Skin Puppet: Reightman & Bailey Book Three

by Jeffery Craig

  ***

  The next morning, bright and early, he walked through the front door of the Reightman & Bailey Agency. He hoped his Tuesday would end up being better than his Monday. After being informed by SarahJune that his quarry was engaged across the street, he thought about waiting, but his curiosity soon got the best of him. He wished her a pleasant day and headed to Green Dragon. Small, chiming bells greeted him when he opened the door, and his attention was diverted by the sounds coming through the archway dividing the shop from the adjacent martial arts studio. He stood in the opening and watched as three bodies engaged in battle.

  Two of the figures he recognized. Reightman and Bailey were a blur of motion; fists, legs, and feet working seamlessly to both attack and defend. The third figure was unfamiliar, but there was no doubt in Edmondson’s mind that this instructor was a master of his art. Although his assailants were impressive, he hadn’t even broken a sweat. Occasionally, he shouted out corrections, instructions, and rare praise without any loss of focus. The bout eventually wound down, and the instructor directed his student’s attention to the unexpected visitor.

  “Someone you know?” he asked.

  “Yeah, we know him,” Toby answered, after wiping the moisture from his face with a small towel. “What can we do for you, Agent Edmondson?”

  “I wondered if I could have a few minutes of your time. It will just take a minute.”

  Toby turned to his partner and when she answered his unspoken question with a shrug, he turned back to answer. “All right. We both kind of need a shower though, so it’d be best for you if you kept your distance. It’d be a shame to stink up that suit.”

  “I’m not worried about the suit,” Edmondson replied as he crossed the short distance to stand in front of them. “I wanted to talk about the way we left things yesterday.”

  “Well?” Melba asked in a neutral tone.

  “I was an ass.”

  “Yes. And?” The quirked eyebrow made it clear they weren’t going to take it easy on him.

  “And I owe you both an apology. I jumped to conclusions and made some assumptions I shouldn’t have.”

  Their answering silence was not encouraging, but wasn’t exactly discouraging, either. At least, that’s how he chose to read it. “I thought maybe we could rewind a bit and start over.”

  “Why?”

  She was something else. He shifted his focus to the man next to her, meeting the pale blue, emotionless eyes. That wasn’t any better. “Because the Bureau needs your help.” He waited and then tried again. “I need your help.”

  The partners exchanged some sort of silent communication before turning back to him.

  “All right,” Toby informed him. “But there’s a price.”

  “Which is?”

  “Breakfast,” Melba answered.

  He hoped his sigh of relief wasn’t too noticeable. “I can do that. When?”

  “As soon as we finish up here, maybe fifteen minutes or so. Then, we need to shower and change. You can wait over at the office, if you like.”

  “Okay. But why can’t you leave now?”

  “Because they have yet to be dismissed,” their instructor interjected. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Jon Chiang.”

  “Allen Edmondson, FBI,” he replied, meeting gray eyes and shaking the man’s hand. He couldn’t help noticing the incredibly firm grip. “Pretty impressive work there a minute ago.”

  “Thank you, Agent,” Jon replied, releasing his hand. “I must ask though: are you going to make a habit of interrupting my class?”

  Edmondson sized him up for a moment before answering. “No.”

  “Good. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we still have some work to do.”

  Accepting the dismissal, Edmondson turned to leave. He cleared the archway and stopped short.

  “Good morning, Agent. I heard the bells chime earlier. Did you find what you needed?”

  “Good morning, Madame Zhou.” In place of the simple, but elegant, clothing from the day before, today the tiny woman sported a battered garden hat and a worn and mended tunic of some sort. A pair of lethal looking garden shears were clasped in one hand. At least, they looked like garden implements. “Yes, thank you, I did.”

  “Wonderful. You must have met my nephew, Jon.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t realize he was your nephew. He appears to be an amazing instructor.”

  “I think he is. He has had years of training and has been devoted to the martial arts since he was a child. His skills were further perfected when he was in the military.”

  “Oh? What branch?”

  “Navy. He participated in the SEALs program for a time and then did a stint in…let me think for a moment. Oh yes! I believe it was something called Special Ops. He doesn’t speak much about his time there, so I sometimes have trouble recalling it.”

  Edmondson made a mental addition to his nightly homework. “Does he work with the agency?”

  “There has not been a need for his skills. Yet.”

  He noted the intentional emphasis on the last word, and the sharp blades of the shears seemed to shimmer for a moment under the shop lights, punctuating some hidden meaning. However, her face was serene and her calm, black eyes gave nothing away from behind her glasses.

  “If you will excuse me, Agent, I have some plants to get into my terrace pots. Spring appears to have finally decided to make a much-desired appearance. Please stop by some other time and perhaps we can have a pleasant discussion over a cup of tea. I would enjoy that.”

  “I would also. Have a good day, Madame Zhou.”

  His mind was busy as he walked back across the street to wait for his breakfast companions. “Guests,” he corrected himself, admitting his willing acceptance of Melba Reightman’s petty extortion ploy. “What are the odds that a past Special Ops team member is not only instructing Ms. Reightman and Mr. Bailey, but is also—at least theoretically—available to their agency?” Adding the fact he was a close member of Zhou Li’s family into the equation made the situation even more intriguing. Plus, the image of the shiny, menacing garden shears was still stuck in his mind.

