Kate had to laugh because she couldn’t see Larry doing such a thing. He was a tough, though kind, working-class guy, who was more expert at laying drywall than being romantic.
“I’ll get back to you on that one,” she said finally. “Hey, thanks for the call.”
“Be safe, Kate. I don’t know who these people are, but they’re not messing around. Enough people have died in this town. If anything were to happen to you...” she trailed off, getting choked up.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she promised and again thanked her for the call.
When she finally hung up, she dropped her cell into the front pocket of her overalls and drank a good portion of her coffee.
Kate refilled her mug and then padded over to a stack of tiles she had set down near the windows days ago. As she sipped the dark roast, she eyed the materials, wrapping her head around the most productive course of action, but was soon distracted.
She heard voices whispering in the hallway just beyond the apartment door, which she hadn’t shut entirely.
It sounded like two men. Their voices grew louder, as she stepped quietly towards the door.
“I’m not doing this, man,” said one of the men, his voice trembling. “I want out.”
“Are you crazy?” the other man asked, his voice pitching up with alarm. “The middle of this pyramid is thinning out. They’re all getting killed. This is the opportunity, man! They need more guys, don’t you get it? They’re not going to pull in strangers, they’re going to promote from the bottom. This is our chance! We don’t have to be at the bottom of the food chain anymore. All we have to do is rise to the occasion!”
The other man groaned. “I don’t know…I already feel like a slave. I don’t need to be a better paid one.”
“Then you’re missing your own point. If you’re a slave then you know there’s no getting out of this, and you’re right. There isn’t. You might as well get a bigger cut of the pie.”
Kate was itching to hear them be more specific. She winced, as she widened the crack in the door, praying that the hinges wouldn’t creak. Placing her left eye to the inch she had created, she could clearly see one of the men—the one who was reluctant to upgrade his role in the drug ring.
Short and stalky, he wore a hard hat, beat-up jeans and work boots. A flannel shirt was tied around his waist, and there were dark pit stains on his dingy, white tee shirt. She guessed he was about thirty years old, or maybe in his late twenties. His skin looked weathered, but she figured that was less an indication of age than lifestyle. She smelled stale cigarettes and was fairly certain it was coming from the pair of them.
“Mark my words,” said the man beyond Kate’s view. “Another bigwig is about to fall. If we don’t jump on this, the moment will pass.”
Another bigwig? Who? Was he referring to Jason? Was he that misinformed? Or were the drug kingpins planning another murder? And if so, who?
Kate hoped they would elaborate and reveal the name or names of the higher-ups. Maybe, if she heard a name, she could confirm that they owned Colombia & Partners International, get the information to Scott, and completely exonerate her son.
But their conversation shifted. “Let’s get our stuff,” said the pushier of the two. “They’re going to start renting out these units. We can’t hole up here anymore.”
Grumbling, the hesitant man followed his leader up the dusty wooden stairs, and it wasn’t until Kate heard them reach the landing, boots stomping around the corner and into the hallway, that she widened the door and tiptoed after them, taking the stairs two at a time, her coffee mug in hand all the while.
When she reached the landing, she crouched, duck-walking around the corner until she was able to peer at the men. It wasn’t lost on her that she was acting ridiculously. If anyone had a right to be here, it was Kate and not the pair of ex-cons who clearly worked for Dean at the amusement park. But she couldn’t take any chances. What if these were the men who had shot at her last night, proving their commitment to the drug lords?
The reluctant man seemed to be coming around, as he picked up a cardboard box overflowing with personal items—unfolded shirts, a few books with dog-eared corners, a stick of deodorant that fell to the floor. He picked it up and returned it to his box, saying, “I’m afraid of her, man. I want to sign up for this, but she scared the living crap out of me. She plays the long game, don’t you get that?” When the other man didn’t respond, he went on to point out, “She got some fool to fall in love with her, that’s how long a game she’s playing. Day in and day out she’s building a life with someone, and in the back of her mind she knows she’s going to throw him under the bus at the perfect moment, draw the cops’ attention away, so she can make her final move. That’s some dark stuff, my friend. Why are you fighting to work for her?”
