A Dead Red Oleander (The Dead Red Mystery series)

by RP Dahlke

  "Alright, then here's something you don't know. We think the killer found Mad Dog through his wife, Jinx."

  He looked from me to Pearlie and connected the dots. "In a bar, right?"

  "That's where Mad Dog met him, too," Pearlie said.

  "And his partner," I said, "the one he left behind when they broke into my house to kidnap Nancy, said he met him in a biker's bar in Riverbank."

  Pearlie was fairly spitting, she was so mad. "Jinx played poor Mad Dog for a sucker and then set him up to be murdered."

  "There's also the owner of Bud's Place, in Turlock," I added. "He took a picture of Jack Carton on his cell. I sent it to Caleb."

  "That Jinx," Pearly mumbled. "She probably did it for the life insurance, or just for fun. That bitch."

  I put my hand over hers. "We don't know why she did it, but it's likely for some kind of payoff."

  Jim Balthrop fluttered out an impatient breath. "Back up a minute. What makes you think his wife set him up?"

  Pearlie said, "That address Lalla gave you was her house, right? We followed Mad Dog there, and the white Escalade was parked one house over, just waiting for him to show up."

  "It was Jack Carton driving that Escalade," I said. "He sideswiped us at the convalescent hospital to keep us from interfering with his rendezvous with Mad Dog."

  Jim's eyes flashed. "That wasn't in the report you gave the agent."

  "If we hadn't followed him," Pearlie sniffled, "Mad Dog would be dead now."

  A nurse stood in the doorway. "Family of Robert Schwartz?"

  We all stood, and she nodded as if she'd already been alerted to the fact that there might be a conflict on the subject of wives. "Which one of you is Pearlie?"

  Pearlie grinned. "He's askin' for me?"

  "Yes," said the nurse, "you've got five minutes, so no upsetting him."

  Pearlie, unable to keep the grin off her face, hurried after the nurse.

  I said, "I hope she gets what she needs, she deserves it."

  "I got the impression you two weren't big fans of each other, Miss Bains."

  "It's a truce which may or may not last, but for now—"

  Ten minutes passed, and then Pearlie flew into the room and whooped. "He's gonna live!" When she came up for air, I saw happy tears in her eyes. "Remember when he said he did it for us? He didn't snitch on Arthur for the money, he only wanted you to see that Arthur wasn't on the level, and his wife is a lyin' bitch!

  Jim Balthrop held up a hand. "His wife? Want to run that by me again?"

  "Sorry, Jim," Pearlie said. "The redhead who came in last night? That was his estranged wife. Mad Dog was suspicious of her. She's the one who told the killer where he could find Arthur, and someone who would be happy to ID him, too. Mad Dog pried the guy's phone number out of her in exchange for five grand. He gave her five thousand dollars, and the lyin' bitch still set up her own husband to be murdered. That woman hasn't got one speck of moral fiber."

  "The Escalade at the house in Merced, right? You two are lucky to be alive."

  Pearlie snorted. "He's got a bum leg courtesy of Lalla, then I kept him from killing Mad Dog. I'd say he's found his match in the Bains women."

  In spite of Pearlie's bravado, I knew this whole experience would shade her nights with a terror she would live with for some time to come.

  The marshal stood. "I'd better call someone to check on the wife. The marshal's service will want to take her into custody, see if she'll roll on the killer. You ladies staying, or going home?"

  I said, "Are you ready to go home, Pearlie?"

  "It's eight," she said, looking at the clock on the wall. "Mad Dog's sleeping, poor baby. There's a guard on him and lots of nurses in the ICU, so I will go home, get a change of clothes, and come back."

  <><><><>

  We got as far as Merced when Pearlie said, "Let's stop and see if she's still there, I want a word or two."

  "Not a good idea, Pearlie. What if the marshal shows up?"

  "Bet you a hundred bucks he's still doing the paperwork. Here's the turnoff."

  I reached for the doorbell but stopped when Pearlie pushed the open door inward and stepped inside. "Hello? Anyone home?"