  ***

  Melba flipped through her calendar while Edmondson and Toby outlined the work for the week. Things were still a little frosty between her partner and Federal Agent, but the huge, almost decadent breakfast had helped smooth out the worst of the rough spots.

  “I can meet with Tom Anderson and his team this afternoon if they’re available,” she informed them. “The sooner we can take a look at the evidence, the better. It might also be worth a chat with the coroner. Does this afternoon work for you, Toby?”

  He swiveled around in his chair to pull up his own schedule. Unlike her, he was perfectly comfortable keeping everything on his computer and had a few of his important apps synced with his phone. She preferred paper. “I guess it’s an age thing,” she decided.

  “Yeah, that works for me. What if they can’t meet today? I could do tomorrow morning, but I have class in the afternoon.”

  “Hmmm. I can do the morning too, if it’s fairly early. I have a lunch appointment.”

  “If we have to meet in the morning, we’ll need to let Jon know as soon as possible. He gets annoyed when we reschedule at the last minute and takes it out on us the next time we train.”

  “Understood. Although, maybe you can smooth things over. You know…”

  Toby shook his head regretfully. “No can do. He made it plain that there’s no special treatment regarding training. If anything, I suspect he’ll even be harder on me now.”

  Melba glanced at Edmondson, and although he was apparently absorbed in something very interesting on his phone, she suspected his ears were tuned into everything she was saying. Deciding there wasn’t a need for him to know anything about Jon and Toby’s little…whatever, she chose not to give Toby any grief. “Okay. I’ll have SarahJune call and check their availability. Agent Edmondson, do you want to join us?”

  Edmondson looked up fro
m his phone. “No. There’s no need. I’m already up to speed. I was briefed yesterday by both Anderson and Dr. Evans, as were Detectives Thorton and Mitchell. Agent Garfield should be in around lunch time today, and I’m planning to spend the afternoon bringing her up to date, and introducing her to the local players down at headquarters. Speaking of which, are you both available for an early dinner, or maybe drinks? I’d like to introduce you as soon as possible.”

  Melba checked her calendar again. There wasn’t really a need, since she hadn’t had a dinner engagement in longer than she could remember. “I’m free for either. Toby?

  “Works for me, as long as we make it early.”

  Edmondson nodded his agreement. “Early is good. We can grab a drink. How about five this afternoon? Name the place.”

  Toby rattled off a couple of suggestions and after Edmondson quizzed him briefly on food choices, the location was confirmed.

  While the boys worked through dinner arrangements, Melba sent SarahJune a short instant message asking her to check with the forensics team and the coroner regarding availability.

  “I assume Thorton and Mitchell talked with all of the families of the missing children, but I’d like to look at their notes and maybe follow-up personally. Sometimes, new information comes out during a conversation with a fresh face.”

  “Good idea, Toby. We’ll fit them in around Tom’s and Dr. Evans’ availability.”

  Toby hesitated a brief instant before agreeing. “Sure. I’ll see what works.” He picked up his phone and typed out a fast message.

  While he waited for confirmation, Melba’s computer pinged, and she turned to read the response from SarahJune. “No confirmation from Tom, but Evans can meet at four-thirty this afternoon. Given that, we need to push the meet and greet with your partner back. Say six? That should give us plenty of time with the coroner.”

  “Fine with me,” Edmondson replied without looking up from whatever had engaged his attention on his phone. “We’ll make it dinner, then. Agent Garfield will want to eat at a reasonable hour. She’s fussy about regular mealtimes.”

  “How does that work with an Agent’s schedule? Don’t you sometimes get hung up on something else?” Toby asked.

  “Yes, but I keep snacks in my briefcase. When she starts to snarl, I toss her a candy bar to distract her.”

  “Does that work?”

  “No, but we both pretend it does. It keeps our working relationship civil…most of the time.”

  Melba’s computer pinged again, and she read the message. “Tom can meet with us in thirty minutes.”

  “Good thing we had a big breakfast,” Toby replied. “I’m still stuffed, so skipping lunch won’t be a big deal.”

  Melba typed back for SarahJune to confirm. “Looks like we’re set. You should probably send Mitchell an update on availability.”

  Edmondson stood and slipped his phone into the interior pocket of his jacket. “One more thing we need to work out. I’d like to schedule at least one daily meeting to get the team together and go over our progress. It’s important everyone stays sync’d. I was originally thinking early mornings would be best, but I don’t want to interfere with Mr. Chiang’s schedule. So that leaves lunch or end of day. Thoughts?”

  “I’m sure Jon will appreciate your consideration,” Melba replied. “It doesn’t make any difference to me. Toby?”

  “End of day,” he responded, his fingers blurring as he typed a response into his phone. After a minute, he looked up. “Looks like we just booked up today. Mitchell and Thorton can meet in between our discussion with Anderson and Dr. Evans. I told them to expect us around two-thirty.”

  “Then, with that settled, I think we should head out. After all…”

  “Punctuality is the highest form of courtesy.”