“Because,” he hissed, angling over the other man. Kate realized he had to be at least 6-foot-4. He was built like an ox. “She’s going to get this operation back on track. She’s sick of being used, just like us. She’s going to overthrow them, and when she does, she’s going to need guys like us, loyal guys to be her right- and left-hand men.”
“I don’t know,” the other man said for the millionth time.
“You don’t have to know, not yet. Come to the meeting tonight at nine. Listen to her plan. You’ll get onboard.”
They shifted in her direction and Kate quickly leapt down the stairs so as not to be seen. Her steps weren’t as quiet as she would’ve liked, but soon she was ducking into the apartment on the first floor and spying them trail down the staircase.
As she watched them, she kept wondering. What’s the address of the meeting?
Neither said it, but when the aggressive man spoke, it gave her enough of an indication. “You like shooting guns, right?”
Kate knew where the meeting was going to take place.
Drake’s Firing Line.
And Becky would be there.
Chapter Three
Jared had called twice and Jason called once as the morning ticked into the early afternoon. Both her boys were concerned about how she was holding up. While she appreciated them checking in—Jason, especially—she didn’t want them fussing over her.
She gathered her tools, returning them to her tool kit, and then collected the materials that were scattered across the studio apartment, stacking tiles that she would lay after lunch.
After locking the apartment door behind her, tool kit in hand, she listened out for anyone who might have drifted into the building, but heard nothing. Gillian O’Reilly, one of the ex-cons who was actively turning her life around, had mentioned to Kate that the rear of the building had a cellar door that had been busted open. It was how the convicts had been getting into the building to sleep.
Kate would need to repair the lock or figure out a way to keep the door closed and the building secure. But that wasn’t how she wanted to spend her lunch break. She made a mental note to tend to the repair after getting some food and fresh air.
Before making her way out to her truck, she set her tool kit on the stoop and locked the entrance door. She gave the door a hard push then a pull, making sure it was fastened shut.
A gust of warm wind rolled down the street, as she padded to the bed of her truck and set her tool kit down. Today would be the perfect day to go for a swim, not that she had time. She frowned at the thought. The only lake in Rock Ridge was on the old campsite grounds, and now that the area was under construction as the amusement park gradually rose, she wasn’t sure who would be able to go for an easy swim. Would Dean wall off the lake? Or would he fashion a beach, hire lifeguards, and encourage people to swim? She didn’t like the idea of residents having to pay an admission fare just to enjoy the lake that had been free to them their whole lives.
So much of this town was changing. She wondered if she would even be able to recognize it in a few years’ time.
Climbing up behind the wheel and shutting the door, her promise to Jason came to mind.
She needed to find the best lawyer she could afford and retain him or her for Jason’s defense. With the right attorney, her son could be released on bail.
She decided to get ahold of Amelia. Since all charges had been dropped regarding Donna Kramer’s murder, the real killers having been arrested, Amelia’s attorney should be available. Kate dialed the front desk at Over the Moon, and Gillian picked up on the first ring.
“It’s Kate,” she said as soon as Gillian’s raspy voice came through.
“Hey!” she said happily, but her tone soon dropped. “I can connect you with Scott’s room, but he’s already left for the day.”
“Oh,” said Kate, feeling thrown off her axis. “So he’s staying there? You guys had a spare room?”
“Yeah, isn’t that why you’re calling?”
“No, actually. Is Amelia around?”
It sounded like Gillian was lowering the phone and rising to her feet as if to peer into the lounge. When she returned to the phone, she said, “She isn’t here. I’m holding down the fort since she needed a break. I think she’s at home, or she will be. She left about ten minutes ago.”
