Bye Bye Bones (A CASSIDY CLARK NOVEL Book 1)

by Lala Corriere

  JAXON GILES CALLED first thing in the morning and left a message while I was in the shower.

  “I hate to leave this message on the phone, but I think, except for that stupid fire extinguisher stunt in Mexico, my ex is backing off of me and Jessica Silva. I have seen no sign of her and your surveillance team confirms the same. Thanks for your exemplary service, but I think it’s time to terminate our arrangement.”

  My bones, shaking from wet hair and too much air conditioning, told me we were only in the infancy of evil. If Sandra Vickery was a psychopath, which I believed she was, then she was in her quiet time. Unconsciously awaiting the next trigger. I texted him back to respond that I accepted his decision and there would be no further fees. Then I convened with Schlep and Carson. We weren’t leaving him alone with this woman.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “THIS IS OUR HAIL MARY. Our swan song. We need to pull out all the stops on this one because I continue to believe that Mr. Giles is in grave danger. You with me?” I asked.

  “Of course we are,” Carson said.

  “You’re up to something,” Schlep said. “What do you have?”

  “I’ve been scouring over the masses of files. Manning gave me a detailed list of items stolen during a burglary at Sandra’s residence. The whole scene didn’t feel right from the get-go. The woman lives in an impenetrable fortress. Then one allegedly stolen item popped out at me.”

  Schlep motioned his hands in a ‘give it to us’ manner.

  “She reported a gun stolen. A Colt M1911. At the scene of Karl Marks in the cabin, and the scene where our guy was conducting surveillance on Vickery, the shell casings found are consistent with that gun.”

  “That may be true, but consistent with any Colt M1911 and do you know how many of those are in pockets and purses around this city? It’s the semi-automatic of choice for home and personal protection.”

  “That means you’re still with me, right, Schlep?”

  “I’ve learned never to doubt your instincts.”

  “Good. Get our shadow back to work for us, tailing this Vickery woman. I want her working 24-7. I’ll fill in if need be.”

  DR. JEAN CLANCY STAYED late at her office after my early morning call.

  I walked in and took my seat in the supple cochineal-colored leather chair. She brought chamomile tea for us before sitting on the sofa across from me.

  “What can I do for you, Cassidy? Your voice sounded urgent and, at the same time, reserved this morning.”

  “I need to go under again. I’m missing something. I can feel it but I don’t know what it is.”

  Clancy sipped at her tea. I mirrored her actions.

  “You want to go back to the evening at the cabin?”

  “Yes. In addition, I was recently at a man’s home and I feel there is something there I’m missing. And since those are the only two physical scenes I have to work with, I know there is an answer for me. A clue. Or hint at a clue.”

  “Drink your tea, and when you are ready, place it on the table and we’ll begin.”

  After taking another sip of tea, I put my cup on the table. In minutes, I felt myself relax as I sank into the soft leather, letting it envelope my body.

  “Cassidy, we’re going back to the man’s home. You’re inside. Are you alone?”

  “No.”

  “Who’s with you?”

  “My friend, Tracy. She got us inside.”

  “And the owner of the home?”

  “Gone.”

  “Are you worried about the welfare of this man?”

  “No. I mean, yes. I don’t know. There’s trouble.” “What do you see?”

  “A shocking display of wealth without taste. I don’t know how he could afford all of the stuff. For sure he didn’t pay a decorator.”

  “Tell me where you are.”

  “We’re in the living room. Clean. The kitchen is clean. A notepad near a phone docking-station, but nothing on it. I took the top three sheets, just in case I could find any impressions.

  “It’s all very clean, for a bachelor. It’s quiet. I feel free to rummage through drawers and my friend helps me. Nothing. Not even any bill stubs. Hardly any mail at all. The trashcans are empty. No computers, laptops or tablets.”

  I felt my weight shift on the chair.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “We’re moving toward the bedrooms, only my friend tells me that the owner took out three bedrooms to make one enormous master bedroom. The house is too big for one bedroom.

