Flash Flood

by Susan Slater

  The flowers arrived about noon, at the house, an eye-boggling arrangement of orchids all in white. Sprays of Phalenopsis, Cattleyas, Dendrobiums, truly a conscience-provoked peace offering. The note read simply, “I’ll call tonight.” Six more hours but Elaine couldn’t stop smiling.

  Chapter Four

  At eight o’clock on Friday morning, a grease-stained sack of Spud-nuts sat in the middle of the front seat of Roger Jenkins’ plain vanilla, not to be conspicuous, car that blended with the eight to ten other cars parked in front of the Circle K convenience store. Great place to people-watch, if Roger just wanted to kill some time. Which wasn’t a bad idea.

  He needed a little time to collect his thoughts, run some ideas past his partner. He watched as two cops pulled beside him and gave him the once over. Small potatoes, graduates of some po-dunk academy out here in nowhere. He’d even match ’em firepower, what he had in the trunk versus what they had. The cop who got out of the passenger side paused, rolled his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, then walked on in the store.

  Just a kid. Graffiti detail was probably the toughest duty he’d pulled. Roger watched a woman stop next to the gas pumps directly in back of him. She was having trouble getting her gas cap off. Roger was just about to offer his services when the two cops came out carrying cups of coffee. The young one seemed to know the woman and went to her rescue. In small towns these one-on-every-corner stores were magnets for human interaction.

  Roger absently glanced at his watch. What could be taking Tom so long? He was going to take a dump, get two cups of coffee and a newspaper. Maybe the johns were busy. Being on the road was the pits. His own constitution was never the same. You didn’t eat right, sleep right, it was irritating but maybe it’d be over soon. Either that Mahoney guy would come up with something quick or they’d pull out, chalk the Linden death up to tough luck and try another avenue. Still, the evidence implicated Billy Roland, the use of the air strip and all.

  He’d worn a short-sleeved shirt, sans tie, and had parked his jacket in the back seat. Sweat still covered his face and neck with a fine, itchy mist. He envied indoor, air-conditioned work. And he envied the guys who drew the big jobs, a shakedown in L.A., or Seattle. Now there was one neat city. Water, cool weather, mountains close by. He wasn’t going to waste time trying to think what amenities Roswell, New Mexico had. He didn’t want to strain his brain.

  Roger played with the folders in front of him balanced against the steering wheel and compulsively lined them up then fanned them out before he pulled them together to begin again. They were disappointingly thin.

  “So, what do you think?” Tom Atborrough opened the car door and slipped into the front seat. He carried a large plastic covered cup with the Circle K insignia on the side and started to hand Roger an identical cup. Roger waved him away.

  “You solved the world’s problems yet?” Tom was busy emptying sugar and two creamers into his coffee.

  Roger hated Tom’s attempts at humor but aside from that he wasn’t bad to travel with. “Any minute now.”

  “Are we lucky to have this Dan Mahoney on the inside or is he just one more idiot to watch?” Tom had stopped fiddling with his coffee.

  “Nice guy. Probably won’t know what hit him if this thing breaks the way I think it will.”

  “So he is a plant?”

  “Yeah, you could say that. But I’m not sure why. His boss says Billy R. asked for him. Made it real plain that he was the man, no substitutes allowed. Asked him not to mention it.”

  “You sure the old man isn’t just concerned about his cows?”

  “How long you been in this business? That’s chicken feed. A few hundred thou doesn’t measure up to the millions to be had on the street.”

  “Okay, okay. Think Dan’s going to be a team player?”

  “Yeah, until all this hits too close to home. But he’s the best we got.” Roger squirmed away from under the wheel and propped a knee on the seat. “I just hope he’s not in it in some way with the Linden woman.”

  “So we watch him. We’re doing that already.”

  “I think the question is what are we looking for?” Roger reconsidered the coffee and leaned over to pick the cup up off the glove compartment tray.

  “With Linden out of the picture, we don’t have anyone to squeeze.”

  “What about his wife?”

