Holly turned to find Burl propped on one elbow and stretched out on the antique bed.
“Ball and chain.” She scrunched up her face. “Is that really how men think about their wives?”
“Face it. Men aren’t meant to be monogamous.”
“Some men.”
“Most men.”
“Whatever.” She picked up her basket of towels and cleaning basket, then marched into the hall. “Every man isn’t like you.”
Burl bounced off the bed and followed her to the next room. “You’re right about that.” He thumbed his chest. “I’m one of a kind, huh?”
He was truly a legend in his own mind, and once upon a time, she’d been young and naive enough to believe everything that came out of his mouth. No wonder he thought she was a dumb blonde.
Was. Not anymore. She saw Burl for who he was. A scared, insecure man.
She plopped the basket of towels and cleaning basket down in front of Duke and Toni’s room, pulled the master key from her pocket.
He lifted his hands, palms up, as though he could coax words from her. “What?”
Holly shook her head. “Nothing.”
He had about a snowball’s chance in a Louisiana summer of getting into heaven on his own. No wonder he’d decided he didn’t want to go. Somehow she was going to wedge his sorry self in, if it took snooping through the pope’s luggage.
She tapped on Toni and Duke’s door with her key, even though she knew they were in town, having lunch at Dottie’s Diner. “Housekeeping.”
“You think your bozo is different?” He leaned against the door frame. “We’re all alike.”
Holly slipped the key in the lock. “You have nothing in common with him.”
“Stripped down to the bones, you wouldn’t know us apart. I guarantee it.”
“Housekeeping,” she called again and opened the door, then grabbed her baskets of supplies.
Burl let out a long whistle.
She stood in the doorway for a moment. Her gaze followed a trail of clothes from the door to the bed. A knotted red silk scarf dangled from each of the four posts of the ransacked bed.
“Okeydokey.” Holly set the baskets down inside the room and closed the door. She retrieved her rubber gloves from the cleaning basket, then shook her head as she slipped on the gloves. “You’d think they’d have the DO NOT DISTURB sign on their door so housekeeping wouldn’t see this.”
“Check this out.” Burl pointed to a stainless-steel briefcase hanging from a metal cord around a bedpost.
“That’s what I was looking for.” Holly rushed around the bed. “Duke has guarded that thing like it has the crown jewels in it.”
“Double locked, too,” Burl said.
Holly fingered the padlock on the metal cord. “This one needs a key, but I don’t need to remove the briefcase to see what’s in it. All I need to do is open the combination lock on the briefcase.”
“Got the combo, Sherlock?”
Holly fished a piece of paper out of her pocket. “I’ve got their birthdays and driver’s license numbers from their registration card. I’m hoping one of them is the combination to the case.” She keyed in the first six numbers of Duke’s driver’s license number. No go. She tried the last six, and it didn’t budge. “It’s got to be a birthday.”
“It could be anything,” Burl said. “You’re wasting your time.”
“If you’d help me out by doing a little spying, I wouldn’t need the combo. You could just tell me what’s in it.”
“If I could materialize anytime and anywhere I wanted, I’d have been in here watching this show.”
Holly blew out an exasperated breath. She tried Duke’s birthday, then Toni’s. “Crapola.”
“There’s a million possible combinations. You’ll never get it right.”
Holly added the five years most women like Toni shave from their age, then rolled the cylinders. The latch clicked open. “Ta-dah.”
CHAPTER 30
Wiggling her fingers over the briefcase, Holly hesitated before she lifted the lid. So far, every time she invaded someone else’s privacy, she’d been sorry, but a locked briefcase had to contain something important. Jake wasn’t going to like her doing this, either, but she had to find out what was inside.
If it was a pile of cash, she’d know who the smuggler was for sure. If it was something else, she’d just close the case and forget it. At least she could eliminate Toni and Duke from suspicion.
Burl’s translucent body waded through the bed and the briefcase. Burl spun his finger in a circle at the side of the briefcase. “Come on, Blondie. Get it over with. Open it.”
She pulled back. “What if it’s booby-trapped?”
