Harry Bronson Box Set

by L C Hayden

  The contestant frowned, telling him that her question was very obvious. “The drugs. Can they really kill you?”

  Bronson let out a sigh. It was going to be a three cups of coffee evening.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By the time Bronson made his way to the coffeepot, he had answered a half-dozen more stupid questions. Two showed that intelligence thrived in small doses, and one that floored him. Had he still been employed with the police department, he would have recruited this person.

  Just as he finished fixing his coffee, he saw Gerri Balter approach. Today she wore her hair down which Bronson thought looked better than in a bun. “Can I talk to you?” She smiled at him.

  He smiled back. He intuitively liked Gerri. She had been the first to clap at today’s meeting when L’ee introduced him. She had saved him a place in the crowded room. Whenever he saw her, she carried a warm smile on her lips. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

  “We need to come up with some kind of strategy.”

  “To solve this case, you mean?”

  Gerri’s eyebrows shot up all the way to her hairline. “No, that would be cheating. You’re our consultant. You’re not allowed to give us any ideas. All you can do is answer questions.”

  “Glad to see you’re not the cheatin’ kind.”

  Gerri’s smile broadened.

  “So what kind of strategy are you talkin’ about?”

  Gerri hesitated. “I’m not quite sure how to phrase this, but there are some rumors floating around.” She looked down at the floor.

  “Ah, I see where this is leadin’. Some of these people think I killed Max so I could have his job.”

  Relief flooded Gerri’s face. “Oh, then you know.”

  “Yes, ma’am. There’s nothin’ to these rumors, you know?”

  Gerri’s eyes widened. “I never thought—not even for a second—you had anything to do with Max’s death.” She made a sweeping motion with her arm. “But these people don’t think like I do. We need to convince them you’re innocent.”

  “Why is this so important to you?”

  “I just don’t think it’s right, being accused like that, talking behind your back. I tell everyone what a ridiculous idea that is. Wish there was a way we could talk to a mass of them, convince them. Then they can help spread the word.”

  Talk to a mass of them. That would be perfect. “Actually, ma’am, there is.”

  Gerri tilted her head making her look like a bird on watch. “Oh?”

  “You and I—we’ve been thinkin’ along the same lines. I was figurin’ maybe I could host a reception. Kind of like ‘Meet Your New Consultant’ get-together. Naturally, I couldn’t invite everyone. So we tell them we did a random drawin’. Their names were selected. I think if we hold it down to thirty-three names, that would be a good number.”

  She squeezed her features together, making her look comical. “That’s a nice even number.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

  “Why thirty-three? Why not thirty or thirty-five?”

  “Thirty-three is my lucky number.”

  “I see.” She nodded. “Anyway, I think I like your idea. I know the Events Coordinator. I bet I can talk him into providing a room for our gathering. I’ll even see if L’ee has enough money to supply some fruit and vegetable trays. We can have an open bar where everyone buys his or her own drinks. That’ll bring the hotel some money which will guarantee that Wayne Weeks will provide the room. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds like you’ve gotten it all worked out. You sure you wouldn’t mind setting this up for me?”

  “No, not at all. I’ll get right on it. I brought my laptop with me. I can generate invitations and pass them around.”

  “Why don’t you make the invitations, then give them to me, and I’ll pass them out? You’ve got enough to do.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.”

  “But how would you know who to invite?”

  “I’ll make sure the Little Texas Tornado—Ms. Katherine Shepard—is there. And I’ll invite the O’Days, Tom and Marie. Also, L’ee. You, of course. The rest will be names I draw from the applications. Only fair way to do it.” The only information he kept to himself was that he already knew which thirty-three conference attendees he would invite.

  Bronson watched as Gerri trotted away, eager to make the arrangements. He felt bad, almost as if he was using her, which he wasn’t. Not really. She had been thrilled to help. Perhaps a bit too thrilled.

