Chicken Scratch (The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series Book 1)

by Becki Willis

  When the calls started coming in on her cell phone, she knew someone was deliberately harassing her. She belatedly remembered the vague threats from Friday night’s call. With so much having happened since then, she had not given the incident another thought. Should she be worried?

  As she locked up at five o’clock, she took note of her surroundings with mild concern. There was an empty store to the left of the insurance company, a busy but closed beauty parlor to the right. Directly across the street was the old theater that now doubled as a gymnasium and dance studio. Beside it was a small engine repair shop and the only business showing any signs of life that afternoon.

  Shrugging off the sense of nebulous unease, Madison gathered her coat closer and hurried to Granny Bert’s long Buick. Overnight, the unseasonably warm weather had given way to a norther and now temperatures had plunged. There was even talk of snow flurries by the end of the week, but she knew better than to get her hopes up. It seldom snowed this far south.

  She was pulling into the driveway at home before the old car’s heater kicked in. As she got out and hurried inside to the warm house, she wondered what kind of demo car the dealership offered.

  One with a good heater, she hoped.

  Tuesday was an abbreviated repeat of Monday. The main difference was that the mailman brought the much-awaited envelope for Ramona Gleason, so Madison called the widow to deliver the news before closing the office at noon.

  “You’ll have to bring it to me,” Ramona informed her.

  “Mr. Lewis didn’t mention delivering the check. He asked me to call you, so you could drop by at your convenience.”

  “Well, it is not convenient for me to come by today.”

  “Won’t you be in town today?” Madison asked politely. “At least in Naomi, at Talk of the Town?”

  She soon regretted mentioning the salon. Ramon Gleason huffed and went off on a five-minute tangent; for the first time in over three-years, she was unable to keep her standing Tuesday afternoon appointment. Not only did her sister-in-law’s entire family suffer from the flu, but Deanna had shared the contagious illness with the other stylists. If they did not catch it from her, then surely those bratty kids of Katie Ngyen had spread the germs; they were always hanging around at the salon, even though Ramona had complained about them numerous times. Now the entire salon was shut down for three full days while crews came in to clean and stylists stayed home in quarantine. What was Ramona to do now? She had a trip to Cancun planned for the weekend, and she could hardly go with her nails looking like they did!

  Madison finally agreed to bring the check out, simply to break into the other woman’s rant. She was closing the office early today anyway, and could deliver the envelope after she stopped by to see the Chief of Police.

  The depot-turned-police-station was a pleasant mix of old and new. Wooden benches still lined the walls of the historic building and the large old windows allowed in plenty of sunshine from outside. On this overcast winter afternoon, the light filtering in was weak. The antique ticket counter was still in use, a functional yet preserved relic from the past.

  Beyond the counter, the twenty-first century kicked in with full gear. A sea of electronic gadgets beeped and blinked on the wall behind the desk, and black and white images flashed across multiple surveillance monitors.

  “May I help you, Mrs. Reynolds?” the ever-efficient Vina Jones asked from behind the desk. Like the depot itself, the woman was a treasured relic. It was impossible to determine her age. Her black-as-night skin was still smooth and almost wrinkle-free. The tiny crinkles at the corners of her eyes, detailed in sharp white contrast to the rest of her skin, was the only hint at her advanced age. Her buzzed hair was like a tight skullcap of fuzzy gray; it had been the same style, and same color, since her early thirties. It was anyone’s guess how long ago that had been.

  “Is the Chief in?”

  “Let me see if he is taking visitors.” Her words were neither sharp nor cool, but they were definitely professional.

  “He asked me to stop by.” Madison felt compelled to add the tidbit as Vina spoke discreetly into the earpiece on her cropped head.

  Within seconds, she nodded her approval. “The Chief will see you now.”

  “Thank you.” Madison tried her best not to skulk. There was something about Vina Jones that made her feel woefully inadequate and bothersome. If she could just slip past her, she would be out of the woman’s way…

  “Mrs. Reynolds?” Vina’s voice stopped her halfway across the room.

  Madison turned with all the enthusiasm of facing a firing squad. “Yes?”

  Vina flashed a bright white smile. “You tell Miss Bert I said hello, you hear?”

  An invisible weight fell from her shoulders. “I’ll do that!” she said, straightening her posture as she returned a bright smile.

  Brash’s office was in the far corner, the walls made of glass as much as they were wood. The blinds were all open and he could see her approach, so there was no need to knock. He stood to greet Madison when she entered, coming around to offer her a chair.

  “Her bark is much worse than her bite,” Brash chuckled, nodding in Vina’s direction.

  “I bet she’s wonderful at interrogation,” Madison murmured, sitting in the chair he held for her. “She terrifies me, and I haven’t done anything wrong!”

  “The day Vina Jones retires will be a sad day for The Sisters Police Department,” he agreed. “That woman has been here as long as anyone can remember, and she runs this place like a well-oiled engine. Without her, we’d all fall apart,” he admitted with unabashed candor.

  Brash settled into the chair beside her, foregoing the more formal place behind his desk. His sharp eyes roamed over her, taking in every detail of her appearance. Madison squirmed uncomfortably, afraid he would see too much. “So how are you doing?” he finally asked.

