by R. P. Dahlke
“Her window faces east. From the second story, she could’ve looked out the window and seen someone.” Mac turned to the kitchen door, tracing the killer’s path with his hand. “He noticed her watching, came in through the kitchen with every intention of silencing her. He must’ve caught her just after she called 9-1-1.”
“The detectives are questioning a convicted felon with drug connections,” I said.
His fists clenched. “Do you have a name?”
Pearlie and I looked at each other.
“Mac,” I said, “before we answer that, can I ask you another question?”
“As long as you answer mine.”
“Did you show the evidence list to anyone, or did you tell anyone else what was in it?”
“Yes, I found it and asked Reina and Jason if they noticed anything missing.”
“And what did they say?”
He shrugged. “They couldn’t help. Now tell me, who is it?”
Pearlie blinked at me. We weren’t sure how he would take the news, but we had to tell him.
“Julio Castillo,” I said, watching for his reaction.
His mouth puckered in distaste. “He’s Reina’s boyfriend, right?”
Pearlie said, “Reina said he’s been clean since he got out.”
Mac spat a curse. “Like that means anything.”
“Mac, we can’t be sure of anything yet,” I said. “Not of Julio Castillo’s guilt on drug trafficking, or that he had anything to do with your daughter’s murder.”
His anger seemed to inflate with every word. “Reina knowingly allowed a dangerous criminal into my daughter’s home, that’s enough for me.”
“Mac. Don’t make me regret telling you about Julio Castillo. Homicide may be questioning him, but there are plenty of other known drug dealers in the area. If they have enough to charge him for your daughter’s murder, you’ll know soon enough.”
Pearlie stood and put a hand on Mac’s arm. “I’m a pretty good judge of character, and if her boyfriend is guilty, Reina is as much a victim in this as you are. She loved Bethany.”
His nostrils flared with distaste, and Pearlie removed her hand. “Reina loves living here rent free.”
“She doesn’t pay rent?”
“I do the books for my daughter, so no, she hasn’t paid a dime. Bethany said they had some kind of agreement. But push come-to-shove, she’ll cover for her no-account boyfriend. I don’t need to put up with the likes of her on my property anymore.”
Mac got up, indicating that our conversation was over.
“Please Mac,” Pearlie said, seeing trouble. “Let us do our job before you make that decision.”
Mac’s jaw clenched. “Then you’d better find another suspect and soon. Or Reina Schmidt gets the boot.”
.
Chapter Twenty-four:
I lifted a leg over the low-slung Bugatti and plopped into the passenger seat. “We keep getting different stories. First Mac says he installed the No Trespassing signs, then Jason said he did, and before Bethany ever got here. Then Reina said she pays rent, and now Mac says she doesn’t.”
Pearlie, ignored my comments, closed the driver’s door, causing it to squeak. “Your daddy should’ve oiled this Italian door along with the Italian engine.”
“So, who’s lying?” I asked.
Pearlie shrugged. “Didn’t I tell you folks lie to cover up secrets? Anyway,” she said, pointing at the bright light from Jason’s welding torch, “cute as he is, I’d like to see how Jason reacts when I tell him we know about his manslaughter conviction.”
“You read my mind,” I said, getting out again and following her into the barn.
He was waiting for us, legs spread, helmet snugged up under his arm like a spare head.
He put the helmet and gloves on a high work bench and pointed us to a couple of nearby stools.
Pearlie pitched him the hard questions while I crossed my legs and pretended indifference.
“Your last comments about Bethany led us to believe that you could barely tolerate her,” she said.
His dark eyes went from Pearlie to me. Suspicion at our motives etched in his downturned mouth.
Pearlie flipped open her notebook. “You said, ‘I can get along with the devil himself if it means I can continue working here.’”
He shrugged. “So?”
“Reina says different.” Pearlie added. “She says you were in love with her.”
“Reina said that, huh? Her new meds must be interfering with reality again.”