  “I still don’t know that she knows anything. We got a tap on her phone and bugs in the house. So far, she’s clean. Two more weeks and we pull out.”

  “Hey, the sex was just getting good.”

  Roger chose to ignore the invasion of privacy part of his work and let Tom’s remark slide. “With her husband out of the picture…still, seven years ago I thought she knew more than she was saying, had some ideas about who suckered her husband into the drug deal.”

  Roger shifted back to rest his forearms on the steering wheel. “Jeez, I gain weight just looking at these things.” He opened the car door and tossed the bag of doughnuts into a trash bin in front of the car.

  “Wasn’t there a chocolate one left?”

  “Be my guest.” Roger watched Tom fish the sack out of the garbage and shake a few coffee grounds off the sides.

  ***

  Dan had picked up groceries, lunch meat, cheese, quart of milk, and run home for lunch. The light on his answering machine was blinking. He halfheartedly hoped it was Elaine. Calling to say thank you for the flowers. Would he have gotten in touch if it wasn’t part of the assignment? He didn’t know. But he thought he might have. He pressed the play button. He was just putting the grocery sack on the counter when the message stopped him.

  “Hear you sold out to the big boys. Dangerous game. I didn’t find any firearms in your apartment; maybe you better get weapon. Wouldn’t want you to try to save my life with nothing to back it up.” Maniacal laughter then, the click of the receiver. That was it. He played it again. The informant. He was vaguely ticked that the man had the audacity to let himself in and poke around the apartment.

  But the advice was probably sound. Dan needed a gun. It wasn’t standard issue for work in insurance fraud, but his new business arrangement put a different spin on things. He wondered if the expense account would cover it. He popped out the tape and slipped it in a drawer. At least the informant seemed to be a secret from the FBI. Wonder how they’d missed that one? Unless it was someone from the Bureau, protected by them, set up to use him because Dan had access…. He sighed. Just one more reason that retirement looked good.

  The bulk of the gun felt odd. A bulge at the waist that he didn’t need. But he had put a hundred rounds through it at the range that afternoon and the .38 was beginning to feel “like an extension of his arm” if he could quote the instructor, some yesterday Marine who probably led NRA sit-ins at the Capitol. Then there were the two new jackets, cut fuller to conceal the weapon, and some shirts, which led to matching socks and a tie. God, buying a gun could change your life. Not to mention…but he wasn’t going to think about Elaine. It was business now. Cut and dried. But he was finding he had to keep reminding himself of that.

  Carolyn called. Her choice of topic for the day, after she caught him up to date on Jason the wonder child, was the ominous decision of a nursing home future for their mother.

  “I was out there last week. She simply can’t live alone much longer.”

  Dan chose not to answer. He’d visited Mom at Easter and had felt he’d interrupted her bridge routine. Five afternoons and two evenings of assorted foursomes crowding the living room and he’d stopped worrying. She was a little fanatical, not crazy or infirm. Her apartment in Scottsdale was in a seniors-only section; her life was good.

  “I don’t think a nursing home would let her keep that hair color.” The bottle of dye he’d found in the bathroom cabinet had read “Flame.”

  “You belittle everything. What happens to my mother isn’t funny.”

  Dan almost smiled. Now that their mother had become the sole property of Caro
lyn, she’d drop the subject for awhile.

  Actually, Carolyn was being civil, invited him to dinner on Saturday. Would he like to bring Elaine? He’d think about it. Then she said that Dona Mari was back. Said she’d seen him at the polo match. An inquiry about the investigation, and she hung up, friendly, a little sisterly curiosity.

  Time to call Elaine. He couldn’t kid himself; he was looking forward to seeing her again, excited about seeing her, even. He’d thought drinks might be okay, go easy, no sex, just get to know one another. Keep it simple and away from the home fronts, no temptations. A hotel lobby, maybe. He’d decide later whether or not to wear the wire.

  She’d answered on the second ring, excited, breathless, obviously glad he called. He had a couple fleeting mental images of her legs, then stopped himself and concentrated on the conversation. They’d meet at the Radisson at eight. He’d just have time to shower.

