by Kristen Lamb
“Your turn,” I said and hopped off the table. The man-crowd went back to their drinking now that I wasn’t playing.
We continued to shoot pool, trade jabs, and drink beer all while watching the clock. Though we laughed and cussed and traded insults, I noted Angel and Sawyer checked the time almost as much as I did. It was already well past eight. Just as I thought I’d have a nervous breakdown, JC and Kim walked in. Kim looked less than happy wearing an electric blue wig, torn jeans, and a What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas t-shirt. She carried a giant purse and I guessed the paperwork was inside. JC had on his work clothes and a battered John Deere ball cap. He was filthy, meaning he fit right in. I tipped my head to an empty table and they sat down and ordered a pitcher of beer. We finished our game then joined them. Sawyer slid in next to me and Angel pulled a chair up at the end.
“Sandy’s told me a lot about you,” Angel said as he sat down, his eyes cutting to me. I introduced Sawyer as my boyfriend Mike. JC and Kim went along with the ruse and drank their beers. Sawyer slid close and put his arm around me, enjoying the part of being Bad Sandy’s boyfriend.
JC’s face was grim.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Kim takes too long to get ready,” he groused.
“It’s not like I dress like this every day,” she said, shifting in her seat and gestured to me for a smoke. She wore more makeup than I did, as if she’d fallen right out of a punk video.
“Sorry about the location,” I said, leaving the pack of cigarettes and matches on the table.
“Don’t be.” Kim lit her smoke. “It’s a refreshing change from the Real Housewives of Bisby.” She drew deeply with the euphoria of a long-time quitter. “They bring their spoiled brat kids to the store, then let the little bastards wreck the place. Yesterday? I had an eight-thousand-dollar bed set on display.” She jabbed the air with her cigarette. “White Egyptian cotton from freaking Paris. This lady lets her brat jump on the bed wearing his dirty shoes. On a white bedspread. Who does that?” She took another long drag off the cigarette. “I billed the bitch.”
JC chuckled. “That’s my wife.” He drank some beer then said, “It’s not all Kim’s fault we’re late. AC unit’s gone. I hunted, but wasn’t anywhere. It’s why I’m so damn dirty. Been digging through our company Dumpster for the last hour.”
“Seriously?” I said and drained the last of my beer. One step forward, ten miles back.
“Sorry. I know I loaded it in the back of my truck. I’d done some other jobs. Your place was last.” He raised his hands in defeat. “All the other crap’s there. Your old unit’s the only thing missing.”
“You’re sure?” I asked, not wanting to believe it was gone. “Who’d want to steal a broken AC?”
“Right?” JC said. “I asked all my guys, but they said they hadn’t touched it.”
My heart sank. I’d been so sure that box would be on its way to a lab by tonight. Whoever wrecked my place did so after JC was already gone. That made no sense. Had they trashed my place for the hell of it?
JC patted my hand. “I’m sorry. Someone must’ve stolen it right out of the truck bed.”
“You think someone might have followed you home? Stolen it there?” Sawyer asked.
“Good way to get yer ass shot off,” JC said. “Besides, I don’t know how they could’ve. Went straight home after her place.” He gestured to me. “Truck’s been locked in our garage until we came here. I took Kim’s car to work. I’m hoping you don’t need the old unit because something was inside.”
“Yeah. I kinda did,” I said. “It’s why he’s here.” I tipped my head to Angel. “Was going to take it someplace safe.”
“What was inside?” Kim asked, oblivious.
I intercepted. “Some of my valuables. All I had. Stashed them there in case someone broke in. The pictures of my mom were in there, too.”
“Oh, no. I can get you copies. I scanned all the images when I did the ones for The Bisby Historical Society.”
“That’s a relief.” I said. “I’m sure you heard about what happened to my trailer.”
They nodded. JC said, “Everyone’s heard. You can stay with us as long as you need.”
“We have plenty of room,” Kim added.
“No thanks. I’m staying with Mike,” I said and Sawyer gave me a squeeze. “How are your boys?” I asked.
“Shook up, but they’re kids,” Kim said.
JC nodded. “Hell, they’re more resilient than we are. When we left, they were shooting hoops.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
JC shrugged. “Why? Not your fault. The town’s already burying there was a homicide. Don’t want to freak people out.”
“Increíble,” Angel said. He’d been so quiet, I’d almost forgotten he was there.
JC scowled. “Official story is the guy was drunk then fell in a water trap and drowned.”
“Let’s just forget about the five quarts of blood he was missing,” I said.
“This town’s getting weirder by the day.”
Angel leaned in. “I’ll go get some guys and we’ll check out the junk yard.” He turned to JC. “You loaded the broken one before installing the new one? Yes?”
JC nodded.
“Perhaps we are looking at a crime of opportunity. Grabbed what they could carry. If it was metal, some meth head might have nabbed it to sell for scrap. I can start there.” He patted my arm. “And hopefully find your valuables.”
I wasn’t very optimistic. My dad’s piles were full of metal. Far easier pickings. But, it wasn’t like I had any better ideas. “Have to start somewhere,” I said. “Thanks.”