“What kind of medications are you on?” Pearlie asked.
He shrugged again. “Unlike Reina, I’ve been completely honest with the detectives about my drugs.”
I started to ask what drugs he took when Pearlie nodded at his workbench. “And maybe a little pot now and again?”
Jason laughed and switched on fluorescent lights. “That’s for a job.”
I got off my stool to peer at his sketches.
“A pharmacy for marijuana?” I asked. “It’s legal here?”
“For medicinal purposes it is, but it won’t be long before it’s legal everywhere. It should be; it helps manage chronic pain, especially when nothing else works.”
So, Jason thought pot should be legal. I wondered if he also arranged the drop-off and pick up of bundles in the cavern.
“All right,” Pearlie said. “But you also did time in prison for manslaughter.”
His lips tightened but he didn’t deny it, either. “I was drunk. I hit a kid on a bike. I did two years, and now I attend daily meetings at the nearest AA. Anything else?”
“Yeah. What did you really think of Bethany?”
Irritation flashed in his eyes, then Jason looked down at the calluses on his hands. “She was good with people, especially broken people.”
“Like who?” she asked.
“There was this artist and his wife living in the cabin Reina has now. The old man’s dementia was getting to be too much for his wife so Beth found them a facility that would keep the couple together. And because she cared, she visited every week until they died.”
“And what did she do for you?”
“She was kind, and patient, and funny. And she listened,” he said, quietly. “Now if you’re finished asking stupid questions, I have work to do.”
As we walked out of the barn, I heard the flame of his acetylene torch fire up. A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed his helmet and gloves were back in place and Jason’s metal artwork would take the brunt of his temper.
“We should go home,” I said.
“What for?” Pearlie released the brake and stepped on the gas. “I got a hankerin’ to talk to Darlene again.”
“The Bugatti is unlicensed, remember?”
“Ah, come on. Live a little!” she yelled over the engine noise. “Besides, we’re only going into Wishbone.”
“You don’t have to take it out on me!” I yelled back. “I wasn’t the one who said Jason was in love with Bethany.”
Pearlie jammed her foot on the gas pedal and any further conversation about Jason Stark was left in a cloud of dust.
~~~~~~~~~~
Darlene was absent but Suzi was finishing up a haircut on an old man. I liked the music she had on, but she turned it down when we came in.
I elbowed Pearlie. “Isn’t that—?”
“Yeah. Deputy Dumb-Ass’s granddad. The one with the shotgun.”
Pearlie stepped up to the chair to thank him again for his help.
The old man squinted at Pearlie and chuckled. “Eh? Say, blondie, fancy meetin’ you here.”
“Will Darlene be back soon?” I asked Suzi.
“Why?” Suzi asked, a smile on her lips. “You looking for another bouffant hairdo?”
She had me there. I touched my ponytail to make sure it stayed that way.
“I’d like a manicure,” Pearlie said.
Suzi shrugged and whisked the drape off the old man. “Sorry, Darlene’s making funeral arrangeme
nts, and I’ve got appointments up to seven tonight.”
With her arms exposed in her salon wrap, I couldn’t help but notice the tattoos on her right bicep. Men’s names, like a shopping list gone wrong, were inked one on top of the other with lines drawn through all but the last name.
Noticing my stare she lifted her arm and explained. “When husband number one turned out to be a dud, I decided to have my tattoo artist draw a line through it. Might as well keep it where I could remind myself not to make that mistake again. But I seem to go through one skunk a year, con-artists, idiots, and deadbeats, and as you can see, I’m now up to number five.”
I leaned in to inspect the last name. “No line through his name?”
Suzi laughed. “He has yet to disappoint me, but the year isn’t over yet. Want to make an appointment for another day?”
“Pearlie?” I asked, “Do you want to make an appointment for later?”
Pearlie waved at us as she and Deputy Dumb-Ass’s granddad went out the door, leaving me to make excuses. “Um, I guess they’re catching up.”
