“Yes,” Evelyn Rhodes answered. “But actually, I brought all my inspection records, my receipts for the past five years, if that will help. I have glowing reports on every one of them. And they are all signed and dated.”
“Excellent,” Rachel said. “Now how about these threats that were mentioned?”
“I was there,” Clayton spoke for the first time. “This Mister Poindexter threatened to call the Health Department and closer down the next day if she didn’t accept his latest offer. He even said he could have the entire building condemned if he had to. Said some other things as well, but I can’t remember them offhand. Something about being up against the big dogs, whatever that meant, and something about the major league, and something about hardball.”
“Okay, good. Everything helps because this is going to be an uphill battle and we need all the ammunition we can get. Try to remember that conversation with Poindexter verbatim, every word, if you can, and then write them down so you don’t forget them again.”
“How will I pay for all of this?” Evelyn asked. “I don’t have a lot of money saved and I know your fees along with the court costs can be in the thousands.”
“Don’t you worry about that Evelyn,” Rachel said. “The thing to do right now is to get these people off your back, right? Besides I doubt this is going to court. I think we have enough right here to have this notice of closure overturned. It just might take a while.”
After the meeting Rachel wanted to see the restaurant, so Henry drove Clayton and mama Rhodes back to the restaurant while Rachel followed in her car. After the grantor they all sat down and had a fine steak dinner with all the trimmings.
Charlene had to tell Rachel how it came about that she was nicknamed Tag, of course, and everyone agreed it was a very nice story. They opened a bottle of mama’s best wines and everybody peach color and ice cream. The party broke up around 8:30. Henry had the rest of the night off, Clayton Road with Rachel and her BMW back to her place in Silver Spring.
“Someone poisoned my dog today,” Clayton said, as they cruised along the freeway.
“You’re kidding! Why on earth would anyone hurt but? It doesn’t make any sense.” “You know, I think I saw Barbara wells there at the park, just for an instant. A flash, and she was gone. Shortly after that, Buck came staggering toward me, and I mean staggering. He fell a couple of times before I got to him. Thank God there was a man there who drove me to the vets. Buck will be fine, but the vet said he was sure that was rat poison.”
“Surely you don’t think Barbara could do such a thing?”
“I keep seeing her around. I mean I don’t bump into her or anything like that, it’s just a quick glimpse here and there. Just a quick flash and then she’s gone. I’m sure it’s her. The other day at the bank she walked past the window. She looked the other way, but I’m sure it was her. And there’s been other times as well and now this morning. I tell you, I think she’s been following me. I’ve called her number but she doesn’t answer. I’ll call again later, or maybe tomorrow, to find out what’s going on.”
He drove in silence for a while.
“So what do you think of the case?” Clayton asked. “You think we have a chance to slay the dragon, so to speak?”
“In this case, the dragon happens to be my father, the dear old goat, or at least it sounds like him. And with him, you never know, because he is as crafty as they come. What we can do is have a talk with him and sent him out, see where he’s coming from. Maybe tonight, if he’s home.
“What you need is a little more attention and a whole lot of me,” she turned a bright smile on him.
“You going to butter my bread, eh?” Clayton said, as he glanced her way while fiddling with the radio.
“I’m going to fry your bacon. Geez, I’m starting to talk just like you, God forbid! I must be losing it.” And they both laughed.
At the estate they found Mark Downing in his study, martini in his hand, looking through a huge leather bound book, titled The Ancient Rites and Customs of the North American Indian.
“Well,” he said. “I haven’t seen you to for several days. I guess we just keep missing each other.”
“You mind if we have one of those?” Rachel asked.
“No, please help yourself. How are you doing Mister Crawford? I hope all is well with you. I daresay, you look very fit. Do you work out a little?”
“Yes Sir, I’ve been known to spend a little time in the gym now and then.”
“Don’t let them fool you father, he holds a third degree black belt in the art of karate, so I wouldn’t mess with him.”
“Uh-Oh. I guess I should consider myself warned,” Mark joked.
“Seriously now, father, at least for a minute, we would like to talk with you.”
“So, you’re going to finally get married, huh? No? Well then, you’re engaged right? You’re not pregnant, are you?” Then he turned suddenly towards Clayton. “Young man, just what are your intentions concerning my young daughter?”
“Oh father, would you stop this for a minute?” Rachel asked, with a note of exasperation.
“All right, all right, but you should have seen the looks on your faces. It was priceless.”
“You’re a real wallopalosa,” Clayton said, with a smile, shaking his head.
“Well, I haven’t heard that one for years, and I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“Yes of course, that’s how it was meant. We would like to talk to you about Percival Poindexter.”
“Ole Percival, eh? Well, if this is about business, you will have to make an appointment with my secretary, as I do not, I repeat, do not conduct business in my home.”