  Bronson wondered why and made a notation about it in his spiral notebook.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bronson spent the next two hours answering questions and helping the conference attendees keep their facts straight. Several times he spotted Tom and Marie O’Day. He slowly worked his way toward them but each time a different conference attendee stopped him, wanting to know this or that.

  When he finally found the opportunity to approach them, his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller I.D. It read Paul McKenzie. He would definitely take that call.

  As he swiped the phone icon, he headed away from the crowd. “Hey Paul.”

  “Bronson, glad I caught you. I wanted to warn you, watch your back.”

  Paul’s jovial tone normally intrigued Bronson, but this time his all-business voice set Bronson on edge. “Meanin’?”

  “Meaning I checked out the O’Days.”

  “And?”

  “The address you gave me, it’s a fake. The street exists, but its numbers don’t run that high. You told me that they listed Scottsdale as being their place of residency. So I checked for a marriage license. There’s none. I expanded my search to all of Arizona. Know what I came up with?”

  Bronson rubbed his forehead. He wished Paul would get to the point. “What did you come up with?”

  “I got a match.”

  “Oh?”

  “You gave me their birth dates. That produced a mismatch.”

  What the heck was a mismatch? Is that computer technology? “Meanin’?”

  “Meaning that in all six cases where a Tom O’Day married a Marie O’Day, none of the birth dates listed matched. So those were not the O’Days you’re looking for.”

  “So what you’re tryin’ to say is that the Tom and Marie O’Day I know do not really exist.”Interesting.

  “I even went a step further. I checked Arizona’s county records for a birth certificate on Tom O’Day. Couldn’t do one on Marie simply because I don’t have her maiden name.” Paul briefly paused before continuing, “I guess by now you figured I didn’t find any. Only thing left to do was do a joint search for Tom and Marie O’Day.”

  “And of course you found nothin’?”

  “No, I did find some O’Days, but not as many as you’d think there would be. There’s several Tom O’Days and a bit less Marie O’Days. But when you do a joint search, you come up with a limited number. So I took those names, tried to match them with the birth dates you gave me and cross matched them with the addresses and that’s when I came out with nothing.”

  “Did your computer search come up with anythin’ useful?”

  “One interesting fact.”

  Bronson open his spiral notebook and clicked the pen open. “What’s that?”

  “Back during the days of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Tom O’Day was one of the bank robbers who held up the bank in South Dakota along with the Wild Bunch members. Now, there’s no relation to the present Tom O’Day, mind you, but it is an interesting fact.”

  Bronson closed his notebook and placed his palm on his forehead as he shook his head. “Yes, fascinatin’. Think maybe the O’Days could be under the Witness Protection Program?”

  “You and I know most of those are in prison under a different name. But is it possible? Yeah, it could be, but there’s no way the U. S. Marshal Service would give us that information, and I’m not yet a good enough hacker to get past their firewalls.”

  “A hacker? You’re a hack
er?”

  “No, not really, but I wouldn’t mind pursuing that field.”

  “Be careful. Remember which side of the law you’re on.”

  “Don’t worry. I’d only do it for people like you.”

  “That’s a relief, and I’ll keep that in mind, but back to the O’Days. Seems like Tom and Marie O’Day are names they chose for themselves.”

  “That’s my guess.”

  “I wonder why they didn’t bother to build up a history behind their names. What is it that they’re hidin’?”

  “That’s why I called you to warn you to watch your back.”

  “I’ll do that, buddy. Thanks.” Bronson closed the cell phone and dropped it in his shirt pocket.

  This was turning out to be one heck of a retirement.

  * * * * *

  Knowing Bronson, Sam couldn’t accept the idea that Bronson would host a “Meet Your Consultant Get Together.” He had to have a hidden agenda, and trying to figure out what that was drove Sam crazy.

  Sam poured a drink and thought some more. No new ideas came to mind. Not that it mattered. So let him host this party. So what? What possible harm could he do?

