Pushing Up Bluebonnets

by Leann Sweeney

  ''But you don't know exactly what he's got in those filing cabinets?'' I said.

  ''Have to wait on CSU to photograph everything before I start making my list for evidence collection. That hard drive is definitely going to the property room—that and who knows what else.''

  ''We have to wait? Don't you have a camera?'' I was beginning to sound as anxious as the third monkey on the Ark's gangplank.

  Cooper rested a hand on my back. ''If the guy wasn't dead, Hamlin could take his own pictures, but now we have to wait on CSU.''

  Hamlin added, ''We know Dugan created and sold fake IDs, probably bribed someone to sell him the blank Social Security cards, but I want client and seller names. Dugan may be dead, but whoever he did business with is going down and that's why I have to dot all the t's and cross my eyes.'' He did cross his eyes then, probably hoping I'd chill out.

  I had to smile, because this made him look like he had the mental capacity of a windshield wiper. ''How long until CSU gets here?'' I said, once he'd grinned back at me.

  ''They're part of Homicide Division,'' Hamlin said. ''Homicide needs to come first and they have the Dugan crime scene to work. But come on over here. There's something a little strange that I can show you.''

  My hands still in my pockets, I walked over to the filing cabinet with Cooper alongside me. I'd left my bag in the unmarked and wished I had my phone so I could snap off a few of my own pictures.

  Hamlin carefully bent over the open filing-cabinet drawer and pointed a gloved finger inside. ''See what's under those files?''

  ''Looks like newspaper,'' I said.

  ''That's right. Wondered at first if the guy was lining the bottom of the drawer for some reason,'' Hamlin said. ''But he didn't do that in any of the other drawers.''

  Being careful not to rest my stomach against the side of the drawer, I tilted my head and tried for a better look. ''Looks like about an inch-thick stack of newspaper. Why no file? Dugan seems to have filed everything else.''

  Hamlin looked at me. ''You sure you're not a cop?''

  ''She's not, but I'd sign her up,'' Cooper said. ''Anything else unusual?''

  ''Nothing obvious,'' Hamlin said. ''We have to wait.''

  An agonizingly long thirty minutes later a female CSU officer arrived and began photographing everything. Hamlin then removed the files to get at the newspapers beneath. From my vantage point in the doorway, I decided they were clippings, not entire newspapers. Lots of clippings. Hamlin set them on the spic-and-span desktop and the CSU officer took more pictures after Hamlin removed the letter-size manila folder that sat on top of them.

  An unfiled folder? That was strange, too.

  Hamlin glanced our way after opening the folder for the officer to photograph its contents. ''We can take these to the kitchen counter while she finishes up in here.'' He turned to her. ''The hard drive goes to Tech, the newspaper and folder to Latents when I'm done, okay?''

  She nodded and went back to work.

  Carrying the newspapers and folder away from his body like a tray of coffee, Hamlin joined us in the hall. ''Let's see what we got here.'' He gestured with his head toward the front of the house.

  We walked to the kitchen and Hamlin placed the stack on the immaculate granite counter. I caught the Houston Chronicle date header beneath the folder—looked like from two years ago.

  Hamlin said, ''I have my digital camera in the car. Be right back.'' He left before I could say anything.

  I said, ''But they already took pictures, and I thought he said—''

  ''He's taking his own photos,'' Cooper said. ''If they send these for latent prints, none of us will know the importance or lack of importance of the newspapers. With his own set of pictures he can read what he wants whenever he wants and hopefully will share that info with us. That is, if it's anything related to JoLynn. Might be nothing, Abby. Just mementos.''

  ''This doesn't feel like nothing, Cooper. Dugan concealed these things—though, I'll admit, not very well. But he had a locked door and probably left Georgeanne, and maybe JoLynn before her, with strict instructions to stay out of his office. From what we've learned, both women were under his thumb.''

  Cooper was about to respond, but Hamlin returned with his camera, breathing hard, rivulets of sweat running from his scalp.

  He fiddled with his equipment for a second and then moved the folder aside to photograph the top article.

  I took in a sharp breath and must have gasped, because Cooper and Hamlin said, ''What?'' in unison.

  ''Th-that article on top,'' I said. ''That's the same one I found online about the Richters. And there was a copy under a clock in the Richter library.''

  Cooper said, ''Maybe this is proof Dugan knew about the family, perhaps knew where JoLynn had gone.''

  Hamlin was squinting at the article. ''And you know this how?''

  ''Long story,'' Cooper said. ''But JoLynn definitely had a fake ID that I'm betting was made right here.''

  Hamlin fanned out the articles, then started taking pictures. This gave me time to look over the clippings. I began to understand their connection to the first one. These all seemed to be personal-interest stories from cities and towns all over Texas and beyond. Gosh, how I wanted to scoop them up and take them home rather than hunt them down one by one on the Internet, see how they were connected to the article about Katarina— that is, if they were connected.

  ''Do you mind if I get the newspaper names and dates on these?'' I could look up the articles online and print them—at least the ones that were online.

