Harry Bronson Box Set

by L C Hayden

  Stop that! Get busy doing something productive. Maybe if he read his notes one more time, something would pop up. He read through them, again and again. Same-ol’, same-ol’ stuff. Casey Secrist, daughter of Dolly Secrist. Lived at home until she went off to college. Moved in with her older cousin, Eleanor Jorgeson. Eleanor: a bit on the wild side. Introduced Casey to Alpha Kappa Lambda fraternity brothers.

  Frat house: Donald Stockwell, president; Ken Chalmers (now TX senator), vice-president; Trent Powers: in charge of pledges.

  Harmon Moises: desperate to pledge; somewhat of a nerd. Stockwell, Chalmers, and Powers do not consider him pledge material. Moises was Casey’s date to pledge party. Moises is charged with giving Casey date rape drug, pleads innocent but is convicted. He’s found guilty. He claims innocence. Sent to prison. Killed in prison riot less than a week after arrival.

  Bronson set the paper down and rubbed the bridge of his nose. What was it that eluded him? Good detectives went by their gut, and right now, it told him the answer lay buried in the notes.

  He again re-read them, not that he needed to. He had them memorized. He looked at each sentence individually, then at each word. He considered the different relationships.

  Nothing.

  After twenty-odd years, still nothing. Yet he knew it had to be there. His gut never lied to him—or maybe it was just telling him to feed it. Suddenly the idea of lunch appealed to him. Maybe he should try Brick’s. Nah, that wouldn’t be fair to Carol. Instead, he’d order a sandwich and a good cup of coffee. The prospect refreshed him.

  Afterwards, he’d talk to Dolly one more time. Maybe together they could find that piece that would complete the puzzle.

  * * * * *

  Soon as Carol stepped out of the elevators, she saw the door to L’ee’s room standing open. Carol approached but did not enter. She stood in the entry way and called out, “L’ee?”

  “Yes, Carol, come in,” came L’ee’s chirpy voice.

  Carol stepped in and noticed that the room looked identical to hers. Same plain wooden furniture with the same hanging light fixtures. Carol nodded at Balthasar who stood next to L’ee.

  He grinned a hello.

  His rugged looks disarmed Carol. If only he’d grow some hair, he wouldn’t look so tough and scary. Composing herself, Carol turned to L’ee, “I’m looking forward to Brick’s,” she said.

  L’ee grabbed her purse. “Good. In that case, let’s go.”

  Carol looked around the room, hoping to spot her friends. “What about Gay and Gerri? Aren’t we going to wait for them?”

  “Gerri has somewhere to go after lunch, so she’s taking her car. Gay decided to ride with her so she won’t have to drive alone. They’ll meet us at the restaurant.”

  “In that case, I’m ready to go.”

  “Me, too.” With Balthasar’s help, L’ee stood up. They headed out and Carol followed them.

  Once they stepped out of the elevators, Balthasar said, “I’ll get the car and meet you ladies out front.” With that, he increased his pace and left them behind.

  By the time Carol and L’ee reached the front door, Balthasar had driven the car to the front door and had opened both passenger doors. Balthasar helped L’ee in and closed the door. He checked Carol’s door, stepped in the driver’s side, and drove off. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he turned left.

  Carol wondered why he had done that. She could have sworn that the restaurant was to their right. Heading the wrong direction did not seem to bother L’ee any, so Carol chose not to mention it.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Once Bronson reached the hotel’s restaurant, he changed his mind. He really wasn’t hungry, and eating just for the sake of eating was certainly not good. That meant he’d get to Dolly’s one full hour earlier than what he’d told her. He whipped out his cell phone and cleared it with her.

  “In that case, I’ll get the coffee brewing,” Dolly said.

  That made Bronson’s taste buds stand at attention. If he were lucky, maybe she had made a new batch of chocolate chip cookies. He’d like that. He reached into his pocket for the car keys and spotted Gay typing on her laptop. What was she doing here in the motel? Bronson approached her. “Hi. Workin’ on your next book?”