  “It’s pristine. Manly colors. Mushroom and chestnut brown plaids. Dark wood. Alder wood. Almost as many pillows as I have on my bed.”

  “What’s wrong with where you are?”

  “It’s too familiar.”

  “What’s familiar? Have you been in that home before?”

  “I’ve not been here, but something isn’t right.”

  “Are you searching the room?”

  “There is nothing, not that I expected to find a Gideon’s bible in his nightstand. I’m going into his bathroom. My friend is tired. Afraid. She wants to leave.”

  “You are in the bathroom. What do you see?”

  “Clean. Opulent. Sexy, I guess. The pillows. All the pillows. And he has almost as many cologne bottles on his counter as I have.”

  I took in a deep breath.

  “I want to leave, too.”

  “Let’s go slowly. Let’s go back to the Mt. Lemmon cabin. You and I have been there together before. Let’s take a real good look this time.”

  “The tire treads. The cleanliness. The lack of personal items. The backdoor closing and the sound of a likely American car engine.”

  “Go to the bedroom, but remember, you don’t know what’s in that bedroom yet. You don’t know what you’re about to witness.”

  “I feel dizzy. It’s the scent. It’s the scent. It’s the friggin’ scent!”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  I CALLED SANDY OR SANDRA or Sondra Vickery. Only then, on the phone with her, did I feel the palpitations in my heart as my palms grew moist.

  “Ms. Vickery. My name is Cassidy Clark and I’m a private investigator.”

  “I know who you are, which is why I knew you would be clever enough to retrieve my phone number. If I recall, you had one of your men following me when I was on a simple shopping spree.”

  “True. He was killed that night.”

  “Unfortunate. I might have seen that on the news. I’m so sorry. I assume you care for your employees as much as I care for mine.

  “Now, what do you want?”

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions, face-to-face. Maybe we can meet for coffee?”

  “My dear, I don’t drink coffee. Only teas and a special breakfast smoothie I make. You may come to my home at precisely nine in the morning tomorrow. At nine-fifteen you are considered late and I won’t entertain you. I assume you know my address.”

  THE NOT-SO-PEARLY gates automatically opened as I approached Vickery’s home. Once parked under her porte-cochere, the garden gate that led to the front door opened. Magic, I thought. Black magic.

  “Precisely nine. I like that,” the voice called out from inside the home. “Join me.”

  I followed the sound of her voice, squelching my desire to tell the woman that I sat in my car at the end of her driveway for fifteen minutes. I dared not be early, either. I wasn’t walking on eggshells. I was treading barefoot in a field of scorpions.

  “I am meeting you only because I care about the welfare of my husband, Jaxon.”

  “He seems to be quite fine,” I said. Husband my ass. This woman was mad and maddening.

  “Do your homework. He’s running with the bulls and he’s about to get gored.”

  “Ms. Vickery, I’m here because I have done my homework.”

  Sandra then ran her blender. Her smoothie made of fresh fruit and some powder out of a canning jar. An apparent homemade powder for a smoothie? Magic powder? Michael Scores’ kind of powder?
/>   She motioned me to follow her out to sit poolside.

  “If you insist on talking about Jaxon Giles, get over it, because I’m all over him. Take a look in my bedroom. You’re sure to find something of the new man in my life, if just the smell of his sweat and sultry cologne.”

  My mind rewound the conversation. Wouldn’t she have said, “I’m over him,” instead of “I’m all over him”?

  “Do you know Karl Marks?”

  “Sure. Dumb man. He did some work around here. I have a lot of land and a big business. I’m always looking for hired-hands to help.”

  “And he’s now dead.”

  “He was a mess. God only knows what got that man killed. He wasn’t exactly a champion on my payroll.”

  “Michael Scores. Do you know him?”

  “This is a small city. I know a lot of people in this town through my philanthropic endeavors, and that includes knowing every media person. It’s a ridiculous question.”

  “But have you met with him, one-on-one?”

  She shrugged. “Likely. Again, for the purpose of gaining some press for one of my charities. I don’t recall.”

