Twisted Dreams

by F J messina

  “Face to face, as you’ve said.” Jet’s voice was soft as well, her eyes following Jennipher as she walked away.

  It wasn’t long before Jennipher was back and took the order for two small salads. Sonia was surprised and pleased at how quickly their lunch showed up, lessening the chance that they might be trapped in their seats while their quarry left work. Just the opposite occurred. After having quickly eaten their salads, the girls had to linger over their wines for almost an hour before Jennipher came to the table, apparently hoping to nudge them into paying their tab so that she might clock out.

  After paying, the girls left The Homestead. They positioned themselves outside the front of the building, waiting for Jennipher but trying to look inconspicuous. Just a couple of tourists wondering what to do next. A few minutes later, Sonia watched through a window as Jennipher took off her apron and clocked out. She turned her face away. “She’ll be out soon.”

  Sonia could tell from the look on Jennipher’s face that she was surprised to see the two women still standing outside the restaurant as she left. She gave them a quick smile, then turned left and started walking away.

  Sonia called out. “Jennipher?”

  The server stopped and turned around, a quizzical look on her face.

  Sonia continued. “Jennipher. Could we ask you a question?”

  Sonia could sense the young woman withdrawing into herself, apparently unsure of what was happening─and clearly more apprehensive than one might have expected.

  Jet stepped in. “No need to worry, honey. We just want to ask you a question about someone we’re looking for, someone you went to college with.”

  Sonia would have expected Jennipher’s obvious anxiety to lessen, a least a bit, but she got no physical sign of that. “Really. We’re trying to find a friend of yours who might be in trouble, and we thought maybe you could help. Do you remember Mariana Castillo?”

  Jennipher nodded, her short red hair glowing a little in the afternoon sunlight. No words came out of her mouth. Eventually, however, she said, “Mariana. Sure, I remember her. She was in the Equine Science program like me.”

  Jet adjusted the sunglasses she had put on. “And . . . ?”

  “And what? That’s it.” Jennipher raised her shoulders. “She was in the same program as me. We had classes together. She was a nice girl. What’s this all about?” She was clinging tightly to the purse and folded apron that she held close to her chest.

  Sonia walked closer to Jennipher─slowly, cautiously. She spoke even more gently. “Listen, Mariana has gone missing. It’s been almost two months now. We’re private investigators and her father has hired us to try to find her. You don’t happen to know where she is, do you?”

  Jennipher’s answer came quickly, edgy. “No. I haven’t seen her since we graduated. How would I know where she is?”

  “Sweetheart,” Jet reached out to the girl but she withdrew. “We’re not saying you know where she is. We’re just wondering if you’ve heard anything at all about her recently. Heard about her or her classmates. Anything?”

  “No, no.” Jennipher’s eyes were having a difficult time finding a place to settle. “Look, I graduated from Mayweather and then came home to work on my family’s farm.” She shook her head. “I don’t stay in touch with anyone from the program.”

  Jet looked quickly at Sonia, then turned back to Jennipher. “You don’t talk to anyone from the program?”

  Jennipher’s eyes shot up to the left for the briefest moment. “No.” She paused. “Look y’all, I’ve got to go. I’ve got to get home. Good luck with everything, but I’ve really got to go.” She turned and started walking away again, quickly.

  Jet called out. “One last thing.”

  Jennipher stopped, frozen for a moment before she turned around to face the girls.

  Jet took just one step toward her. “If you hear anything about Mariana. Would you give us a call? You can Google us. Bluegrass Confidential Investigations.”

  Jennipher hesitated just half of a beat. “Sure.” She turned and walked away. It was clear she was absolutely done with the conversation.

  54

  Brad had been right. Lexington being the nominal capital of the horse breeding world, Ron Harris’ bloodstock agency was located in a nondescript office building on South Broadway, near the center of town. By eight o’clock on Monday morning, Brad was sitting in his second car, an unobtrusive 2005 Toyota Corolla─a better choice for surveillance than his brand-new Corvette. He was hoping that Harris would show up for work sometime that morning. He did, but not until ten o’clock.

