by V. B. Tenery
Locke leaned back in his chair and fingered a ceramic coaster on his desk. “We drove out early Friday morning, then drove back to Twin Falls late Monday morning. We got home around noon.”
“Did you win?” Davis asked.
Locke chuckled. “Does anyone? It was just an extended guys’ night out; a harmless way to let off steam.”
“You picked a really bad weekend for your outing,” Turner said.
“Yeah, but the bad weather didn’t hit until after we arrived at the casino. I guess braving the elements is a guy thing.”
Turner nodded her head. “I guess it is. So, you and Bauer were together all weekend?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you have a copy of your hotel bill?”
“Sure, it’s right here.” He pulled out the desk’s center drawer and retrieved a piece of paper. “I’ll have Bree make you a copy. Any reason the police are so interested in the trip?”
“We’re just verifying the whereabouts of people close to the Davenport family,” Davis said. “You read about their murders?”
“Yes, sad business.”
Davis moved on. “What can you tell us about Jim Bauer? What kind of guy is he?”
“Jim’s okay. He knows everything there is to know about guns and surviving off the land. He’s a crack shot with a hand gun or a rifle. On the downside, he’s somewhat racist.” Locke quickly added, probably because Davis was black. “Which I don’t agree with, but he’s not confrontational. Keeps it to himself.”
“How long have you known Mr. Bauer?” Davis asked.
“About eight years. He’s an attorney, and he referred a couple of clients my way. That led to drinks after work. We both like to hunt, and a friendship developed.”
A woman in the doorway caught their attention; the woman in the photograph on Locke’s desk. “Oh, sorry to interrupt, Honey. I was in town and thought we could have lunch together.”
“Sure thing, as soon as I’m finished here. Ask Bree to come back. I need her to make a copy for me.”
She left and Bree appeared in the doorway. “I tried to stop her from coming back, Earl.”
“No problem, Bree. She’s my wife. She can come back whenever she wants.” He handed her the hotel bill. “Make a copy of this for the detectives, please.”
Bree didn’t look happy, but took the bill and went back up front. She returned moments later and handed a copy to Turner.
“Anything else we need to know about Bauer, Mr. Locke?” Davis asked.
He shook his head. “Can’t think of anything.”
“Thank you for your time.” Davis rose and handed Locke his card. “If you think of anything that might be helpful, give me a call.”
They passed Mrs. Locke in the lobby. She was sending frosty glares at Bree.
On the way back to the car, Turner glanced at him and grinned.
“What?”
“I’m thinking Locke’s having an affair with the secretary.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Did you notice Bree seemed a little possessive?”
“No.”
“That, Davis, is why women make good detectives. Where are we going for lunch?”
“Your choice, as long as it isn’t fast food or deep fried.”
*****
Over lunch, Turner said, “So Bauer is a racist-slash-survivalist. Think it has any connection to the case?”
“No, and the two are not mutually inclusive. Most survivalists aren’t racists. They’re just men who don’t like the direction this country is headed and want to protect their families—whatever comes down the pike; and, yeah, clinging to their guns and Bibles.”
“A little paranoid, if you ask me,” Turner said.
“Look around you, Turner, at what’s happening in the world, and tell me they’re wrong. I wonder how the anti-gun crowd would feel about guns if they met an ISIS terrorist coming towards them with an ax or a machete.”
“You have a hidey-hole, Davis?”
“No, but I have a cabin in the backwoods of East Texas, a year’s supply of MREs, and an AK-15.”
“You’re kidding.”
“For now, but maybe not for long.”
“How did you like being a Marine, Davis?”
“You never stop being a Marine. I was in for eight years. Did two tours in Iran and one in Afghanistan.”
“Why did you leave?”
“It’s complicated. The Marines are the best fighting unit anywhere. But there are some internal problems they need to work out.”
“Like what?”
“Hazing. Maybe it happens in all service branches, but I can only speak for the Marines.”
“I thought hazing was outlawed.”
“It has been on paper. But, believe me, it still exists. Recruits don’t dare complain or it gets worse. Just before I finished boot, twelve corporals took me out and told me I had to fight them all, one at a time. By the time I got to the eleventh man, I was so tired I could barely lift my arms. The last two guys took it easy on me, but I was still sore for a week.”
“Do you think it was a racist thing?”
Davis shook his head. “No, two of the corporals were black, and two white guys in my unit went through the same thing. In my opinion, it’s just a bunch of sadistic punks taking advantage of their rank. Recruits enlist to fight the enemy. They shouldn’t have to fear their own noncoms.”
He finished the meal and pushed back his chair. “But that was then and this is now. And we have a killer to catch. Different battle, different rules of engagement.”
Turner sent him a cheeky grin. “Well, I’m glad those bullies didn’t mess up your pretty face.”
He emitted a deep laugh. “Yeah, that would have been a real shame.”
It only took an hour to cover Eden Russell’s neighborhood. The only significant information he and Turner gathered was that Bauer had moved his clothes and other belongings into the condo three weeks ago. Most of the residents thought they were married or living together.