  "Pearlie, let's not do this," I said, pulling on her sleeve. "The marshal has probably picked her up already."

  "Then why didn't he lock the door after him?"

  "We don't need to be caught inside her house."

  Pearlie narrowed her eyes. "I want to see if she left behind any incriminating evidence," she said, walking down the hall and into the kitchen.

  Jinx's body lay on the floor. Blood pooled out as far as it was going to go from a head wound, a bright beacon to the swarming houseflies.

  I put out an arm to stop Pearlie. She came easily enough, but then halted. "Shouldn't—shouldn't we s-see if she's s-still breathing?"

  "Out. Now. Right now. Come on," I said, clutching her to my side, we lock-stepped out the front door and to the rental car. Seeing Pearlie wide-eyed and shaking, I said, "Give me the keys, I'll drive."

  When we got into the car, I sat where I was, keys in hand. "She was already dead." I didn't add that the pool of blood said she'd been dead for a while. "The marshal will find her when he gets here."

  "We should've called him from her house."

  I'd felt too close to the killer to remain in that house for one more minute, much less the time it would take for the authorities to get there. I started the car and followed the line of morning commuter traffic. At a stop light I looked at her hands clasped tightly together, the knuckles white. "What is it?"

  "The bar. Last night. We went to look for her. He—he looked at me," she whispered, staring at the line of traffic as we approached the north on-ramp for the freeway. "I sort of take it for granted when men look, especially in a bar, but this time—I wish I'd been invisible. It was him with Jinx last night in the bar, I'd bet on it. He's moving north, picking off the last of the people who can ID him. We should stop and call your house. Warn them. Call Caleb."

  I felt my heart trip and thud in my chest. "I know. I know, but we're close to home. We'll call him from there."

  "Think he's still driving that Escalade?" Pearlie asked.

  "I'm sure the marshal has put out a BOLO on it by now."

  She nodded. "He's smart. He would ditch it and steal another one."

  Suddenly, nothing mattered but to get home. I punched the gas and the rental car hit seventy, then seventy-five, then eighty-five.

  "How far do you think we can get," she asked, looking at the speedometer, "before some CHP pulls us over?"

  "I'm not thinking about that right now." I was thinking about my dad, her granny. "You still have your granny's pistol?"

  "I feel really bad about taking it, too. It's her favorite, you know."

  "There's my dad's shotgun. He keeps it in the TV room behind the door."

  Pearlie didn't respond. It wouldn't matter, not if the killer got there first, and was waiting to finish off the two meddlesome women who were continuing to cause him trouble.

  Chapter Twenty-two:

  Caleb's cruiser was parked up close to the front of our house, as if he'd exited in a hurry.

  Pearlie and I cautiously approached, hoping we weren't walking into a scene where all our loved ones were bound and gagged… or worse.

  Stepping through the front door, I heard the radio in the kitchen playing the local country western station. Somewhere over my head, a toilet flushed, and as we walked toward the kitchen, low voices rose and fell in the give and take of easy conversation.

  Caleb was leaning against the counter, sipping coffee and talking to my Aunt Mae.

  "There you are," said Aunt Mae, opening her arms to engulf the two of us. "I'm so glad to see my girls home, safe and sound."

  I blew out the breath I'd been holding and accepted her tight, warm hug. Where was the sense of urgency, and why was Caleb looking so relaxed? This all felt surreal, my Aunt Mae warmly smiling at us, Caleb, his long legs crossed ov
er as he sipped his coffee. I could feel the walls shift and the floor under my feet tilt. I flushed, sweat breaking out on my upper lip, nausea rolling over me. I was finally losing it, and unable to do anything to help myself, I slid to the floor.

  Caleb gasped and pulled me up into his arms into a tight hug. "It's okay, it's okay. We got him early this morning. Here, sit down, put your head between your knees. Aunt Mae, would you get her something cold to drink?"

  She laid a cool wet cloth across the back of my neck. When I sat up again, she handed me a water glass full of something that smelled suspiciously like whiskey. "Drink this. After what you girls have been through, you need it."