  Edmondson took in their shared snicker. “Inside joke?”

  “Nope,” Toby answered. “It a Zhou-ism.”

  “A what?”

  “Madame Zhou has all kinds of sayings like that. I think it has to do being a lady of a certain age. My Grams also has a pocketful of things she pulls out when she’s trying to make a point.”

  “Oh, I get it. But I think it has more to do with them being woman, than being of any specific age. My sister has her own collection of handy wisdom she likes to dispense.”

  “You might be right. Now that I think about it, Melba is almost the only woman I know that doesn’t do that. Why’s that, Melba?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Abby.”

  “Abby?” Edmondson was curious.

  “Abby’s my daughter,” Melba explained. “You’ll meet her and my granddaughters this weekend. They’re coming for the grand opening.”

  “You have granddaughters?”

  “Two,” Melba confirmed, inexplicable pleased by his incredulous tone. “Melissa and Emily. I’ll warn you now—they’re both born con artists and pretty good detectives themselves. They’ll know everything worth knowing about you in the first fifteen minutes.” She gave him a grin. “And I’ve trained them to report back.”

  “Oh?”

  Toby slipped his phone into his front pocket and gathered his things. “What she means is, she bribes them to tell her stuff.”

  “You’re darned right I do. A grandmother has to use any tool available to her to keep the upper hand. But, I prefer to think of it as incentivizing them to share useful information. They always give me the goods.”

  “Yeah, about that. Last time I offered to pay them double if they kept mum. You’re going to have to up the stakes.”

  “Toby! That’s not nice.”

  “Hmmm. All I can say is Abby approved of the arrangement. She says they need to start saving for college.”

  “Traitors.”

  “It sounds more like an effective use of free market principles to me,” Edmondson commented as they went down the hall to the front.

  Melba narrowed her eyes at the comment. “No one asked you to add your two cents,” she huffed in mock anger. “Are you, by chance, a Republican?”

  “I never discuss religion or politics,” Edmondson answered primly. “After all,” he continued as he held the door open for them. “I am a gentleman.”

  ***

  The meeting with Tom Anderson and Laurie Nelson, his lead tech, was helpful, even though there was only one new piece of information shared. As Melba suspected, seeing the scant few items found at the crime scenes lodged them firmly in their minds. She carefully examined the bag containing the gray smock and the rolling suitcase, as did Toby.

  “This looks homemade,” Toby commented as he handed the clear bag back to Tom. “The seams on the inside look like Grams’ aprons and there isn’t a tag.”

  “That’s what we thought,” Tom agreed. “The dye job on the fabric is also irregular, like it was done in a hurry.”

  “How about the suitcase? Did you find any prints?”

  “Yes, we did,” Laurie Nelson confirmed, her dark eyes shining with satisfaction. “Most of them were pretty indistinct, but we did manage to lift a couple of pretty good samples.”

  “Have you gotten a hit from the database, Laurie?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The print matched a Dorrie Ferguson. The weird thing is, she was reported missing from the upstate over eight years ago. The case is considered cold. Looks like that just changed.”

  Melba frowned at the information. “That suggests…”

  “Dorrie Ferguson is either in the area and recently handled the suitcase, or it’s been sitting undisturbed somewhere for a long time.”

  “What’s your gut tell you?”

  Laurie looked at her boss and shrugged. “Could be either, I guess. Only time will tell. Thorton spoke with Dorrie’s family yesterday afternoon. They don’t remember ever seeing a suitcase like that and have no idea where it might have come from. He’s going to check with the other families. Hopefully, he’ll get a lead.”

  Melba made a note to follow-up and then asked, “Was there anything in the suit
case?”

  Tom Anderson nodded. “Just one thing. We found this in the outside pocket.” He handed over another clear evidence bag, and Melba examined the contents.

  “A book?”

  “Yes. A book of poetry, in fact. It’s full of some pretty dark and brooding stuff. It’s a collection of works from the early 1900’s, all by lesser-known poets. This edition was published about forty years ago, and came from a secondhand book store. We’re trying to track down the name and location now. It may be a needle in a haystack, and the place may not even still be in business. We’re checking the Carolinas, Georgia, Florida, and Tennessee to start.”

  Melba would have expected nothing else. Tom and team were always thorough.

  “Anything else of note?”

  “No. I understand you have a meeting with Evans later today?”

  “Yes, we do. Why?”

  “She’ll have some interesting insight. The thing is…it’s pretty disturbing. Just be prepared.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the warning. That bad?”

  “Probably.”

  She thanked him and withdrew a small white envelope from her purse and handed it to Laurie. “It’s an invitation to our grand opening. I hope you can make it.”

  Laurie was thrilled and assured her she’d try. They wrapped things up, and decided they had time to grab a sandwich before meeting with Thorton and Mitchell.

  “I don’t know how you think you’re going to cram another thing inside after that breakfast,” Melba commented as they walked down the sidewalk to a nearby café. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone inhale the amount of food you did this morning.”

  “I wanted to make sure we ran Agent Edmondson’s tab up as high as we could,” Toby replied. “He deserved to feel a little monetary pain after being such an ass yesterday.”