  Gay looked up from her work and smiled. “No, actually just checking on my emails. I hate for them to pile up.”

  “I see.” Bronson looked around the room. “Are you waitin’ for Gerri?”

  Gay’s forehead furrowed. “No. Why should I be waiting for her?”

  Hadn’t Carol mentioned Gay, Gerri, L’ee, and she were going to lunch? Maybe he had just thought she said Gay. He really should pay closer attention. “Sorry. My mistake. I’ll be seein’ you around.”

  “Sure enough.” Gay turned her attention back to her work.

  Bronson walked away and headed toward the car, an uneasy feeling brewing deep within him.

  * * * * *

  He made it to Dolly’s street in record time. He wasn’t sure if that was because his mind had been working on the problem at hand, and that made the time go faster. No matter. Trying to focus hadn’t worked. His thoughts returned to the image but the gray, fuzzy areas prevented him from seeing the entire frame.

  Bronson cleared his mind and concentrated on his surroundings. Almost directly in front of him, Mt. Graham towered above him some ten thousand seven hundred feet. The San Carlos and White Mountain Apaches considered the land sacred, and no wonder. The pines and the oaks, the streams and lakes, all provided awe-inspiring views, or so Bronson had read. One of these days, before leaving the area, Bronson would definitely have to take Carol and drive up its scenic roads.

  Bronson smiled. Recalling what he had read about Mt. Graham had led him back to thinking about Carol. Amazing. He pulled into Dolly’s driveway. Maybe now he’d get Carol out of his thoughts. He rang the doorbell.

  Sammy opened the door. “You’re not a stranger. Grandma said not to talk to strangers. What does Stranger look like? Do you know him?”

  Behind him, Dolly came rushing. “Enough, Sammy. I’ve told you before, a stranger is someone you don’t know.”

  By the time Dolly finished with her explanation, Sammy had bounced off somewhere deep into the house. Dolly unlocked the screen door and Bronson stepped in. “Evenin’, Ma’am.” He immediately recognized the scent of brewing coffee.

  “Hi, Bronson. Good to see you, and before you ask, yes, the coffee’s ready.”

  “That’s my gal.” He followed her to the kitchen where Dolly poured Bronson the coffee and handed it to him. He looked around but didn’t see any cookies. Bummer.

  He stirred in sugar and cream. His gaze wandered toward the embroidered napkins with the S initial. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from S. He wondered if that was a good or a bad thing. He looked up at Dolly and found her studying him.

  “I’ve known you long enough to know that something is bothering you,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  Bronson took a large gulp of coffee and set the cup down. “As always, so very good.”

  Dolly smiled and nodded once.

  “I’m here hopin’ you’ll help me grasp that vital piece of information I’m missin’.”

  “I’ll be glad to help, but I’m not quite sure what you want.”

  “I want you to tell me about Casey.”

  The agonized look that came over Dolly’s face told Bronson that the years had not erased her pain. She glanced away and covered her face. Slowly, she moved her hands away and turned her attention to Bronson. “I’m sorry. It’s just that sometimes. . .”

  “I know.” He reached for her hand and wrapped his around hers. “If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t ask.”

  “I realize that.” Dolly took a deep breath and began. “Casey was the sweetest, gentlest creature that ever walked on this earth. She had an innocence about her that would melt your heart.” Dolly paused and her eyes glistened with tears. She half-smiled, half-cried. “When Casey graduated f
rom high school, she. . .huh, insisted on going away to college. I told her it wasn’t such a good idea, but she insisted. I suggested she move in with her cousin. I thought being with family, they would watch out for one another.” Carol lowered her head, but Bronson could still see the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  He waited until she calmed down. “Go on,” he urged.

  Dolly shook herself. “Not much more to say. You know it all. She met that horrible boy and there was that party.”

  All of this, Bronson knew. He was hoping she’d remember some bit of information that would trigger his memory. He’d let her talk. Maybe if he got lucky. . . “What do you know about Harmon Moises?”

  “Nothing you don’t.”

  “Which is?”