“Okay, I’ll try her at home, thanks.” Gillian murmured then groaned, plopping into her seat. “What’s wrong?”
“I ate way too much mustard. There’s so much mustard here. Ugh.”
Kate chuckled and told her to eat some bread.
“Thanks again for recommending me,” said Gillian before letting her go.
Kate contemplated her options. She could give Amelia a heads up before driving over, but something was telling her to simply show up. Her relationship with Amelia had suffered its ups and downs, and the woman often bristled when Kate was around. She hadn’t seen Amelia since Jason was arrested, and she really couldn’t guess how the innkeeper had taken the news. Would she believe the right man had been caught? If so, Amelia would regard Kate as the mother of the culprit who had abducted her daughter. Yet, it was possible Amelia would be in agreement with Jason’s innocence.
She reasoned that she might as well tell her that she would be stopping by, so that’s what Kate did, as she pulled out into the road and accelerated.
The Langelys’ house could best be described as a mansion. White, Grecian pillars held the stately portico up, framing the grand entrance door. The house was lined with planters, roses in bloom, and as Kate neared the door, she heard the frenetic thwacks of the sprinklers shooting water across the yard.
She rang the bell and took a step back, as someone on the other side padded through the foyer to answer.
When the door drew inward, Kate was faced with a tired-looking woman in a maid’s uniform.
“Can I help you?”
“It’s Kate Flaherty for Amelia. I saw her car in the driveway,” she said, just in case the maid had been instructed to turn all guests away.
“Come in,” she said on a sigh, widening the door, which she closed as soon as Kate had entered. “Amelia’s in the drawing room.”
Kate followed the maid through the foyer and then crossed the lofty living room. Midway down a marble corridor they rounded into the drawing room, which, in Kate’s estimation, was a library replete with leather sofa chairs and matching settees. The walls were mahogany and Civil War-era portraits hung on either side of a fireplace. Amelia was sitting on the couch. A cup of tea rested on the oak coffee table in front of her, and just as she was reaching for the steaming teacup, Kate caught her eye.
“Ms. Kate Flaherty here to see you,” the maid announced, to which Amelia gave her a tight smile then waved, excusing her from the room.
As soon as the maid drew the drawing room door closed, affording them privacy, Amelia’s smile drooped. “I heard about Jason,” she stated. It was neither a condolence nor an “I told you so.”
“Yes, he was arrested. That’s why I’m here.” Kate hesitated when she reached a sofa chair, but Amelia gestured for her to have a seat and she did. “I know he isn’t guilty.”
The woman’s eyebrows floated up to her hairline.
“I take it you think he did it?”
Amelia sighed, taking her teacup into her lap. “If the Rock Ridge police had enough to arrest him, then they have enough to prove he did it.”
“And the same was said of you after Donna Kramer’s murder. Sometimes the police get it wrong.”
“But the truth always comes out eventually,” she corrected, revealing a clever smirk.
“I’m sure you’re right about that. You must be relieved that Scott dropped the murder charge, cleared your name.”
“I am.”
“Look, I’ll cut to the point. I need to get Jason the best attorney available, and now that yours isn’t occupied with your case...?”
“Kate,” she smiled as if trying to communicate with a child who wouldn’t understand, “do you have any idea how expensive Bart Vaughn is? Lance and I do quite all right between Langley Mustard and Over the Moon, and it was a stretch for us to cover his retainer. I doubt you’ll be able to afford him.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said impatiently, trying not to be offended, even though that was clearly Amelia’s intention. “Bart Vaughn, you say? What law firm is he with?”
“He has his own private practice under his name. He’s listed,” she allowed, then took a sip of her tea.
Kate told herself to get going. She had the attorney’s name, and she could give him a call and get the ball rolling. But she couldn’t seem to rise to her feet. Amelia’s daughter was the reason Kate’s son was in jail. There had to be a way to get to the bottom of this.