  Brad was glad when he saw Harris arrive, it meant that he had made contact with his target. He realized as well, however, that Harris was going into his place of business. He might not come out for several hours. Since the whole notion of following Ron Harris had come about over the weekend, Brad hadn’t had an opportunity to check out Harris’ office─to find out if he had any employees. That meant that he would just have to sit in his car and wait, possibly for several hours, until he had a chance to make the intervention he was planning. It was frustrating, but it was something his experience had prepared him for well.

  As Brad sat in the car waiting, he had time to ruminate on the changes that had occurred in his life over the last year or so. Not too long ago he had still been a United States Marine attached to NCIS. Then he had come back home to the Bluegrass, started Semper Fi Investigations, and spotted a beautiful dark-haired woman who worked at another PI firm right across the street. The next thing he knew, he was helping her solve a murder and falling in love with her along the way. Then there was the trip to see the wife he’d never divorced, a big blow-up with Sonia about not telling her beforehand what he was dealing with, and finally, a reconciliation. And now he was sitting in his car, engaged to be married, and about to have a friendly conversation with a guy he was pretty sure had just murdered three young women. He popped a piece of gum into his mouth. “Ain’t life somethin’.”

  Just after twelve o’clock, Brad saw Ron Harris leave the building and head for his shiny black Lexus. Harris slipped into the driver’s seat, fired up the car, and spent a moment settling in, putting on his sunglasses and adjusting his radio. Those activities only took a few moments, but they were moments he came to regret.

  Just as Harris moved to put the Lexus in gear, the passenger door opened and a large, rugged man with bright blue eyes slipped into the passenger seat. “Good afternoon, Ron.”

  “What the . . . ?”

  “Calm down, Ron.” Brad’s voice was quiet, velvet over steel. “We’re just going to have a pleasant little conversation here, and if you don’t do anything stupid you might just be able to leave this car without the worry of how to get blood stains out of that beautiful teal shirt you’re wearing. It is teal, right? I mean, that’s what they call that color?”

  Brad could tell that Ron Harris’ brain was spinning a mile a minute. “Who the hell─”

  Brad raised the index finger of his left hand and held it up in Harris’ face. “Now Ron, be careful not to make me angry. I come in peace. I just want to ask you some questions. But, should you become unruly . . . .” Brad put his right hand inside his jacket and pulled his Glock 17 out of its shoulder holster.

  Brad watched as Harris’ head pivoted back and forth, clearly looking in vain for someone to help him. He smiled and let his eyes leave Harris and drift around the parking lot. “Don’t bother, Ron. There’s no one here to help you. I’ve been sitting here for hours, and you’re the only one who’s shown up the whole time. Really, it’s just the two of us.” He gave his shoulders a quick shrug. “Now, can we get started?”

  Harris’ face twisted into the most menacing look he could muster. “Listen, you son-of-a-bitch. I don’t know what the hell you want from me, but if you don’t get out of my car─”

  Although Brad had chambered a round before holstering his weapon, for effect, he grasped the Glock’s slide with his left hand and slid it backward, e
jecting one round and chambering another. It made the familiar sound that Harris had heard a million times in movies and on TV but had probably never heard in real life. Brad could tell by the way the flustered man was looking at the gun that it now scared the hell out of him. “So, Ron, tell me about your business. What is it that you actually do for a living?”

  Harris’ eyes were glued to Brad’s gun. His voice was shaky. “What do you mean? I broker horse sales. I help people buy and sell racehorses.” It was clear that panic was rising in his whole body. The pitch of his voice certainly was. “Why the hell are you asking me this?”

  Brad remained as calm as an early summer morning on a Kentucky horse farm. “So, you help people find the horse they want to buy and then you make the deal for them. Is that it?”

  Harris took a short, difficult breath. “Yes. Yes, sometimes. Or I help people sell a horse. I don’t know.” His eyes were wide, his voice fractured. “What the hell do you want me to tell you?”

  Brad looked right into Harris’ eyes. “I want you to tell me about Frailing. You brokered the deal for him, didn’t you?”

  Harris paused. Brad could see him trying to get control of himself. “Yeah. Yeah. I helped that banjo guy buy him. So what? That was just . . . just another deal.”

