by Robena Grant
“You got it babe. Soon as I’m done at Three C’s, I’ll be over to your place. You’ll have me for the rest of the day.”
He shoved his cell into his pocket and pulled the hotel room door shut. A flash of movement caused him to turn just as the stairwell door eased shut. He slipped the gun out of the holster and into his jacket pocket, keeping his right hand on it. I don’t think so, buddy.
Jack ran down the hall and pressed the elevator button. Then with long, light steps, he moved along the carpeted hallway and into the stairwell, being careful to ease the door closed behind him. Somewhere below another door closed with a bang. He took the stairs two at a time, down to the mezzanine level, and using a large plant to screen his body, glanced over the railing. An old guy, with a freshly shaven head, stepped out of the elevator on the floor below and pressed his back up against a wall while surveying the lobby.
Jack knew that trick. Wait until the person hit the elevator button, zip down the stairwell, and get on the elevator at a lower floor, and then casually follow your target out to the parking lot. With a satisfied smirk, he observed the old guy for a few moments, and then dialed Stanton.
“Dave,” he said, and kept his voice low. “I’ve got a tail. Are you on your way over?”
“Yeah, is it the guy from last night?”
“I can’t be sure.”
“Listen, I’m in the black and white…change of plans, sorry. I have to head into work after the meeting. That gonna be a problem?”
“Nah, I’ll figure out a plan.”
From this distance, Jack couldn’t be sure if it was the white-haired guy from last night, but his bald head shone like a full moon. For someone from the desert, that freckle-free head hadn’t seen much sun. The guy moved around the lobby, checked a couple of long hallways and the small café bar, and then sauntered out through the front glass doors and stood on the pavement. A few moments later, he jogged out into the parking lot. Jack could see his shiny white head as he darted in and around the parked cars.
Five minutes later, Dave pulled up under the canopy in the hotel driveway, and Jack slipped out the front door. Once outside, he took a quick look around but couldn’t see the old guy anywhere. He stood for a moment behind a concrete pillar and pulled his jacket off and shoved it over his head. Rather than sit up front, he climbed into the back of the black and white and slumped down in the seat.
Dave glanced back at him. “What do you want me to do?”
“Circle the lot a couple of times. Hey, have you got a hat, anything I can cover my head with?”
Dave shrugged. “Nah.”
Jack sank low in the seat. “Fine, this will do.” He pulled the jacket tighter over his head, and stayed slumped in the seat. “The guy’s got a shaved head and he’s Caucasian, sixty to sixty-five years old, craggy features, wearing beige slacks and a blue shirt.”
“Okay.” Stanton eased the car out from under the canopy.
“If it’s the same guy, but with a quick haircut, he was in a black SUV on Saturday night.” Jack thought about that for a minute. “Who knows about today, eh? Today he’s lost the hair, so probably the vehicle too.”
“You could be right,” Stanton said.
After several turns around the parking lot no bald-headed guy or black SUV could be found. They decided to head on out to Three C’s. Jack remained in the back, just in case. He dialed Debbie’s number. “Deb, listen. I can’t explain now, but is there any way you can close up shop until I get there?”
“We have one client in the spa at the moment, and my assistant is almost finished…then, let me see, one at eleven, then lunch.”
“Can you cancel the eleven o’clock?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Do it. Put a ‘be back later’ sign in your door. Lock it and stay put, and stay out of sight. Okay?”
“Yes, but—”
“If an old white guy with a bald head shows up, call me, and the cops. Do not open the door under any conditions. In fact, don’t answer the business phone, we’ll communicate by cell. Got it?”
“Okay.”
“Hang in there babe. We’ll be over right after the Cabrera meeting.”
“I don’t understand, if something’s wrong, why not cancel that meeting? It isn’t important anymore is it?”
He heard the sudden hitch in her voice.
“Tell her I’ll call for a deputy to patrol the mall,” Dave said, and reached for the radio.
