Silent Scream

by Karen Harper

  * * *

  Every bone in Claire’s body ached the next morning, and she was certain she still smelled smoke in her hair, in the bedsheets. She could not get the sight, even distant, of the charred corpse of that woman out of her mind. Nick was gone already, heading for the station where Dale had been booked. They’d decided late last night that they’d drop Lexi and Trey off at her sister’s for the day while Claire helped Nita and Bronco clean junk and trash out of their new house, and Nick would be there as soon as he could get Dale out on bail.

  At least, Nick had said, the fire had happened late enough last night that the local newspaper and other outlets probably wouldn’t report on it until later today when word got out about the second woman’s murder in that same neighborhood—with the common denominator now under arrest.

  Claire got up and dragged herself to the bathroom, took a stimulant pill to battle her narcolepsy on top of her exhaustion. Wait until Brad Vance heard or read about this latest publicity, not that she would be named in it. But Markwood, Benton and Chase probably would be, and that alone might be too much for him. She did not want to be terminated from her work at Black Bog. Would Andrea and Kris be on her side, or did they have to side with Brad? The man seemed in control and yet ready to explode sometimes.

  And her own state of being? She’d have to try again to question Kris on Monday morning but keep from putting a damper on her high spirits and excitement over her ice skating date with Mitch Blakeman. Hopefully, she herself would not be skating on thin ice with her friend to inquire about Brad and Andrea’s two antique and jewelry stores. She wished she had entered the store as an anonymous special buyer, a cognoscente, as the shop staff called it.

  Maybe if she drove across the state to Fort Lauderdale and went in their other store, she could start all over, learn more. Or maybe she could get someone to do it for her. But for now, she could only hope that Andrea and former Senator Brad Vance trusted her because she wanted desperately to prove herself to them, which she hoped to do tomorrow when she shared her initial theory on the buried trio.

  Stifling a yawn and trying not to look at herself in the mirror, Claire jammed her feet into her slippers and went to check on Lexi and Trey.

  * * *

  “Where to start in this mess?” Nita said. “Okay, one room at a time, the master bedroom first, then the kitchen. Still can’t picture me fixing food here where someone was put on ice. At least the guys from the police are ready to load up that freezer,” she said with another glimpse out the living room window which Bronco was watching too.

  The freezer which had been Cyndi’s tomb sat in the driveway as the two men backed their truck closer to where they’d set it down. They had a lift on the back of the truck and had used a dolly to get it that far.

  “Let’s get busy,” Claire suggested. “The sooner this place is emptied, then repainted and furnished, the better you’ll feel about making it your own, though I don’t mean you have to leave us right away.”

  Bronco was still watching the men with the truck. “This real nice neighborhood we picked, partly ’cause Dale gave us a good price for his Mom’s place, is not looking so good right now,” Bronco said. “Swear I can smell smoke hanging in the air.”

  “No more dragging your feet about this place,” Claire said with a one-armed hug of Nita. “Come on, you two. Let’s show Nick we got a lot done when he gets here.”

  “Right. Good riddance to that freezer,” Bronco said and headed out the back door to the shed.

  Inside, it was like a treasure hunt, but of worthless treasure. Though Claire supposed there was some sales value in stacks of old Life Magazines, and at least ten years of People, local newspapers, clay pots, some of which still held dead plants, and sacks of grocery sacks. They carted them outside to either Bronco’s truck or the dumpster they had rented. “Let’s keep these old 78 and 45 records, though,” she told Nita when the two of them attacked that pile. “Collectors are really getting back into vinyl.”

  She wondered if people were really getting back into Victorian mourning jewelry—and if the so-called cognoscenti were actually buying jewelry inspired by the ancients. Maybe she could ask Jace and Brit to go over to Fort Lauderdale, in case Pippa Lee was over there for the day or she had to show ID and the staff there had heard about her visit.

  She lugged out another load into the living room for Bronco to take to the dumpster when he finally finished cleaning out the backyard shed. She looked out a front window again to see if the freezer was gone. The two men hired by the police were surely taking their good old time, probably getting paid by the hour and not the job. They were just finishing cigarettes. At least they ground out the butts on the driveway instead of tossing them into the truck or dumpster. One lowered the lift, and they bent to slide the freezer onto it from the wheeled dolly.

  Suddenly two other men appeared, both big bruisers. “That bastard Dale Braun trying to get rid of the coffin he put my sister in?” the one shouted. “He here? Heard he lives here’bouts.”

  Oh, no! Southern accent. Sounded slurred, maybe drunk. Fists clenched. One guy hit the truck driver on the shoulder, pushing him away from the freezer, while the other man opened it and peered in. Both Nick and Ken Jensen had described Cyndi’s redneck brother and her first fiancé well enough to match what Claire had just heard and seen.

  “Nita!” Claire called, lunging to lock the front door, then closing and locking the front window that was open. “Run out back and get Bronco. I’m sure the police are sick of us, but I’m calling them if those delivery men they sent aren’t able to handle this. And I’m calling Nick.”

  In the background, on the street curb, she saw Betty Richards just watching, holding her little dog in her arms. Crazy thought, but it almost looked like she’d summoned the two loud louts and now was just watching, watching.