Burl rolled his eyes. “You’d be dead already. Open it.”
Holly eased the case open, then blinked a few times, as though her eyes were lying. The inside of the case was lined in blue Pacific Silvercloth and was heavily padded. In the middle of the case, secured by what had to be a custom-made form, sat a—
“What the devil is that?” Burl leaned over the case.
“It looks like a . . .” Holly pointed to the shiny gold resemblance of man parts in full erection mode. “Is that a plug?”
“Yep.”
Holly leaned a little closer to read something written across the, um, base of it. “Gold Member?”
He hummed a verse from the classic James Bond movie Goldfinger.
“Shut up,” she said. “Why would anyone keep a gold dildo in a locked stainless-steel case?”
“Maybe it’s real gold,” Burl said.
“Okay. Why would anyone make a statue of that out of gold? Unless”—she paused—“they were trying to make it look like an adult toy and it really is gold.”
“With the dollar down, gold could be what the Colombians want now. If it’s just for show, it won’t work. Plug it in and see what happens.”
Holly pulled her rubber gloves on, then removed Gold Member from the case. She tested the weight, but how heavy was gold, anyway? She’d never lifted more than a bracelet or a ring made of gold. “It’s not that heavy.”
Burl rubbed his chin. “Is it hollow?”
Holly tipped it over. “It has some sort of packing material in here. Gel pack maybe.” The plug teetered from the balls for a second, then fell out. “Crapola. I’ve broken it.”
“Unless the cord was detachable.”
“Only one way to find out.” She held Gold Member in one hand and the plug in the other. As she tried to plug the cord back into Gold Member, her thumb brushed over a button. Gold Member hummed to life.
“Eek!” She dropped it on the bed.
“Cordless. Good move,” Burl said.
Gold Member crawled across the bed like Thing from the old black-and-white reruns of The Addams Family. Holly resisted an urge to swat it like a fly.
“Holly, are you in there?” Miss Alice’s voice came from the other side of the door.
Mercy. That woman might as well wear a trench coat and glasses. She’s on my tail all the time.
“There’s a Sylvia Martin on the phone downstairs for you,” Miss Alice said as she pushed the door open a crack.
Holly dashed across the room to the door as Gold Member neared the edge of the bed. She peeked around the door to Miss Alice in the hall, and a thud sounded from inside the room.
Miss Alice put her glasses on her nose and attempted to lean around Holly. “What was that?”
“Oh, I—I leaned the broom against the bed when you knocked. It must have fallen,” Holly lied, hoping Gold Member had survived the plunge.
A faint buzz came from the bedroom.
“What’s that sound?” Miss Alice stretched her neck, trying to see around Holly.
“Electric broom.” Holly stepped into the hall, then eased the door closed. “Great for allergies.”
Miss Alice lifted a finger and wagged it at Holly. “Always prop the broom in a corner, and that won’t happen.”
“I’ll remember that.”
/> “She says she has a reservation, but I know you’re full.”
“Thanks. Tell her I’ll call her right back,” Holly said, opening the door only enough to slip inside the bedroom. She closed the door and locked it. Holly leaned against the door and blew out a breath.
Another knock came at the door. Holly nearly jumped out of her shoes.
“You’re full.” Miss Alice called from the other side. “Where are you going to put her?”
“Abe’s cabin,” Holly answered as she ran to the side of the bed where Gold Member had taken his fall.
The thing wasn’t there, but she heard a low buzzing sound. Lordy. Gold Member must have vibrated across the wood floor.
Miss Alice’s retreating footsteps sounded, and Holly dropped to her knees to look for Gold Member. She spotted the thing under the bed as it gyrated out from under the bed skirt on the opposite side.
Holly scrambled to her feet and looked at Burl on the other side of the bed. “Do you see it?”
Burl looked down at the floor. “Afraid so.” He’d faded a bit, and if a ghost could look sick, he did.
Holly scurried around the bed. Gold Member buzzed and crabbed across the floor, but one of its balls trailed behind it, hanging by a wire.
