Show Me the Money

by Connie Shelton

  “Actually, I like it.”

  “I’m looking at a gray, feathery style that’s very cool. I’m thinking it goes with something from the country-club-chic department at Macy’s. And tomorrow I can have long blonde dreadlocks.”

  “Just don’t stand out too much. Better to blend in as a housewife from the neighborhood than to let them notice you.”

  “You take all the fun out of it.” But Mary laughed as she hung up.

  Chapter 70

  Woody went to cash in his winnings on the first six races, happy with his take, although he’d misjudged a couple of them. Well, you can’t win them all, he’d said to his son. Cody decided while Pop wasn’t looking over his shoulder it would be a good time to check and see if he had any new messages from Amber. He reached for his back pocket and froze.

  No phone. He searched his seat, Woody’s empty seat, even asked the man on the other side of him to look around his seat. Down on his knees he looked under, around, and at the rows above and below them. The phone was simply gone.

  “What are you doing? That concrete is grungy.” Woody was standing over him.

  “You got my phone? I can’t find it anywhere.”

  “I don’t have your phone. Did you check all your pockets? Those shorts got a million of them.”

  Cody knew without looking—the phone was heavy enough to be noticeable—but he checked anyway.

  “Maybe you left it in the car.”

  Had he? He couldn’t specifically remember looking at it since they’d arrived at the track. But when he returned from the parking lot ten minutes later he was empty handed. Woody was already intent on the lineup for the next race and he barely noticed Cody’s rising panic.

  “Well, it’s back at the motel then, son. You’ll find it when we get back. Meanwhile, if you gotta call someone there’s pay phones in the hallway by the restrooms.”

  Calling someone was the least important thing the phone did for Cody. His whole life was on that phone. Without his list of contacts he wouldn’t even have the faintest idea of anyone’s number that he could call. It was a disaster.

  “Cody, sit down. You’re driving everyone crazy.”

  “I should go back to the room.”

  Woody’s impatience nearly boiled over. “Don’t be stupid. You can live one afternoon without a damn phone in your hand. Your neck is getting all bent over from staring at the thing. Here, let me buy you another beer. Or maybe something stronger?”

  Cody shook his head. “Beer’s fine.” He sank down in his seat, legs sprawled, a pout on his face, and drank the beer while Woody jumped up and cheered his favorite horses.

  “Ha!” Woody plopped down in his seat at the end of the race. “Trifecta! I got ’em all on that one.”

  His face was flushed with excitement, his smile wide. Until he noticed Cody’s expression.

  “You gonna keep this up all frickin day?”

  “Maybe.”

  Woody gripped a wad of Cody’s shirt and pulled his son close. “Listen, you little puke. We came out here for a good time, a father-son visit. We were having fun until the damn phone thing came up. Straighten up your act, buster.”

  Cody recognized the tone from his childhood. Woody meant business. When Cody was a kid the next step would be a smack across the mouth.

  Pop’s tone softened. “It’s gotta be back at the motel. So just drop the attitude and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. I’m gonna treat us to a nice dinner at that steak place we passed earlier.”

  With a sigh, Cody downed the rest of the beer. “Okay. Steak sounds good.”

  Cody ended up having a couple of scotches with his porterhouse, Pop’s treat. The old man was in an ebullient mood after the trifecta win. He couldn’t stop going on about the fact that they were in shirtsleeves in late October. Everything about the racetrack was to his liking.

  Unfortunately, not everything about Cody was the same. Every time he subconsciously reached for his phone, Pop sent him a withering stare.

  It was a little after eight when they reached the motel and Cody’s worst fear came true. The phone was nowhere in the room. He went back out to the car, but his prior search had been thorough and it wasn’t there either.

  Walking over to the motel office, he insisted the manager call the maid who had cleaned their room. The girl denied having seen a cell phone in the room. Even when Cody himself got on the line and described its navy blue case, she swore she had never seen it. When her denials turned to sobs he felt bad about practically accusing her.