  26

  “Don’t you go anywhere near those two,” Nick insisted on the phone when she told him Tanner and his friend—she could not recall the other guy’s name—were at the house.

  “Nita went to get Bronco. Okay, he’s out in front to talk to them,” she said, still looking out the window. “The two guys picking up the freezer are not cops, but there is safety in numbers.”

  “Lie low. I’m halfway there. See you.”

  Nita ran in the back door and locked it behind her. She joined Claire in the living room, looking out the window. “Bronco and those two taking the freezer will make them leave,” she said, out of breath.

  The voices were so loud they had no trouble hearing the men.

  “This here freezer was my sister’s tomb!” Tanner repeated. Together, the two men slammed the lid on it. “Don’t want it hid or made a sideshow. Gonna make that fancy lawyer bastard admit he kilt her, put him in here, show him what it’s like. And hope they fingerprinted it already, ’cause ours is on there now, and you can tell the cops why.”

  “You’d better get off this private property,” Bronco told them, not budging. At least, Claire thought, he was a physical match for Tanner—except that there were two of them, and the delivery guys were just staying out of the way, though one was on his phone.

  “I heard Braun’s out of jail, probably hiding out, lawyer fancied hisself up by hiring those other lawyers he works with. Get him out here so I can at least tell him what I think of his kind,” Tanner insisted.

  Claire told Nita, “At least Bronco didn’t tell him he has the wrong house, Dale’s mother’s old place next door to Dale’s.” She shuddered. She dreaded Nick hearing this blame-the-lawyer talk. Here she was worried that he’d be upset that she’d called Jace to see if he and Brit would go over to the Vances’ Fort Lauderdale shop to check it out for backroom buys. He would go ballistic if she went out there after he’d said not to, but she had to get these men calmed down or away before Nick arrived.

  “Mr. Braun doesn’t live here anymore!” Bronco insisted. “He sold
me this house, and that’s that.”

  “Well, won’t trash it or burn it down then, like I was fixin’ to do, like he deserves or worse!” Tanner shouted. “Where’s he at then?”

  Burn it down? Claire thought. Maybe these guys needed a closer look.

  “Moved somewhere in the area,” Bronco said. “Can’t say I know.”

  Nita spoke again. “Good how he said that—not quite a lie.” She was wringing her hands. “Hope those two don’t have a gun.”

  “I think they would have pulled it by now. They were thinking of hurting the house—and that mention of wanting to burn it is interesting.”

  “Claire, you are not on this case. Nick will have your head.”

  “Not if I can get somewhere with them. Thank heavens we were here, but I can’t have Nick charging in, even with Bronco to back him up, and those two workers are worthless. Besides, the neighbor lady is an eyewitness and the more people—maybe us so-called weaker sex—dealing with them, the better.”

  It seemed a momentary stalemate outside. Claire made a quick decision. She had to get rid of these two, and she’d handled worse before. Besides, how else was she going to assess whether they were sincere about losing Cyndi, or if they could have had something to do with her murder? Jensen had said they weren’t accounted for when she died and that they hadn’t been back to Zebulon when he was there. But would they have been stupid enough to come back here and make a ruckus if they were guilty? Over the years, she’d seen stupider moves by guilty parties.

  “I’m going out,” she told Nita, handing her the phone. “I’ll talk them down and find out a few things. I’m not afraid with Bronco and those two others there—and Betty Richards and her tiny attack dog—ha.”

  “No, Claire, you can’t,” she said and started to cry.

  “It’s all right. The only problem I’ll have is Nick will be livid, so I’ve got to hurry.”

  Ignoring Nita’s protest, she opened the front door and went out.

  “Hello,” she called to them.

  “You the missus?” Tanner, who seemed to be the spokesman—the thinker of the two, if that was possible—called to her.

  “No, just a friend of the couple who recently bought this house,” she said, gesturing toward Bronco. Claire wasn’t certain whether to identify herself as Nick’s wife or not, but if he arrived, they’d figure it out. “We’re inside cleaning it up, trying to move on from your poor sister being found here. We will always remember her.

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she went on, “but I take it you’re Cyndi’s brother and a friend of hers. I am so sorry for your loss.” She dared to walk closer and extend her hand. The scent of alcohol hit her hard. Obviously surprised, Tanner shook her hand, his big paw engulfing hers. His fingers were dirty and calloused. Bronco edged along right beside her but at least he didn’t interrupt.

  “A damn tragedy,” Tanner said, releasing her hand. “When I called the police station, I heard the guy’s finally been arrested but got out on bail. Read in the paper he might of kilt some other woman too.”

  “That’s all hearsay—just guessing at this point. Yet to be proved. But I’m sure whoever hurt your sister will be brought to justice.”

  The fiancé—why couldn’t she think of his name?—stepped closer. Always use the person’s name, she recited to herself from her hostile interview training years ago. She would have called Tanner by his name, but she didn’t want to tip them off she knew much about them and, although she’d admitted she’d been listening, neither man had given his name. Could that mean they were hiding something?

  “Bad enough she got killed,” the former fiancé said. “But then to be put in that freezer like deer meat or somethin’.”