  ''No problem.'' Meanwhile Hamlin picked up the folder he'd set aside and opened it.

  I was glancing around the kitchen looking for something to write on, but the magnetic whiteboard on the fridge, the one that had the words ''Georgeanne—milk today!'' printed on it in black marker, probably wouldn't do.

  Cooper took out his little notebook. ''I'll help.''

  ''Thanks.'' I read off the newspaper names and dates while Cooper wrote them in his notebook.

  A minute later we were interrupted by Hamlin, who now held out a stack of photographs in his palm. ''These were in the folder. They mean anything to you?'' He placed them on the counter one by one, touching only a corner with his gloved hand.

  The first one was a grainy shot of a petite blonde placing flowers on a grave. ''That's JoLynn at Glenwood Cemetery. The caretaker told me a girl fitting her description brought flowers every week to Elliott Richter's family plot.''

  Hamlin looked confused. ''So she is related to the Richters?''

  ''Since we know her mother abandoned her at a bus station when she was nine and Katarina was already dead by then, I doubt it,'' I said.

  ''Then why go to the cemetery?'' Cooper asked. But he seemed to be asking himself this question, not us. ''Unless she had someone take these pictures to show Elliott how devoted she was to Katarina, her long-lost mother . . . who was not really her mother.''

  ''That doesn't make sense. How would she present these photos to Richter?'' I said. ''By saying, 'Oh, by the way, here's proof of what a loving family member I am.' I don't think so, Cooper. Maybe we should consider the possibility that Katarina placed JoLynn with someone and that's the person who abandoned her.''

  He scratched his head. ''Maybe. Big maybe, in my book. No matter what, Dugan took these pictures for a reason. You see a camera in that ID shop, Hamlin?'' Cooper asked.

  ''Yup. A nice Canon. A forger needs good resolution from an expensive digital so he can magnify whatever he wants to copy—get a nice, up-close picture of what he hopes to re-create. That's an excellent way to capture every nuance and color blend on the target document. I'll print out any pictures that he had on the memory stick and if it looks like it's related to your case, I'll e-mail them to you.''

  I rattled off my e-mail, telling Hamlin that Cooper was staying with me. Then I said, ''These are pretty poor-quality photos. Like something I'd take with my cell phone. Since I know next to nothing about photography, can either of you explain
how an expensive digital camera would give us these?'' I waved my hand at the pictures.

  ''Maybe they were taken with a cell phone,'' Cooper said.

  ''More likely a telephoto lens.'' Hamlin was staring hard at one of the cemetery pictures.

  ''But why?'' I said. ''Unless . . .''

  ''Unless Dugan was stalking her, getting a handle on her routine so he could kill her,'' Cooper said.

  ''Okay . . . but then, who murdered him?''

  24

  We left Dugan's condo not long after, since there was really nothing more to see. I'd hoped Georgeanne would show up because I wanted to ask her a few questions— like exactly when her boyfriend, Kent, disappeared—but I had a feeling she'd be spending a long time with Maria Chavez. Having met Georgeanne, I couldn't see her killing her boyfriend, rolling him up in a piece of carpet and tossing him into the bayou, but Jeff would argue that anyone is capable of murder under the right circumstances. Yes, I could be wrong. I often am.

  As promised, Cooper took me back to the garage to pick up my car, and I paid both his fees and mine, which turned out to be enough money to feed a third world nation. They are proud of their parking garages in the Medical Center.

  We went back to my house, and while Cooper called Pineview PD to find out—as he put it—''how many people pissed in the street or let their dog run wild'' in his absence, I took Cooper's notebook and got busy on my computer. I printed out all the newspaper articles I could find. Most of them were from Texas, a few from Oklahoma and Arkansas. I gathered the pages and took them out to the kitchen, where Cooper was still on the phone. Maybe in his absence Pineview had been reduced to three truckloads of bean pickers without a foreman.

  But when I saw his expression after he hung up, I regretted making light of his job, even in my head.

  ''The Montgomery County crime lab pulled Dugan's prints off JoLynn's wrecked car—where the air bags had been removed. He was in AFIS—that's the Automated Fingerprint Identification System.''

  ''Duh. I know what AFIS is. He's the one who tried to kill her, then?'' I said.

  ''Ordinarily that wouldn't be enough evidence. The air bags could have been removed at any time, even when they lived together. Did you know there's a black market for air bags? But get this. They found his prints on the brake line,'' he said. ''That's far better evidence that he tried to get rid of her.''

  ''Which leads us back to my earlier question at the condo. Who killed him?''

  But my brain was spinning with possibilities this time, and one of the scenarios made me a little sick. Could Elliott Richter have learned about JoLynn and Dugan's relationship before I ever told him? Learned about them before he even plopped down that ten grand and hired me?

  ''Talk to me, Abby,'' Cooper said.

  I sat in one of the kitchen chairs, placed the printouts on the table in front of me.

  He took the spot to my right. ''Come on. What are you thinking?''

