Reed Ferguson Mystery Box Set 5

by Renee Pawlish

  “Hey,” I said to Cal as I hopped back in the 4-Runner.

  “You sound flustered.”

  “I forgot to silence my phone,” I said. “And it’s eerily silent around this town.”

  He ignored that and said, “Okay, nothing spectacular about Sheehan. He’s married, two grown kids, and has lived in Sagebrush since 1968. He doesn’t have a record, and his finances are in order. He bought his house in ’75, and he just paid it off. Nothing unusual with his banking, either. The guy looks clean.”

  “What about Toby Holder?”

  “He had a few arrests right after high school, but nothing since. He’s never married, makes a decent living with Holder Farm Equipment, and his taxes are in order.”

  “What about his house? Is it paid for?”

  “Yes. He’s got the house and twenty acres.”

  I whistled. “It’s a really nice place.” I described it for him. “He’s paying big bucks for his liquor and cigar selection, and he’s got some expensive cars, too. Would the trust pay for that?”

  “No, he invests that money.”

  “Then his store is making enough for his high living?”

  “Tsk, tsk. I don’t think so. On paper, he’s not rich. Holder Farm Equipment does pretty well, but he’s got expenses with it that keep him from clearing a fortune.”

  “Where’s he getting the money for his man cave and other toys?”

  “You’re the detective.”

  “Funny,” I said.

  He laughed. “Hey, I’ve got some other work to do, but I’ll keep monitoring John Smith’s calls for you.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  “What’re you going to do next?”

  I gazed at the square of light coming from the office window. “I’m going to see if I can talk to Toby. He’s not on the level.”

  “Good luck,” he said and ended the call.

  I silenced the phone, pocketed it, slid back out of the car, and ran across the street. I crept along the side of the building toward the window where the light was on. As I neared it, I realized the window was open. Country music filtered out. I pressed myself against the wall and listened. No voices, only the music.

  I edged forward and peeked inside.

  The office was large, with high ceilings, white walls, file cabinets, and a metal desk that faced the door to the main part of the store. Toby was at the desk, typing at his computer. Then he sat back, grabbed a cell phone off the desk and started talking to someone. I strained to hear over the music. He said something about ‘coming soon,’ and he was ready. He talked for a few minutes more, shook his head, and glanced at a big clock on the wall that read 9:30. Then he shrugged, and said something else. With a final wave of his hand, he ended the call and set the phone back on the desk. At that moment, I stood in front of the window and rapped on the glass.

  He pushed himself out of the chair, saying, “You’re early, and why the hell aren’t you coming around front?” Then he turned and saw me. His jaw dropped, but he quickly recovered. “What’re you doing here?” he snarled.

  “You’re a hard man to find,” I said as I rested my forearms on the window ledge.

  “Get out of here!”

  “You’re up to something,” I said. “Marcia knew about it, right? And you’ve done something to her.”

  “How dare you think I would harm my sister! I was there for her!”

  He stepped around the desk and grabbed a pistol lying beside the computer. I hadn’t seen the weapon. I held up my hands.

  “I don’t want any problems,” I said. I stepped away from the window. “I just want to know where Marcia is.”

  “I don’t know.” He reached the window and aimed at me. “Get out of here and don’t come back.”

  I didn’t break his gaze as I backpedaled and made my way across the street to the 4-Runner. I revved the engine and squealed off down the street, but I wasn’t leaving. Toby was expecting someone, and I wanted to know who. So I drove around the corner and parked. Then I took out my Glock, put it in the small of my back, grabbed binoculars from the backseat, and sneaked back to the corner. I hid behind a big evergreen in an empty lot, where I could see the front of Holder Farm Equipment and the side of the building near the street. Toby was still silhouetted in the window. He waited a long time before finally moving away.

  I hunkered down and watched the building. Stars came out, but the light stayed on in Toby’s office. Eleven o’clock came and went, and Toby never left. It grew chilly and I wished I had thought to bring a light jacket. Midnight arrived. I yawned, shifted, but didn’t leave. I wanted to know what Toby was up to, and I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew. Finally, at close to one, a large flatbed truck rumbled down the street. It pulled into the front of Holder Farm Equipment. Toby opened a gate to the back lot and the truck drove though. The engine died, and an eerie silence filled the air.

  I couldn’t see the truck anymore, so I ducked down and ran across the street. I lay down in some tall weeds near the perimeter fence and trained my binoculars into the back lot.

