by F J messina
Sonia looked at her sister. What have I gotten her into? Here we are getting shot at and we’ve become so numb to it that we haven’t even talked it through. She took a deep breath and spoke softly, slowly. “You’re right, Tee.” She reached out and put her hand on Tee’s arm. “Things have gotten way too dangerous. It’s time you stepped aside. We can do this without you.”
Tee slammed her fist down on the table, shaking it on its flimsy legs. “Like hell, you will.” Her olive skin took on a hint of pink. “Did you think I was asking about that because I’m afraid? No f’ing way. I was just asking if we were going to talk more about who did it and why?” She shot a look at Brad and Jet. “I’m in this to the end, dammit.” She turned back to Sonia. “You’re not sending me away, mother. I’m here to stay.”
Sonia started to respond, then thought better of it. Tee was, after all, a Vitale through and through, just as strong at her core, Sonia realized, as her big sister.
It was Brad who spoke next. “Listen, Tee. If we knew who had fired those shots, this investigation would be over. And we already know why, sort of. Somebody out there wants us to drop the investigation.”
Sonia picked up the thread. “And again, if we knew who that was or why they wanted it to stop, we’d know who the killer is.” She shrugged. “But we don’t.” Her voice dropped off as she gently shook her head. “We simply don’t.”
There was a moment of silence before Jet began again. “So, like I said before, do Tee and I begin working—” She was interrupted by the sound of the outer door opening.
“Greetings.” Johnny Adams’ voice was bright and cheery, if not powerful.
“Johnny.” Sonia rose quickly to her feet. “How great to see you. Come on in.” She turned to Tee. “Go get another chair for us, would you?”
Johnny walked across the room, directly to Sonia. As he did, her eyes took in the tall, attractive man with the quiet demeanor. His gray eyes and short brown hair, slightly damp from the misty evening, brought back memories of their brief time together—times when Sonia’s heart was torn between him and Brad. She ran her fingers through her hair. Hmm, still good-looking, but not looking entirely well. Has he been ill?
Jet interrupted Sonia’s thought. “Well, well, well,” her voice was only lightly covered with peach marmalade, “if it isn’t Detective Sergeant Johnny Adams, pride of the Lexington Police Department.”
Johnny just smiled and shrugged, just as Sonia would have expected.
As he reached her, Sonia gave Johnny a quick hug, then turned her attention toward Tee. “Johnny, this is my sister, Tee. She’s working with us now.”
Tee set the extra chair next to the table then walked over to Johnny, her hand extended. “Nice to meet you, Detective.”
“No, no. Not detective anymore. Just plain old Johnny.” He looked her over quickly. “Very nice to meet you as well.”
Sonia took a quick breath then turned to Brad. “And you remember Brad Dunham, don’t you?”
“Sure. Nice to see you again, Brad.”
Brad nodded solemnly.
“Have a seat.” Sonia directed him toward a chair on the opposite side of the table from where she and Brad had been sitting, forcing Tee to move into the newly placed seat at its end, next to Sonia. “We were just dividing up our tasks for tomorrow’s work.”
Sonia spent the next few minutes filling Johnny in on the case as a whole, the limitations put on them by the NDA the firm was working under, and what they had learned thus far. The last thing she spoke about was the message that had been sent to them via two nine-millimeter bullets.
“Whoa.” Johnny’s eyes opened wide. “I had no idea this was so serious. What are you thinking, Brad?”
Sonia was a little perplexed that Johnny had directed the question to Brad but hoped that it was his way of building a bridge to his former romantic rival.
Brad scratched his nose. “Somebody out there is trying to get us to drop this investigation. Don’t know who it is, but there’s no question they’re serious about it.”
“And,” Sonia interjected, “I’m darn curious about how they even know we’re involved.”
“You know,” Jet was quick to speak, “I hadn’t thought about that, but you’re right. Somehow, somebody knows what we’re up to. Good chance it’s someone we’ve already spoken to.”