  Pearlie opted for the coffee pot and sat down to chafe my cold hands in hers. "Come on, don't go all girly on me now."

  I gulped down half of the whiskey, choked, coughed, and finally came up for air.

  Caleb went back to lean against the counter and explained. "We had Bud's Place staked out since yesterday. We found him around three a.m., trying to jimmy the door to get inside."

  I'd talked to Caleb last night a little after that hour and he didn't say anything about a stakeout. What had happened to all that give and take we were working on? Oh yes, none on my part. "That's—that's good news, then. We were worried about Bud."

  "Yes, I thought you'd be happy to hear it." Did his words hold an undercurrent of sarcasm? I couldn't tell. "We've had the bar, Bud, and his home under surveillance since you sent me that cell phone image."

  "And you're sure it's the same guy?"

  He swirled the contents of his coffee cup and poured the dregs into the sink. "He was driving the white Cadillac Escalade, same license plate."

  I looked at Pearlie, seeing in her eyes the same thing I was thinking. We were both sure he had ditched that Cadillac.

  My silent interaction with Pearlie seemed to annoy Caleb. "Yes, the marshal and I talked, though I'm sorry to say it's been hell to pay trying to keep you in our sights."

  "I'm sorry, Caleb. It started out innocently enough. Pearlie wanted to tail Mad Dog so she could find out if he was cheating on her."

  Pearlie did a double take at my boldfaced lie.

  "Just a minute," he said, taking out his cell and answering a call. "This could be important."

  She shrugged as if to say, If you say so.

  Caleb was eyeing the two of us while he listened to the speaker on the other end. "Yes, Jim. What? Damn. How? You'll let me know, won't you?"

  Caleb looked around at us as if counting our good luck. "That was Jim Balthrop. Looks like someone got to Mad Dog's wife."

  "She's dead?" I asked, feeling sick at having to feign surprise. Finding her dead was the reason we doubled our efforts to get home.

  "Jim said there was evidence of a struggle, and it looked like her head struck a corner of the kitchen counter, but the medical examiner will have to determine the exact cause of death."

  "But you do have the right guy now, don't you?"

  "Yes, and his fake Las Vegas ID. We've run his prints and he's got plenty of priors, so yes, he's our man."

  "Will he talk?" I asked, hoping if he did it would finally vindicate Nancy's story that she hadn't murdered her husband.

  "Not yet. He doesn't look like much, but most of these professional hit men don't."

  "Then Nancy will be released, won't she?"

  "I'm sure it'll be just a matter of another day and she'll be out."

  My dad walked into the kitchen, tucking in his shirt-tail. Since news of Burdell Smith's death, he'd kept to himself, only coming out of his room to eat and walk his goat. "How's Mad Dog doing?"

  I was pleased to see he was able to think of someone living instead of mourning the dead. Maybe he was coming around.

  "He'll be fine," Pearlie said, beaming. "And when he comes home, I'm gonna see to his recuperation."

  Aunt Mae's brows shot up into the bangs of her wig. "Well. We'll have to see. We have the wedding, you know."

  Caleb and I hadn't spent more than a few minutes together in over a week. Did he still want to marry me? I knew I still wanted to marry him. We might have some unresolved issues but that didn't mean I didn't love him, and I thought, I hoped, he still loved me.

  Caleb pushed off from the counter. "I have to go back to work."

  "I'll see you out," I said, following him out of the kitchen, down the hallway, through the front door, and then to the porch. Without so much as a backward glance, he got into his cruiser and drove away.

  Pearlie put her hand on my shoulder. "I shouldn't have thrown those cell phones out the window."

  "Oh, Pearlie, I've been in trouble with Caleb for a lot longer than that. He'll get over it, he always gets over it. Can't live without me, told me that when he put this ring on my finger." I held up the ring on my still black and blue finger. I knew Caleb was still upset that I'd chosen this investigation over the fun of wedding plans. But surely he understood that I wasn't one to get all fluttery about butter icing on a cake. I tried to turn the diamond band around, thinking I should at least get a manicure before this Saturday, maybe even get a nice hair treatment at a salon. The ring and my swollen finger reminded me of Burdell Smith, and then Jinx. If she'd taken the bribe to hook up Jack to Mad Dog, then did Jack Carton also kill Burdell? And there was still something about the aero-ag school that bothered me.

