Jude Devine Mystery Series

by Rose Beecham

  Koertig returned the last book to its pile and said, “Nada.” He ran a finger over the spines. “Normally, your highbrow-type books are just for show, but I think our vic actually read these. Some of them are dog-eared.”

  “Which ones?”

  Koertig handed her a volume, noting, “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  Jude read the title and glanced at the back cover. Merchant of Death: Money, Guns, Planes, and the Man Who Makes War Possible. A book about a notorious arms dealer called Viktor Bout. She glanced at the other titles. Stuff about smugglers and global economics. Apparently Maulle had a lively interest in the politics of globalization. Her mind leapt to Hugo, the South African from the private security firm.

  “You’d think a smart guy like him would have had some kind of contingency plan for a home invasion,” she mused aloud. “When a guy contracts CTG to get his back, he’s not kidding around.”

  “Yeah, I saw that in your report.” Koertig scratched behind his neck. He was always sunburnt there from standing on the sidelines supporting his wife when she ran marathons. “Why let go of the hired muscle when he came out here?”

  “False sense of security,” Jude replied. “Or he did something to make the problem go away and thought the threat was over.”

  “This Anton individual Maulle seemed to have a beef with, the human slime. Any thoughts?”

  “We’ll need to track down that CTG guy, Hugo. I have a few people I can call.” Jude reflected that Arbiter had his uses. “So far it’s the only wrinkle we have.”

  “There’s always something.” Koertig picked a parrot feather off his shirt. His expression was pensive. “Looking around, you’d say Maulle had the perfect life. But someone decided to take everything away from him. This wasn’t random.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Jude agreed. “So there has to be a clue in this house. We’re just not seeing it yet.”

  “The boss is never gonna let us travel.”

  “I know.” Searches of Maulle’s other homes would have to be conducted by detectives in the respective jurisdictions.

  “Pity the niece was never here before,” Koertig said. “It would be a help if she knew what was missing.”

  “I don’t buy that Maulle did his own housework,” Jude said. “Let’s check out the maid services. Someone knows this place pretty well.”

  “I’m on it,” Koertig said. He slid a photo of Pippa back in the file. “You have to feel sorry for the kid. She’ll be scarred for life.”

  “After we’ve interviewed the parents, I’ll talk to them about getting some help for her.” Jude finished bagging items she wanted from the filing cabinet and crossed to the door. “You didn’t find anything in the bedroom?”

  “He was a very tidy guy.”

  “There has to be a safe somewhere. I didn’t see any receipt from a home security system company, so it must have been installed when the house was built. Let’s get the plans.”

  Koertig followed her to the master bedroom, another sprawling interior with stunning views. Jude lifted every picture and tapped her knuckles along the wood panels and drywall. The room had a wood floor, like most of the house. The closet was carpeted. It looked like Koertig had already lifted the edges to check beneath.

  “Let’s move the bed,” Jude said.

  They squeezed every pillow for foreign objects, then hoisted the mattress followed by the base and lugged them to the nearest wall. The bed was a solid hardwood design like the rest of the hefty bedroom furniture. It had been stripped by Belle’s team and the bedding removed for the usual tests. They wrestled the frame onto its side and Jude searched for anything taped underneath while Koertig balanced the weight. She then crouched and tested the floorboards for one that could be lifted. The thought of going through the entire house doing the same thing was daunting. That was a job for junior staff.

  “There’s nothing in here,” she said with frustration.

  They lowered the bed and replaced the base and mattress. Puffing, they sat down on opposite sides. Their efforts had dislodged a parrot feather, which fluttered across the satiny floorboards.

  “Brains of a four-year-old,” Jude said.

  Koertig gave her a sympathetic look. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. If there was anything to find, we’d have found it.”

  “I was referring to the parrot.”

  Koertig regarded her blankly.

  “Our eyewitness,” she said with grim humor.

  “Plus the three cats,” he reminded her.

  “Yes, and we know how felines love to cooperate with figures of authority.”