  I did. The Bonsai Society, for one. Only a name like Vickery could pull in those kinds of favors to raise the kind of money she did for plants.

  “Michael Scores is missing,” I said.

  She scoffed, “Well, of course he is. I heard he was in some trouble. Big trouble. So, he took off to get some air. And retain a decent lawyer. My understanding is he was free before he was ever charged.

  “Ms. Clark, if you aren’t here about Jaxon and how I might ease your mind that I’m not somehow annoying him, I suggest this meeting is over. This is feeling very much like an inquisition. I have no desire to discuss the likes of crap like Marks and Scores. You can show yourself out, but don’t go snooping through any of my cupboards or drawers,” she chortled as she pulled out one of her fancy luxury cigarettes.

  I rose from the table. “Thank you. Oh, and by the way. This is so not professional of me, but I’m making an effort to improve my appearance. I had my hair done and even my nails. I’ve been neglectful and I’m not getting any younger. You always present yourself so perfectly. I think I’m on the right track, but I could use some advice. It’s your perfume. So lovely. Sexy but youthful. Sweet and musty. I wonder if you’d share the name of it with me. I’m trying to pull out all of the stops.”

  “My dear, you’re out of luck, although maybe not with the kind of money I think you have. I go to France, to a private perfumery. The fragrance is designed exclusively for me. It’s nothing like the perfumeries you might find in an upscale mall. This is Paris I’m talking about.”

  I nodded, with a slit of a smile.

  Of course she had run an internet search on me. Probably multiple times. She knew I had some money. Nothing like hers. She was playing me, but I now held the trump card. She wore a one-of-a-kind fragrance and I recognized the scent.

  Gotcha!

  “By the way,” I said. “That perfume is a killer.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  SANDRA VICKERY CLOSED both gates, locking them by remote control. She had to finish her next lesson before she could move on. The certain death of one of her threats, and oh—not so pretty but a menace, would give her knowledge and power.

  Lovely. She knew she would never be spotted, scurrying back and forth on her property. Even by helicopter, no one could see her. She lived in a lovely world.

  I STORMED INTO MANNING’s office with Schlep and Carson behind me, only to be told he was in the conference room. My magic room.

  The room was overflowing with huge cardboard boxes. Manning was rummaging through one of them.

  “What’s all this?”

  “Take a look,” he said, and tossed me a plastic bag with pink cloth inside.

  “You gonna paint the town pink?”

  “They’re our new issued jumpsuits. I’m patterning myself after Joe Arpaio.”

  “The women will love them, unless they’re a redhead. I don’t like me in pink, particularly,” I said, opening one of the bags and spreading the audacious thing out on the table.

  “The women won’t get them. And I guess if there’s a redheaded male prisoner he’ll get himself a double insult. But, you didn’t prance in here to see the fashion show.”

  “She’s good for it,” I told David Manning, Schlep, and Carson. “Vickery has connections with Karl Marks and Michael Scores. And speaking of Scores, she has scores of white vans. At least four have magnetic signs. On and off signs.”

  “Maybe those vans are new and haven’t been painted yet,” Carson said as a most unwelcome devil’s advocate.

  “If she ordered the signs, that would take longer than going in to one of a hundred places around here who would paint it in a morning. We already know most of her fleet of vans are painted. She knows who to go to and how to get it done yesterday.”

  “Nothing. You have nothing I can take to the D.A., Cassidy,” Manning said.

  “I’m not saying we’re ready for that. I’m just filling you in as a courtesy. We have her as an acquaintance with Karl Marks. And Michael Scores. We know she’s a stalker, and she’s found us stalking her. I believe she had something to do with the murder of Karl Marks and our surveillance man. And then there’s the perfume. That damn perfume she, herself, insists was made exclusively for her.

  “You’re not a nose,” Manning said. I couldn’t believe he knew the term for that expertise.

  “I’m not close to being any perfumer. But I remember that distinct scent. It was at the cabin. It was at Michael Scores’ home. And it was all over Ms. Vickery.

