All About the Money (A Jesse Watson Mystery Series Book 7)

by Ann Mullen

  All About the Money

  by Ann Mullen

  http://www.aftonridge.com

  Copyright © 2011 by Ann Mullen

  ISBN 13: 978-0-9828776-7-8

  This book is a work of fiction. Any characters portrayed, living or dead are imaginary. Any resemblance to actual persons is completely coincidental. Any places, business establishments, locales, events, or incidents in this book are the product of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Table of Content

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  No More

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Summer is a good time of the year. The weather’s nice and warm, and it’s always much more fun than trying to survive the cold of winter... until August comes around. Like most places, when August hits here in the mountains it can get rather hot and humid. Only at night can one get some relief from the heat. I thought about that as I sat on the front porch soaking in the cool breeze of the mountain air, while sipping a glass of iced tea. I reflected on the past six years since I’d moved here with my folks. It’s ironic how one’s life can go from being nothing to being something really special.

  Hello. My name is Jesse Watson Blackhawk. I moved to a little piece of Heaven when I left my hometown of Newport News, Virginia, and settled in the small town of Stanardsville—which turned out to be laden with beautiful scenery. I love Virginia. I wouldn’t want to live in any other state. Whoever said that Virginia is for lovers was so right!

  Stanardsville is where I was living when I discovered the charm of country life… and I met Billy Blackhawk. Life turned completely around for me on that day. It was the start of a whole new adventure. Adventure being the operative word. You see, Billy Blackhawk is a private detective, and anyone who shares his life is sure to go on the ride of their life. Being shot at, beaten up, and chased by bad guys is just part of that ride. That’s what happened when I took the job as Billy’s secretary. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, I was his gun-toting, fully licensed snoop of a wife… and I loved it!

  I had to smile at that thought. I can remember a time when I would never had the nerve to stick a gun in someone’s face, let alone pull the trigger. But not anymore. Now, my gun is my friend and I wouldn’t hesitate to use it if I had to. It’s a matter of survival in this business.

  Mom walked out on the porch and sat down next to me on the steps. She had a smile on her face as she said, “The kids are down for the count. Helene and I put them to bed, and then she turned in. She said to say goodnight. She was beat.”

  Helene Sullivan is Billy’s cousin. Her husband passed away awhile back, and all of her children were grown and out of the house. She was living alone and needed someone in her life… so she got us. She’s been the children’s nanny for many moons now. She fits in perfectly with our extended family.

  “Where’re the dogs and the cat? I haven’t heard a peep from either one of them.”

  “Athena and Thor are lying by the kids’ bedroom door as usual, and the cat is asleep on your bed. At least he was the last time I checked.”

  I laughed and said, “Our family is a real trip, aren’t we?”

  “I’d say we’re pretty lucky to have such a close family. Everyone cares about each other. Ah… and that Maisy and Ethan are adorable. You really do have it all.”

  “Yes, I do. I have two wonderful children, a close family, and a terrific husband. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

  “And you have a nice home here in Charlottesville that you share with your wonderful husband… even though you don’t live with me in Dogwood Valley anymore.”

  “Well, I couldn’t very well marry Billy and still live in Stanardsville with you, now could I?”

  “When’s Billy supposed to get home? He missed his dinner, so I wrapped up a plate for him and put it in the refrigerator. I hope he’s okay.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about him, Mama,” I replied, looking out into the night. “He can take care of himself. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “I know he can, but I won’t be happy until he comes home all in one piece,” she replied, hesitating just long enough to take in a deep breath. “It’s so beautiful out here. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I’m just sorry your father can’t be here to share it with us.”

  My father passed away shortly after we moved to the mountains.

  “Me, too, Mama,” I said, touching her hand. “Me, too.”

  “I have Eddie now. I’m sure your father would be happy for me. He was such a good man. I know he wouldn’t want me to be alone.”

  “You’ll never be alone, Mama. You’ll always have us.”

  “I know, honey. I love my kids and my grandchildren, but a woman needs a man in her life, if you know what I mean.”

  “I sure do. I know exactly what you mean. I don’t know what I’d do without Billy. I never really had a life until I met him. He’s the kind of man women spend their whole life looking for. He makes me so happy.”

  “There’s nothing like having the companionship of a man… sharing life… sex…”

  “Stop!” I quickly shot back as I shook my head and held up my hand in the dark. “Too much information! I don’t think I want to hear about my mother and her sex life. That’s one thing I can live without.”

  Mom chuckled. “I’m just messing with you, Jesse. I was trying to put your mind at ease. I know you’re worried about Billy, but I’m sure he’s going to be just fine. He’s a tough man. Not much can get in his way, or stop him, that’s for certain.”

  “Except a bullet.”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth a chill shot down my spine. I didn’t want to think about what Billy could be facing. This case was another one of those simple cases that had turned out not to be so simple after all—as usual.