  Brad turned his eyes forward, feeling no need to fear anything Harris could do. “And who was it that bred Frailing?”

  The look on Harris’ face became more confused as he gave a straight, simple answer. “He was bred on Downstream Farm, that’s Masson’s farm, George Masson.”

  Brad lifted his eyebrows. “Nothing unusual there?”

  “No, no. Masson bred the horse, Paine bought it. No big deal.”

  “And Frailing? He came from great bloodlines?” Brad sounded like a father who was asking his son about the ownership of a small stash of marijuana he had found in his son’s closet.

  Although the air conditioner was running in the car, Brad could see the sweat pouring down Harris’ face. “Well, good, but not great. No, he came from good stock, but─”

  Brad half squinted. “But he really did exceptionally well this year, didn’t he?”

  Harris had been staring at Brad and his gun the whole time, trying to understand what this was all about. He finally released his gaze and looked out the windshield. “Yeah, yeah. He did okay.” He turned back to Brad. “He turned out to be a good horse, a good buy for Paine.”

  Brad paused for a minute, giving Harris time to start to put some things together in his mind. “So, tell me about Summer Wheat.”

  Brad watched as Ron Harris’ eyes bugged open. He could tell that alarm bells were going off for Harris─that he was starting to get it. “Ron? Summer Wheat?” Brad could see that Harris’ tongue was getting thick, a tell-tale sign of panic.

  “Um, uh.” Harris swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “What do you want to know?”

  Brad stayed cool and gave Harris a friendly smile. “C’mon Ron. You must be getting this by now. Frailing comes out of Downstream Farm and does really well for a horse with his bloodlines. Then, Summer Wheat, it’s kind of the same thing. You want to guess what other horse I’d like to talk about?”

  Ron Harris just shook his head. His teal shirt now the color of dark ocean water.

  Brad’s smile tightened. “Would it make sense to throw Run Lucky into the conversation? Would it, Ron?”

  Ron Harris stared wide-eyed at Brad, frozen.

  “Okay, Ron.” Brad rubbed his slightly scruffy chin, his voice becoming just the slightest bit impatient. “This is taking longer than I’d like; and honestly, I haven’t had a thing to eat since early this morning. So, let me help you out.”

  Somehow, Ron Harris’ eyes managed to get even bigger.

  Using his Glock in place of his pointing finger, Brad reviewed. “Three horses come from three different farms, Downstream, Willowbay, and Holdenbrook. They each have racing success way beyond expectations. Oh, and then there’s this one other thing that happens. Three young women all get murdered, and it turns out that each one worked on one of those three farms. That’s something, isn’t it Ron? Oh, there’s one other thing. It seems that one person was involved with all three horses. Do you know who that one person is, Ron?”

  Harris didn’t make a sound─move a muscle.

  Brad’s head wagged slowly. “I’m sorry Ron, but it was you.” He let out a big sigh. “You’re the only person who was connected to all three horses, all three farms, and therefore . . . all three murdered women.”

  Ron Harris’ eyes flared. He lunged forward, trying to grab Brad. Unfortunately, having seen all those public service announcements over the past twenty years, the first thing Ron had done when he’d gotten into his car was put on his seatbelt. Simultaneously, two different things went poorly for Ron Harris. First, his seatbelt tightened, keeping him from reaching Brad. Second, Brad smacked him in the face with the butt of his Glock, right between his eyes. It sent pain blazing through his brain and blood running instantly down his face.

  After Ron’s short moan subsided, both men sat in silence. Finally, Brad said, “You know, Ron. I’m pretty sure you can clear this all up for me. Don’t you think this would be a good time to start doing that?”

  Harris sat there, blood, sweat, and perhaps even a tiny tear pouring down his face, the panic in his eyes being replaced by a look of resignation.

  A few moments later, Brad reached into his jacket pocket and took out his phone. “Okay, Ron. I’ve given you your chance.” He started scrolling on his screen. “I guess we’ll just call the police and have them come and join us. I’m sure that when I tell them about this whole crazy set of coincidences they’ll probably want to ask you some more in-depth questions themselves.” He chuckled. “They’re like that, you know, always wanting to get to the bottom of things.”

