Smith's Monthly #6

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Smith's Monthly #6 Page 22

by Smith, Dean Wesley


  “Have you got a lawyer looking into how much Rocha is going to owe each of his remaining four wives from his sale of the business?” Austin asked. “I’m pretty sure they should have gotten some of it under the laws of most states.”

  Lott sort of jerked and Julia sat beside him looking stunned. The question felt like it had almost quieted down the entire casino.

  Lott couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that at all, and Julia suddenly seemed to lose focus in her eyes on just thinking about the idea.

  “Hadn’t even thought of that, huh?” Austin said, smiling, looking around at the stunned group of detectives. “And I am pretty sure that the IRS and Nevada State Tax Commission need to be informed on all this as well, since I’m betting there was a lot of hidden income over the years, fraudulently withheld from taxes.”

  “Oh, shit,” Andor said. “This is getting better by the minute. Kid, I like you.”

  “Thanks, Detective,” the kid said, smiling. “I’m sure I’ll think of a few more nasty grenades to toss at this jerk before it’s all over.”

  “Just keep lobbing, kid,” Andor said, laughing. “Keep lobbing.”

  “And there’s a lot of money there,” Annie said. “All the property, water rights, mineral rights and such added up to millions and millions in the sale. I’ll get our financial people on it, see what stones they can turn over.”

  “Thanks,” Lott said.

  “Yes, thanks,” Julia said. And then she turned to Austin. “I’ll give you any interview you want as long as you leave my daughter out of all this.”

  “Deal,” Austin said. “I can’t see bringing in the kids on this at all. So thank you, Detective.”

  At that point Andor picked up his cell phone and called the department. All of them watched as he nodded, then said, “We’re on our way.”

  “What was that?” Annie asked.

  Andor smiled. “The Chief of Police isn’t happy we can’t arrest this guy either, so he offered to put a car watching the house until we got there. Rocha is still inside. So what say we go jerk this guy’s chain a little?”

  Lott liked that idea a lot.

  And beside him, Julia nodded and smiled. Then she said simply, “It will be my pleasure.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  October 2014.

  Near the University of Nevada Campus

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  JULIA SAT BESIDE LOTT in his Cadillac SUV and stared at the home tucked back under some trees in an older subdivision. Stan had ended up living a lot nicer than she and Jane had ever lived. And that made her angry as well.

  Andor pulled in behind Lott and behind him Annie and the reporter arrived. Their plan was simple. Andor and Lott would go up to the door and introduce themselves. She would stay off to one side until the moment was right to step forward.

  A television crew would be filming the entire thing from a hidden van across the street and a freelance photographer had joined Austin and would be taking pictures, for a time without Rocha even knowing about it.

  Also, both Lott and Andor were wired for sound, so everyone in all the cars could hear the conversation.

  “You ready for this?” Lott glanced over at her, clearly worried.

  “If I hadn’t discovered all the really shitty things this guy did to a lot of people, I wouldn’t be. Now I’m just angry and want to bring him to justice, even if that justice is to take all his money and turn him over to the IRS.”

  “So that means you’re ready?” Lott asked, smiling.

  “I’m twenty-two years of ready,” she said, smiling back at him.

  With that they both stepped out into the warm afternoon air. It wasn’t hot and a soft breeze blew the leaves in the trees.

  “Nice place,” Andor said, joining the two of them as they headed across the street.

  “Better than any of the four wives he cheated got to live in,” she said.

  “Just don’t shoot the bastard, Detective,” Andor said. “Even though I doubt a jury in the world would convict you.”

  Julia laughed. “Oh trust me, we’re not letting him off that easily.”

  The house was a two-story Tudor-style building with high-pitched roof and a front door that was up four steps off the sidewalk. The lawn was well-cared-for and very green, considering how hot the summer had been.

  Julia stepped off to one side so when Rocha opened the door, he wouldn’t see her.

  Lott and Andor went up to the door and Lott turned to the cars across the street and signaled they should start.

  Then Andor banged on the door.

  A moment later Julia heard the door open and a man say, “Yes?”

  “Detectives Lott and Williams,” Andor said. “Are you David Buel?”

  “I am,” the man said, and that time the memory of Stan’s voice came back strong.