  Billy had made the decision that it didn’t take both of us to sit out in a hot car all day long in the dead heat of summer, staking out the bad guy. I had agreed. This case was about insurance fraud, one like Billy had been on many times before. He was to watch a man who was supposed to be disabled due to an injury on the job, get photos and then report his findings. But we all know that sometimes things that seem so simple usually aren’t. Sometimes they turn out to be the worst kind.

  While Billy worked the case, I spent my time taking care of the children and helping out on the planning of the big wedding. I didn’t really help that much, but my input was appreciated.

  Ah, yes… the big wedding. Now this was going to be one celebration no one would want to miss. There was no telling what would happen on that glorious day. Anything is possible, especially in this family. Come September, Billy’s folks, Sarah and Chief Sam, were going to host what was sure to be the celebration event of the year in the Watson/Blackhawk family. A triple wedding was on the agenda. Mom and Eddie, my sist
er, Claire, and her new flame, Randy Morgan, and Billy’s brother, Jonathan, and his longtime love, Lu Ann Knots, were going to be united in holy matrimony by none other than Chief Sam himself. Chief Sam had performed almost all of the weddings in the family anyway, so there was no doubt about who would have the honor.

  Mom had initially asked Sheriff Wake Hudson to preside over her marriage to Eddie, but once the plans started, it was discovered that all three couples wanted to get married about the same time. So, arrangements were to be made. The marriage ceremonies would take place in September on the Blackhawk Compound at Chief Sam and Sarah’s home. Sheriff Hudson offered to be backup just in case Chief Sam had to go out on a last minute Indian raid or something.

  You see, Billy Blackhawk and his family are Cherokee Indians—and we’re not. We’ve learned much from them, and the one thing we could always count on was they had their own way of doing things. They would come together and get the job done no matter what, and they were always right. However, I’d have to draw the line at scalping anybody.

  Yes, it would be a fine shindig, not one easily forgotten. We would be talking about it for a long time to come.

  That little voice in the back of my head kept telling me this wasn’t going to be just any ordinary event. Our family couldn’t get together without something going down, however big or small. The small ones didn’t bother me. It was the big ones that creeped me out. I wondered what would really transpire. Then I thought about Flo. Her case had turned out to be nothing. Her imagination had just gotten the best of her, or so I thought.

  It all started when we returned from our cruise on the Bella Constance—a cruise to Bermuda that turned out to be a working vacation involving dangerous and deadly events where people got shot, stabbed, or maimed in the most awful way. Mom had immediately approached us and asked us to help her friend, Flo Garner, the bookkeeper. By accident, Flo had discovered something incriminating about one of her clients, and she was sure he was aware of it. Her life was in danger. This man was a killer. He had murdered his business partner and she had evidence to prove it, or so she said. Her place of business, Garner Bookkeeping on Coyote Road, had been vandalized, and she was positive she was being followed. She was afraid he was out to silence her even if he had to kill her. Mom demanded we take the case and help save the life of her friend. So… we did.

  We went to work right away on Flo’s case. It didn’t take us long to find out that it had been some kids who had broken into her office, and the only person following her was us. It had yet to be determined whether or not her claim that she had seen a receipt that could place her client at the scene of the crime was true. She no longer had the evidence in hand.

  It seems that during tax season, Wynona Rhodes, the wife of Downer Rhodes, had dropped off their paperwork so that Flo could do their tax returns. Two hours later, Mr. Rhodes burst into her office and demanded his paperwork back, claiming that it wasn’t ready. He wanted to know if she had started on the return.

  She told him that she was very busy this time of year and apologized for not being able to get to his returns just yet. What she didn’t tell him was that she had other clients ahead of him, and she’d get to it when she could. She also didn’t tell him that she had taken the thick folder and was going to place it on the pile to do later when the folder fell from her hands. Papers and receipts lay scattered about on the floor and when she went to pick them up, a hotel receipt caught her eye. Flo played dumb.

  Downer Rhodes’ business partner, Hank Sharp, had been murdered, stabbed to death in a hotel room, and Downer was the first person the police hounded. The cops had nothing, but Flo was sure she knew the truth. That receipt could place him in Suffolk, Virginia, at the time of the murder.

  When Downer Rhodes returned to Flo’s two days later, he apologized for his behavior. He claimed that his wife was going to a fashion show in New York and wanted to drop off the tax returns and clear up other business before she left. She didn’t realize that he hadn’t finished.

  A likely story.

  However, without the receipt as evidence, which was conveniently missing when the paperwork was brought back, we, too, had nothing to go on. We could chase down the receipt, but we knew that would probably be fruitless. Hotels, or the like, don’t give out that information… without some sneaky work from a couple of private eyes who were good at their job. The time would be lengthy and the cost would be plenty for our client. We conveyed this message to Flo, but she didn’t bat an eyelash. All she said was, “Just fix this for me.”