  One thing Sam felt sure about was that Bronson would not want to involve his precious Carol. But Sam had other plans for her.

  Carol would not only be involved, she would become one of the victims.

  Sam drank the rest of the drink and smiled. It was time to go meet Carol.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bronson watched the drink girl. A pretty thing, no more than in her early twenties. Her job consisted solely of collecting the discarded drinks and taking customers’ orders. She looked hurried, frazzled, and a bit disappointed. Seemed like these conference attendees were not the best of tippers.

  By now she had her tray full of empty and semi-empty glasses and headed back toward the kitchen.

  Bronson stepped in front of her. “I need a favor.”

  She frowned, but when Bronson showed her the fifty-dollar bill he held in his hand, her eyes lit up. “What kind of favor?”

  “There’s a couple attending this conference. They can do wonders for my career. So I want to buy them drinks. I want them to think I’ve done my homework, and I’m willin’ to please them. I would like for you to find out what they’re drinkin’, then bring me their drinks and I’ll give them to them.” He glanced over at the O’Days and noticed that Katherine Shepard had joined them. “Make that three drinks. If you do that for me, here’s the fifty to cover the cost of the drinks. The rest is for you to keep.”

  “That’s all you want?”

  “Actually, there’s one more thing.”

  She frowned.

  Bronson continued, “I do this great trick that I know will impress them, but I need three bags. Think you can bring me three large bags too? Preferably plastic bags.”

  “The bags and the drinks. That’s all?”

  Bronson nodded.

  The drink girl slowly smiled. “Which three people are you talking about?”

  Bronson pointed them out. He watched as the drink girl headed toward them and took their orders. She headed for the bar and returned a few minutes later carrying a tray with three drinks and the plastic bags.

  She started to hand him the tray, and then hesitated. “You’re not going to put anything in their drinks, are you?”

  Bronson shook his head. “You’ve been watchin’ too much T.V. No, I’m not goin’ to do that. All I plan to do is give them their drinks and show them a magic act.”

  “And the change from the fifty is mine?”

  “And the change is yours.”

  She handed him the tray. “The gentleman has the Coke. The lady, the Sprite. The hot dish has the margarita. You have the three baggies.”

  Bronson smiled. “Thank you, ma’am.” He accepted the tray and watched the drink girl walk away.

  Bronson set the tray down, stuffed the bags in his pocket, took out his handkerchief, and scanned the room. No one seemed to be paying attention to him. Using the handkerchief, he wiped the outside of each glass. He returned his handkerchief to his pocket, picked up the tray, and headed toward the O’Days and Katherine.

  “Let me see if I got this right.” He looked at Tom. “The Coke is yours.”

  He nodded.

  Bronson’s glance shifted toward Marie. “Yours is the Sprite.”

  “Yes.” She reached for it.

  Bronson turned to Katherine. “And that means that the margarita must be yours.”

  “It is, but since when did you get hired to deliver drinks?” Katherine accepted her drink.

  Bronson smiled. “Truth is, ma’am, I feel we got started on the wrong foot. So I asked the drink lady to let me pay for your drinks.”

  Tom looked at his Coke and smiled. “If I’d known you were buying, I would have ordered a mixed drink.”

  “It’s not too late to change.”

  “Nah, I was just kidding. Thanks for the drinks.”

  “Maybe we should reciprocate,” Marie said. “Can we buy you a drink?”

  “I’m a coffee drinker and I just finished a cup. But thanks for the offer. But if you’re lookin’ to return the favor, there’s somethin’ you can do.”

  Tom’s eyebrows furrowed. He took a large gulp of his soda. “And what favor is that, Detective Bronson?”

  “I’d like a ride in that Chevy of yours. I’ve always loved vintage cars and yours is the cherry.”

  Tom and Marie exchanged looks. “The Chevy?” Tom asked.

  “Yes, wasn’t that you and Marie drivin’ that Chevy in Albuquerque? Couldn’t help notice. Like I said, cars are a special interest of mine.”