“I know we’ve had our fair share of friction in the past,” she began. Amelia snorted, which Kate didn’t appreciate. “Back when Becky went missing, why didn’t you tell the police about her criminal record?”
The woman nearly choked on her tea. She began coughing and set the teacup on the coffee table. When she lifted her eyes to Kate, they were wide with abject horror. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, Amelia. You can’t play this off. I found out about her record, about how she did time. I also found out she had been receiving wire payments from a company called Colombia & Partners International, the very company that’s most likely behind the drug operation that has corrupted this town.”
“How do you do it?” she asked, appearing impressed if not alarmed. “How do you find out these things?”
“Because I never give up,” Kate said easily. “Do you know about Colombia & Partners—”
“No!” she insisted. She let out a shuddering sigh and added, “Of course Lance and I knew about her criminal record, but Becky had completely turned her life around the second she got out of prison. Lance and I nearly spent a fortune covering her record up so she could get into college. And while she was at school, she was a perfect angel. We had every reason to trust her and absolutely no reason to believe her abduction had anything to do with that old, crooked life of hers.”
“Except that she wasn’t abducted,” Kate pointed out. “She’s involved with the drug ring. She attempted to extort money from you and Lance, and the deal got thwarted when Tommy Barkow, wanting out, tried to blow up Lance.”
“Why would she try to extort money from us if she was receiving wire payments from this Colombia company, as you say?”
“Because,” Kate began, remembering what she had overheard between the two ex-con construction workers at Justina’s building, “Becky wants out, too. But not out of the drug life, just out from under the higher-ups at Colombia & Partners International. She’s working to steal the operation out from under them.”
“I refuse to believe my daughter would do such a thing.”
“Well she is,” she insisted. “And she’s quite good at it. She managed to frame Jason.”
“How dare you come into my home and—”
“Has she been in touch? Has she come back here?”
Amelia’s jaw dropped. “My daughter is being held somewhere against her will.”
“If that were tr
ue, there would’ve been a second attempt at collecting ransom,” she pointed out. “There would’ve also been...and I hate to say this...a body. She would’ve been killed. That’s how it works when kidnappers don’t get what they want.”
Reluctantly, Amelia admitted, “No, she hasn’t been back here. I’m just as in the dark as you, if not more so, since you’ve obviously dug up a great deal of information that I knew nothing about.”
Kate studied her expression. Amelia was being truthful. She was a bitter, difficult woman, but she wasn’t lying.
Amelia let out a distressed groan, staring into her teacup that now rested in her lap. “I don’t believe Becky would do any of that,” she muttered in a defeated tone. “I can’t believe it. She was doing so well.” She lifted her eyes, meeting Kate’s. “She even maintained a relationship with the prison warden. He’s such a caring man. He kept tabs on Becky and kept her walking the straight and narrow.”
“Grant Conover?” Kate asked to confirm the name.
“Yes, you know him?”
Kate sighed, dreading having to reveal another piece of bad news. “Grant Conover was also receiving wire payments from Colombia & Partners. He was dirty.”
Amelia’s mouth drifted open with shock.
“My number one priority right now is finding Becky. I have a decent lead. She might show up at a location tonight, but I need a fail-safe. I need to know where she’s staying in case she never makes it tonight.”
“And you think I know where she is? I don’t know anything.”
Kate allowed, “I don’t think you know where she is. But you know your daughter. Where would she hide out? Where would she go if she didn’t want to be spotted, but couldn’t leave Rock Ridge?”
Her effort to think it through seemed honest, her brow furrowing and eyes shifting as though she were flipping through a series of memories. But when Amelia once again met Kate’s gaze, her expression looked drawn, pale, and blank. “I just don’t know.”
“She was close with Grant Conover?” Kate asked, and as Amelia nodded, she said to herself, “I wonder where he lives....”
Mrs. Fix It Mysteries: The Complete 15-Books Cozy Mystery Series Page 87
