Revenge (A Travis Mays Novel)

by Mark Young

  “Look. All we know is Mrs. Robinette met privately with Tommy. I don’t buy your idea he was romantically involved. Steve Robinette was his friend. My brother just wasn’t that kind of guy.”

  “So, if Tommy is as straight as a monk why’d they go sneaking around at night?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she wanted legal advice and didn’t want anyone knowing about it.”

  “Right.” Lisa snorted. “Tommy meets a knock-down gorgeous lady late at night in his office-slash-bedroom to give legal help? What turnip truck did you fall off? I know what he was giving her and it wasn’t lawyerly advice.”

  “Watch it, Lisa. That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

  “I’m sorry, but this just doesn’t make sense.”

  “And that’s why I need to talk to Mrs. Robinette. I know Steve’s at work right now so this is a good time to corner her about the truth.”

  They turned off Highway 12 near Kamiah and drove onto a private road which wound up the mountainside in a gradual climb. They cleared the summit twenty minutes later.

  “Look at that view,” Lisa said. Beyond the mountain’s crest, valleys and other mountain ranges rippled across the horizon like ocean waves swelling up from a sea of green. “I could live with that view every morning.”

  The loose-gravel road hardened into black-tarred asphalt as they neared the Robinette residence. They drove past twin-brick columns, each red column acting as a support for a massive wrought-iron gate. The gate had been left open.

  “This is the place,” Jessie said. “Tommy brought me here a few years ago for a party. Steve’s wife was out of town at the time.”

  Lisa gasped. “Wow. This guy must have a few bucks. They live in a whole different stratosphere. Look at this place. This is movie star kind of stuff.”

  “Wait till you see inside. First time I saw their view from the living room, it took my breath away. You can see all the way down the Clearwater River for miles.”

  They followed the circular driveway, stopping next to a flagstone path leading to the entrance. Jessie knocked as Lisa peered through a window next to the door. “Someone’s coming.”

  “Lisa! Stop that.” Jessie scowled at her before hearing the latch click. A woman swung the door open. She looked exactly as Abigail described her.

  Jean Robinette.

  Jessie quickly took inventory. Long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, green eyes that looked back at her with interest, and a tan body that clearly expected to be pampered. The woman carried herself with elegance.

  “May I help you?”

  “Mrs. Robinette?” Jessie said, not sure where to begin.

  “Yes. And you are …”

  “I’m Jessie White Eagle and this is my friend, Lisa.” She hesitated for a moment. “My brother is … was Tommy White Eagle. May we come in for a moment?”

  Robinette’s eyes widened. “You’re Tommy’s …? Oh, I am so sorry to hear about your brother. Please, come in.” She swung the door wider. “Let’s go in the living room where we’ll be more comfortable.”

  As they entered, Jessie heard Lisa give a little gasp. She watched as her friend gaped at the view, her eyes as wide as Betty Boop’s. She turned her attention to Robinette. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Robinette. I was here a few years ago with my brother.”

  “Thank you, Jessie. Please call me Jean.”

  Jessie sat on a couch alongside Lisa while the woman took a chair opposite them. Beyond Jean, she saw the valley below. The noontime sun illuminated the mountains with rich colors — lushness of green foliage, aqua-blue skies and brown and gray rock formations.

  Leaning forward with crossed hands, Jessie took a deep breath. “To get right to the point, I’m looking into my brother’s death.”

  Jean glanced downward, straightening a magazine on the coffee table. “That sounds like a job for the police.”

  “My father is chief of the tribal police, as you may know. He and others are looking into the murder. I’m … I’m helping out when I can.”

  Lisa coughed.

  Jessie gave a quick glance toward her friend, her widened eyes and rigid expression signaling Lisa to shut up.

  She turned back to Jean and saw the woman studying her.

  “That sounds dangerous, Jessie. You never know what you’re going to come across. Did they send you here?”