“Blondie, you’ve turned into a real ballbuster.” He shook his head. “I don’t have the stomach for this.” He faded into a fine mist, then disappeared.
Just craptastic.
How am I going to fix Gold Member before Toni and Duke get back? She checked her watch. Eleven o’clock. They’d said they were going to town for lunch.
Jake could fix anything, just like his dad. No matter how she rolled it around in her mind, she couldn’t find a way to tell Jake he needed to repair a pair of balls because she’d broken them.
Jeez. Ballbuster.
She wasn’t looking forward to explaining this.
* * *
Jake scrolled over the profiles and substance reports ICE headquarters had e-mailed to his laptop. Leaning back in Sam’s creaking chair, he shook his head. None of Holly’s guests were exactly as they had presented themselves. But who was?
He sipped what Sam called coffee. It tasted more like tar. Jake spun the ancient swivel chair to face his old friend. “When did you make this sludge?”
“Three or four hours ago,” Sam said from the oak chair across the desk from Jake. “Waste not, want not.” Sam took a sip from a chipped brown mug. “Ah. A man needs a little bite in his coffee.”
“It’s got teeth, all right.” Jake could almost scrape the brew off his tongue. It’d keep him alert, for darned sure.
“Anything interesting?”
“Privileged information,” Jake said as he scanned the brief, knowing he’d tell Sam, anyway. Ever since Miss Alice had told him about Sam’s generosity, Jake had been thinking of a way to pay him back without Sam knowing. And the old coot wasn’t easy to fool.
“Privileged, my hindquarters.” Sam’s wiry gray eyebrows matted like two sparring caterpillars. He paced across the cheap tile floor like an army general. “Only reason ICE knows about this operation is because of me.”
Jake rubbed a hand across his jaw to suppress his grin. He enjoyed riling Sam. It brought out the old spunk that had earned Sam Jake’s respect when he worked for him in high school. There were two things he knew about Sam. He could squeeze a dollar until George broke wind, and he could keep a secret.
“This can’t be printed,” Jake said, because he needed to say it, not because he didn’t trust Sam.
Sam stood a little taller. “Hell, no. All I want is first dibs on the story when you make the bust. You can even write the thing, as long as the story breaks in my paper.” Sam took another sip of coffee and looked into the distance, as though he could see something there. “If I get the AP to pick up a Delta Ridge Gazette story before I leave this world, I’ll die a happy man.”
“When I was looking around Burl’s hangar, I found a railroad container out back. It was covered with vines and locked up as tight as a drum. Mackie lopped off the lock after Burl died and put a new one on it because Holly couldn’t find Burl’s key. She sent the new key over by Miss Alice.” Jake raised a brow. “I found a few seeds on the floor and some powder traces. Sent those off for analysis.”
“And?”
Jake tapped the screen. “Confirmed. Marijuana and cocaine.”
“A railroad container full of dope.” Sam whistled. “How much do you think that would be worth? And how did he move it?”
“I’m guessing in small batches. He probably flew some of it out. Holly said Burl’s contacts would stay as guests at the B & B and then haul out the rest in their suitcases.”
Sam pulled his pipe out of his coat pocket. He stuck it in his mouth but didn’t light it. “What’s the computer say about the guests? I bet it’s that quiet fella staying by himself. What’s his name?”
“Dunbar. He just got out of prison with early parole. He was sentenced to twenty years and served ten. Money laundering.”
“Told you.” The pipe hung from Sam’s mouth like a pacifier. At least he’d quit smoking it, a relief from the fog of smoke Jake had tolerated from him years ago.
“He was a model prisoner.” Jake leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his neck as he reviewed his file on the computer. “Taught GED classes behind bars. His wife divorced him three years into his sentence. He has a job teaching English at a trade school in a little town in St. Charles Parish and volunteers for a literacy foundation. I talked to his parole officer. Dunbar is trying to get back with his wife. Had to ask permission to come here to meet her on their anniversary. On paper, he looks rehabilitated.”
“Once a crook, always a crook.”
“Maybe, maybe not. His wife is a no-show.” Jake shrugged. “Can’t bust the guy because he has a record.”
