Out of this world."

  "I'm sold. I'll have the iced sweet tea and I'd like a few lemon slices on the side."

  The young man left for the service bar.

  "Since you've got an appetite, I'd like to suggest the T-bone steak. The bone in the meat gives extra flavor and the way Joe cooks it up... you think you died and went to heaven."

  In short order, the kid brought our drinks. We both ordered the T-bone steak, skillet fried Mac 'n cheese, and coleslaw.

  I extended my hand and touched her fingertips. She already knew about the drugs and my gut told me she could be trusted. "Time for me to 'fess up. I took you to the hotel to collect your husband's personal effects, but there was also another reason. Since the Abilene PD's got a rookie detective on the case, I wanted to see the room for myself. Glad I did too."

  "Is there rivalry between the two departments?"

  "Not really. Everybody's got to start somewhere. I missed a few things in the beginnin'. I'm pretty sure that detective went with the odds. Figured the soon-to-be-ex-spouse did it. So, he wasn't lookin' for other possibilities."

  "He had me as the shooter?" Her voice squeaked.

  I nodded and took a long, slow swig of the tea hoping to forestall further questions. Rivulets slid down the frozen glass. "It goes without sayin'... mum's the word about what we found there. We don't know who's behind this. It's best they don't know we found his product."

  She arched an eyebrow. "We know Cassidy and Ava Chandler are involved."

  "We think we know that."