  Jessie smiled. “I don’t think talking to you is all that dangerous. And, yeah, they know I’m interested in helping solve this case.” She shot a quick look at Lisa. Her friend tried to hide a smile.

  Jean clasped her hands, resting them in her lap. “How can I help?”

  “We’ve learned you met with my brother just before his death. Can you tell me what that was about?”

  Again, Jean began straightening the magazines. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake, Jessie. I wasn’t meeting your brother. Maybe someone mistakenly meant my husband. They’re friends, you know.”

  Jessie waited until Jean glanced up. “I’m not mistaken. Someone saw the two of you meeting several times, once late at night at Tommy’s office.”

  The woman dropped her gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. They’re wrong.”

  “They’re not mistaken. And they’d be willing to testify in court that —”

  “— Court?” Alarm flared in Jean’s eyes. “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Tommy.”

  Shifting on the couch, Jessie leaned back. “Look. I haven’t told the police about this yet. Just hoping you’d tell us what this was about without getting them involved. So we could — how does my father put it — determine whether it’s pertinent to the case. I mean, if you’re straight with us, maybe your involvement with my brother might never wind up in court.”

  Jean looked angry. “Jessie, you don’t know what you’re getting into. Leave it alone. Trust me. It had nothing to do with Tommy’s murder. Nothing!”

  Jessie felt herself getting angry. She stood, glaring down at the woman. “First you tell me there was nothing. Now you tell me whatever happened between you and Tommy had nothing to do with his murder. Are you lying now or were you lying a minute ago?”

  Jean stared back, speechless.

  Jessie hammered away. “I wanted to give you a chance to explain things. For Tommy’s sake. Some people might think there’s something going on —”

  “— There was nothing going on between us. Nothing.” Now Jean sprang up, facing Jessie. “And if anyone tells you otherwise … they’re lying.”

  “I know my brother. He was an honorable man. But I do know you two were meeting about something. Are you going to tell us what it was about?”

  Jean slumped down in the chair. “I can’t tell you. Please don’t ask.”

  Jessie looked at Lisa, gesturing with her head towards the front door. “Think about it, Jean. Sooner or later, I’m going to have to pass this information to my father. His people will be talking to you next time.”

  The woman just shook her head.

  “We’ll see ourselves out. You know how to reach me if you decide to come clean.”

  Jean’s eyes glistened. “You don’t know what you’re getting into. For your own sake, just leave it alone.”

  “I can’t. I have to know what happened.” She turned and stalked out of the house. Lisa followed her outside.

  This interview did not go as Jessie planned. She wound up with more questions and no answers. Jean Robinette knew something. Jean’s eyes told her so, the woman seemed too frightened to tell the truth. If she was not having an affair with Tommy, why was she scared?

  As Jessie walked toward Lisa’s car another question troubled her. What was she going to tell her father and Travis?

  She’d have to think about that for awhile.

  Chapter 31

  Lapwai, Idaho

  Less than an hour later, Travis and Frank drove into the secured Nez Perce police lot. An uneasy quietness marked their trip back from Steele’s office. Frank kept his th
oughts to himself. Travis left him alone, imagining what the older man must be thinking. It was good Frank never saw the crime scene photos.

  As they entered the police station, Francis waved them over. “Professor Mays, got a message from the university. They need you back pronto for some kind of seminar.”

  He started to wave it off, but Francis thrust a note toward him. “I promised I’d give it to you.”

  He glanced at the note and saw McPeters listed as the caller. Once in Frank’s office, he called the number Francis jotted down.

  “How’s real police work feel?” McPeters asked when the call went through.

  “What’s this about a seminar?” He did not feel like engaging McPeters in conversation. “You do know we’re in the middle of a homicide investigation?”

  “I know. I know. But this came straight from the top. The university hired a security firm from Seattle to conduct a threat assessment on each of the departments and provide training to selected members. You’re one of those they picked.”

  “I don’t have time for this, McPeters. Get someone else to fill in.”