  At first, it was simple chitchat, tentative, self-conscious small talk aimed at masking the awkwardness. The orchids were wonderful; she had never seen flowers so beautiful; he had made a perfect choice; she’d never forget them. Then, back to safer ground, was the work going okay? Would he be staying at the Double Horseshoe? Would the investigation take a long time?

  He had been enjoying how the silk skirt of her shirtwaist rode above her knees, billowed actually, as the deep cushioned lounge chair enveloped her in teal leather. Then he just said it, said what he was thinking, what he needed to know. What had been bugging him since the feds had told him about Eric and the sex in prison.

  “Tell me about your relationship with Eric.”

  She paused as he watched her; then, she met his gaze and held it. Deciding, maybe, to duck the request unless she saw some sincerity or could measure how much of the truth he really wanted to know? He couldn’t be sure, but she must have seen some validation because she smiled one of those tentative half smiles and took a deep breath. “Any particular starting point?”

  “Your choice.”

  It took her a moment to begin. He almost said forget it when he saw the pain. But he didn’t; he waited.

  “We both lost our parents when we were young. It was a link, gave us something basic in common. He was raised by an aunt. I lived with my grandmother.” She paused to shake her hair away from her face. “We met in college. I was, uh, am—I can’t seem to get the tense right now that he’s dead.” A nervous laugh. “I’m five years older than Eric. Not a lot of difference but I’ve let it bother me.”

  The way she said it made Dan think of other women, younger ones she assumed were competition, ones like the Lott girl, Andrea. He must have made younger women a hobby in prison and out.

  “I got pregnant right away. I was twenty-eight. It seemed okay. I was very much in love.”

  “Eric wasn’t?” He wanted to grab the words back. She looked thoughtful and didn’t react like the question was out of place. She just took a little more time before she answered.

  “I wanted to think so.”

  Dan listened as she talked about Eric at Yale. A friend of his aunt pulled some strings to get him in, but he just squeaked by. A lawyer was something he wanted to be, not necessarily work hard at. And yet people liked him, were always willing to bail him out, forgive him. Was she talking about herself? Dan didn’t know.

  After she took a sip of her drink, she continued. Flying was his passion. There had been a succession of small planes and money lost. The aunt bankrolled some of his ventures. She had been permissive, always hoping something would take. He’d find his calling, so to speak. But nothing did really. There was a long string of “sort of” successes, but more failures.

  “Was he close to Matthew?”

  “When Matthew was young, but he missed out on seven formative years.”

  This might be as good an opening as he would get. Dan leaned back. “Did you have any warning that Eric was into something that was illegal?”

  “I should have. I still can’t believe that I just tuned out. Didn’t see….” She stirred her drink.

  “Didn’t see?” Was he pressing too hard? Was that a flicker of suspicion when she glanced up?

  “His recklessness, his desperation.” Dan waited while she took a sip of her margarita. “Actually, I’ve always thought his friends knew more than they said.” She absently studied something on the edge of the table. “I never thought he did it on his own, worked alone. I said that he did, I corroborated his story for the investigation, but I never believed it. Eric was a follower. He wouldn’t have initiated such a thing.”

  “Some kind of friends.”

  She just nodded and finished her drink. “I suppose it’s all right talking about all this now that he’s dead. Actually, it feels good.” Her smile was radiant. Dan wanted to stop right there but felt he had to ask the obvious.

  “Tell me more about his friends.”

  Her look was disconcerting. Suddenly, after the self-purported cleansing, she was clamming up, looked uneasy.

  “I wasn’t thinking when I said that about friends. I don’t want you to think I’m implying….”

  “I’m lost.” And he truly was. She obviously thought he knew what she was getting at.

  “Well, Phillip, Billy Roland….”

  “Stop a minute. Phillip?”

  “Carolyn’s husband. Didn’t you know he and Eric were inseparable? One of those male pal things. Because our children were the same age, it became a family thing.”