“We should talk,” Suzi said.
“Do you have something to add about Darlene?”
“I do, but I’d rather not talk about it here. I’ll call you after work.”
Annoyed that Pearlie had left me on my own, I marched outside. She was waving at the departing rear end of an ancient Ford station wagon, then turned around and grinned at me.
“Suzi’s too loyal to talk about her boss, but gramps sure didn’t have that problem.”
“That’s what you think. Suzi’s going to call me after she gets off work.”
“Oh good. More dirt on Darlene?” she asked.
“I sure hope so,” I said. “What’d Mr. Abel have to say?”
“I learned a couple of things. One: His grandson is ashamed of the family name. The name’s not Abel, it’s Dick.”
That explained the old man’s confusion when I called him Mr. Abel and the hand-printed nametag over his grandson’s uniform pocket.
“So it’s not Deputy Abel,” I grinned. “It’s really Deputy Dick?”
“If this is the one you nick-named Deputy Dumb-Ass, I guess so.”
“Yes, but this is way better. I can’t wait to tell Dad and the K-9 rescue lady who helped us. He really got under her skin.”
“Don’t you want to hear what else he told me?”
“There’s more?”
“Oh yes, and you’re gonna love this. Guess which married hair dresser has a secret lover?”
I thought of Suzi and her tattooed bicep, and decided she wasn’t one for keeping her lovers a secret.
“Darlene?”
Pearlie shot me a look of triumph. “And you know what I like better’n a handsome brown-eyed man?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“I like finding out he’s a skunk before I fall in stupid love with him.”
My cousin had fallen for our pilot, Mad-Dog Schwartz, and though he’d proven that she could trust him with her life, Mad-Dog was, and always would be, a hound-dog.
“Okay, I’ll bite, tell me.”
Smug satisfaction gleamed in her eyes. “Why, Jason Stark of course.”
“Really!”
“Is that all you got to say? I’d lay bets Darlene thought Jason was slipping out of her grasp, went to confront the girl, and instead found her husband with Bethany.”
“And strangled Bethany then hit her own husband over the head and dragged him by the heels down the stairs, lugged his body into the backseat of her car, then threw his body into that mine pit?”
Pearlie’s nose twitched. “I didn’t get that far. But she could’ve got Jason to help.”
“Do you really think Darlene would be jealous of Bethany?”
“I get it. Darlene’s a nice looking woman, so maybe Reina had it wrong about Jason’s attraction to Bethany. But that don’t mean Darlene wasn’t jealous. And jealousy seems like a mighty fine reason for murder to me.”
Murders, I’d come to find out, were usually acts of passion, but if planned, most women did their killing from a nice clean distance. Guns, poison, broken brake fluid hoses, killers for hire, that sort of thing. Which left me with the last question.
“Why would Jason go along with it?” I asked.
“To save his lover, Darlene, from a murder conviction, or maybe he was scared of being accused along with Darlene. He’s already done time for one manslaughter conviction.”
“I don’t see it. He liked and respected Bethany. You heard him talk about her, and I’ll bet he was another one of her broken people.”
“Right now, I don’t know who’s lying about what. Let’s go home,” she said.
I got into the passenger seat and vowed to look for goggles to wear when riding in the open car.
~~~~~~~~~~
Pearlie and I found my dad and Caleb cheerfully saluting each other with beer bottles.
“What’s the occasion?” I asked.
My dad’s bushy eyebrows danced with excitement. “I hope to God you brought back the Bugatti in one piece.”
“Pearlie drove but she managed not to sideswipe anything.”
My cousin snorted. “Excuse me, but I’m not the one who rolled your dad’s Jeep.”
I ignored Pearlie’s snarky remark, and asked, “So what’s this about?”
My dad tipped his beer bottle at Caleb and grinned. “You tell her, Caleb.”
We flopped down onto the leather sofa and waited.
“It seems that that little race car you girls are using for daily transportation could be worth a million dollars.”