  “No way, pal. This has something to do with the eco-terrorist threats we’ve received for some of the research projects WSU oversees. The bosses want you to attend because of your background with criminal intelligence work on groups like these. They want you to work with this guy from Seattle. His name is John Ares, head honcho of a company called Puget Sound Executive Protection.”

  “I’ll try to fit it —”

  “No way, Travis. They want you here. Now. It’ll only take a day or two.”

  “A day or two? I haven’t got time to waste.”

  “Let me put it another way, either you show up or you’re out of a job.”

  “You threatening me?”

  “Not me. The university. That’s how important they take these eco-terrorist threats. They’re willing to can your butt if you don’t show up. Your call, buddy.” The line went dead.

  Travis slammed the receiver down, turning toward Frank who was already seated behind his desk.

  “Hey, easy on the phone, partner.”

  Travis started pacing. “The university insists I return to campus for a couple days. There’s nothing I can do about it.” He passed on the threat from McPeters.

  “We’ll try to get along without you.”

  “You heard from Jessie yet?”

  “No. No one’s answering the phone.”

  Travis stopped pacing. “Maybe we ought to stop by and check on her.”

  “Not a good idea. I think she’s ticked off we didn’t let her tag along. I’d let her blow off a little steam first.” He looked up with a gleam in his eye. “Unless you wanna go round three with her.”

  He held up his hands. “I surrender. Let’s take a stab at the casino. See what we can dig up about Pete and Tommy before I head back to the university. You got a photo of that guy, Shane Foster?”

  Frank nodded, grabbing a file on his desk. “I had one of the guys work up a six-pack to include Foster’s mug and five other look-alikes.”

  “Great. Let’s see what we can come up with before I have to shoot over to Pullman.”

  “I’ll give Lafata a ring. Let him know what we’re up to.”

  “You really trust him, Frank?”

  “Yeah. At least until I catch him in a lie. So far, all he did was omit he knew about the San Diego lead.”

  “Yeah. And before we could speak to Axtell, someone torched the apartment and left a dead man behind. And this was after Lafata released Baptiste.”

  “I’m not ready to point any fingers yet. Let’s give him a chance.”

  “Whatever you want, Frank. It’s your call.”

  The Whitewater Casino sign towered above them as they pulled off Highway 12. The word ‘Casino’ in bright red neon lights drew motorists like moths to a flame. Vehicles were strewn around the parking lot in numbers that suggested the casino might be crowded.

  “I wonder what this place pulls in every year,” Travis said, watching a big rig pull out of the parking lot.

  Frank found a parking space some two-hundred yards from the entry. “I don’t have the exact figures on this place, but I know a few years ago they estimated that Indian gaming revenues nationwide were at about $12.2 billion, about ten percent of the total gaming industry in the United States. And I know the Whitewater brings in their fair share of profits. People travel all over eastern Washington and Central Idaho to lose money here.”

  “Don’t you get a percentage of that?”

  “I refuse to take any money.”

  “Why? It’s for your tribe. Your people. What do they call it, the new buffalo for the American Indian?”

  Frank’s face hardened. “Let’s just say I don’t like what it’s done to some of my people and leave it at that.”

  Travis wanted to pry, but he suspected further questioning would be met with silence. He remembered Jessie talking about her father’s feelings on the subject, that it was one of many things Frank and his son fought over. Not a good subject to raise at the moment.

  Frank turned toward him before they entered the casino, “Let me take point in here. I know the people. And let’s try to ask our questions before Robinette intervenes. He was Tommy’s friend, but he also runs this place and wants to protect it. Agreed?”

  Travis nodded, following him through the lobby. Frank waved at several employees working near the front door. The employees waved back, then focused on Travis with curiosity. Frank and Travis cut through the main floor. Sound enveloped them — music pounding, drinking glasses clinking, and one-armed bandits clattering — like a swelling symphonic crescendo never easing up. Just the noise itself added to the excitement of this place.