  “Did you hear that bird talking to Pippa?” Koertig asked. “I know they just copy what they hear, but it’s still incredible.”

  “Even supposing that’s all they do. What if we could get it to repeat what it heard in the office?”

  Koertig didn’t respond immediately. “You ever interviewed a bird?”

  Jude met his quizzical gaze. “You’re right. My neurons aren’t connecting. I need to eat something.”

  “There’s this new burger at Sonic. Hot chili with bacon and guacamole.”

  The merits of that combination spoke for themselves. Jude worked through the rationalizations. They’d searched the most important rooms. Why go quietly insane working through the remaining five thousand square feet of luxury real estate when there were rookie detectives twiddling their thumbs back at headquarters? The outdoor team was still at the scene, gradually fanning out, searching for the murder weapon and any other evidence. The primaries didn’t need to hang around.

  She peeled off her gloves and got to her feet. “I’d hate for us to fade away while we’re snipe hunting.”

  Koertig sprang up like a man half his size. “I’m supposed to be on a diet,” he belatedly recalled.

  “Guacamole is health food,” Jude said.

  They went through all the bagged evidence from the upstairs area, checking that the labels were complete and initialed. In any investigation the paperwork was second nature, but Jude always double-checked her work because autopilot was no guarantee of accuracy. They carried their haul out to Koertig’s Durango and unloaded it into a secure storage box ready to be handed over to the evidence clerk back at headquarters.

  “Got that knife yet?” Koertig hassled the officers moving slowly up the ridge behind the house.

  Jude grinned. She knew he’d enjoy being in charge.

  *

  Jude knocked on the door of Pippa Calloway’s room at the Holiday Inn. “Do you have a few minutes?” she asked when Pippa’s wan little face appeared in the crack.

  “Of course.” She swung the door wide and invited Jude to sit down.

  “I haven’t called your lawyer.”

  Pippa snorted. “He’s hideous. Totally reptilian. I don’t know where my parents find these people. They’re bringing another one with them, did you know that?”

  “No.” Jude was curious that the Calloways thought they needed an entire legal team.

  “The family estate attorney. Because that’s what you do at a time like this, you think about money.”

  Jude wasn’t sure how to respond. She’d had family ask if an autopsy was really necessary because they’d heard it could slow down probate. Sticking to her game plan, she said, “I was thinking maybe you’d like to visit with your uncle’s parrot.”

  An elfin smile transformed Pippa’s face, carving ten more years off her age. Just looking at her, Jude felt like a decrepit has-been. It crossed her mind that plenty of cops thought about prepaid funeral arrangements. Maybe it was time she looked into the options. She’d contemplated the idea in the past but always felt weird about choosing a casket. If she was iced on the job, wouldn’t the people she left behind know better than to bury her in something called the Pink Lady Magnolia?

  “I’d love to see Oscar,” Pippa said. “Do I have to ask Mr. Mahanes?”

  “No, but I’d appreciate if you keep him informed. Call it ego management.”<
br />
  Pulling a face, Pippa located a business card and entered the number into her cell phone. “Mr. Mahanes? I just wanted to let you know I have Detective Devine with me. She’s kindly arranged for me to see my uncle’s pets.” After a few beats, she put her hand over the phone and told Jude, “I’m supposed to say ‘no comment’ if you ask me any questions, and have a conference call if you want to talk.”

  “Tell him I’m in awe of his lawyerly prowess and will play by his rules because I can’t remember my own.”

  Giggling, Pippa repeated the words verbatim. As she listened to Mahanes’s closing arguments, she gathered up her wallet and room keys and whispered, “Lead the way.”

  Jude took the phone from her when they reached the Dakota. “Mr. Mahanes? If you want to come visit with the bird, you’re welcome.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” He signed off with a slick warning about fruit of the poisonous tree.

  Jude handed the phone back and opened the passenger door. “I have a question to ask you. Off the record.”

  “Okay.” Pippa climbed up into the seat.