  Dolly shrugged. “I don’t know. He supposedly gave Casey that date drug and she O.D’d.”

  “You said supposedly. Why the doubt?”

  “Because you doubt it, and I trust your feelings.”

  Not much help there. Perhaps if they pursued another line of thinking. “Tell me about Eleanor Jorgeson.”

  “She’s my niece and was thrilled when I suggested she and Casey room together. She’s the one who introduced Casey to all of those fraternity boys. Afterwards, she felt so guilty. She blamed herself for Casey’s death.”

  “Do you blame her?”

  Dolly sighed and looked past Bronson as though she had caught a glimpse into the past. “It’s irrational, I know. But yes, in a way, I do.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “She was so much in love with that fraternity boy—the president. She didn’t pay any attention to my Casey. Now Casey is dead, but I guess my niece also got what she deserved. They got married shortly after Casey’s death.”

  Bronson had known that Eleanor loved Sydney Stockwell, but he hadn’t known they’ve gotten married. He retrieved his notebook and jotted down the new information. “Why would you say that Eleanor Stockwell got what she deserved?

  Dolly frowned. “Stockwell? Who’s that?”

  “The fraternity’s president, Sydney Stockwell. Didn’t you say Eleanor married him?”

  Dolly’s forehead furrowed. “Sydney Stockwell wasn’t the president, was he? I always thought Ken Chalmers was. That’s whom I’m talking about, Chalmers, the Texas senator.”

  Bronson flipped back the page and glanced at his notes. Trent had explained that Stockwell was the president in name but everyone followed Chalmers. When Bronson recorded that Eleanor was in love with the fraternity president, Bronson had made the mistake of assuming Eleanor was in love with Stockwell. “So Eleanor married Chalmers, but they obviously aren’t still married. I’ve seen the current Mrs. Chalmers on TV and that certainly isn’t Eleanor.”

  “No it isn’t. The marriage—if you want to call it that—lasted less than a month. The pressure of Casey’s death took a toll on them. And Sam always blamed you for that.”

  Bronson felt every muscle in his body stand at attention. “Who?”

  Dolly looked surprised at Bronson’s question. “Sam, Samantha. That’s the new name Eleanor goes by. Shortly after her divorce, Sam went through a complete change. She cut and dyed her hair, changed her name to Samantha, and although I haven’t seen her, I understand she gained a lot of weight. Didn’t you know that?”

  Bronson felt as if a bolt of lightning had hit him. A series of names flashed before him like a never-ending tape. Sam = S. Eleanor = Ellie = L’ee. Eleanor Samantha Jorgeson became Eleanor Chalmers or L’ee Chalmers. “You said she blames me for her failed marriage?”

  “She more than blames you. She’s down right bitter.”

  “Bitter enough to harm Carol?”

  “What?” Dolly asked.

  But Bronson was already running out the door.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Bronson’s heart drummed in his chest and his hands shook violently as he drove and whipped out his phone. He punched one and the number symbol, the shortcut to Carol’s cell. “Come on. Pick up. Pick up.” The machine connected him to her voice mail. “I love you,” he said and dropped the phone on the empty passenger seat.

  He made it to Brick’s in record time. He simultaneously turned off the engine and opened the door. He glanced at the parked cars and made a mental note as to their make and model.

  Bronson stepped into the small entryway where a sign read Please Wait to be Seated. He ignored it and checked the dining area. No L’ee. No Carol.

  He found the host. “Do you know L’ee Chalmers?”

  The young woman frowned and shook her head. She seemed perturbed at the interruption to her schedule.

  Before she could say anything else, Bronson added, “She’s a rather, huh, large woman. Often needs help just gettin’ along.”

  “No one like that has come in.”

  “Are you the only one who seats people?”

  She nodded. “But the restaurant has another area. That’s where the bar and smoking section are. We even have a dance floor.”

  Bronson couldn’t imagine them being in that part of the restaurant, but knew he should check anyway. “Where would that be?”

  “Go as if you’re going to the restrooms. You’ll see a door to your left. That’ll lead you into our smoking area.”