Christensen Memorial Park
Twin Falls, Texas
Matt met up with Davis and Turner at the funeral home to attend the Davenport services. The clan opted for a small, intimate group of family members.
Art and Kathy Davenport were laid to rest on a hill overlooking the cemetery, no trees or shelter to block the brisk, cold wind.
Matt got his first look at James Bauer, who stuck close to Eden’s side. The two were basically ignored by the rest of the family, except for Jim’s mother, Amy. Strange that the two were being shunned. Did the family share his suspicions that Bauer and Eden were somehow involved in the murders, or were they simply embarrassed by the close relationship of two cousins?
After the interment, Matt shook hands with Dr. Davenport, and then hugged Judith Bittermann, who stood beside her nieces, Claire and Taylor. This was also Matt’s first meeting with the youngest Davenport. Unlike her older sisters, twelve-year-old Taylor apparently resembled her father, with dark hair and hazel eyes. She had the lanky figure of a pre-teen, with the bone structure of a future beauty. Her face revealed more anger than grief. Who could blame her? She’d lost both parents in one awful day.
Claire wore a somber countenance befitting the occasion, her posture ramrod straight. A scowl wrinkled her patrician brow when Matt stopped to offer his condolences. “I expect you to find out who killed my parents, Chief. For this to happen to…” She gulped a breath, “is unconscionable. I expect a quick resolution and justice for my family.”
Before Matt could respond, Judge Bittermann threaded her arm through Claire’s. “I know you’re hurting, Claire, we all are. These things don’t solve themselves overnight. It takes time. Matt has the best team of investigators in the state. If this case can be solved, Matt will do it.”
“Thank you, Judge,” Matt said, then looked directly into the young woman’s eyes. “Be assured, we’re putting all our efforts into finding the people responsible.”
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nbsp; He pulled on his leather gloves and turned to leave when Taylor hurried over to him. She looked young, sad, and lost. “Chief, are you really going to find out who killed my mom and dad?”
“You heard what I told your sister. I meant every word of it.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Do you know anything that might help?”
She chewed at her lower lip, and then glanced back at Claire and Judge Bittermann. With a slow shake of her head, she turned and rejoined her family.
After the funereal crowd dispersed, Matt strolled over to the Grayson mausoleum, a great white edifice built to house the earthly remains of the Grayson family, the victims of a mass murder last year. Matt hadn’t been here since the monument’s construction. The building was impressive, as was the man whose family lay inside.
He opened the door and entered. In the center of the crypt stood a six-foot marble angel statue, its wings draped forward, its head bowed. The angel’s hands held an eternal flame censer.
A bronze plaque, engraved Ethan Grayson, drew Matt’s attention. He walked over and read the inscription under the plaque, a line from Mark Anthony’s speech at Julius Caesar’s burial. “Here was a man, when comes such another?”
Matt swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, remembering the gentle man who had been his friend.
The outside door opened, and Jack McKinnon stepped inside. He startled, then chuckled. “You scared me out of my wits, Matt. Of the many times I’ve been here, I’ve never run into another soul.”
“Sorry, I was here for the Davenport funeral and thought I’d pay my respects.”
Jack nodded. “Me too, although I come here frequently to visit Victoria.”
Matt understood. He had visited his own wife’s grave often after her death. “I’ve been meaning to call on you, to ask a few questions about the morning of the murders. Is there any way Eden could have left your home before six a.m. without your knowledge?”
“Is she a suspect?” He shook his head. “Guess you can’t answer that. I’d like to help, Matt, but Eden was there all night.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because her car was still in the garage, no snow or ice on it.”
“Could someone have picked her up?”
Jack punched his hands into his overcoat pockets, and kept his eyes on his boots. “No, Matt. She spent the night in my bed.”
“I thought you said there was nothing serious between you two.”
Jack flashed an angry glance at Matt. It quickly receded, replaced by embarrassment. “There isn’t. And I’ve cut her loose. Look, it was her idea and…that’s no excuse and I know it. I’m not proud of myself for letting it happen. I’ve been kicking myself ever since. Vic would be disappointed. She deserved better from me.”
“You don’t have to explain, Jack. It’s your life. But I would caution you, don’t let your loss and your grief lead you places you don’t want to go.”
CHAPTER 9
Thursday, The Foley Residence
Twin Falls, Texas
When Matt steered his Escalade into the driveway, Shannon Connelly’s Lexus sat in the circular drive.
He entered through the garage and walked into the living room.
Sara sat on the sofa in her robe and pajamas, thick brown hair tousled around her face, hazel eyes glaring at Shannon.
Her gaze found him as he hung his coat in the hall closet. She grabbed a handful of tissues from a box on the coffee table and stumbled across the floor, into his arms. “Matt, I’m so glad you’re home. Sham…Sam…Shannon’s being mean. She won’t let me go outside, and I’m hot.”
“Well, good for Shannon. You should be in bed, not outside.”
Shannon released a breath and plunked down on the sofa. “I’ve practically had to sit on her for the past hour to keep her inside.”
“See, she’s…mean,” Sara said.
He raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on, Shannon?”