“Not necessarily.” There was no hesitation in Tee’s voice. After having been shot at, she was all in and ready to share anything she was thinking. “It could be that one of those brotherhood guys is telling somebody about everything we do—either on purpose or without realizing what they’re doing to us.”
Brad shuffled in his seat. His voice seemed lower than usual. “Hard to tell. But Sonia raises a good point. From now on, we need to start isolating the different parts of our investigation. That way, when we get a hint of someone knowing what we’re doing we may be able to track it back to the person or persons we’ve spoken to.”
After waiting a moment to see if anyone else had anything to contribute, Sonia pressed on. “Okay, we know that Brad and I are going to Eastern Kentucky tomorrow. I’ll do some research on the brothers from home tonight.” Still rattled by the notion of having put her sister in danger, she reached out to Tee’s hand. “Why don’t you work with Johnny and start going through as many Rasmussen Company clients as you can, just asking them if they are aware of any problems the company had, anyone who might be holding a grudge against Victor.” She turned to her partner. “Jet, there’s something else that’s bothering me, something maybe you could check out tomorrow.”
31
As everyone was preparing to leave, Sonia picked up a few notes and headed for her office. Once inside, she dropped them on her desk before turning to retrieve her coat from the rack next to her armoire. When she did turn, she was surprised to find Johnny standing close behind her.
“Oh, Johnny.” She took a step back. “Do you need something?”
“Yeah, well,” his voice was soft, almost tentative, “I just wanted to thank you for inviting me back to help with the case. Sounds like it’s pretty heavy duty.”
As she spoke, Sonia was more and more aware of the fact that Johnny just didn’t look at all well. “Sure, Johnny. Look, it’s you who are helping us. There are so many leads we have to track down and so little time. I don’t know how we’d be able to do it without you.” She paused. “In fact, I’m not sure how we’re going to be able to do it with you.” She gave him a gentle smile.
“Don’t you worry.” His voice strengthened. “Detective Sergeant Johnny Adams, retired, is on the case. Your sister and I will work our way through that list of contacts you gave us in no time.”
Sonia’s concern came through in her voice. “But not before you get some rest.” She reached out, placing her hand on his arm. “You really look like you need a good night’s sleep.”
“Yeah,” his gaze dropped to the ground, “about that.” His head rose and his eye’s looked deeply into Sonia’s. “Listen, I won’t be here in town more than a night or two. I was wondering if maybe I could just crash on your couch or something.”
Sonia withdrew her hand, the request having caught her off guard. “Well . . . .”
Johnny leaned in, his eyebrows rising plaintively. “It would just feel more comfortable than being in a strange motel room.”
“Well . . . I’m so sorry, Johnny,” Sonia took a small step backward, regretting that she had reached out to him physically and quite certain she felt sexual heat standing so close to him, “It’s just that Tee is already crashing on the couch and there’s no other place to sleep in my apartment. You understand, don’t you?”
There was silence as Johnny stood speechless, still imploring her with his eyes—so much so that Sonia could feel the heat rising in her face. After a long moment, Johnny broke the tension. “Yeah, sure. I understand. I’ll just get a room at that Holiday Inn off Virginia Ave. There’s a couple of places around there where I can get something to eat. Jalapeños
was always a favorite of mine when I lived here.”
“Sure, sure. That would be great. You’ll get a much better night’s sleep that way.” Sonia tried hard to put her discomfort behind her and give him the warmest smile she could. She was tempted to tell him about Papi’s, her new favorite Mexican restaurant, but chose not to get into it.
With that, Sonia slid past Johnny, grabbing her coat off the rack in one swift motion and heading as quickly as she could to Brad’s side. He turned to her. “Everything alright, Babe?”
“Yes, absolutely.” Her words came quickly, intense. “Can we go now? We’re going to need some rest before tomorrow’s trip.”
Brad tipped his head dramatically. “Honey, it’s eight o’clock. I’m sure I can get you home to your place in plenty of time to get your ten hours of beauty sleep before tomorrow’s,” he paused, “trip.”
“Okay, fine.” Sonia’s words faded away as she brushed past Brad, out the door, and down the steps into the misty and now colder night.