“Criminelie Father!” Rachel started, and stopped. “There I go again, I’m sounding just like you, Clayton.”
“Whoa, cowabunga!” Her father said, and those Rachel and Clayton looked at him in surprise, then all three burst out in laughter.
The three of them enjoyed drinks around the pool and made small talk, getting to know each other a little better. Mark talk about his travels too far off islands and exotic lands, his big-game hunts, which Clayton didn’t care for, but said nothing. Rachel told of her childhood in the tricks she used to play on her mother and the fun she had with her nanny. Clayton talked about the pranks he played during his college years, his interest in the martial arts, his black belt in karate and a little about his business in California.
Mark retired to his study of little after 10, leaving Clayton and Rachel to fend for themselves. So what else were they to do, but go skinny dipping in the moonlight and make love under the stars at poolside. It was daring and exciting. Then, a little after 12 AM they gathered up their close and walked hand-in-hand down a flowered path to her cottage.
“Oh, to be young and in love again,” Mark thought to himself, looking down from an upper story window, with a pleasant half smile on his face. It was a smile of remembrance, of years gone by, before his wife left them without a word of warning. It had been 10 years now, since that day so long ago. Just a simple note – “I’m leaving, don’t try to find me, Gladys.” Mark turned from the window to give them their privacy and walked slowly to his room.
Once in the cottage, it was to the shower, wherewith the slippery soap, the drove each other wild with passion and desire. Slowly, his hands slid over her now hard breasts, her nipples standing up in eager anticipation of more stimulation by his searching fingertips and his ever so light touches. Her soapy laddered hand slid down over his lean stomach, then slipped smoothly around his genitals until he thought he would go crazy.
There in the shower, with her back to the wall, she opens to receive him inside her. A warm rush filter belly with each gentle stroke, as they reached their climax together. For a long moment they just held tight to one another, not daring to do, unwilling to break the spell. The rapture seemed to bind them closer together.
She nestled tightly against his chest, still locked in their embrace. She could feel him deep inside her. �
��You really know how to treat a lady.”
He ever so gently lifted her in his arms and carried her from the bathroom to the huge king-sized bed and slowly laid her down on silk sheets. Then leaning over her he continued to touch her breasts, the tip of her nipples, her slender neck with very light kisses.
And so it went for the rest of the night, he on her, then she on him. They were complete lost in each other, their passion almost consuming them, until they collapsed in each other’s arms, exhausted to the bone, they fell fast asleep.
At 10 AM Clayton woke, rolled over, and carefully, so as not to wake Rachel, set up on the side of the bed. Oh, was he sore, and what a night they had, he thought. Quietly, he tiptoed to the bathroom and to the shower, where he let the hot water beat down on his back. Resting his four head against the tiled wall, he suddenly felt her slippery soapy hands around his waist holding his body tightly to her. Then very slowly they slowed down his stomach, lower and lower.
“Yes, oh yes!” She shouted with glee, “He’s still alive!”
“My God woman, you’re like a ravenous Tiger. But what the hell, what’s a poor guy to do?”
Chapter 28
By the time Clayton rolled out of bed the following morning, Rachel had already gotten up, showered, dressed and left for work. He found her note on the breakfast table. “Early morning at court, bacon and eggs in fridge. Call me later, Rachel.”
By noon Clayton was showered and dressed and had a light lunch before Henry pulled up the winding white gravel drive.
“To the vet’s, my good man.”
“Okay dude, you got it.” Henry replied. “And you got this,” he added as he handed Clayton a white sealed envelope.
“What’s this? Clayton asked, a little surprised.
“It’s another 10 grand. I – or rather we, got lucky at the tracks yesterday, and that’s your share.”
“Cowabunga!” Clayton said, as he put the envelope in his shirt pocket. “Maybe we better stop at the bank first?”
“You got it dude, to the bank it is.”
At that Clayton’s cell phone rang and the caller ID told him it was California.
“Mister Crawford, this is Lois at your office (Lois was Clayton’s secretary) I’m sorry to bother you, but Mister Lansing said I should call you.”
“Okay Lois, not to worry yourself. Now is there a problem over there? What is it?”
“Well, we are sure just yet, but it seems that Mister Holt is missing. No one has seen him for three days. We called his home and there’s no answer. His cell phone is out of service also. We’re sending someone to his house as we speak. He hasn’t said anything about taking any time off that I know of, he’s just gone. You know he lives alone, his wife, the last time I heard, was in Spain. His children are all grown up and scattered everywhere.”
“Yes I know, have the policeman notified?”
“I don’t think so, not yet. You think we should?”
“No, not yet. He might have just taken a few days for himself and forgot to tell someone.”
“He’s never done that before. He has everyone here worried.”
“Well if he doesn’t show up, in say…by the end of the week, notify the police and call me.”