  “You’re very observant.” Katherine finished her drink and set the glass down. Bronson memorized its location.

  “Reckon that comes from bein’ a detective all of these years.”

  “You were in Albuquerque?” Marie asked.

  Bronson nodded. “Yes, Ma’am. But then you knew that.”

  “Maybe not.” Tom set his drink down at the edge of a planter. “We’re ordinary people enjoying a convention.” He turned toward his wife. “Are you ready?”

  Bronson stepped forward, blocking his way. “What about the Chevy? It’s not in the parkin’ lot.”

  Tom glared at him, remained quiet for a moment, and then frowned. “For your information, not that it’s any of your business, the Chevy does not belong to us and that’s why it’s not in the parking lot.” He tried going around Bronson, but again Bronson blocked his exit.

  “Then who does it belong to?”

  Tom crossed his arms and glared at Bronson. “Are you investigating us, Detective?”

  “Is there a reason I should?” Bronson noted that perspiration beads had formed on Tom’s forehead.

  “For your information a friend of ours is inheriting the Chevy. His elderly aunt lives in Albuquerque and he lives in Tucson. He couldn’t take the time off from work to drive all the way to Albuquerque. We offered to do it for him. We drove to Albuquerque, picked up the car, and yes. While in Albuquerque, we stopped to do the tourist bit. Any other questions?”

  “Just one.”

  Tom’s eyes widened, obviously surprised by the answer. “And that is?”

  “The elderly aunt’s name is—”

  “I don’t have to give you that information.”

  “No, you don’t, but that’s goin’ to make me think you’re hidin’ somethin’.” Bronson smiled. “So are you hidin’ somethin’?”

  Tom’s poker face offered no clues. After a brief silence, he said, “Jackie Lucio. L-U-C-I-O.” He spoke through almost closed tips. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Marie and I have other things to do.”

  Bronson stepped aside and Tom offered his wife his hand.

  She looked down at her drink. She had hardly tasted it. “Let’s go,” she said. She set her drink next to her husband’s.

  “Thanks for the drinks,” Tom said and both walked away.

  Bronson wa
tched them and heard Katherine say, “I think you wasted your money.”

  Not at all. “Life is hard.”

  “Life is what you make of it.” Her gaze followed one of the conference attendees. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a mystery to solve.” She ran to catch the man she had been watching.

  Bronson took out the plastic bags and picked up a glass by its edge. He dumped the remainder of the drink in the potted plant and dropped the glass inside one of the bags. He did the same with the other two glasses.

  Now all he needed was a box large enough to hold all three glasses in their bags and some packing material. He remembered seeing a variety-type store somewhere in the downtown vicinity. He would buy the necessary items, before heading to the post office.

  There goes another favor, Bronson thought.

  Chapter Seventeen

  This was living.

  Carol could spend her entire life lying by the pool, absorbing the sun’s rays. Well, maybe she wasn’t really absorbing the rays. She had read about skin cancer and knew better. She selected a shady area where she could rest and enjoy the fresh air.

  No worries. No cares. Just she, the sun—okay, the shade—the fresh air, and a good book.

  Ahhh.

  Without opening her eyes, she felt something had changed. She sucked in her breath and slowly opened her eyes. She saw a stranger looking down at her.

  * * * * *

  Shortly after dropping the package off at the post office, Bronson returned to the convention and hoped no one had noticed he was missing. At the rate he was going, he should refuse to accept the thousand-dollar check he would be receiving for being the consultant.

  He headed straight for the coffee maker. He poured himself a cup, added three spoonfuls of sugar, and had just reached for the creamer when he heard someone say, “There you are, Detective Bronson. You are a hard one to find.”

  Bronson turned and inwardly flinched when he realized it was the same two elderly ladies who always asked stupid questions. “Sorry, I’ve been makin’ the rounds, and we probably missed each other. What can I do for you ladies?” He poured the cream and stirred his coffee.