I shot to my feet. “What?!”
Pearlie’s jaw dropped. “Y’all tellin’ me that thing is valuable? But it’s old. Or is it more valuable on account of being old?”
Caleb said, “I got on the internet this afternoon. From the owner’s manual, it appears that this Bugatti is a 1931 Type 51. Noah confirmed that the engine is 160 horsepower with a single overhead cam straight-8. It has cast wheels instead of bolted on rims, and it all looks to be original, which would make it very valuable.”
“You might as well be speaking Greek,” Pearlie said. “What’s it all mean?”
“There were only forty or so built,” Caleb explained. “One was sold in 2010 for two million and seven hundred thousand dollars.”
My knees gave out and I collapsed onto the couch. I tried to speak, but something was caught in my throat—it felt like a big wad of money.
Pearlie smacked my back a couple of times until I waved off the assault. “I think it’s time we called Aunt Mae.”
.
Chapter Twenty-five:
When Great-Aunt Mae answered, I put the phone on speaker so Caleb, Dad, and Pearlie could hear. When I brought up the subject of the Bugatti being worth a small fortune, she just laughed.
“My goodness. I’d completely forgotten about that old thing. I guess your great-uncle Ed knew his cars, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” I said. “But surely you didn’t intend for it to be part of your gift to me. Don’t you want it back?”
“What am I going to do with an old race car?”
“You could sell it,” I said. “Caleb says it could fetch well over a million dollars at auction.”
“Dear girl, I don’t need the money or the hassle. You sell it. Or keep it. It’s loads of fun to drive.”
“Pearlie seems to think so too, but it’s too valuable to drive around.”
Pearlie opened her mouth to interrupt, but I held up a cautionary finger.
“Aunt Mae,” I said, “one more thing—I heard that you used to own property behind this place.”
“Why yes. I sold a few acres to a young artist. Well, he was young at the time.”
“Was it an artist by the name of Coker?”
Her voice went soft with the memory. “Yes. But Galen Coker and I lost touch many years ago.”
Here was a link that apparently stretched across the
years. “His granddaughter was an artist too,” I said. “She inherited the place from her grandfather.”
“You said, was an artist. Is she deceased?”
“I’m afraid so. She was murdered in her home a few days ago.”
I could hear Aunt Mae’s quick intake of breath. “Galen’s granddaughter—murdered, you say? How awful!”
“Yes, it is tragic, but we were wondering, do you know anything about Galen’s son, Mac Coker?”
The line was ominously silent.
“Aunt Mae?”
Still nothing.
I thought the line had gone dead, but waited.
“I guess I should start by telling you the history between me and Galen Coker.”
Pearlie shrugged. Clearly this was news to her as well.
“Galen was from a prominent Chicago family. Politics and a construction business, or as Galen liked to say, persuasion and cement boots. But Galen escaped all that when he graduated from art school and fled to Wishbone, Arizona. No one had any reason to connect him with the name Coker, and I knew his art would go up in value, so I bought six of his paintings.”
Pearlie nodded. “That’s my granny.”
“Is that you, Pearlie?” Aunt Mae said.
“Yes, Granny. So what about the son, Mac Coker? Is he in the family business?”
“I wouldn’t know anything about their family now, my dear. I left Arizona and never spoke to him again.”
The way she said it made me wonder if there had been something between them. Pearlie, on the other hand was wondering about the paintings.
“What’d you do with Galen Coker’s paintings?” she asked.
Aunt Mae sighed. “Pearlie, your granddad had a hissy fit and burned them all.”
Pearlie nearly swooned. “He burned all those valuable paintings? Boy-howdy, that must’ve been some hissy fit!”
Aunt Mae laughed. “Lalla, do you remember when I told you I’d only loved two good men?”
How could I forget? It was the day she handed me the deed to this property as my wedding present.
“Yes, I remember.”
“One of them,” she said, “was your great-uncle Ed, and the other was Galen Coker.”