“No problemo,” he said and gave me a warm smile. “Let me get on that.” He shook JC’s hand and nodded at Kim then went to the bar to close out his tab as the band started to play. We waited for the room to empty.
“What’s going on?” I asked once we were alone. Her eyes darted to Sawyer. “Is he cool?”
“I trust him,” I said, but she hesitated.
JC sighed then leaned in and whispered, “Kim, they’re are cops. Undercover?”
“Oh, sorry,” she stammered. Kim discreetly slid a stack of papers under the table to me. “Shit’s not adding up is what’s wrong.”
JC leaned in. “My wife’s a bit OCD.”
She elbowed him.
“Ow, that was a compliment,” he said. Then, he lowered his voice and said, “Kim did all our accounting in the beginning. But then she opened her store and my business grew and then two boys, so we started using this software our accountant recommended. It automatically invoices us and we hit a button and pay the bills. Everyone in town uses the same firm. Halcyon Financial Services. Run by a Daphne Idensloph.”
“I saw her in the paper.” I made a face. “What is that name, anyway? Swedish? Ee-dens-lope. Weird.”
JC shrugged.
Kim stubbed out her smoke and lit a new one. “But I kept telling JC we were paying too much. We kept coming in over budget. I talked to Daphne and she said she’d check into it. A couple weeks later I got a voicemail that her people hadn’t found anything unusual. Business was crazy and the kids had summer camp, so I dropped the issue.”
JC poured all of us another beer from the pitcher, but I didn’t touch mine. “Kim and I married right out of high school. Lived off Ramen for years, and this is the first time we’ve lived in anything without wheels. We certainly haven’t been hurting for money.”
Kim nodded. “Actually, the opposite. Without this boom, we’d still be in Cactus Flower Hell.” She stopped, blushing furiously. “Sorry, no offense,” she said.
I smiled. “None taken.”
She gave me a compassionate stare. “It’s why I tried to help you, to make your home so nice. I knew what it was like to live in that awful place. A lot of folks in town did.”
JC took a puff off Kim’s cigarette. “Until Joseph Thoolen showed up, most of us had been barely scraping by. Now we finally have nice homes and a f
uture.”
“Thoolen. The guy who owns the resort?” I asked.
JC nodded. “Owns more than that. Ferris has done a bang-up job of bringing in investors. Kinda makes me feel bad I didn’t vote for him.”
“Why not?” Sawyer asked.
“Never liked him, and after what he did to his son? I was done.”
“What about Cotton?” I said.
He gave me a hard stare. “Don’t go there. Trust me, it’s for the best. You have enough going on as it is.”
I could feel a hot current of anger coming off JC, so I dropped the subject.
JC continued. “Anyway, with all the building, my hardware store was selling out faster than I could order. Kim always wanted a boutique, so we accepted Thoolen as an angel investor to loan the money and now we have Designs by Kimberly. In no time at all we were able to move. Built a place up in Sunset Canyon.”
“Definitely not The Cactus Flower,” I said.
JC laughed. “No kidding. Two acres. Four thousand square feet. No neighbor with fifty cats or drug deals in the driveway. Heaven.”
“What’s the problem, then?” Sawyer asked.
Kim flicked a line of ash into an empty glass. “I’ve been telling JC for months that stuff wasn’t adding up. But I’ve been so busy with the business and then we’re building JC’s new hardware store. It’s massive. Nearly as big as a Home Depot. I didn’t have time.” Tears started to form.
“Calm down. It’s fine,” I said.
She nodded, but her face told me she wasn’t yet sold. “Anyway, after y’all found the body this morning, JC and I left work to be with the kids. I was in no shape to be in the store. Needed something to keep me distracted. Numbers calm me down. I started adding by hand and things aren’t matching up, no matter what Daphne says. And there’s something funky about these invoices for parts and labor. I know something’s off, but I can’t see it.”
“You’re too close. It’s common,” I said.
Her shoulders relaxed.
“Give me a pen,” I mumbled and Kim slipped one under the table.
I took a moment to make sure no one was around before scanning the long rows of numbers. It was hard to see them in the dim bar light, but I think that worked in my favor because the problem practically leapt off the page. “You’re being defrauded.”
“What?” the entire table said at the same time.
“They’re billing you for a ghost crew,” I said, my voice soft.
“How do you know?” JC whispered.
“Let me back up. Identity theft is a huge problem, so there needs to be a way of keeping up with and paying employees and recording that data without giving away names and Social Security numbers. Also, since we’re on the border, we allow day workers who also have to be accounted for.”
Kim said, “What am I missing then?”
“To keep track, companies will use a computer algorithm to randomly generate worker ID numbers that corresponds with each individual worker and protects sensitive information. Make sense?”
Kim nodded. “Yes, we do that to protect our employees, too. But what are you seeing? Why fraud?”
“Too many endemic numbers.” I frowned, studying the rows of digits.
Sawyer bent down and said, “Pretend we don’t speak Nerd.”
I rolled my eyes then made a series of underlines on the pages. “There are too many duplicated numbers for this to be a randomly generated series. Someone made up these numbers and then slid them in figuring you wouldn’t notice. The person who made up the fake worker IDs happens to be overly fond of the numbers one and four and I know exactly who that is. Narcissistic SOB.” I nudged Sawyer. “You must love it when bad guys make your job easier.”