  “It’s terrible. Where were you two when you heard what had happened?”

  “On the road,” Tanner said. “Truck drivers, work together sometimes. Got a call from home.”

  “Oh, what a sad way to hear about the passing of someone you loved and cared for. Have you been here in Naples for a while?”

  “Truth is,” he said, lowering his voice for the first time, “we been on a binge in Key West, tryin’ to drink it all away, how she deserted both of us, took off with some cash she took from me, then paid the price.”

  Bingo! Claire thought. He had just given her at least the hint of a motive suggesting they might have met Cyndi here, argued with her about deserting them, perhaps stealing from them and maybe more than just argued.

  “Well,” Tanner said, frowning at the freezer again, “nothing else to do here. We’re heading home but sure would like to give that Braun bastard a piece of my mind and a piece of this.”

  Claire gasped and Bronco pulled her back behind him as the man drew a hunting knife from his jacket pocket. “You ever see him, maybe he comes around for rent or whatever,” he told Bronco, “tell him if he don’t get life in prison for what he done, he’s gonna get this!”

  Thank God, he turned and walked away with his friend right behind.

  “Get his license plate,” Claire told Bronco, then turned to the workers. “And you two get that freezer out of here—please!”

  To her amazement, Betty had not budged. Feeling she’d done something helpful—and Nick had not gotten here to blow up yet—Claire figured she was on a roll. The Georgia truck pulled away, and the two workers went back to their task just as a police car pulled up in front.

  “Bronco,” Claire whispered, “Nick should be here soon, so fill him and this officer in, but watch to be sure those two don’t come back. I’ve been meaning to talk to Betty. And question number one is why would she be this nosy right now with two obvious brutes making a lot of noise.”

  * * *

  Jace met Brit in Wynn’s Market on the Trail. He hated not being open with her as much as he hated steering clear of Lexi lately. Mitch had managed some time with Kris, so he was just going to take Claire up on the idea she’d given him on the phone, partly because it would give him time with Brit.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she told him with a little laugh. She was carrying an empty plastic grocery basket, but she reached out to squeeze his hand. She looked good. Either she was getting more sleep not being in his bed, or her natural resilience was back again.

  “Hey, at least you’re still speaking to me,” he told her. “And smiling. And kidding around.”

  “This mess isn’t your fault. You and Mitch were only trying to help crack down on drug czars.”

  “Want to head over to Lauderdale for a day? Get out of here?”

  “Really? Just for a day?”

  “Got meetings for the new job coming up in DC. Mitch and I are going to have to head there soon, where I know I’ll be safe. But meanwhile, yeah, just for a day let’s cross the state to Fort Lauderdale—I need to visit a really upscale jewelry and antiques store, and you could come along.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be safe in DC. Nothing bad ever happens there,” she added with a roll of her eyes and a wry smile.

  For sure this woman had bounced back from her own tragedy, and he loved her for it. Fall down, get up. Get shot at, so to speak, hunker down and shoot back.

  “So what’s the Lauderdale deal?” she went on, as they strolled the aisles.

  “It’s actually a favor for Claire, though she couldn’t tell me why. Says you should stop by the house, she’ll fill you in, then you tell me. Man, I’m missing Lexi, so hug her for me.”

  “For Claire, for Lexi, will do. Claire almost lost her life helping me last year.”

  “Let’s not think that. She needs someone who is not obviously tied to her to go into an arty store there and look at some pricey jewelry they might keep just for high rollers. Not buy it, just try to see it.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s us, high rollers. Meaning, I’ll have to wear my one pair of designer jeans and Manolo Blahnik heels, and y
ou can’t just stroll in there in work jeans. Did she tell you more than that?”

  “Yeah. She thinks the key word to get a look at the pricey stuff might be cognoscente.”

  “Key word? No kidding? Is she working on something to do with jewelry theft?”

  “I think it’s maybe tied somehow to knockoffs. You, know, copies of the real thing. Don’t really know, and she wouldn’t say.”

  “Maybe that’s her consulting job,” Brit mused as she put something in the plastic shopping basket on her arm. She took some smoked fish spread and cocktail crackers, then tossed in some granola bars. “You know,” she went on, “maybe she’s looking for people who are stealing old tribal jewelry, because there are all kinds of laws about returning Native American pieces, artifacts, even bones. I suppose a sting operation would be really hush-hush.”

  “That’s my girl—you, I mean, up for a challenge. I love you,” he said, planting a fast kiss on her mouth. “Believe me, I can do better than that. But here’s the thing. I’m going to ask Mitch if he can fly us over in the chopper, then wait for us at the small airport I know just for a couple hours. We’d fly out of the Marco Island airport near here. The guy loves to fly what he calls helos, and this week’s the last time he’ll have access to a bird. We can take a taxi, have lunch, hit the jewelry store incognito.”

  “I’d like to see the Everglades from the air, and choppers fly pretty low. Maybe we’ll spot a Florida panther. When?”

  “Can you get off day after tomorrow—Tuesday? I know that’s short notice.”

  “I think I can swing it. I’ve practically been living at the zoo, especially since I’m not living with you and have to move in with my second love.”