“I’m not sure about the usefulness of the meeting, or the bald-headed guy, but I’ve got to follow all leads,” Jack said, reassuring her. “It seems this dude knows more about my actions than he should. I’m sticking to my plans. I want to catch the bastard.”
“Okay, sure,” she said, her voice soft.
“I’ll explain it all later. You’ll be safe. I’m covering all possibilities. Oh, and Dave has radioed in for an officer to patrol through Old Town.”
He hung up before he dug a giant hole for himself. He’d almost said, love ya babe. How long had it been since he’d thought in those terms? And what was it about Debbie that brought out all of his protective instincts? After his near mishap with marriage, one that would have been a huge catastrophe, he’d kept a certain distance between himself and his female acquaintances.
He’d known Debbie Williams for a few days, if he counted seeing her at city hall. And he did. He’d known in that instance that he wanted to know her better. What was it about her that had him acting like this? He’d come here to revenge Juan’s death, and now he acted like a bodyguard to Debbie and tried to find ways not to include her daughter in his investigation. He’d turned soft.
Memories of Juan blotted out the sage brush and the flat desert landscape that flashed by the car windows. It made good sense that this old guy and Trig were connected. He wondered again about the white van. Maybe the guy owned that? He looked around, about to suggest they go back and scan the lot for a white van, but he knew that would be fruitless. The guy would be long gone. They had nothing else to go on. And they had an appointment.
He swore softly. Dave gave a quick glance over his shoulder but was wise enough to say nothing. Jack turned and gazed out the window again. If he had to use Janelle to get information, he’d do that. She was the perfect lead into Trigger’s world. He’d made a promise when he’d identified Juan’s body. But would Debbie ever forgive him?
Chapter Fifteen
After canceling the eleven o’clock massage appointment, plus assuring the client she’d give her a coupon for a free dolphin therapy session, Debbie grabbed a piece of computer paper and a black felt pen. Closed for business, family emergency, she wrote in large letters. Then she taped the sign above the closed sign and told her two employees to go home for the day, using the same excuse that she had a personal emergency.
Both massage therapists seemed curious, but didn’t argue the point, probably because she’d brushed off their questions this morning about the broken window.
Debbie called and canceled the two afternoon appointments and tried not to grimace at the loss of money, and the fact that she’d have to shell out more coupons or freebies of some nature. She turned off the lights, picked up her glasses, and grabbed a legal pad and a pen.
Once inside the dolphin treatment room, she left the lights off and stretched out on the bed, trying to recall everything she could about her business, and blotting out the visions of the night before when she’d moaned in Jack’s arms. She couldn’t concentrate. After making a few notations, she dialed Janelle’s cell number.
“Are you still at Rachel’s house?”
“Yes, what’s up? I intended calling before going to work.”
“Honey, it might be best if you stay away from the bar today. I don’t want to alarm you or anything, but—”
“But what? What’s going on?”
“Well, it seems this involves me, or at least my business. It has to do with that murder.”
“You’re kidding me!”
&nb
sp; “Seriously,” Debbie said with emphasis. “Now stay calm, and listen.”
“Are you okay, Mom?” Janelle asked, the pitch of her voice rising. “Where are you?”
Debbie heard Ralph yipping in the background, and Rachel telling him to quiet down while Janelle fired a dozen questions her way. They were all talking so loudly Debbie could hardly keep her thoughts together.
“Janelle,” she said, loudly. She waited a second or two until she figured she had her daughter’s full attention. “I’m locked inside the spa. Jack and Dave are coming over here after meeting with Zeke. It seems someone, probably that guy who tried to break in Saturday night, has Jack concerned. He had me cancel appointments.”
“We’re coming over,” Janelle said.
“No! Don’t do that.”
“Hey,” Janelle said.
She could hear Janelle and Rachel fighting over the cell phone.
“Debbie, tell me what’s up,” Rachel said.
She quickly relayed the story, and mentioned the connection to Wendy and Betty Blue’s boutique. Not that she knew much of anything. It was pure speculation on her part.