  “Fine.”

  “That was the answer you gave me in front of your family. Now I’m asking when it’s just you and me.” His voice dropped with a serious note. “How are you, Maddy?”

  It was time to be honest, even with herself. “I don’t think ‘frightened’ is the right word, but I’m not far from it,” she admitted. “Between being rammed by another vehicle, getting shut up in the chicken houses, and now all the phone-calls, I’m starting to get skittish.”

  “Wait, you’ve had more phone calls?” he asked with a scowl. “When was this?”

  “All day yesterday and today. I had ten, I think, at the insurance office, another four or five on my cell phone. No one says anything, just calls and then hangs up.”

  “Insurance office?”

  “I’m filling in for Dean Lewis this week while he and Myrna are away at a convention.” She saw the surprise on his face and laughed before he said anything. “I know, I thought the same thing. But there was also some gardening show, and she wanted to go badly enough to let me work. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a win-win. I get paid, and the Hadley’s can walk down the street without being harassed.”

  Brash nodded thoughtfully. “Which explains why she wanted us to do a daily drive-by. She wasn’t so much worried about her house, she was worried about her yard,” he realized.

  “Sounds about par,” Madison agreed.

  “So tell me about the phone calls.”

  “I did. They call, they hang up. No call-back number.”

  “And last Saturday? Officer Perry says you didn’t see anyone or notice anything amiss?”

  “Other than all the switches changed to create high pressure with me inside, there was nothing unusual about the day. I met with the Service Tech from Barbour and then went about my day. I was in the last house when it happened.”

  “We spoke with Menger; he said everything was in working order while he was there. He didn’t meet anyone on his way out or see anything unusual. But there have been odd occurrences around the farms before, just as you and I have discussed.”

  “So it has to be someone with some
knowledge of the farms. And they had to have known my schedule, to know that I would be inside.”

  “Have you noticed anyone following you lately? Anyone hanging around the house?”

  Chills popped up on Madison’s arms. “No,” she said slowly. “But when I left the office yesterday, I had the oddest sensation of being watched. I just thought I was on edge, with the phone calls and all.”

  “I want you to be extra vigilant, Madison. Someone is harassing you. Either they think you saw something when you found Ronny’s body, or you have made someone nervous with all your questions around town. I’ve told you once and I’m telling you again, leave the detective work to me.”

  “That reminds me. I have a list of names for you.” She rummaged through her purse until she found the neatly folded piece of notebook paper.

  With a crinkled forehead, Brash read off the names. The list had a familiar ring to it. “What is this and where did you get it?” he demanded.

  “It’s a list of people you need to interview. One of those men may have been the one to actually murder Ronny Gleason.”

  He generously ignored the fact that she was telling him how to do his job. He concentrated on more pressing matters. “Where did you get this?”

  Hedging the question, Madison redirected his attention by saying, “I have it by good authority that the next cockfight will take place at Bernie Havlicek’s, sometime this week.”

  “Havlicek’s? Again?” he asked sharply. Then he narrowed his eyes. “And you know this, how?”

  “I -uh- may have overheard it somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “I was … out walking… the other night -” She chose her words carefully.

  “What night?” he barked.

  Madison hesitated before giving her reluctant answer. “Friday.”

  “Friday? You mean … after?” The words went unspoken, but they settled uneasily between them.

  After I tried to kiss you? After you accused me of being a scoundrel and a cheat? After you destroyed what we were slowing building?

  “Yes.”

  “What did you do?” It was an accusation, as much as a question.

  Madison was reluctant to give him all the details. She did not want to implicate her friend in her shenanigans. Technically, they had been trespassing.

  “I was feeling restless. So I went for a walk.”

  “Where?” His questions were pointed and direct, leaving little room for wiggle.

  Still, Madison managed to twist her way through her answers. “Just outside of town,” she said vaguely.

  “You went walking at night on a country road. In late January. In the dark. All by yourself.” From the sound of his voice, he did not believe a word of it, any more than Genny had. Reading the expression on her face with startling acuity, Brash corrected himself. “Ah, of course. You took Genesis along with you.”

  “There’s safety in numbers,” Madison mumbled.

  “Where did you say this walk took place?”

  Knowing he would not relent until she spilled the whole story, Madison sighed. “At the very end of Sawyer Street. Out near the old Muehler place.”

  “Where there are absolutely no street lights or even house lights, for that matter. One of our most popular late-night destinations for walking,” he said dryly.

  “It’s near the Thompson’s. I’m friends with their dogs, so I knew they wouldn’t bark at me.”

  He called her on her lie. “That is the lamest and most ridiculous excuse I have ever heard.”

  Madison waved the words away. “It doesn’t matter why I was there. All that matters is what I saw and what I overheard.”

  “Which was?”

  “They were holding a cockfight at the abandoned farm. I saw those men on that piece of paper-” she used exaggerated hand movements to emphasize her words, “-placing bets and engaging in illegal gambling. Which means that any one of them could potentially have reason to want Ronny Gleason dead. And I distinctly overheard two of the men say that Don Ngyen was taking the fall for something he didn’t do!”