  Two men got out of the truck cab, and they worked with Toby to unload some farm equipment into a garage bay. When they finished, one of the men bent down and pulled something from under the wheel well of a riding lawn mower. I’d seen something like that before. Through the binoculars, it appeared to be a brick of marijuana, or possibly heroin. Toby whacked the guy on the head with the palm of his hand, then gestured at the other man to close the garage door. He did, and I wasn’t able to see anything more.

  I stared up at the fence. It was at least ten feet high. I wondered if I could quietly scale it and get into the lot. I reached out and grabbed the chain link. It rattled loudly. Then I heard a dog bark somewhere down the street. What if he kept barking and someone else was in the lot and heard the ruckus? I didn’t want to risk it. Besides, there were no windows for me to look in anyway. I decided to wait and see what happened next.

  Time crept by. I was growing tired, and I stifled another yawn. The weeds were making me itch, and I scratched my eyes. Finally, the garage door opened. The two men got back in the truck. I ducked down as the headlights cut a path through the lot. Then the truck hit the street and rumbled away. A minute later, Toby came out, shut the garage door, and went to a silver truck parked near the gate. He drove out the gate, stopped long enough to shut and lock it, then hit the street. I pressed myself into the ground as the truck passed by. I waited until I couldn’t hear the engine, then slowly rose to my feet. I wished I could get into the store, but I suspected there would be an alarm system. And I had what I needed to know. Toby Holder appeared to be smuggling drugs. I had something I could take to the sheriff in the morning.

  I ran back to the 4-Runner, brushed myself off, and got in. I was shivering as I drove back to the hotel. I grabbed my backpack and trudged inside. The night clerk barely noticed me as I walked down the hall to my room. I put the key in and unlocked the door, stepped into the room and froze. Someone was there. I gently set the backpack down, pulled out my Glock, aimed into the room, and flipped the light switch on.

  Lying on the bed, with the covers partially thrown back, was Willie in a sexy black teddy. She suddenly sat up and blinked.

  “Geez!” I said as I lowered the Glock. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I was missing you, so I found someone to cover my shift. I drove up to surprise you.” She yawned and stretched.

  My eyes roved up and down her body. “I’m surprised,” I said.

  “I got a key from the desk clerk – he recognized me from our last visit – and waited for you to come back. Then I, uh … fell asleep. Why’re you so late?”

  I shrugged as I put the Glock in my backpack and put it near the bed. Then, after my heartrate slowed down, I eyed her again.

  “What?” she said.

  “You’re by far the best thing I’ve seen all day.”

  She twirled her hair in her hand. “Want to come to bed?”

  I n
odded. “I do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The next morning, I slept later than I meant to. Willie and I had breakfast at the hotel, and then she was going to spend a little time at the pool, and then study for some continuing education classes she needed to take. While she did that, I visited the sheriff. It was almost ten when I parked in front of a long, red brick building a block from Main Street. A blue Tahoe was sitting near the door, but no car sat in the slot reserved for the sheriff.

  I strolled through double-glass doors and into a small lobby that smelled faintly of Clorox. A woman in a tan uniform sat at a desk near the door, gazing at a monitor on her desk. Behind her were two doors and two windows covered with partially closed blinds. The woman looked up and gave me a warm smile.

  “Something I can do for you?”

  “Is Sheriff Madisen here?” I asked.

  “He’s not here right now. Can I help you?”

  I glanced around. “No, I’ll try later.” I went back outside before she could ask me any questions.

  I drove around town for a while, then went by Holder Farm Equipment. Toby’s silver truck sat near the gate. I parked down the street, where I could see into the back lot. I watched through my binoculars for a while, but never saw Toby or the men I’d seen with him the previous night. Some of the farm equipment that had been delivered last night was sitting near the building, but nothing that would indicate drug smuggling. Toby Holder wasn’t that stupid. When my stomach growled, I finally left, got a late lunch with Willie, and then tried to find Sheriff Madisen. I called the sheriff’s department and left a message, asking for him to call me. Then I resumed my watch of Holder Farm Equipment. Finally, around four, the sheriff called me back.

  “I understand you want to talk to me?” he said.

  “Yes, I –”

  “My office. Be here in ten minutes.”

  “Good timing on your part,” the deputy said when I entered the sheriff’s department. “The sheriff is here. May I tell him your name?”

  Just then, the door to the right opened and Sheriff Ben Madisen poked his head out.

  “Come on in,” he said in a deep voice.

  The woman nodded, and Madisen waved a hand at me. I crossed the lobby and went into his office. He shut the door behind me.