  Had he succeeded in keeping the shock out of his face?

  Was he glad he wasn’t wearing a wire? Phillip. God damn it. She had just implicated his brother-in-law.

  “I’ve said something wrong, haven’t I?”

  “No, I’m just surprised.”

  “I guess what I should have said was that I always thought Phillip must have known, and should have tried to talk him out of it. I know Eric would have confided in him.”

  “Did you ever confront Phillip?”

  Elaine was staring into her drink, absently poking a bar straw through the holes in the ice cubes. He waited.

  “Not really, I guess. We talked. Things were pretty strained for awhile. With Eric in prison, I didn’t see much of them. Jason and Matthew were still pals and I saw Carolyn fairly frequently, but it wasn’t the same, if you know what I mean.”

  Dan thought he knew exactly what she was trying to say. He knew Carolyn and the importance of maintaining that squeaky clean image—too much at stake, the state’s first ladyship.

  “Eric always tried to keep up with Phillip. Have the same plane, take the same vacations, but there was no way he could match Phillip’s money.”

  “No. There probably wasn’t.” Dan was quiet a moment thinking about his sister’s husband and thought even he was naive when it came to putting a dollar amount to what Phillip was worth. Two million? Five? Ten? A lot, he knew that.

  “What about Billy Roland?”

  “Billy Roland?”

  “You mentioned him a minute ago. Do you think he was involved?”

  “He was Eric’s employer, sort of on again, off again. But, more than that, he was a longtime friend of the family. I find it hard to believe that he would be involved in drugs. Yet, the plane was his, the assignment. I’ve always had that nagging suspicion that Eric, at least, thought he was taking a fall for the old man.”

  “Would he do that?”

  “That’s another side of Eric, give you the shirt off his back.”

  “Or seven years of his life.”

  She smiled but didn’t offer to continue.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean this to turn into a grilling.”

  “No problem. I’m just glad we can talk about it. That’s important to me. It’s going to be important to any new relationship I have. I don’t like secrets.”

  He reached out and took her hand, and got that same zing of pleasure he’d remembered. “I’m glad you agreed to see me again. I apologize for bolting the other night.”

  “Understandable.” S
he shifted in the chair but didn’t remove her hand. “You look tired,” she said finally.

  “Too much work.”

  As good an excuse as any to bail out for tonight. Dan needed to stop touching her before he went back on the promise to keep this drinks only and heard himself suggesting something else.

  “How about dinner on Sunday?”

  “I’d love to.”

  She reached for her purse before she stood, slipping her hand out of his. But then she paused and said almost shyly, “Thanks for the drink. I enjoyed it. This was a perfect evening.”

  He thought what she left unsaid was thanks for not pushing me, not making me do something I want to do making me risk getting hurt. But then wasn’t that what he was thinking? And being tired wasn’t a lie. He followed her past the front desk and then around the side to the parking lot. The powder blue Benz didn’t have a speck of dust on it.

  “Nice car.”

  “One of those nice things that Eric made possible.”

  Dan felt himself going on the alert.

  “How’s that?”

  “His aunt left her estate to me. Wrote Eric out of her will. It was sort of a last straw when he went to prison. She actually put in her will that I was to buy a new house and car. I think she took responsibility for how Eric turned out, thought the money would make up for hard times.” She smiled before slipping behind the wheel. “See you Sunday.”

  Dan watched as Elaine pulled out into traffic. For the first time that evening, he felt relieved. Maybe she didn’t need the two million.

  The phone was ringing when Dan walked in the door of his apartment.

  “It’s probably time we had our little chat. But I’m not sure your phone’s clear. Give it about five minutes, then walk across to the gas station. Pay phone’s in front.”

  The informant again. Dan suddenly wasn’t tired anymore. He needed the information that this guy could give him. He slipped into jeans and a t-shirt, locked his front door, and walked across the street. The station was deserted. A guy in a pickup putting air in his tires but otherwise all the islands were empty. Dan didn’t have to wait long before the phone rang.