  They took an elevator to the second floor. Frank led him down a hallway to the rear of the building and into an office marked Financial Services. He saw a list of names on the directory. The older man followed his gaze. “I wonder if that was where Pete Axtell’s name used to be,” Frank said, pointing to a space where one name appeared to have been removed.

  The police chief opened the door. Behind the front desk, a young man sat as if his backside was taped to a steel rod. He had dark wavy hair, combed straight back, and dark penetrating eyes that looked back at them with mounting interest.

  “Chuck, how’s business?” Frank said, extending his hand.

  The young man shook Frank’s hand, glancing over at Travis. “Just fine. Just fine. How can I help you, Chief?”

  “Could you show us where Pete Axtell used to sit? We’re still working a missing person’s case on him and thought we might poke around where he worked.”

  Chuck grimaced. “Mr. Robinette know you’re here?”

  “I’m sure he wants to cooperate with our investigation, Chuck. After all, Pete is an employee. Right?”

  The young man pursed his lips. “I don’t know, Frank. Mr. Robinette is really …”

  “Come on, Chuck. You want us to drag Mr. Robinette all the way down here just so he can tell you to let us look around?”

  “I guess, if Mr. Robinette is helping you —”

  “Now you’re cooking with gas, Chuck. Just point us in the right direction and you can get back to work.”

  Chuck seemed to relent. They followed the younger man down a hallway that opened up into a large room. They heard the hum of voices. The room looked like a giant waffle with rows of cubicles, each with its desk and computer work station. Travis felt like he was looking at an accounting sweatshop. Each work station was partially enclosed with three-quarter partitions, allowing each desk some modicum of privacy. Travis saw several heads over the partitions, people working within their little portioned-off worlds, fingers typing away on keyboards.

  “Here’s his desk, Chief. Just as he left it.”

  “Thanks, Chuck. We’ll show ourselves out.”

  The young man lingered.

  “We’ll be fine, Chuck.” Frank said. “Want us to let you know when we take off?
”

  Chuck nodded, apparently understanding he’d been dismissed. Travis bet the young man would call Robinette the moment he got back to his desk. They had ten or fifteen minutes at best.

  He pulled up a chair and sat next to Frank. They were just starting to open drawers when a young woman’s face appeared over the partition. “I thought I heard someone over here. Oh, hi Frank. Still looking for Pete?”

  Frank nodded. “Yeah, Cleo. By the way, how’s your mom?”

  Travis saw the girl’s eyes soften. “She’s doing better, Frank. Thanks for asking. Brought her home from the hospital a few days ago. One of my sisters took off work to stay with her until mom is back on her feet.”

  Frank nodded and started to turn back to search Pete’s desk. Travis saw the girl looking around for a moment.

  “Frank,” she said, whispering. Travis moved closer, seeing Frank do the same. “Have you spoken to Pete’s girlfriend? She might be helpful.”

  Frank looked puzzled. “Girlfriend? I didn’t know …”

  Cleo squinted at them with a look of conspiracy. “Nobody’s supposed to know. Pamela Redfeather’s the name. Night janitor at the elementary school.”

  “Yeah, I know Pam.”

  “She and Pete are sneaking around like they don’t want anybody to know they’re together.” Her eyebrows danced as she smiled. “For the life of me, I don’t know why they wanted to keep it a big secret. Everybody knows.”

  “Thanks. We’ll check it out.”

  Cleo looked past them in alarm, disappearing into her cubicle like a rabbit returning her safe warren.

  “Can I help you, Frank?” Steve Robinette stood frowning down at them. “I was told you’re here looking for information.”

  Chuck wasted no time calling the boss.

  Frank stood. “Just following up on Pete’s disappearance, Steve. Didn’t think you’d mind us looking around here.”

  “I want to help you, Frank, but I can’t have you going through Pete’s desk. He was one of our accountants, working on sensitive financial records that we just can’t share. It would be a violation of our customers’ privacy.”

  “Would a warrant get us into his desk?”