In the parking lot, Brad helped Sonia into his Corvette. “Can we get something to eat together? I haven’t seen you all day and I’m starving.”
Sonia waited for him to walk around the car and slide in. She gave him a tight smile, it was the best she could muster. “That would be fine.”
Brad paused a moment. “Are you sure?”
“Uh huh.”
Brad started the car. “Where?”
“What?”
“Where did you want to go to eat?” He spoke slowly, deliberately.
Sonia started to focus on the topic of the conversation. The idea of Papi’s had crossed her mind a few minutes earlier and now it seemed like exactly the right place to go—more for the comfort of the place and the people who ran it than for the food, although that was always great. “Papi’s. I want to go to Papi’s and get one of their chimichangas.”
Brad pulled the car out of the Magee’s parking lot, turning right and then right again onto Ashland Avenue. “You going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?” Sonia was looking out the passenger side window as if she was suddenly enthralled by the beautiful homes on that street—homes she’d seen a million times.
“Tell me what’s got you so upset.”
“Nothing. I’m fine. Let’s just go get something to eat. I’m starving too, and I’m whipped.” Sonia was relieved when Brad let things slide, though she didn’t, for a moment, think he believed her. She’d already had one run-in with him that evening and the thought of telling him about Johnny’s request sent a sudden quiver of nausea into her stomach. By the time they had parked and walked up the steps into the inviting warmth of Papi’s, the only thing on Sonia’s mind was one of their famous raspberry margaritas.
Johnny Adams pulled his car under the portico in front of the Holiday Inn Express and walked through the front door. As he stood before the simple two-computer front desk, there was only one thing on his mind—book a clean, quiet room as cheaply and quickly as possible.
Once inside the room, he threw the simple leather bag he’d picked up earlier in the day on his bed and walked directly into the bathroom. The fluorescent light gave his face a strange, greenish tint as he looked in the mirror, but it wasn’t his face he was most concerned about.
Loosening his belt and lifting up his shirt and undershirt, Johnny was frustrated. The bandages with which he had dressed his own wound were soaked with blood. He was simply not healing as quickly as he had hoped and he was more and more concerned that he might have to seek real medical attention. With that would come questions—questions he hoped he would never have to answer.
Day Four
32
Sonia woke around eight o’clock on Monday morning, restless. Still lying in bed, she interlocked her fingers and stretched deeply. Day Four, only forty-eight hours to wrap this thing up. A moment later, a tiny, tentative smile touched the corners of her mouth. But I’m pretty sure we’ve got you, Missy Charles. I’m not sure how we’re going to prove it, but I’m pretty sure we’ve got you.
Sonia stepped out into the kitchen/living room/dining area only to find the coffee pot already fired up and half the normal amount in the carafe gone. She stepped over to the back of the couch and looked down. Blankets, sheets, pillow, but no Tee. Hmm. She’s up and out early.
As Sonia sat down at her tiny kitchen table, she was certain that what she and Brad had to do first was go out to Eastern Kentucky. After all, the story of the two brothers was significant enough for Holiday to have held it back, and it was also the very information that he brought forward after someone took a potshot at them. Twenty-year-old bourbon, Victor sloshing around in a bourbon barrel—there had to be a connection—and a way somebody got his body into that barrel.
Still, Sonia was haunted by the fact that her gut told her she needed to get back into Carl Rasmussen’s computer and find some proof that Missy Charles was trying to take over the Rasmussen company. That would indicate a clear motive for her taking Victor Rasmussen out of the picture and bring Sonia and her team a giant step closer to wrapping up this case.
After showering, Sonia slipped into jeans, a light-brown sleeveless top, and sneakers. She let her wavy, layered, hair dry on its own as she gobbled down a quick bowl of raisin bran and a half-glass of OJ. Eight minutes later, she was down the steps and walking up Ashland Avenue toward the BCI offices. Though it was bright and sunny out, she got a little chill as she recalled last evening’s events. By the time she reached the bottom of those wooden steps, she was more grateful than usual to be able to duck into Magee’s to pick up not one almond croissant but two, and two coffees as well.