She grinned and shook her head. “I made tequila sunrise cocktails in a plastic container and set it in the fridge to chill. Sara came down thirsty, thought it was orange juice, and…”
He expelled a long breath of irritation. “She’s drunk?”
Shannon lost her smile and winced. “I’m afraid so, and it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and lifted Sara into his arms. “Come on, my tipsy one. I’ll take you up to bed.”
Sara put both arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you, Matt. The orange juice tasted ba-a-ad.”
“Yeah, she only drank two glasses.” Shannon tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Matt said, heading for the stairs. “I’m not sure what effect this will have on her flu.”
Sara nuzzled her head against his neck. “I love you, Matt. Mmmm, you smell nice.”
“I love you, too, babe.”
“Everybody doesn’t love me.”
“Tell me who doesn’t love you, and I’ll shoot’em.”
“Stella doesn’t love me.” Sara pushed a curtain of hair away from her face and wagged a shaky finger in front of her face. “She was mean to Danny, and I made her stop.”
“Well, I may have to rethink shooting Stella. She’s been around for a while. Do you want me to talk to her?”
“Nope, I fixed it.”
He suddenly realized he hadn’t seen Stella. “You fixed it, huh? I don’t have any dead bodies in the house, do I?”
She giggled, “Noooo, silly.”
Upstairs, he sat her on the bed and helped her off with her robe. “How do you feel?”
She still had her arms around his neck. “I love you, Matt and…ohhhhh…I’m going to be sick…”
He grabbed a nearby wastebasket and held it while she regurgitated the offending orange juice and everything else she had eaten that day. When she finished, she lay back against the pillows and moaned. He grabbed a clean set of pajamas and handed them to her. “Get into these and I’ll get a cool washcloth for your face.”
When he returned, she stood, waving like a leaf in the wind.
“Need some help?”
“I don’t think show,” she lisped.
“I beg to differ. You’re buttoned up wrong.” He sat her on the bed and re-buttoned her top. When he’d finished, she slumped back against the pillows. He tucked the covers under her chin and positioned the cloth on her brow, then stayed with her until she fell asleep.
Confident she was resting peacefully, he picked up the offensive wastebasket and headed for the dumpster.
*****
What now? Shannon paced as she waited for Matt to come back inside. She was in for a well-deserved tongue lashing. However unintentional, she had made her friend’s illness worse.
There was no liquor in the Foley household. And she knew why. After the death of his parents, he’d been raised by an abusive, alcoholic uncle.
Well before she’d finished beating herself up, the door opened, and she met his gaze across the room. “Do you want me to leave?”
Matt motioned her toward the sofa, then sat beside her, his arms crossed, brow furrowed. “Not unless you had planned to leave when I got home.” A long silence fell between them before he spoke again. “You know how I feel about liquor in my home. And it’s even more important now with the children around. They would have made the same mistake Sara did. You know I have no problem with folks who drink responsibly, but that doesn’t mean I want it where I live. I know you love Sara, and would never deliberately harm her…”
“I’m sorry, Matt, very sorry. I just didn’t think; one of my big character flaws.”
“No need to keep apologizing. I accepted the first one. All I ask is that, in the future, you respect the house rules.”
She stood, and silence fell again. “How could I forget? Guess I’ll go home to Colin. He’s usually around to keep me straight. By the way, I dumped the orange juice. I’ll be back tomorrow, if you still want me.”
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sp; He walked her to the door and opened it, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Absolutely. Tomorrow you get to pay for your sins. She’ll probably have a terrific hangover, plus she still has the flu. She’ll be a very bad patient.” He planted a kiss on her brow. “Drive safely.”
She gazed into his serious brown eyes. “How did you get to be so wise?”
He gave a sheepish grin. “I’ve always surrounded myself with wise people.”
Friday, Twin Falls Police Station
Twin Falls, Texas
The meeting in the detective bureau lasted only fifteen minutes. Nothing new to report, except that Bauer and Eden Russell had solid alibis. Matt wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but it was what it was.
He returned to his office and found a note from Doug Anderson, asking that he call when he got a chance. He grabbed the phone and speed-dialed the city manager’s number. “What’s up, Doug?”
“You have an opening in IAD?”
“Yes. One of my men in Internal Affairs is leaving in April.”
“Our mayor wants to install his brother-in-law, Luther Donnell, in that vacancy.”
Even though his boss couldn’t see him, Matt shook his head. “It’s not happening, Doug. Hall tried once before to get that guy into the department. Human Resources checked him out. At the time he applied, we didn’t know he was related to Hall. The man has been a problem in every place he’s worked. The last thing Internal Affairs needs is an insecure cop with a grudge against other law enforcement officers. Have HR send you a copy of their report.”
“Think about it, Matt. It would go a long way towards easing tension between the mayor’s office and the police department.”
“I don’t want to play politics with this station or my people. If I’m forced to hire the man, I’ll also have to hire someone to keep an eye on him. That’s hardly cost-effective.”
Matt heard a deep sigh on the other end of the line. A sigh of frustration. “Just think about it, Matt. That’s all I ask.”