  My cousin Pearlie was looking more like a concerned relative than the spiteful vixen who had landed at our home just a week ago. "Are you going back to the hospital today?"

  Her smile was wistful. "I will if I can trust you not to get into trouble—at least not until I get back."

  That got a grin out of me. "You make it sound like it was one big party."

  "It was! I haven't had this much excitement in my life since, well, forever."

  "It couldn't have been much fun—you had to shoot a man."

  She winked and cocked a finger at me. "Wouldn't have missed it for the world. I'm gonna be bored silly sitting in that hospital, waiting for Mad Dog to get better. You'll call if you there are any updates, okay?"

  Aunt Mae and my dad came out to watch Pearlie leave in the ugly, faded maroon rental.

  Aunt Mae said, "I thought we had a red Mustang."

  "Pearlie traded it in for the Taurus," I said.

  My aunt did a double take at my smile. "Really?"

  My dad took Aunt Mae by the arm and led her inside. "You know how girls are; they always have to have the newest thing."

  I stayed on the porch, looking up at small puffy clouds sailing over our tree tops, traveling east to west towards the Sierras. Beyond the Sierras was Reno, and south of Reno was Las Vegas. Las Vegas, where a small group of men had hired a ruthless and unforgiving killer. Caleb and the marshal were going to work hard to prove the man they had was guilty of murdering Arthur and Burdell Smith. But unless he confessed, or someone found concrete evidence, the character they had in county lock-up would get a few months in county and then be set free. The real killer would never be found. He and his cronies were going to get away with it.

  I called Caleb and asked if I could come see him. He agreed that a discussion was long overdue. There was no avoiding it. I was going to have to take my medicine, but I was hoping with a little contrite groveling, I might get him to tell me if the guy they had in the clink had confessed. If not, maybe I could make a case for revisiting the aero-ag school.

  <><><><>

  I was headed for the front door, my overnight bag in my hand, when my dad poked his head out of the TV room.

  "Where you going?"

  "To Caleb's."

  "You have a hundred acres of seed to fly tomorrow."

  I dropped the bag on the floor. "When did that come in?"

  "I promised Burdell's family we'd finish his season. Mad Dog had it half finished, the rigging is all set up for the seed, and the bags are next to his airstrip. The job shouldn't take more than a couple of hours."

  "That's good. I'll fly up there early tomorrow."

&n
bsp; My dad pulled on his ear, a sure sign he had a problem with my answer. "The Ag-Cat is at Burdell's place. His helpers have to be picked up, too."

  There wouldn't be enough time to go to Caleb's, talk, have some much needed makeup sex, and expect to get any more than a couple hours of sleep. I hadn't slept last night, and flying tomorrow on little or no sleep would be dangerous and stupid. "Have you heard anything about Burdell's funeral?"

  "They haven't released his body yet," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

  I reluctantly called Caleb and asked for a rain check.

  He said, "We can't put this off much longer, Lalla."

  Noting the tired exasperation in his voice did nothing to help my guilty feelings. "I know. Tomorrow, soon's I get home. First thing. I promise."

  <><><><><>

  With my dad's directions, I took the farm truck and drove north to Sacramento. I picked up the two young helpers, who crawled into the truck and promptly fell asleep.

  I took the dusty road to Burdell's property on King's Ranch Road, and kept my face averted from the path to the dark pond where Pearlie and I had found his body face-down in the water. I also tried not to think of Pearlie shooting Clark Sullivan, but didn't have much luck with that.

  I got in no more than half a dozen passes when the wind picked up. It would be a waste of seed to continue. I landed the plane, called the farmer, told him I'd stick around to try again in the afternoon, then called my dad and gave him an update.

  "Weather is changeable, but it's your call," he said.

  "I'll wait around for a few more hours. If I decide to stay I'll call you."