  Jude got in the driver’s side, leaving her door open to release the heat from inside the vehicle. She turned on the engine and got the a/c running. As they drove out of the parking lot, she said, “The portrait of you in your uncle’s dining room is really wonderful.”

  “Oh, the Susan Ryder?” Pippa sounded surprised. “I didn’t know he’d brought it over from London.”

  “Did you know your uncle kept all the cards and letters you sent him over the years?”

  Pippa was obviously touched. “Oh, that’s so sweet of him.”

  “Sometimes when we find a large collection of photographs of a child in a relative’s home, we’re suspicious.” Jude let the comment hover between them.

  “You want to know if Uncle Fabian ever touched me inappropriately?” Pippa’s tone was lifeless.

  “I’m sorry. I have to rule that out.”

  “He would not have dreamed of it. Uncle Fabian was disgusted by attacks on children. Anything like that on TV, he was always upset.”

  “He sounds like a good person,” Jude said.

  “I suppose in your job you only see the worst,” Pippa remarked.

  “Unfortunately, that’s often true.” Jude felt a twinge of sorrow. She wasn’t sure if she could remember innocence, it left her so long ago.

  “Well, my uncle was a gentleman in every sense of the word,” Pippa said with dignity. “I’m not suffering from the Stockholm Syndrome or anything like that. If he was an asshole I wouldn’t have been planning to live here for the next year.” She stared out the window. “Jesus, what am I supposed to do now?”

  “What were you planning to do out here?”

  “I’m a sculptor. Not professionally. I haven’t sold anything yet. But Uncle Fabian believed in me. He thought I should explore my talent away from negative outside influences.” She gave a bitter little laugh. “By that I mean my parents. They hate that I’m artistic. That’s how come I just graduated in dentistry. As if I would ever do that for a living.”

  Jude thought it must be nice to be a Harvard dental school graduate who could afford to despise the high-paid profession she’d trained for. “I noticed a letter to you among your uncle’s possessions, suggesting a delay to your trip to the Four Corners. He said he’d booked a flight to London for you. What can you tell me about that?”

  “We spoke on the phone. He said there was a problem he had to handle and he didn’t want me to be stuck in the mountains by myself.”

  “What happened?”

  “He called me back a few days later and said everything was fine, so I packed my stuff and got in my car.”

  “I see.” Jude changed course. If she was going to dig any deeper, she wanted Pippa’s answers on the record, and that meant scheduling another interview with Mahanes present. “Tell me about your uncle’s parrot. Oscar, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, he’s a doll.” Pippa livened up instantly. “Incredibly sensitive and loving. I can tell he’s devastated.”

  “This might sound like a stupid question. But do you think he remembers things?”

  “Are you kidding?” Pippa laughed. “I’ll never have another fight with a boyfriend on the phone in front of him.”

  Encouraged, Jude said, “There’s something I’d like us to focus on during the visit.”

  Pippa stared expectantly at her.

  “Oscar is our only eyewitness.”

  The sound of a softly expelled sigh reached Jude’s ears. “He was hiding in the bottom of his cage, picking out his feathers, when I got there,” Pippa said. “And you want to make him remember?”

  Jude felt like one of those animal exploiters who sent not-so-funny videos of pet pranks in to Animal Planet. She said “Imagine how proud your uncle would be if Oscar provided important evidence.”

  Pippa considered this sleazy sales pitch. “Here’s the deal. I’ll see what I can do to help him connect, but he’s not testifying in court. I won’t put him through that.”

  Jude didn’t get into discussion about the unlikelihood of a parrot taking the stand. She turned off before Towaoc and bumped along the driveway that led to Eddie House’s place. “I can promise you Oscar won’t go before a judge. I would never do that to an animal.”

  “Okay, then.” Pippa offered her hand once Jude had parked. “Deal?”

  Meeting her determined eyes, Jude agreed solemnly, “Deal.”

  Chapter Nine

  While Oscar the parrot repeatedly professed his love for Maulle, Pippa, and nuts, Jude took a call from the sheriff. The feds were in town and she’d drawn the short straw. It was her job to take Special Agent in Charge Aidan Hill to dinner. Pratt thought this would cement mutual respect. Failing that, Jude might be able to get the agent drunk and influence the way chain of command would function. Pratt was gnashing his teeth over the turf issues already.

