Trinity Trio (The Bill Travis Mysteries Book 14)

by George Wier

“That I will.”

  We said our goodbyes and hung up.

  “Who was that?” Bee asked.

  “Nobody,” I said.

  “Huh. Like I believe that. You fellahs ready for dinner?” she asked.

  “We were born ready,” Hank said.

  I made a mental note to call Penny and let her know that her aunt Tanya was still in jail, and would likely remain so until things were a little better sorted out. Also, I needed to call Julie and update her as well. But my stomach was rumbling, and I was starting to feel slightly faint. We all climbed in my Mercedes and I started her up, backed out, and headed for downtown.

  *****

  On the way downtown, Ab passed us going a cool seventy miles per in the thirty zone. I half expected him to blow through the upcoming traffic light with nary a flash from his brake lights, but at the last minute he nearly locked up the brakes and came to a speedy stop. I changed lanes and pulled up right beside him, putting my window down before I did so.

  Ab’s passenger window was likewise down, but he didn’t look my direction until I got his attention.

  “Nice car,” I said.

  “Go diddle yourself,” he replied. He was fourteen going on thirty, with a balding spot on top of his head, a kid who never grew up, all piss and vinegar and no sense of proportion or limit. His patchy, acne-scarred face was desperately in need of a shave, and the lit cigarette danging from his lip cocked upward for a second, as if to punctuate his statement. The light changed and he launched ahead with a squeal from his tires.

  “Terribly nice guy,” I said to my passengers.

  “That’s Ab,” Bee said.

  “Bill,” Hank said, “if you’ll catch up with him, I’ll get out, pull him out of that hotrod and teach him some manners.”

  “You wouldn’t dare do that, Mr. Sterling,” Bee said.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “He would. Instead, we’ll eat, first. You may get your chance later, Hank.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  We rolled on through the green light and into the heart of metropolitan Carter, Texas.

  *****

  Bee had us pull behind the restaurant where there was plenty of parking, and we got out onto the dirt and gravel parking lot. I noticed a couple of Sheriff’s cruisers parked side by side, and decided that since I was carrying a Walther pistol in my pants pocket—which might become noticeable when I sat down—that I had better do what Captain Rodgers had said and so fished my badge out of my wallet and pinned it to my shirt pocket. A Ranger badge is a rather understated ornament, and they have been mistaken for tie pins and Rotary Club symbols in the past: it’s little more than a silver star in a circle, about an inch and a quarter in diameter. In many quarters, however, it commands a degree of respect.

  “It’s a greasy spoon,” she said, “but they make the best salads.”

  “I took you for a steak and potatoes girl,” Hank said.

  “Oh, I like those too, and Ronson’s does a fine steak. But the salads are really good.”

  The screen door whined open and there was already a bit of a crowd gathering.

  The sign said, “Seat Yourself,” and so we found a table along the back wall and took a seat. I noted the two Resistol cowboy hats in the room and saw that the local law enforcement did indeed favor the place with their presence. Hank grabbed three menus from the rack against the wall divvied and them out.

  Bee looked across at me and squinted at my badge. “Is that...?” she began, but trailed off. “I thought it was a...something else.”

  “Bill’s just showing off,” Hank said.

  “You’re a Texas Ranger.”

  “Yes. I just got myself activated. Usually it’s honorary. I’ve done some favors for the Ranger service in the past.”

  “And the Governor,” Hank said. Then he leaned conspiratorily toward Bee with one elbow propped on the wooden tabletop. “You see, Bill here has no sense of when to let go of something. When he gets something stuck in his craw, why, he’s like one of those damned snapping turtles. Lightning has to practically hit him before he’ll let anything go.”

  “That’s enough,” I said. “Order your food.”

  “You relax,” he said. “Last I heard, I’m paying for this.”

  Bee laughed loudly. “You two act like an old married couple.”

  “I am married,” I said, “but I’ll be damned if it’s to him.”