As she stepped out of the bakery and headed for the wooden stairs, Sonia saw Brad pull his Corvette into the parking lot. She went directly to the car and slipped in.
Normally, Brad would have given Sonia a brief but meaningful kiss. She loved how his lips would linger on hers just long enough to convey the fact that he loved her, that he was really kissing her, without being so long as to imply the beginning of a romantic interlude. This morning, the kiss was a bit perfunctory. She didn’t mind. It fit with the stress that was churning in her own stomach.
It wasn’t long before Brad had the car on I-64, headed for the Mountain Parkway and Eastern Kentucky. Try as she may, Sonia was unable to sustain any light-hearted banter as they traveled. Brad seemed equally focused on the day’s challenge. When they reached Hazard, Kentucky, Brad turned the car east on Route 80. Sonia watched the town go by. “So, this is the place that the Dukes of Hazzard are from.”
“One Z,” was Brad’s only response.
“What?”
He gave her a quick look. “Hazard, Kentucky, H A Z A R D. The Dukes of Hazzard, H A Z Z A R D. There’s only one Z in the town’s name, two in name of the show.
“Oh.”
“And since we’re already through the town of Hazard,” he turned to her and smiled, “Hindman, Kentucky, here we come. GPS says it’s another 28 miles.”
About thirty-five minutes later, they took a left onto Route 160 and came into town on East Main Street. They made a left at the fork and pulled into the parking lot at the Redi Mart. “Well, here we are, sweetheart. Hindman, Kentucky. Population, according to the 2010 census, seven hundred and sixty-seven. I’m guessing that most folks around here know exactly who Ephraim and Ezekiel Bartley are.” Brad tapped Sonia’s leg. “Stay here, I’ll go inside and ask around.”
It wasn’t long before Brad was back in the car. “Here we go.” He smiled at her. “We just stay on 160 ‘til we get to Tadpole Hollow, take a left on Frogtown Road and follow it to River Street. Their house is at the end of that road.”
Sonia gave him a look. “Seriously, did you find out where they live?”
“Honey,” Brad backed the car up, palming the steering wheel, then drove out of the parking lot, “that’s exactly where they live.”
Approximately nine minutes later, Brad pulled the ‘Vette up to the home of Ephraim and Ezekiel Bartley
. It’s rustic stone and wood construction was obvious, but this was no simple log cabin hidden in the woods. Its size and design indicated it had been, at one time, quite grand. Closer inspection, however, revealed a screen door that barely closed, windows in desperate need of paint, and a light bulb above the front door that was actually broken. Standing on the wide front porch that ran the length of the building, Brad gave Sonia a silent nod and then knocked. She stepped back three or four steps.
Several long moments went by before a man who appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties made it to the door. He was slender, almost skinny, with a thin mouth that seemed filled with teeth that belonged to a much larger person. The hair on his head was cropped extremely short on the sides, yet hung from the top, flopping across his face. Dressed in work boots, sloppy jeans, and a tattered University of Kentucky T-shirt, he didn’t give the impression they had interrupted any important work he might have been doing. In fact, even from outside the house, Sonia could hear the sound of a television and some sort of game show. The man opened the screen door wide, though it squeaked in the process, peering out of the darkness that filled the house’s interior. “Can I hep you?”
“Mr. Bartley?” Brad tried to sound as respectful as he could.
“Who’s askin’?”
“Mr. Bartley, my name is Brad Dunham.” He turned to Sonia. “This is Sonia Vitale. We’d like to talk to you if you don’t mind.”
“You from the police?”
“No, we’re not, sir. Actually, we’re from a private investigation firm in Lexington, Bluegrass Confidential Investigations. Any chance we could have a few minutes of your time?”
The man behind the screen door looked them over. He took in Brad’s stature first then spent too much time drinking in Sonia’s attractiveness. His head bobbed gently as he waited a long moment before answering. “What’s this about?”