  “You’re our interface,” he reminded her. “You know how they think.”

  Jude didn’t bother to object. As far as her boss was concerned, she was in the loop. She stared out the window, across the prairie toward the Mesa Verde. The ancient Puebloans had once wandered the lowlands stretched before her. Wild horses had found grazing. Buffalo roamed. This year the fire-scorched mesas bloomed with yellow rabbitbrush and purple tansy after unusual rains. Montezuma County saw more lightning than almost any other place in the nation, but the storms often passed without leaving a drop of water.

  Jude glanced up at the bruised clouds rolling in from the east. Today would be no exception.

  “Don’t ask me to believe this terror plot was all new information to you,” Pratt said, letting her know he wasn’t stupid. “Ricin. My God.”

  “You’re right, sir. I’ve been monitoring the ASS for some time now. I guarantee you, these individuals will be in custody before they even make it to Telluride.”

  “Tom Cruise is building a bunker under his place, you hear about that? Ten million bucks. Some shelter, huh?”

  “A lot of wealthy people build secure rooms.”

  “It’s for protection against an alien invasion. That’s what they think, the Scientologists.” Pratt let go of a barren snort. “The evil Lord Xenu is supposed to attack any day. Instead it’s going to be a bunch of Jew-hating dipshits.”

  “Which is exactly my point,” Jude said. “We’re talking about a few losers driven by an agenda of hatred.”

  “Containment,” Pratt said. “That’s all I’m asking for. How far does it travel by air?”

  “Sir, it’s not going to come to that. Like I said, airborne contamination is well beyond a bunch of amateurs.”

  “What if they found someone with brains?”

  “Let’s wait and see what the FBI can tell us.”

  “Here’s the thing. If it comes down to a choice, that town gets cut off.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Lock it down,” Pratt manfully insisted. “In dire situations, we’re
mandated to make the tough choices. The loss of a few hundred lives, while terrible, could be a necessary sacrifice to protect the rest of the population. Do you understand me?”

  Jude decided Pratt had been overdoing the antihistamines again. They made him fixate on negative outcomes. She said calmly, “I get the picture.”

  “I was thinking it through last night. You know those movies when the doctor asks the husband to choose if he wants to save the mother or the baby?” Pratt didn’t wait for her thoughts on that regrettable patriarchal quandary. “You save the mother, of course.”

  “I’m not sure how that relates to the Telluride scenario.”

  “She can always have more babies,” Pratt explained. “And there will always be more actors. But if no one’s left to pay for movie tickets because they all died from ricin poisoning, what then?”

  Jude watched the African Grey rest his head beneath Pippa’s chin. “Fortunately, we’re not facing such a dilemma.”

  Pratt huffed. “I made certain promises when I was reelected.”

  Jude remembered them well. A crackdown on public shirtlessness. The upgrading of the posse’s saddles and tack. Extra deputies for the greased-pig event at the county fair. “I can see this is weighing heavily on you,” she said.

  “Our community counts on its leaders to lead when the need arises.”

  “If my colleagues had any doubts about a positive outcome, the bad guys would be under arrest now. I’m sure they’re just building a strong case before conducting a raid.”

  It entered Jude’s mind that her boss could go off half-cocked. If he ignored FBI instructions and rushed in to make arrests and look like a hero, he could blow the lid off a lengthy operation. In the scheme of things the ASS counted for little. They were simply an untidy loose end. Arbiter thought they’d probably poison themselves trying to figure out how to disperse their stock of ricin.

  “Sir,” Jude said in a soothing tone. “I promise you, I’ll personally tear the VIP parking passes from the cold dead hands of every man, woman, and child in Telluride before I allow a whiff of that chemical to choke a gnat in Montezuma County.” She met Pippa’s startled gaze and placed her hand over the phone, whispering, “Cop joke.”