  I suppose we were a little too loud, because the waittress headed our way stopped in her tracks when she noticed one of the uniformed officers rise from his table, his eyes on us, and stalk across the hardwood floor.

  Bee’s head turned. “Oh shit,” she whispered.

  “What?” Hank asked, and then turned.

  The officer stopped between Bee and Hank.

  “Hello, Miss Bee,” the officer said. “Who are your friends?”

  She turned and looked up. “Why, hullo, Sheriff. This is Mr. Bill Travis and Mr. Hank Sterling. They’re from Austin.”

  “You a Texas Ranger?” he pointed a lone finger at me.

  “That’s right.” I pushed my chair back and stood, slowly. I extended my hand to him.

  “You should have checked in with my office when you came to town.” He didn’t bother to take my hand.

  “Not really,” I said.

  I noticed that the room around us had gone quiet, but I no longer cared.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

  “Sheriff Simon,” I said, “it means that I don’t have to check in with you. I don’t have to check in with anybody. I don’t have to bother letting God Almighty know my business.”

  Sheriff Simon’s face flushed scarlet, then by degrees, it turned purple.

  Hank Sterling pushed his chair back and rose slowly.

  “Gentlemen,” Bee said in an overly loud voice. “What do you think I should have?” She flopped her menu open. “Should I try the ribeye and the grilled onions? Or do you think I should go in for some seafood tonight?”

  “What do you suggest she have, Sheriff?” I asked.

  Seconds ticked by with the slowness of the southern sun going down. I decided then and there that I would neither be the next to speak, nor would I so much as blink. I held Sheriff Paul Simon’s gaze and breathed.

  The Sheriff’s face changed by degrees. It was an interesting prospect to watch. First, he began to breath easier and the color drained out of his face, then his lips slowly curled upwards at the corners into a grin. “Well damn,” he said, finally. “You are a Texas Ranger. Well okay, then. You folks enjoy your meal.” He took a tentative step backwards, a bit of swagger returning to his form, probably his true natural state. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, but I had to know for sure when I saw that silver star come through the doorway.”

  “Another thing, Sheriff,” I said. “There’s a hothead running around town in a souped-up Mustang. If someone doesn’t slow him down, I promise you, I will. Personally.”

  “Oh. That’s just Lil’ Abner. He’s nothing to concern yourself with, Ranger Travis. I’ll make sure he stays out of your way.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff.” I took my eyes off him and panned the still and silent restaurant. I nodded slowly to the crowd, and one by one they went back to putting forks in their mouths and whispering to one another.

  The Sheriff turned and stalked off, seemingly without a care in the world.

  “Double shit,” Bee whispered, once I took my seat.

  “Bill,” Hank said, reseating himself again. “We seriously need to get you a cowboy hat.”

  “I suppose we do,” I said.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I called Penny first, once I was outside in the parking lot. The Sheriff and his deputy, whoever she was, had already departed. No doubt Sheriff Simon was at the moment making a call to the Texas Rangers Barracks in Austin to confirm that there was a Ranger Bill Travis boots on the ground in Atchison County, Texas, not that I was wearing boots. Another item to add to the list. Thus
far the list was comprised of a hat, a gun belt, and a pair of boots. Add to that a motel stay for the night—two rooms, because Hank has the propensity to snore—and my Amex was due for a workout.

  “Yeah, Bill?” Penny answered.

  I pressed the phone to my face and turned so the cool wind wasn’t howling in her ear. “Your aunt is still in jail, and is likely to remain so for at least the next twenty-four hours. I could have bonded her out, but she may be in danger. She’s shoots her mouth off, and unfortunately says a lot.”

  “That’s Aunt Tanya.”

  “The Ranger Captain has activated me down here. I have to buy a cowboy hat, boots, maybe even a leather vest and a bolo tie, just to look the part.”

  “Oh crap. You’re going all Ranger on this.”