  Her smug look of triumph crumbled under Brash’s simple question. “Who were the men?”

  “Well, I - I don’t know. I couldn’t see their faces. One of their voices sounded familiar, but I don’t know who they were.”

  Brash closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in an obvious effort to control his temper. “There are so many holes in your story, I don’t know which one to crawl through first,” he grumbled. “Apparently you feel I should release Ngyen, based solely on the fact that you overheard some unknown man claim he was innocent.”

  “No, not solely for that reason.”

  “Oh, that’s right. These other men might have a motive, too, so obviously that let’s Ngyen off the hook.”

  “You don’t have to be so snarky.”

  To her surprise, Brash looked slightly amused. “You’re afraid of our coordinator, but you don’t mind smart-mouthing the Chief of Police?”

  “She’s scary,” was Madison’s only defense.

  Because she was right, Brash moved on. “You were trespassing on posted property.”

  “I didn’t see the sign.”

  “Did you happen to notice the fence?”

  Madison chose not to comment. With a determined glint in her hazel eyes, she said, “I also overheard them talking about the boss, someone obviously higher up than Ronny Gleason. And I think you’re right. I think this is an organized gambling ring.”

  “I’m so glad you approve of my theory. I suppose your years of watching Matlock and CSI qualify you to offer your glowing endorsement?”

  With great effort, Madison resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

  Brash continued. “Of course, the biggest problem I have with all of this is that you were witness to illegal activity, yet failed to call it in. By failing to report it, a smart Assistance District Attorney could argue your silence makes you an accessory to crime.”

  Madison had a quick comeback, along with a charming smile. “A smart Chief of Police would recognize I have valuable information to share and would never dream of pressing charges.”

  She knew he was having difficulty maintaining his stoic expression. His eyes glittered with appreciation, but his voice remained gruff. “You should have reported it, Maddy. We might could have caught them in the act.”

  She shook her head. “Once they turned the dogs loose, I’m sure they packed up and scattered.”

  “Dogs? They turned the dogs out on you?” White showed around his surprised brown eyes.

  “Luckily they were distracted by the goats, but not before one slightly irate billy had his say.” She could not help but rub the offended area.

  “Let me guess. You’re friends with the Thompson’s dogs, but not their goats.”

  “Actually, I am now quite fond of those goats. If not for them, the dogs would have caught us.”

  Brash surprised her yet again by tossing back his head and laughing. “I never knew you were such a firecracker,” he said. The words sounded suspiciously like a compliment. “Miss Bert must be rubbing off on you.”

  “Heaven forbid.” Madison pretended to shudder, but a smile hovered around her lips.

  “Look, Maddy, you have to stop this nonsense. You are not a private investigator and you have no business snooping around dark country roads and spying on illegal gambling operations. You are very lucky you did not get caught.”

  “Yes, I do realize this,” she said wearily.

  “Someone has tried, more than once, to cause you serious bodily harm. Someone is harassing you and most likely monitoring your every move. If you won’t stop this nonsense for your own safety, do it for your family. Think of your kids. What would they do if they were to lose both of their parents?”

  Stricken by his words, Madison’s face lost its color. “That-That’s a low blow, Chief,” she finally managed to say.

  “I don’t think you realize how serious this is, Ma
dison. You could have been killed, any of those times. Including at the farm, if anyone had seen you or if the dogs had caught you. This isn’t some little my-bird’s-bigger-than-your-bird bragging match. These people play for blood.”

  Thinking of all the blood she had already seen, Madison shuddered for real.

  The radio on his side crackled as Officer Schimanski requested back up on a possible arson. Madison heard the tone-out for The Sisters Fire Department as the dispatcher rattled off an address.

  “I’ve got to go,” Brash said, already up and grabbing his jacket.

  “Sawyer Road?” Madison repeated the address given on the radio.

  “Yeah,” Brash said, cramming his cowboy hat onto his head. “It’s the old Muehler place. Someone set it afire.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Madison watched as fire trucks pulled out from the station with their sirens blaring. The old cotton gin housed the fire station and was directly across the track from the depot where she sat. Waiting for all the emergency personnel to leave, including Brash in the police cruiser, she watched a pick-up slide into the station and a man dressed in a suit dash inside. In less time than it took her to put on a pair of pantyhose and shoes, the same man came barreling out of the station in full bunker gear and jumped into the backseat of the last departing fire truck.

  Assuming it was safe to proceed, Madison pulled out of the parking lot and onto First Street. As she crossed the track into Naomi, two more pick-up trucks pulled out to pass her. Flashing emergency lights identified them as personal vehicles for members of the volunteer fire department.

  The trucks zoomed ahead and were soon out of sight, even before Madison turned and headed toward the Gleason Farm. There was little doubt the fire set at the Muehler place was directly related to the cockfight she and Genesis stumbled upon. What struck her odd was that the arsonist waited until today to destroy any evidence left behind. Was it just a coincidence? Perhaps they needed the few extra days to gather the pens and roosters and whatever else needed to conduct their illegal operation. But something told her it had more to do with the fact that she had gone to see Brash today. Someone was watching her, and they knew the moment she went to the police.