  He debated about what to do as he headed back to the room. He could call the carrier and have his account suspended, but that would involve getting a new number and a whole bunch of other hassles. He could notify Apple and have them remotely lock the phone, but it already had password protection and facial recognition. It was useless to anyone who found it.

  What bothered him the most was the simple fact that he’d lost it. Cody Baker did not lose things.

  “No luck, huh?” Woody said when he walked back into the room. “Well, tomorrow we’ll go to the lost and found place at the track. Somebody probably found it on the ground and turned it in.”

  Cody should have thought of that. He mentally chided himself while he brushed his teeth. If worse came to worst, he could locate an Apple store and go buy a new one. It was a thousand dollar phone he’d lost, and he hadn’t bought the protection plan—because he never lost things—but he would just have to bite the bullet and do it. At least money wasn’t a problem.

  Chapter 71

  Amber felt the clock ticking as the evening slipped by. In between making queries on the genealogy website she switched over to the banking transactions she’d initiated earlier in the day. None of the transfers were showing as completed yet. She knew they wouldn’t, not this soon, but some kind of magical thinking made her keep checking anyway.

  She’d constructed a very limited family tree for the Bakers. One problem was that it was a very common name, but she’d located a Woodrow Wilson Baker. Obviously, he was not the man who’d set up the paperwork for Blandishment Inc.—the man had been dead more than twenty years. Woodrow Harrison Baker was about the right age to be Cody’s father, so that little fact tied nicely to what she knew. The checkbook she’d found in the suitcase belonged to Cody’s dad, Woody.

  Putting the few clues together, it appeared Cody himself had set up the corporation using his grandfather’s name. It wasn’t possible to question the family patriarch about the company, and his name left a trail to no one in the modern day. The corporate address of record was the company in Delaware that had facilitated the filing. All perfectly legal, even though it did seem a bit iffy.

  She was about to switch back over for one last look at the banking transactions before bedtime when her phone chimed. Gracie.

  “Hey, just wanted to report in. I picked up Co-Wood’s tail right when they left the track.”

  “Co-Wood?”

  “Yeah, I thought we needed a code name for the Cody and Woody team.”

  “Um, catchy.”

  “So, they ate dinner at a steakhouse. I grabbed tacos and ate in my car, but don’t feel sorry for me. They were good.”

  “Okay, I’m not feeling sorry for you.”

  “They’re at the motel now. Mary told me their room number and I’m in the one next to it. I can hear their TV through the wall. When it shuts off, I’ll watch their car to be sure no one sneaks out. Planning to give them an hour or so to fall asleep and then try to grab some sleep myself. But I’ll set my alarm and be awake in plenty of time to follow, in case they get an early start. Mary said this morning they came rolling out around ten.”

  “From what I saw, Cody is not an early riser. Must have been a challenge for him to work at B-G, where the report-to-your-desk norm is seven a.m.”

  “What’s the latest on the transfers?”

  “Just what Sandy had told me. Nothing will move for at least twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Maybe longer. I’m making myself go
to bed so I’ll quit checking it every ten minutes.”

  “I’ll be right behind Co-Wood tomorrow. My guess is, with Woody’s love of gambling, they’ll spend the day at the track again.”

  “If Cody breaks away from his dad or makes any moves other than the track, be sure you’re on his tail. These next two days, we cannot let him get his hands on his computer.”

  “Or let him buy a new phone. Got it.”

  They ended the call, but Amber wasn’t tired any more. The thought that Cody could easily buy a new phone and have all his apps and data transferred to it wouldn’t leave her alone. She paced through the condo for a minute and debated going down to the garage to clean up her car. She tended to toss food wrappers and used tissues into the back seat, and she had left a box of miscellaneous office supplies in there, things she’d purchased the day she set up her home office.

  Oh, forget it—the car can wait. She returned to her computer and clicked over to the bank transfers, promising herself this was the final time she would check them tonight.