  “Look, I know we’re off your payroll, but you need to know where our investigation is headed.”

  “Unfortunately, by now the cabin at Mt. Lemmon has been scrubbed clean. Not sure about anything at Scores’ place, but Vickery may be correct. Scores had a lot of debt. He may have just high-tailed it out of here. We’ve talked to his half-brother, your client Jaxon Giles. He asked about Scores. Giles agreed he was flighty and may have gone off to Lala Land. And I don’t see how this connects to the missing women. What gives, Cassie?”

  “I know it’s her,” I said.

  Silence in the room. The three of them sat staring at me. And then they all nodded in unison. They knew I knew something. That’s all I needed. But they all needed more.

  “I think I’m going to have to play a cat and mouse game with her,” I said.

  “Careful, Cassie. Tread very carefully,” Manning urged.

  “As if I’m walking on cotton candy,” I answered.

  I drove straight home. Exhausted and with nothing to show for it. I’d been gone several hours. Too long for any of my three animals. Finnegan and Phoebe always ran to greet me, even when I was gone for ten minutes. After three hours, even my cat, Daphne, slinked around a corner to welcome me home and get her back scratched.

  She didn’t come out.

  Growing anxious, I searched her favorite haunts. There was no sign of her.

  SANDRA VICKERY VISITED her house guest.

  “The time has come, Ms. Connie,” she said with a chortled voice. “Frankly, I still don’t understand why Jaxon even bothered with you. You are—well, on the homely side of town. I’ve wondered about that. Maybe you give good head. Maybe it’s your daughter he was really interested in. I might have to consider her as another threat.

  “You can speak freely with me. I’ve kept you well nourished. I’m not about to clean up your urine and feces, but aside from that I’ve treated you well. There’s a drain right behind you. I could hose you off now, but I don’t think you’d like it.

  Connie tried to scream, but her throat sounded hoarse and nearing silence.

  She whimpered, “Please. I have a daughter.”

  “And I just told you your daughter might have to join you. That could work out well for both of us. I haven’t made my mind up on that one.”

  Connie struggled for words. She finally
managed, “People are looking for me.”

  “Not really. I haven’t heard anything on the local news. Maybe your runaway daughter is relieved that you have been the one to run away.”

  Vickery pulled out a strongbox from underneath the staircase. Swiftly, she pulled out a filled syringe.

  “This is the curare I was telling you about. You’ve had it in small doses. Do you remember?”

  The woman sunk her head as far as it would go into her lap.

  “Slut-woman! Listen to me! Even now, at this moment, it won’t be your time of death, if I do this right. It’s all about calculating your weight. You’ve lost some, Connie. You would be happy. You were on the pudgy side when I found you.”

  “My—my daughter.”

  “Let’s talk about you. And me. I want you to know what is going to happen. If I give you the right dosage you will remain fully conscious, but the funniest thing occurs. You will have no muscle movement. You’ll be completely paralyzed. I don’t think you’ll even be able to close your eyelids, so if you prefer, you may want to do that now.

  “You’ll notice that you’re now sitting on a wheeled cart, I’ll unchain you and move you toward the vat. Paralyzed, you will feel like dead weight to me. Good thing I’ve been lifting weights, and you’ve lost weight. This is going to go smoothly.

  “The vat is quite amazing. Do you know that it will even dissolve gold teeth? Nothing remains. Nothing.”

  “How?” her guest mumbled.

  “I’m happy you asked. I read this incredible article. A disgruntled wife, Marrissa Schuster, decided to kill her very bad husband. She was a chemist of some sort in Clovis, California. Her agent of choice was hydrochloric acid, readily available to her. Turns out she was a dumb woman, after all. She didn’t use enough gallons for the dickhead and the place started to stink. And she kept it in a public storage unit. I learned a few things. The woman used a stun gun to disarm her victim. Chloroform to cause them to pass out. Same kind of vat. It’s actually quite fascinating. These big commercial vats, when filled with the acid, can dissolve a human body but not compromise the container.