“So, here’s the plan,” Rachel said. “Me, Janelle, and Ralph, will go to the boutique. We’ll do some shopping. You know, check out if the bald dude—”
“Absolutely not!” Debbie shouted. Shit. She closed her eyes and tried to stop the pounding in her head by breathing slowly, deeply. “Look, that could put you and Janelle in danger.”
“Well, what about you?” Rachel asked. “You’re in danger.”
“I’m fine. The placed is closed up and—”
“And some fucker tried to break in on Saturday night. What’s to stop him from smashing the glass front door and walking in? You’re a sitting duck if ever there was one.”
“Oh.” Debbie sucked in a breath, and then she blew it out in a slow controlled manner. She hadn’t thought about that.
“Sorry babe, you okay?” Rachel asked.
Tears pricked behind Debbie’s eyelids and she blinked hard. Rachel was so right, and she was so damn scared. If she left the spa she could be followed by that mad man, and maybe be run off the road, or be shot at. Jack had asked her to stay put, but fear made her want to run—
“We’ll be there in five. I’ll drive the old truck, just in case the dude knows my Mustang. Janelle can wear my brown wig, and I’ll put on a hat. We’ll come in through the back door, but we’ll call on the cell when we park.”
“Okay,” Debbie said. She could hear the thrill in Rachel’s voice. She was always up for adventure. Janelle would be in her element too, capturing exciting feelings, and information for her novel. “Put Janelle back on.”
“Mom?”
“Yeah, listen honey, if you see anyone suspicious, like an old white bald-headed guy, or if you see Trigger, do not stop. Don’t come into the spa. Keep driving, and go directly to the police sub-station in Old Town.”
“Sure. It’s going to be fine, Mom. See you in five.”
“Love you, babe.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
****
A huge buffet had been spread out before them, but Jack could hardly eat a thing. He needed to get back to the spa. Besides, he wanted to wait and eat lunch with Debbie. He’d been at Three C’s for almost an hour and was feeling itchy. He had to suppress his relief when the agent stood and apologized.
“I’m sorry, but I need to get back to the office.”
He shook hands with her, thanked her for showing him the adjacent property, and told her he’d be in touch later in the week. Dena walked her out to the front driveway.
“You satisfied she’ll do a good job?” Zeke asked.
Jack nodded. “Yep. And now it’s official. I’m a cowboy from Montana, and I’m here looking for property.”
“And you’re old college buddies,” Dave said, looking from Zeke to Jack. He took a slurp of coffee. “What’s our next plan?”
“I’ll get together with our young agent later in the week, and then we’ll look at some other land. It’ll give me better cover,” Jack said. “There’s a property in Twenty Nine Palms that I want to see. She might be able to give me some insight into Trigger and his family, he lives out that way.”
Stanton’s cup clattered on the saucer spilling a bit of liquid. Jack tilted his head the slightest bit. Strange, what had caused the deputy to react like that? He filed the memory away for future reference and continued. “She might also be able to introduce me to some of the locals.”
“Good idea,” Zeke said.
Jack realized Zeke had not picked up on anything odd about Dave Stanton. He watched both men for a second or two. He’d known many socially inept guys in his field, they knew their way around a gun, but give them a cup and saucer, or a wine glass and a plate of canapés, and they were all thumbs. “Dave will spread the word around here that I’m looking.”
“Yeah,” Dave said, leaning forward and putting the cup and saucer carefully onto the table. “I’ll ask everyone the same thing, hey, you know of a decent sized land parcel for sale?”
Zeke grinned. “Nothing will compare to the one right behind my place, it’s perfect. It was my only competitor’s citrus farm.”
“You hadn’t mentioned that last night,” Jack said and frowned at Zeke. “You mean it’s the guy who—” He clamped his jaw shut and glanced away, recalling one of the murdered women was Dena’s sister. She’d walked back, carrying a sleepy baby in her arms. He cleared his throat.
“It was Cyril Johnston’s place,” Dena said softly, rocking the baby in her arms. “He murdered my sister Carli, and Zeke’s high school sweetheart, Susie. You probably read about the case last year.”