  Chapter 72

  Gracie stretched her stiff limbs. The mattress was a board, the pillows horrid lumps that refused to be pounded into any decent shape. She should warn Mary to bring her own pillow from home, since the room would be hers tonight.

  At least she was accustomed to waking before dawn. Scott’s work normally took him out on the road by six, and the kids needed much time and nudging before school. She left the bed and stood with her ear against the connecting wall to room 16. Not a sound.

  She peered out through a crack in the drapes. The Taurus was right where it had sat last night when she’d checked at midnight. She’d parked her own minivan on the opposite side of the double row of rooms, near the office and somewhat behind a giant agave plant.

  There was a tiny, one-cup coffee maker on the vanity and she set it up to brew. The Skyliner offered a breakfast bar, but Gracie had picked up her own from a nearby convenience store: two protein bars and a bottle of cranberry juice. She didn’t want to be seen, in case the men did choose the motel’s fare. If she made any face-to-face contact at all, it needed to happen later, probably at the track.

  While her coffee sputtered and dripped into the itty-bitty carafe, Gracie washed her face and brushed her teeth. Her sundress and light jacket from yesterday would have to do. She hadn’t exactly come out to this job equipped for a multi-day stint.

  She poured her coffee into the paper cup provided, took a sip and added the contents of all the little sugar and creamer packets. It wasn’t quite as vile, but it wasn’t like her medium roast Ruta Maya at home. The room next door still seemed quiet. She peeked out the window once again.

  The Taurus was gone.

  Oh no, oh no, oh no! She set the coffee down a little too hard on the dresser, grabbed her purse and room key, and dashed outside. If she could make it to her minivan … surely the men couldn’t be more than five minutes ahead of her.

  Okay, ten. She had spent at least that long getting dressed and making the coffee. She dashed for her van anyway. She started it and wheeled about to face the street. But which direction? Interstate 17 was right there—one minute to the on-ramp, and they could be miles away. If they’d gotten on Bell Road, it stretched for miles both east and west. Her mind worked frantically, looking for the next logical move.

  Just as she made the decision to go east on Bell, away from the interstate—it was, after all, the section of the neighborhood the men were most familiar with—a white Taurus pulled into the Skyliner parking lot. A gray-haired man was at the wheel.

  Gracie backed into an empty space beside the motel office and picked up the tiny binoculars Mary had left with her. It was Woody Baker, all right. He parked directly in front of room 16 and stepped out of the car, a small shopping bag in hand. It was imprinted with the logo of a CVS Pharmacy. She watched as he locked the car and let himself into the room.

  Great binoculars, she thought. And a way too close call. If both men had been together, she would have lost them. She moved her van closer, parking it three doors away from her own room, hoping like crazy that neither man had paid much attention to the vehicles in the lot.

  “I suck at this,” she muttered as she locked her vehicle and went back into her room.

  Once again, everything was quiet in the next room. She stood with her ear pressed to the wall for a good five minutes, but the TV didn’t come on, no voices in conversation. Nonetheless, she’d learned her lesson about being prepared. She gathered everything she had brought with her, decided to forego the now-cool cup of bad coffee, and went out to her van.

  Even a casual glance out the window of room 16 and the van would be seen. She pulled back to her previous spot and dashed into the motel office for a fresh cup of coffee from the breakfast bar. Even primo detectives needed their coffee in the morning.

  The curtains were still closed on 16 and the Taurus was still in place. Crisis averted.

  It stayed that way for three more hours, and Gracie was stiff and desperately needing to pee by the time the curtains parted. Note to primo detective self—don’t have two cups of coffee when you’ll be stuck in the car. She supposed men had easy answers—such as an empty soda bottle—for these situations. But that option wasn’t open to her. Until she knew Cody wasn’t on the move, she would have to hold it.