  “Can’t be helped. You’re familiar with the Sheriff here?”

  “Is it Sheriff Simon? He’s still in office?”

  “The one and the same. You’re Aunt Tanya seems to think he’s crooked. Isn’t she friends with his wife? You know, Trinity Trio, and all that?”

  “I think so. They used to get together and chatter about their husbands—about how stupid they all are. You should talk to them at some point. Doing so may help you figure out what’s really going on, because no matter what the town may think is going on, it’s going to be something different. Behind the scenes, under the table, backroom, that sort of thing. From what Aunt Tanya told me on the phone, they’re saying that she tried to kill Senator Carswell. Do you know if he’s out of the hospital yet?”

  “Hell, I didn’t know he was in the hospital.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  “I have to scout out a motel, too,” I said.

  “Oh, don’t stay at any of the downtown motels or hotels. There’s either a Hampton or Fairfield outside of town on Highway 59. I’d try one of those.”

  “Good deal. Thanks.”

  “Okay, you watch your back out there, Bill. It’s...it’s not the best place in the world to be.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “Lots of local color, plenty of GMO food, and the water is properly fluoridated.”

  “That’s part of what I mean,” she said.

  “Okay, I’ll let you know how it goes. Um. Tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, partner,” she said. “I owe you one.”

  “Yes. You sure do. Bye.”

  We hung up.

  *****

  I called Julie. It was short and sweet, and I didn’t bother telling her about the whole Ranger schtick. She might not have dug it. Then again, although we had been married for years, and most of our children were half grown, I had never really figured her out. Then again, what husband actually ever does?

  *****

  Hank and I dropped Miss Bee off at her office. Hank got out to get in the front, and after he did, she poked her head through his window, kissed his cheek, then headed off to her car.

  “Awww,” I said.

  “Shut up, will ya?”

  I chuckled, and handed Hank my phone. “See if you can pull up a map to where the hospital is.”

  “Why are we going there?”

  “Gotta see a senator about a horse,” I said.

  “Ahh.”

  *****

  The Atchison County Hospital was on Highway 59 a few minutes outside of Carter. It was also sandwiched in between the two hotels that Penny had told me about, so we wouldn’t have far to go when the day was done.

  I was dog tired, and while I was certain I didn’t look it, Hank assuredly did.

  It was totally dark when we pulled into the new parking lot, and I quickly realized that it was a new facility, which meant that there would be procedures to go through, and potentially nurses, doctors and administrators to face down, if it came to that.

  Hank and I went into the lobby and stopped at a desk and asked which room Senator Carswell was in. The nurse took a look at the badge on my shirt pocket, then at my face, and surprised us both by telling us the room number straight away. It was room number 321.

  We rode the elevator up in silence, and got out onto a standard hospital floor, and walked until we stumbled into the nurses’ station. We passed it by as if we belonged there, and went on to Room 321. The door was closed, so I tapped on it, then pushed it open an inch and said, “Hello?”

  “Who’s there?” a woman’s voice inquired.

  I took this as tacit consent to open the door and did so, sticking my head into the room. “Bill Travis,” I said. “Texas Rangers. Is the Senator awake?”

  “He’s asleep. Come in.”

  I came in with Hank in tow.

  “Mrs. Carswell?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

  She nodded.

  “This is Hank Sterling,” I gestured to Hank. She gave him a silent, curt nod. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  “I don’t mind. Ask away.”

  She was very clearly the same age as Tanya Holdridge, but she was a different sort of woman entirely. First of all, she oozed both unconcern and aloofness, as if there existed no situation in the world that was capable of offering surprise. She appeared, consequently, far less careworn and more youthful than Tanya, but the few strands of gray in her hair betrayed her. I was almost certain she hadn’t noticed them, or if she had, their import was decidedly beneath her. She was a United States Senator’s wife. The man on the bed before her, however, appeared to be twenty years her senior. His hair was completely white, and he looked thin and almost ancient compared to her.