  So, we set out to do the job. Two weeks later, we were dead in the water. Billy and I had even taken a quick jaunt to Suffolk, Virginia, a four-hour drive from home. We spent the night at the Suffolk South Inn, which wasn’t a sleazy, low-class hotel/motel as I had imagined (I can never figure out the difference between hotel and motel), nor was it a fabulous little Entry Run Bed and Breakfast on the South River in Stanardsville. Instead, it was a very classy establishment with all the fine amenities of a five-star place. Business men would’ve been in hog heaven. I know I was.

  How ironic it was to discover that all trace of the credit card receipt that Flo claimed to exist for the hotel was non-existent. Billy and I, being the best snooping couple in the world or at least the best in Charlottesville and all surrounding areas for several hundred miles… and then some, I’d like to think, could not find anything that placed Downer Rhodes in Suffolk at the time of the murder. I say ironic because for the last couple of days, after our initial one-night adventure at the inn and the time we had spent dissecting every aspect of the case, I had that gut feeling there might be something to Flo’s claim. I mean, this woman is one of those people who’ve made it a point of seeing everything. Mom swears she doesn’t miss a thing. So, if she says she saw incriminating evidence, there just could be something to it. At first, I didn’t give much credit to her accusations, but then that little voice started ranting at me again.

  I might need to see a doctor about that voice in my head. I might be losing my mind. The older I get, the worse it gets… and sometimes it’s right scary.

  I sat on the steps and thought about Mom’s friend, Flo. The case was at a stand-still, but her face kept popping up in front of me. And then I thought about Downer Rhodes. I looked over at Mom and asked, “What kind of name is Downer? Where do parents come up with such horrible names to saddle their kids with?”

  “Oh, you’ve been thinking about my friend, Flo, haven’t you?” she asked. “I thought you’d given up on her. I was beginning to wonder.”

  “I have to think about something else, so I won’t worry about Billy.”

  After a few seconds, Mom replied, “I don’t know. I think it was a nickname given to him in college.” She chuckled and then said, “With your being such a good private eye, I’d think you could find out if you wanted to.”

  “I could, and I might just do that. Who could forget a name like Downer? It shouldn’t be too hard to track down.”

  Then, my mind went back to the case Billy was working. While we were in the process of planning our next move in Flo’s case a couple of weeks ago, a simple fraud case fell into our laps. We most likely would’ve passed on it under the circumstances, but the man asking was a friend of Billy’s who had begged him to take it on.

  Kyle Winslow and Billy knew each other from way back when, so when his old buddy called and asked for his help, he couldn’t refuse. I remember Billy telling me about Kyle and how they had hung out together… high school…college… same old… same old. But time moves on and so did their lives. They hadn’t been in touch for years, but that didn’t matter. Their friendship was still strong.

  Kyle works for Afton South, Inc., an insurance company in Charlottesville that covers everything from homeowner’s insurance to medical insurance. The firm is large, yet privately owned, and in the business and the private sector (the ones who are insured by this company) ASI is well-respected. That speaks volumes.

  This was a typical ca
se of insurance fraud: a man injured his back and was on medical disability for over eight months from an injury that was suspect, in the least. Then, an anonymous call was made to an insurance agent reporting the sight of Mr. X driving his car—a man who is supposed to be completely incapacitated. That was a huge red flag! All Billy had to do was get pictures of the man doing his thing. But, it didn’t quite turn out that way. Oh, Billy got pictures of Raleigh Jones driving around in his car, but that wasn’t all he discovered in his surveillance. Not only was Mr. Jones not disabled, but he was completely physically fit and doing work on the side. Side work that involved a new and lucrative business—he was a pot dealer. Not the smalltime kind where he would go out on the street and sell a few bags, but the kind who would sell the stuff by the pound. Unlike most dealers, he would make the deliveries himself obviously to avoid drug traffic to his home. A couple here… a couple there… and he would be set. Raleigh Jones was not an idiot. When he made his drug deals, he always had a couple of brawny men meet up with him for backup. A criminal never changes his spots… or is that a leopard? Either way, both species were cut from the same cloth. They’re all dangerous predators. The only problem that would turn out to be his downfall was that he got spotted doing the dirty by Billy.

  After staking out the target, it was clear what had to be done. The police would be brought in to make the arrest after Billy set up a buy from the guy. No big deal. Billy could handle a simple drug sting. I thought the police should be notified right away, but Billy said all he had as evidence was his word, and the Charlottesville Police Department wasn’t going to go on his word alone.

  Once the plan had been put into motion, I wanted to be a part of it, but Billy wouldn’t let me. He told me that I couldn’t physically handle myself against those guys. I told him that I was quite capable of shooting anyone. What did brute force have to do with anything? Finally, in the end, I gave up. I had lost, and to be honest, I didn’t mind. Let my man handle it. I’m not only a private eye, but I’m a mother now.

  That’s what I told myself until I found myself sitting on the steps of my front porch with my mother wondering why I wasn’t standing next to my partner in life, doing what I was cut out to do.