Jack nodded. “You were instrumental in flushing him out.”
“I had Dave and Zeke and Rocky’s help. It wasn’t only my doing.”
“Your perseverance,” Dave said, and flicked one eyebrow skyward. “You were quite the amateur sleuth.”
“And now I’ve gone pro.” She smiled back at Dave, and then ran a hand gently across the top of the baby’s head. “Yeah, and look what all that sleuthing got me,” she said, and reached down for Zeke’s hand as he reached up for hers. “A husband, and a baby.”
“A whole new career,” Zeke said, and squeezed her hand. “Why don’t you put her back in the crib, or give her to Irma?”
“I will, in a minute,” Dena said softly, and cast another contented gaze over the baby, and then she lowered her eyes and smiled at Zeke. “I love this stage when she’s fed and cozy and almost asleep.”
Jack wondered what it would be like to have that kind of love, to have a family. Debbie’s face flashed before him, and he smiled, surprising his jaded self. Dena went inside, and Jack felt a sense of loss that confounded him. Damn, he was acting all out of character. He turned his thoughts away from Debbie and babies, and chatted with the guys about land, and farming, and life in the Coachella Valley.
“You’re not much of an eater are you, Jack?” Dena asked when she returned and slipped back into the seat opposite him.
He shrugged. “I’ve got a lunch date.”
“He’s smitten with Debbie Williams,” Dave said with a smirk.
Dena moved forward in the plush patio chair, both eyebrows raised in question. Then her face broke into a huge grin. “Really…you know I thought I detected that last night. But she turned cool, so I figured I’d imagined whatever it was. How long has this been going on?”
Jack stared at the floor. “It hasn’t. I barely know her.”
Dave laughed, and Jack felt heat tickle the back of his neck. Big deal if they were all looking at him. Smitten? Was he? Does it show? He reached for his water glass, and took a long drink.
“Well, I have a phone call to make,” Dena said, and stood. She winked at Jack. “Girl talk. You guys discuss your business, and let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.”
“Ah, do you mean you’re going to call Debbie?” Jack asked, rubbing at his
jaw.
Dena nodded.
Zeke grinned, and shook his head.
“Ah, look,” Jack said. He held her inquisitive gaze. “I’d rather you wait until tomorrow. I want…no, I need her to keep that business line closed, and her cell—”
“Is she in some kind of danger?” Dena stepped back, and then sat on the edge of the chair, leaning forward her eyes fixed on his face.
Hell. Jack eyed her. She was sensitive and intelligent, the makings of a great PI. “I can’t confide anything. It’s an ongoing investigation. But you know that someone tried to break into the spa on Saturday night. There may be a connection to Debbie.”
“The murder case,” Dena said, and snapped her thumb and middle finger making a sharp sound. She shot Zeke a quick look. “I told you when the body was discovered that there was a connection to—”
“To what?” Jack moved forward.
She raised both hands, pressed her lips tight for a moment. “Oh, what the hell, I could be wrong. I don’t really have any evidence, but one of our workers told me a couple of months ago about a new drug on the club scene. It was cut with drugs out of Cancun.”
Jack sat bolt upright, and he flashed a knowing glance at Dave. His heart pounded. He knew all about that drug. But it didn’t come from Cancun. It came from Juan’s cousin’s compound. So there was a drug connection to this town. Interesting. “What does that have to do with Debbie?”
“She and Rachel visited Cancun, and they did the videotapes there for the dolphin therapy.”
“When was this?” Jack kept his right hand from rubbing at the throbbing pulse in his temple. Cancun? Had he been played for a fool?
“Four months ago. The dolphin therapy is new. I think she started it in September, in time for the new season.”
“New season?” Jack took a deep breath, calmed the fear that swamped his gut.
“Yes,” Zeke said. “This is a seasonal town.” He put his coffee cup back on the saucer. “Our tourists arrive in October, and they leave in March or April.”
Was innocent looking Debbie Williams linked to the drug trade? Jack scrubbed a hand over his jaw. What the hell did this mean?