Sam poured enough sugar in his coffee to make a mudpie.
“So that’s how you can drink that stuff you call coffee.”
“That’s how I stay so sweet, you little tenderfoot.” Sam took a swig. “Ah. Now what about Miss Centerfold and her bodyguard?”
“Miss Centerfold, aka fly baby and Toni Bolla, is an aspiring actress, a model, and a semiretired Vegas dancer. No record, but her ex-boyfriend is in San Quentin for racketeering. She and Duke have been seeing each other for about six months. Duke has a string of adult video stores in New Jersey that are close to going belly up. He hired a patent attorney recently and invested fifty thousand dollars he didn’t have in prototype and startup costs for his invention. Looks like he took out a private loan to finance it. No bank records.”
“Just ’cause the guy is kinky and on the skids financially doesn’t mean he’s a crook.”
“Depends on who he borrowed the money from. He runs in some shady circles. Maybe he promised a big favor for the loan, or drug running is how he plans to pay it off.” Jake put his feet on Sam’s desk and got the eye from him. He groaned and eased his feet off the desk.
“Who else do you have the skinny on in there?” Sam motioned with his pipe toward the computer, then stuck his pipe back in his mouth.
Jake opened another file. “The Fletchers are on their way to Houston. Kate has cancer.”
“Cancer is expensive.” Sam shook his head. “I’ve seen it ruin people financially. They may be desperate.”
“Yeah. Breaking bad.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” Jake wasn’t even sure Sam had a TV. “I thought they may have needed the money, but Tom got a good-sized settlement a few years ago from an on-the-job injury. Nearly lost his leg. Had to retire early.”
Sam shook his head. “Might as well be in purgatory as retire before your time.”
“Anyway, they paid off their home and could easily get a mortgage on it if they were in serious financial trouble. They haven’t. And they seem to be the kind of parents who wouldn’t chance jail time for themselves and foster care for their boys.”
“Scratch them, then.
” Sam rubbed his hand across the gray stubble on his chin. “Who else is staying at the B & B besides Alice? I know darned well that old battle-ax isn’t smuggling drugs.”
“She’s not a suspect, but something is fishy. She told Holly she needed to stay at Holly Grove because her floors were being refinished. I drove by her house, and the floors are not being refinished.” Jake lifted a shoulder. “Why she lied, I can’t be sure.”
“Because she’s a nosy old bat.” Sam looked over his glasses at Jake. “I’d bet my best hat on that.”
The intercom buzzed on Sam’s desk.
Sam crossed to the phone and pushed a button. “Yeah, Penny?”
“Sheriff Walker is here to see Jake,” she said.
“Send him on back.” Sam released the button. “The sheriff doesn’t make social calls. This is probably about Mackie.”
Jake’s spine tensed. Had the sheriff found him drunk or worse? A dread settled over Jake like a dead chill. For once in his life, he’d like to see Mackie drunk. He’d allowed years to pass without talking to his father. Why? Pride? Stubbornness? Would he get a chance to make peace with Mackie? Or would he be saddled with guilt the rest of his life because he couldn’t accept his dad for who he was?
Sheriff Walker rapped on the door as he swung it open. He nodded to Sam, then turned to Jake. The sheriff didn’t hold eye contact for more than a second before he took off his hat. Looking down, he fingered his hat and shifted his weight from left to right.
Jake curled his hands around the smooth worn wood of the old desk chair. This couldn’t be good.
CHAPTER 31
Sheriff Walker stood rubbing the back of his neck and looking out of place in the middle of Sam’s office. He jerked his head up and squared his body, as though he needed fortitude to say what he needed to say. “Jake, some teenagers were squirrel hunting this morning at the edge of the river. They found something.” He rubbed a hand around the brim of his hat. “It don’t look good.”
Jake clamped down on the arms of his chair and prepared to hear the worst.
The sheriff shook his head but didn’t look Jake or Sam in the eye. “The boys found Mackie’s bike right at the river’s edge.”
Better Dead Page 21