“Okay Mister Crawford, we will certainly do that.” Clayton hung up.
“What was that all about dude? Sounded pretty serious to me.”
“My vice president is missing. Probably off somewhere with some little honey and having a good time. He’s famous for his nice close, fast cars and women… Or is it racetracks? Whatever it is, I’m sure it isn’t anything serious.”
At the bank, while making of the deposit slip, he couldn’t help but glance around, for now he was on the lookout for any sign of Barbara wells. He had set creepy feeling that he was being followed and he hated it.
From the bank it was to the vets to pick up Buck. On the way he tried Barbara’s number again, for what seemed to him the hundredth time. Still, she didn’t answer. Again he left her message. “Barbara, I know you’re there, please pick up. Call me.”
Buck was glad to see him and danced around with pure joy, his tail wagging, and did didn’t stop until Clayton told him to sit. He quickly sat down by his master’s side. “Good boy Buck, good boy.” Clayton stopped everything and ruffled the dog’s ears and made over him. Then he continued his business with the vet.
“That’s a smart dog,” the vet said. “You can tell he’s had some training.”
Chapter 29
It was after 4:00 when they left the Vet’s so Clayton decided to drop by Momma’s Restaurant for an early dinner. On the way he tried calling Barbara again with no luck. He had just put his cell phone back in his pocket when I rang. The caller ID told him it was Detective Richards from the 36th.
“I’ll cut right to the chase,” Richards said. “Have you found out anything new on the Wellington Case with your bumbling around?”
“So now it’s a case, is it Detective? Something must have happened to upgrade its status, eh?”
“Never mind. Did you have anything important to add in this investigation? Look kid I know I was a bit rough on you the last time we talked, and I may have come on a little strong but if you…”
“Well Detective Richards, is that supposed to take the place of bona fide apology?”
“Don’t push it Crawford,” Richards snarled. “Do you or don’t you have anything new? Has anything at all turned up with your inept efforts to screw the things up?”
“As a matter of fact I might have turned something up but it probably means nothing.”
“Well kid what is it”? “You going to tell me or what?”
“Not so fast Detective. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours and you go first to show good faith.”
“How about I bring you downtown and sweat it out if you.”
“Look” Clayton said. “Why don’t you tell me what happened to warrant this phone call and then I’ll tell you what I found out. Then we can stop all this unnecessary fencing.”
“Stephen Driscoll turned up this morning or at least he called us,” Richards replied. “He heard we were looking for him and he wanted to assure us that he was all right.”
“Well that’s great news for our side isn’t it?” “What did he tell you?” “I sure enough gave him up for dead.”
“Well no, it’s not that great. You see Stephen Driscoll was a highly educated man. He has an IQ of 175 maybe even higher.”
“So” Clayton said.
“The man I talked to didn’t sound like he had a high school diploma. I don’t know, it just didn’t sound right, and when I asked him a few simple questions he gave me some half ass vague answers. Then said he was running late and was going to miss his plane and hung up.”
“Did you ask him about his dog?”
“No, like I said, he just gave me debate answers and then he was gone.”
“Where was he calling from?”
“He didn’t say and had hung up before we could trace the call.”
“That was obviously some ass hole playing games or the killer of Stephen Driscoll trying to throw you off.”
“No shit, we did manage to trace the call to the general area it was made from. A small burg that is just inside the Virginia line.”
“Well I guess that’s something. You know Detective, I have a feeling that we’re not dealing with what we would call intellect. Whoever it is sounds like a poorly educated man.”
“That’s a brilliant deduction Sherlock. Now what do you have for me?”
“You might want to talk to a woman named Barbara Wells she was going with Stephen Driscoll before Michelle stepped into the picture to take him away from her. She is a lady with a very bad temper and a very short fuse and I only she may have a mental problem.”
“That’s it?! That’s all you have?”
“She’s made open threats against me and she’s been stalking me and though I can’t prove that, I’m sure she poisoned Buck.”
&nb
sp; “We’ve already talked to the lady I grant you she’s a little strange but I don’t see her as doing or saying the things you mention.”
“Well I can believe you me. I saw her with her hair down, I saw the flipside of that coin. She can be very possessive and madly jealous.” The more I think about it the more it fits. When you have a love triangle, someone has got to go. First you have Barbara Wells with this hellish temper, which I saw for myself. Then you have Stephen Driscoll, the all American boy with his youth and good looks. Then mixed into the equation add Michelle Crawford, who steps into the picture and puts all of sweet Barbara’s plans for Stevie boy right into the old toilet. As a result you have Michelle dead and Stephen Driscoll missing. And I still think Driscoll has bought the green ground. That phone call proves nothing except to help convince you that Michelle’s accident was cold-blooded murder.”
The Crawford Chronicles - Book 1 Page 19