“How so?” Sawyer asked.
“Phillip William Gerald played college football. Was number fourteen. These papers practically have his signature all over them.”
JC and Kim didn’t see the connection so I filled them in on what had happened with Verify.
“Told you she was crazy smart,” JC said to Kim.
My cheeks grew hot. “Thanks, but not really. Just I’ve seen this before.”
“You’re thinking is he’s changed the game, but using the same playbook?” Sawyer said.
I nodded.
Sawyer gave me a look that said we’d talk later. Kim and JC were already in too deep.
“It’s best you don’t know more,” I said. “Trust there are people working on it and you were never here.” I slipped the papers back under the table to Kim and she stuffed them in her purse.
“You have friends or family out of state?” I asked.
“My brother lives in Florida.” She’d gone pale.
“You trust him?”
“Enough,” she said.
I double-checked to make sure no one was around, the buzz of beer and adrenaline sizzling through my veins. We were still the only people in this part of the bar. Everyone else was listening to the band’s rendition of 80s Metallica. “Take screenshots of anything electronic and save all the images to a flash drive. Any e-mails or documents, print them and take screenshots. Fed Ex everything to your brother tomorrow as insurance. Make sure the box remains sealed. It cannot be opened. Don’t talk to anyone else,” I said. “If you make a stink, then whoever’s behind this will disappear and take your money with them.”
Sawyer leaned in and spoke even lower. “It might be a good time to take a summer vacation with your boys. In Orlando.”
JC agreed.
Sawyer added, “Get rid of as much liquid as you can. Put your money in something like property, equipment, or machinery. Transfer the rest to a national bank, maybe more than one. Slowly. We need to get your assets safe—”
“But not spook the quarry,” JC finished.
Sawyer whispered, “Text him my number, in case.”
I scanned my phone and sent it.
“Jerkface?” JC asked.
I blushed. “Guess I should change that. Can I run to the little girl’s room?’
“Jerkface?” Sawyer said.
“I will pee on you,” I said and he must have believed me because he moved out of my way.
“We need to jet,” JC said. “Told the boys’ coach we were visiting a friend in the hospital. It’s already way late.”
“Stay safe,” I said and hugged them both. “Text Jerkface when you’re on the road.”
JC grinned. “Roger that.” He pecked a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “Come on, you. We’re going to Disney World.”
I left Sawyer at our table and watched my friends until they were out the front door. The Hog’s Nest was now body-to-body, the smoke thick as London fog. The band announced a half hour break and the crowd dispersed. I caught a familiar face in the crowd. Little Ed Metzger was staring right at me.
Chapter Sixteen
I darted down the murky hall to get away, hoping Ed hadn’t seen me. If he was here, then The Devils were with him. Not good. I ran to the bathroom before I wet myself. I checked my makeup and hair to make sure I looked nothing like me. It was time for us to leave. As I exited the bathroom, a solid backhand caught me straight across the cheek, stunning me. A hand slammed me into the wall then closed around my throat, lifting me on my toes.
Even through the shadowy gloom of the hall, I was certain my attacker was a man I’d never met. Mexican. Aztec tribal tattoos covered his pockmarked face and his teeth were capped in metal. I clawed at his hands, struggling to breathe as I kicked at his shins, but he only squeezed harder. He hissed in my face, speaking in Spanish, “Don’t even think of fucking with us. Do your job or we’ll kill you, too. Los Espectros don’t play.”
“Who are you? No habla Español,” I lied, my voice barely a squeak as I strained to breathe.
He pressed closer and sniffed me like a coyote inspecting prey. Still speaking in Spanish, he said, “I can smell your fear. Your blood,” he said, his face so close that the stench of tequila and marijuana on his breath made me woozy and I could ba
rely breathe. He leveled a carbon-blade harpy knife inches from my face. “Maybe you need a little reminder,” he said, the blade now millimeters from my cheek.
Next thing I knew, someone punched the guy so hard he flew across the hall. A distant part of me heard the knife skitter away as I dropped to the floor on my knees, gasping for air. I expected it to be Sawyer, but it was Ed. He crouched down to help me sit up.
“You okay, Little Sister?” he asked.
I coughed so hard I nearly vomited, and I felt fresh wetness on my neck. I reached up and felt the gash, where the blow had split my cheek and could already feel the tightness of swelling. I glanced over at the unconscious man prone on the concrete. No sign of the knife, but I did see the bathroom door had a wide gap below.
Sawyer rounded the corner, reaching for the gun at his back, but I stopped him. “It’s nothing.” I gasped. “Just a drunk. This guy knocked his teeth out. Thanks,” I reached for Ed’s hand and he helped me stand and handed me my purse.
“You all right, Miss?” Ed asked. I could tell from his eyes he was going along. I knew he recognized me.
“Ice.” I couldn’t stop coughing. Finally, I managed to catch my breath. “I’m sure I’ll feel better…than him.” I tipped my head to the body on the floor, the motion making my neck hurt.