  “Oh, don’t worry about Jack. They gave him some morphine and he’s out like a light.”

  “Is he in any danger?”

  “Not even,” she said. “The bullet missed all his organs. Went in one side and out the other. All they did was clean up the wound and stitch him back together again, front and back.”

  “Ms. Holdridge did this?”

  “I don’t wish to discuss that part,” she said. It was utterly dismissive.

  “I understand,” I said. “Were you there when it happened?”

  “No. He was in his office. She came and shot him. Jack said she shot him, so she shot him. And that’s the end of that.”

  “You two were friends, is that correct?” I pressed.

  She looked from Jack up to me where I stood at the foot of the bed.

  “Yes. We were friends once. It doesn’t matter. You don’t look like a Texas Ranger.”

  “I know. But I have to write a report and get it back to Austin. Has the media gotten hold of the story yet?”

  “Good God, no,” she said, a little overly loud. Senator Carswell’s breathing changed and his head moved a degree, but he didn’t awaken.

  “Why haven’t they?” I asked. “What I mean is, usually the local newspaper is all over who gets thrown in jail and usually they at least glance at the charge. From that they would glean the Senator’s name, then it would get barked up the chain of command to AP or UPI and then you’d have fifteen different camera crews in the parking lot ranging from MSNBC down to The Weekly World News, and hospital staff would be interviewed, there’d be press conferences, and the local restaurants and hotels would raise their rates and have a field day. All that, Mrs. Carswell, in the first twenty-four hours. So how is it that this has been kept out of the press?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Paul has kept a lid on it, somehow.”

  “Sheriff Simon?”

  She nodded.

  “You have a lot of faith in Sheriff Simon,” Hank said.

  “Some,” she replied.

  “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Carswell. I hope your husband recovers. I’ll let Governor Sandoval know he’s out of the woods.”

  She nodded, then turned her attention fully to her husband, as if we had already left.

  Walking back down the corridor toward the elevator, Hank said, “She was chiseled from the living rock.”

  “They don’t make them like that any more,” I replied.

  Once we were back in the car, Hank said,
“I need a shower. I want to wash this town off of me.”

  Wiser words were never said.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I t hit me when I was in the hotel room shower, the nearly scalding hot water cascading off of me. I had made a mistake and had shown my hand. If the newspaper didn’t know and word hadn’t gotten out from Atchison County to the outside world that a United States Senator had nearly been assassinated by the former wife of the local crime boss, then how in hell could the Governor know? That would be the question circling around town...if. If Millie Carswell put in a call to Sheriff Simon. And if she did so, the Sheriff would then start trying to figure on that one, but he would come up with nothing, and that would make him start digging around in the most logical places for an answer. Somewhere close to home, maybe. Close as in across the street. Miss Bee.

  I turned off the water quickly, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me, dug Miss Bee’s card out of my wallet and called her number.

  It rang and rang.

  I looked at the clock. No more than forty minutes had passed since Hank and I had left the Senator’s hospital room. Would Millie Carswell have called Sheriff Paul Simon that quickly? Damned right she would have. She would want to know exactly why the Governor of Texas had sent a Texas Ranger, one Bill Travis, to inquire after the Senator. Someone at the Sheriff’s office was leaking information. Who was it?

  I could see the whole conversation in my head.

  I had to act, and quickly.

  Still wet, I started donning my clothes.

  Two minutes later I found myself pounding on Hank’s door, right next to mine.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hank. Hurry,” I said through the door. “Miss Bee might be in trouble!”

  “Hold on a second!” he called from within.

  The door opened a notch and I tried to push my way in, but he held it tight. “What are you going on about?”

  “I can’t reach Miss Bee on the phone. We screwed up, and royally.”

  “Hold on there, Slim,” he said through the narrow crack. “Just how did we, so-called, screw up?”