  Bronson thanked her and headed that way. Just as she had told him, as soon as he stepped into the small hallway, he saw a door to his left. He opened it.

  The atmosphere in this part of the restaurant contrasted with the area he had just checked. Instantly, loud music bombarded him. A heavy smoker’s cloud hovered over the area and Christmas lights lit the room. Bronson walked to the opposite end of the room. He didn’t find them.

  He ran back to the car. His fists pounded on the steering wheel. “Where are you? Where are you?” He had never felt so alone. So vulnerable.

  He forced back the tears that threatened to erupt at any minute and was somewhat shocked that they were even there. He turned on the engine and headed toward the sheriff’s office.

  * * * * *

  Through his office window, Quaid watched as Bronson pulled into the parking lot. Now what did he want? Filled with curiosity, Quaid headed for the reception area. The front door opened and Bronson rushed in. Quaid was taken by surprise. Somehow Bronson looked different. Defeated, maybe? He called him.

  Bronson turned, saw Quaid, nodded, and headed in his direction.

  Quaid didn’t wait for Bronson. He knew the Dallas cop had something urgent to tell him and they would need some privacy. He led him to his office. As soon as he closed the door, Bronson blurted something out. Couldn’t he wait at least until they had sat down? “What?”

  “Carol, my wife—she’s missin’.”

  “Missing?”

  “Yeah, like gone. Disappeared.”

  He knew what missing meant, but decided not to point out the obvious. “How long has she been missing?”

  “About an hour.”

  Quaid released the air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “An hour? That’s—”

  “I know. Nothin’. She could be out shoppin’. Goin’ out on a walk. Doin’ the tourist bit, I know. I’ve heard it all. I’ve even said it a couple of times myself, but this time it’s different. She’s really missin’.”

  “How so?”

  Bronson quickly but efficiently told Quaid about the events that had just transpired. Quaid reached for a pen and jotted down the main facts as Bronson stated them. When he finished speaking, Quaid put down his pen. He was silent for a moment, his thoughts still on the narrative. He knew Bronson was waiting for a solution, an answer, but he had none to give. “You’re right. You’ve got reasons to worry and I’ll help you any way I can, but don’t you think it’s a bit too soon to call in the state troopers?”

  Bronson leaned forward, his eyes small pinpoints of anger. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means that I’ll do what I can. I’ll put out a BOLO and contact the Safford police. This way they’ll also be on the lookout. I
’ll need a description of the car they’re driving.”

  “The hotel registration desk will have that information. I can ask a couple of the conference attendees to verify that information.”

  Always the detective. Didn’t he remember he was supposed to be retired? “I appreciate the help, Bronson, but I’ll put a couple of my deputies on that. You, better than anyone else, know the procedure. Go back home—in your case, the motel room—and wait for a call, in case L’ee Chalmers—or whomever—is trying to contact you.”

  “And that’s it?” Bronson spoke between clenched teeth.

  What did he expect? “No, that’s not it.” Quaid stood up. “I’m going to get you a recorder to attach to the motel phone.” He walked out and returned a few minutes later. He handed Bronson the recorder. “Like I said, my hands are tied right now. You, yourself, said that she’s been missing less than an hour and as it is, I’m sticking my neck way out for you.”

  “Right,” Bronson said and walked out.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  On his way back to the motel, Bronson stopped by Brick’s just in case L’ee had stopped somewhere else and had finally arrived. The host looked at Bronson and shook her head. He mouthed a thank you and checked anyway, knowing full well that they weren’t there.

  He returned to the car and thought about driving around, but until he knew the make and model of the car, there was no use.

  Anxiety gnawed at him like a tiny insect nibbling on his insides. He had known sorrow and loneliness before. He had experienced fear and knew what it was like to be helpless. He had faced the darkness, the unknown, the enemy. It had all been a part of the job.

  But this time, life had dealt him a blow he couldn’t grasp. He bowed his head, closed his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he whispered a prayer. He started the engine and headed toward the motel.