  “AKA Stan Rocha?” Lott said.

  “Excuse me?” the man asked.

  Julia stepped away from the side of the building and walked up the four steps until she was face-to-face with her husband. He had aged and his skin had weathered in twenty-two years. He now wore a moustache and beard. His hairline had receded and his hair had gone to salt and pepper. He had on brown slacks and a brown dress shirt and looked like any fifty-some-year-old executive home on a warm afternoon.

  He looked at her puzzled for a moment until she said, “Hi, Stan. Nice seeing you so healthy after all these years of being dead.”

  He hesitated, his eyes growing wide as he recognized her. “Julia?”

  “Detective Rogers to you,” she said, her voice as cold as she could make it. “When you and your first wife and her boyfriend hatched the scheme to help you escape from your children and your mistakes, you lost all right to call me anything but Detective.”

  “So,” Andor said, his voice low and mean, “We need you to step out of the house, sir, so we can talk with you.”

  Andor had his hand on his gun when he made that request, and Julia saw Stan swallow hard and nod.

  Julia stepped down onto the sidewalk and Lott followed her.

  Andor flanked Stan and they moved so that Stan was facing the television van and cameras.

  “First off, Mr. Rocha, why did you fake your own death?” Andor asked.

  Stan looked slightly panicked. “Kate wanted out and she and McDonald were afraid that if I got caught with so many wives, it would look poorly on them.”

  “So you stole a body from Reno?” Lott said as Julia stood there, staring at her husband.

  He kept glancing at her and then his eyes would dart away.

  “No, I didn’t take the body. Kate and McDonald did that in his van. It made me sick to have to help them dress the body in my clothes when they got down here.”

  Julia just shook her head at the excuse of a man she had married. The poor bastard had just cost the governor of Idaho his job.

  “And when exactly did you find the lost Breyfogle Mine? And start the Breyfogle Corporation?” Lott asked, setting Stan up to lose all his money.

  “Early 1989,” Stan said, actually acting proud for a moment.

  “And you didn’t keep track of your other four wives?” Andor said. “Or any of your five kids?”

  Stan shook his head and actually hung his head a little. “Kate said I didn’t dare, being dead and all.” Then he looked up, surprised. “Five?”

  Julia didn’t give him the courtesy of telling him about Jane. He didn’t deserve to know. It would be up to Jane later on to decide if she wanted her father to know about her.

  “So you left them for single mothers to raise?” Lott asked. “Most of your wives, you know, never heard about your fake death. They just thought you walked out on them.”

  “Oh,” Stan said, his face going whiter than it had been before. “That’s not what I wanted.”

  “And you left your mother and father wondering when you would come home,” Andor said. “They didn’t hear about your little scheme either.”

  Stan just shook his head,
staring at the ground in front of him.

  “Aren’t you even a little bit sorry?” Julia asked, her voice far, far colder than she intended it to be.

  “Every day,” Stan said. “Four years after we staged my death, I told Kate I couldn’t stand it anymore and wanted to see my children. But she said they would kill me if I ever opened my mouth or showed my face.

  At that, Andor coughed, turning away slightly, trying to cover a laugh.

  All Julia could do was shake her head.

  “So did you find other lost treasures?” Lott asked.

  Stan nodded, his face brightening again. “I did. And I’m still looking for the Lost Dutchman Mine.”

  “Well, I doubt you are going to be doing much of that from where you are going,” Andor said.

  Stan just looked puzzled.

  Julia stared at the man she had let trick her for years. What had she ever seen in such a worthless piece of human trash?

  Julia turned her back on her husband and waved for the reporter and camera crew in the van to come on over.

  Stan’s eyes got huge as he saw them come out of the van and another car.

  “We expect you to answer every question they have for you honestly,” Andor said, his hand back on his gun. He had moved between Stan and the door of his home. “I’ll be right here making sure.”

  Lott and Julia started to walk away together when Stan called out to her. “Julia?”

  She spun and walked back to him, getting right up into his face. “My name is Detective Rogers to you, asshole,” she said, almost spitting at him. “And if you don’t answer every question these reporters have for you completely and honestly, you will see me and my gun and my handcuffs once again and it won’t be pleasant. Do you understand?”

  Stan swallowed and then nodded.