  From what Mary had told her when they switched places, it seemed Cody and Woody followed the same routine as yesterday. Left the room late morning, had breakfast at a pancake place (where she wandered in and used the bathroom), and then it was straight to the track. She followed them inside.

  Cody stared around the open lobby for a minute, then headed toward a door marked Lost & Found.

  Heh-heh-heh, still looking for the phone. That was good.

  She edged a little closer as Cody joined his father in the line at the betting window.

  “No, we’re not leaving now. We just got here,” Woody said. “Relax, you can get yourself a new phone on the way home tonight. Those stores probably stay open pretty late.”

  Cody grumbled a little, but Woody held up a keyring with an Alamo tag on it. Clearly he’d remained in charge of the car.

  “I’m gonna place my bets. Why don’t you grab us a couple beers? It’s warm out there today.”

  Interestingly, Cody did as he was told. Gracie turned her back as he passed within four feet of her. She watched the two men join up again and head for the stands. They sat in the first row, midway down, exactly even with the finish line. She took the seat on the aisle, two spaces away from Woody. No way were they getting out of here without her knowing it.

  She pretended to study the racing form she’d picked up as she walked in. A minute later she felt eyes upon her and noticed Woody looking in her direction. Could she use this to her advantage?

  “Who do you like in the first race?” he asked.

  “Gosh, I don’t know. I actually don’t know a whole lot about horses, but my sister wanted to come here. And now she’s called to say she’s running late.”

  He scooted over to the empty seat between them. “Maybe I can help?”

  “Really? Would you? I’m afraid I’m going to be really bored if I’m not doing anything half the afternoon.”

  “I follow the ponies a lot. Let me see your form.”

  She glanced beyond his shoulder, toward Cody. He gave his father an eye-roll sort of glance then proceeded to drink the second of the beers.

  “Do you win a lot at places like this?” she asked, batting her eyelashes, just a little.

  He beamed. “I’ve been very successful in my betting career.”

  “Oh my, you’ve made a career of this? You certainly must make a lot.”

  He did a little aw-shucks shuffle with his feet and edged closer, pointing at a line on the form. “Now here’s the horse you want in the first race. Odds aren’t real long, but this is just the warm-up for the day. Yesterday I picked a trifecta—that means choosing the first, second, and third place horses in the r
ight order. Carried home a pretty decent amount on that one. Course, the more you bet the more you win.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t feel confident about betting very much. Can I just do a few dollars?”

  “Sure. Let me show you how.” He stood, ready to lead her to the betting window.

  What could it hurt? She knew Woody had the car keys, so Cody wasn’t going to get away.

  “If you didn’t bring cash, there’s an ATM,” he pointed out.

  She noticed the window also accepted credit cards, but didn’t point that out. He was up to something and it could be interesting to see how it played out.

  Chapter 73

  Woody noticed how the woman kept touching his arm when she spoke to him. Little brushes with a hand, a flick of the fingertips. It had been some time since a woman flirted so outrageously with him. He pinned her age as being somewhere between his and his son’s. Late thirties, maybe forty. Yes, he was nearly old enough to be her father, but there was something extremely flattering about the attention of a younger woman.

  Cody wasn’t immune, it seemed. For the first time since they’d arrived at the track he was laughing. Not a polite little ha-ha now and then, but genuinely enjoying the woman’s company. She’d told them her name was Grace. It suited her perfectly.

  He’d set her up for the simple ‘sure thing’ bets on horses after learning she didn’t know anything about betting. She’d started with two-dollar bets, upped them to five, then ten. She was beginning to feel confident enough to start pulling out twenty-dollar bills any time now. All he had to do was convince her to let him carry the money to the window while she simply sat back and enjoyed the view.

  “Hey, let’s get a table in the turf club upstairs,” he suggested. “They got better drinks and food up there. Somebody will come around and wait on us.”

  Cody spoke up. “I want to duck out for a couple hours and find an Apple store so I can replace my phone.”