  Ron Harris came to life. “No wait, wait. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you all about it. But you’ve got to believe me, I didn’t kill those girls. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I never hurt anyone.”

  “Ron?” The look on Brad’s face was the same one that father would have had when his son told him the marijuana was a friend’s─he was just holding it for him.

  “Seriously,” Harris’ voice was full of desperation, “I don’t even know what girls you’re talking about. It was just business. We were just doing business.”

  His Glock in his right hand, Brad reached out and put his big, powerful left hand on Harris’ thigh, close to his most prized possessions. He enjoyed watching Harris’ whole body stiffen in panic when he did. “Okay, Ron. Last chance. C’mon now. Get a hold of yourself and start telling me everything you can about the horses, the farms, the girls.”

  Brad sat and listened as Ron Harris spilled his guts. Ten minutes later, Brad holstered his weapon, opened the door, and slid out of the car. “Okay, Ron. Go clean yourself up. And then go get yourself a lawyer. But listen, pal. I wouldn’t plan on leaving town anytime soon. I’m thinking that would be the last thing you’d want to do right now.”

  Brad closed the door softly and walked away from the car, his calm bravado on full display for the benefit of Ron Harris. As he got to his own car, however, his insides were doing flips.

  55

  As soon as Jennipher had gotten a few steps away from them, Jet smacked Sonia’s arm with the back of her hand. “Quick. Let’s go.” It was an intense whisper.

  Sonia’s first step matched Jet’s. So did her voice. “Yeah.”

  They quickly made it to the Camry. Jet hit the button on her key to unlock the doors. “You didn’t buy all that crap from Jennipher, did you?”

  Sonia slipped quickly into the passenger seat, a look of determination on her face. “Absolutely not. She’s hiding something. No doubt about it.”

  “Are you kidding?” Jet gave Sonia a quick glance. “She looked like Diogi did the day I came home and found six jelly donuts missing and his face covered in powdered sugar. And another thing. There’
s this girl up in New York, Sarah something. Sarah Hastings, I think. I spoke to her the other day. She said she stays in contact with Jennipher. Clearly, Ms. Jennipher has been lying to us.” Jet started the car, watching the rearview mirror as the redhead continued walking away.

  Sonia stared at the side view mirror. “We’re going to follow her, right?”

  “You bet.” Jet’s eyes remained locked on her rearview mirror. “I don’t know what that gets us, but this is the first time we have even the slightest reason to think we may be able to find out what happened to Mariana, and it’s all because of you, Sonia.”

  Sonia looked over at Jet. “What do you mean?”

  “Face to face, girl. You’re the one who said we had to talk to these folks face to face. I’m telling you. I’m not sure I would have gotten the same sense of things talking to this girl on the phone, or by email. But face to face, I’m sure something here smells rotten.”

  Sonia was about to speak, but she was cut off by Jet. “Wait. She’s getting into her car. Can you see it? That little puke-green Chevy something?” Jet squinted at the mirror. “Alright Miss Jennipher with the ph, let’s see where you go now.”

  Sonia was frustrated that she couldn’t pick up the car in the little side view mirror, but she watched Jet’s face as Jet kept track of the car. “You got her?”

  “I got her” Jet nodded. “And here she comes, she’s going to come right past us.”

  “Be careful she doesn’t see us following her.”

  Jet looked to her right and gave Sonia the biggest “Ya think?” look she could muster.

  Sonia shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry.”

  Jet pulled out into traffic and followed the little, puke-green car through town. It only took a few minutes for both cars to work their way out into the countryside. “Damn, it ain’t easy following someone on this kind of road and them not seeing you.”

  Sonia responded, “Uh huh.” But what was going through her mind was the day she and Brad had followed a drug dealer down the interstate from Lexington all the way to a little town in Tennessee. She was acutely aware of the fact that they had used two cars in order to avoid detection, alternating behind the target every few minutes and at each stop. Now, Jet was trying to keep up with the puke-green car and yet stay far enough behind as to not arouse suspicion. Sonia knew it was a tough task.