  “Do we have an agreement?” she demanded, inches from his face.

  “Yes,” he said softly.

  “Yes what?” she shouted back at him.

  “Yes, Detective,” he said.

  “That’s better. Now make sure you answer everything truthfully. Trust me, you never want to see me again.”

  He nodded and she spun and strode back toward Lott.

  Then she winked at him and she could tell that he barely got turned away from Stan before breaking into a smile and choking down the laughter.

  Damned if that hadn’t felt good. For the first time in a lot of years she felt free.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  October 2014.

  Near the University of Nevada Campus

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  THEY CLIMBED BACK IN THE CAR and Julia looked over at the handsome man sitting beside her.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. She really had fallen for this man and she knew he had fallen for her. They both had a distance to go to get healthy and learn about each other, but she knew that would be part of the fun.

  “I think that was all my pleasure,” Lott said, giving her that grin she loved so much. “After all these years, it’s great to put that case away for good.”

  “And that husband as well,” she said.

  Lott laughed at that and then asked, “So where next? Detective?”

  She looked into his eyes and smiled. “I’ve got a daughter who lives about five blocks from here. I think it’s about time I tell her about her father, don’t you?”

  “Before she sees it on the news,” Lott said, indicating the camera and reporter on the front lawn across the street.

  “Yeah, better from me than that way. I’ll give you the directions.”

  He glanced at her, a line of worry crossing his face. “You want me along?”

  “Damn right I do,” Julia said. “You two better get used to each other, since I plan on hanging around you for some time to come.”

  “I like the sounds of that,” he said, breaking back into a wide smile and pulling the car away from the curb.

  She reached over and rested her hand gently on his leg and said simply, “So do I, Detective. So do I.”

  SHE LOOKED LIKE A STORM

  The weatherman on television

  said a major storm was coming in.

  It was still a ways off the coast, threatening on the horizon.

  She came into my apartment, took her coat off,

  leaving jeans, a white blouse and assorted underwear

  still on, threatening on the horizon.

  The weatherman on television said the storm

  would arrive within the hour

  and showed cool radar images of how close it was.

  We had drinks, dinner, more drinks,

  then we sat on the couch, the lights low, and kissed.

  I kept checking how close I was to getting to the buttons.

  The weatherman said the storm was on top of the city,

  that it was snowing in even the lower elevations,

  the streets getting slippery and dangerous.

  She had her blouse, jeans, and bra off.

  Inside her lace panties the storm approached,

  my future getting slippery and dangerous.

  If you enjoyed this volume of Smith's Monthly, don't miss the next: Subscribe today!

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  USA Today bestselling author Dean Wesley Smith published more than a hundred novels in thirty years and hundreds and hundreds of short stories across many genres.

  He wrote a couple dozen Star Trek novels, the only two original Men in Black novels, Spider-Man and X-Men novels, plus novels set in gaming and television worlds. Writing with his wife Kristine Kathryn Rusch under the name Kathryn Wesley, they wrote the novel for the NBC miniseries The Tenth Kingdom and other books for Hallmark Hall of Fame movies.

  He wrote novels under dozens of pen names in the worlds of comic books and movies, including novelizations of a dozen films, from The Final Fantasy to Steel to Rundown.

  He now writes his own original fiction under just the one name, Dean Wesley Smith. In addition to his upcoming novel releases, his monthly magazine called Smith’s Monthly premiered October 1, 2013, filled entirely with his original novels and stories.

  Dean also worked as an editor and publisher, first at Pulphouse Publishing, then for VB Tech Journal, then for Pocket Books. He now plays a role as an executive editor for the original anthology series Fiction River.

  For more information go to www.deanwesleysmith.com, www.smithsmonthly.com or www.fictionriver.com.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Introduction: The Origin of a Novel

  You Forgive the Night’s Scream

  One

  Two

  Three

  Remember Me to Your Children

  The Life and Times of Buffalo Jimmy

  PART SIXTEEN

  PART SEVENTEEN

  PART EIGHTEEN

  Wondering Through Time

  Remember

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  The Adventures of Hawk

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Neighborhoods

  Kill Game

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen


  Part Two

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Part Three

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  She Looked Like a Storm

  Smith's Monthly

  About the Author

  Copyright Information

 

 

 


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