  ''That Elliott Richter hasn't been straight with us. Maybe true to character, he did investigate JoLynn when she came knocking on his door a year ago.''

  ''You're saying Richter knew about Dugan?'' he said.

  ''Maybe. But that makes me wonder why he'd hire me—unless he needed more answers other than her relationship with Dugan.''

  Cooper cocked his head, smiled a little. This case sure had changed him from the glum man I'd met little more than a week ago. He said, ''And how does all that address the question of who killed Dugan? Because the prints say he's the one who fiddled with that car.''

  ''What if Richter found Dugan and questioned him about JoLynn?'' I said.

  ''Are you thinking he told Richter things about JoLynn, filled in her past with not-so-nice information, gave Richter information he failed to give us the other night at the hospital?''

  ''I don't want to think that, but what if Dugan con vinced Richter that JoLynn had betrayed both of them?'' I said. ''Told him she wasn't his long-lost granddaughter, that she heard about Katarina by reading the Houston Chronicle?''

  ''You could be right, because I also learned they found JoLynn's prints on that paper you found under the clock. But if she was a scammer, why didn't Richter simply kick JoLynn to the curb? And like you said, why in hell would he hire you and ask me to do everything I could to help find whoever did this to her?'' Cooper said.

  I considered this and came up with nothing. ''I don't know, Cooper. You got any ideas?''

  ''I prefer simple explanations until I see evidence to the contrary. For now, we assume Richter told you the truth—that he wanted you to find out about JoLynn's past and help me figure out why someone might want her dead. We have absolutely no evidence he knew anything about Kent Dugan.''

  I relaxed some then, let out the breath I'd been holding in. ''Keeping it simple like you said, maybe Dugan tried to kill JoLynn because first of all''—I held up one finger—''she had the nerve to leave him.'' I added my middle finger. ''And second of all, she'd settled into a very nice lifestyle by pretending to be someone she wasn't—pretending by using the tools Dugan had given her to accomplish that feat. I'm thinking that would enrage someone as controlling as Dugan.''

  Cooper nodded. ''My first thought when I saw JoLynn being life-flighted away from that wreck was that someone wanted her to suffer, to be terrified before she died. Fits Dugan, wouldn't you say?''

  ''Absolutely. I want to believe Elliott Richter, Cooper. I need to believe someone cares about that girl.''

  ''You care,'' he said softly.

  Before I could reply ''And so do you,'' I heard my cell phone ring. I hurried to the counter where I'd dropped my bag earlier and had to dig deep to find the thing.

  It was Kate. ''Mind if I join you guys for movie night? My last client is at four today and—''

  ''Do I mind? I wish you could be here this minute. We have lots to talk about.'' I told her about Kent Du gan's death but decided to save the rest for when she got here. She said to expect her around six, after she went home and picked up Webster. The poor dog needed a night out, too.

  ''My sister,'' I said to Cooper after I folded the phone shut and sat back down next to him. ''She's joining us tonight.''

  He'd been reading the printouts and still held one in his hand. ''Glad I'll finally get to meet her. About these articles. This one details a story similar to Katarina Richter's. And so does the other one I've read so far.''

  ''I skimmed a few back at the condo and got the same feeling. How similar?'' I asked.

  ''Very. Well-off people with missing relatives. Disappearances long enough ago that someone Kent or JoLynn's age could walk into their lives and say they're the grown child of that missing relative. And they would arrive with documents—fakes of course—to prove it. A lot of homework involved, though. I sure hope that hard drive HPD hauled off will tell us something more.''

  ''You're describing what JoLynn did,'' I said half to myself. I looked at Cooper. ''We're back to that.''

  ''Yup, we are. Let's read through everything before we act on our assumption that JoLynn was a con artist. She's sure not fleeing to Mexico in the near future, so we have time to figure this out.''

  ''There's something about her, Cooper. I mean, I haven't had a real conversation with her, but from what I saw on her face in the hospital, from what Roberta said, from what the relatives told Kate and me, this girl was vulnerable and sweet and—''

  ''Abby, we need to shelve the emotions and search for the facts. Do you have a highlighter handy? There's plenty of names in these stories, people we can check on to see if they ever met Jolynn or Dugan and lost money to either of them. I want to make the names stand out and then make a list.''

  I got up and scrounged in the built-in kitchen-desk drawer until I found a couple of highlighters—both bright pink.

  Cooper held his up for inspection. ''My favorite color.''

  ''I promise never to mention you touched something pink.''

  He grinned as we divided the printout pile.

  I soon lost track of
time reading the stories, many of them, like Cooper had said, strikingly similar to what happened to Katarina Richter. Every family with someone missing. The missing. I'd never considered them before this case, never thought what it meant to lose touch so completely with someone you loved, to be left without answers. True, my biological parents had been missing from my life and I'd learned my mother was dead. But I had never known her. These accounts of personal loss were far different from my own.

  Since Cooper hadn't said a word, either, just moved his marker across name after name, we were both a little startled when Jeff came in through the back door.