  “Have a seat.” He gestured at a black barrel chair in front of a large desk.

  I took a seat as he settled into a leather office chair. His office was dim, with dark paneled walls, dark green carpet, and little in the way of lighting. On the wall behind him, shelves displayed awards, and pictures of him with the mayor, other officers, and even the governor.

  Sheriff Madisen was wearing a baseball cap with the sheriff’s logo on it. He adjusted the cap, then steepled his fingers and gazed at me. “I hear you’re running around town asking a lot of questions.”

  I held up my hands. “And someone doesn’t like it.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “A car ran me off the road the other night. I almost went through a barbed wire fence and into a field.”

  “Did you get a license plate number?”

  I shook my head.

  “Did you see the driver?”

  “No.”

  He pursed his lips. “I can file a report if you want, but it seems kind of pointless.”

  “Not necessary.”

  He studied me, then said, “What do you need?”

  I stared back at him. “How much do you know about Toby Holder?”

  He chose his words carefully. “He’s a good man, represents this community well. Everyone likes him. And he’s my brother-in-law, so I know him a bit better than most. Why?”

  “I have reason to suspect he’s smuggling drugs.”

  His face remained impassive. Then he unfolded his hands and leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “That’s a serious allegation you’re making.”

  “I know.”

  “Is that the real reason why you’ve come to Sagebrush? You’re investigating Toby Holder?”

  “No. I want to find Marcia Holder. That’s why I wanted to talk to your wife.”

  He snorted. “If she doesn’t want to talk to you, I certainly wouldn’t be able to change that.”

  “Has she heard from Marcia recently?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  I pointed at him. “And you haven’t?”

  “No.”

  “Okay,” I said. “In the course of my inquiries, I discovered that Toby Holder leads a pretty extravagant lifestyle, one that needs more money than he’s making at Holder Farm Equipment.”

  “How did you find all this out?”

  “I can’t reveal,” I said.

  He leaned back. “I’m going to need more than that.”

  “Last night at one a.m., a truck delivered some farm equipment to Toby’s store. That itself seemed odd, but I also saw one of the truck drivers pull something out from the wheel well of a riding lawn mower and hand it to Toby.”

  “So?”

  “It appeared to be a brick of marijuana, or possibly heroin.”

  He rubbed his chin, then said, “Are you sure it was drugs?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “What were you doing out there at that time of night?”

  I shrugged. “Detecting.”

  He didn’t laugh at that. “Did anyone else see them?”

  “I don’t know. I would assume I was the only one.”

  “Do you have any other proof of possible drug smuggling?”

  “No.”

  He thought again. “No pictures or video of this transaction, or any other?”

  “No,” I repeated.

  “Hmm.” He steepled the hands again. “What if you’re wrong?”

  “Isn’t it worth checking? Toby used to be friends with a man named Jay Overstrom. Overstrom was shot and killed execution-style, and it was thought that he associated with drug smugglers in Denver.”

  “Yes, I’m familiar with the case. It was never solved.”

  “Toby was friends with Overstrom. What if Toby’s continued the smuggling operation?”

  “Without me knowing?”

  “He’s the son of the longtime mayor.” I hesitated. “If he’s careful about what he does, why would anyone suspect him? I also think your father-in-law and Pastor Sheehan are hiding something. What if they know about what Toby’s doing, or what if they’re involved?”

  “What makes you think either are involved?”

  I told him what I’d unearthed in my investigation.

  “You’re accusing three of the top people in this town of some very serious crimes.”

  “I may be wrong, but it’s at least worth checking.”

  He pondered that. “I hate to accuse Toby of something like this if it isn’t true.”

  He didn’t want to think what I said might be valid. Maybe he had been letting things slip past his “watchful” eye and didn’t want to admit it.

  “There’s something I can’t figure out,” I said.

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “How Marcia Holder is involved in this.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. “You think she’s involved in smuggling drugs?”

  “I don’t think so, but why did she disappear right after I found her?” I told him about how I’d been hired to find her, and the scene at her house, with the broken lamp and the blood, and how she showed up at her father’s house the previous night.

  “Marcia went to his house?”

  I nodded. “You hadn’t heard that?”

  He shook his head.

  “Did you know he was paying for her to live in Denver?”

  “No,” he said. “I thought she’d run away. All these years, she was that close.” He stared past me, then whispered, “The old man never said anything.”

  “I get the feeling Mayor Holder doesn’t want anyone to know.” I hesitated again. “His kids don’t like him.”

  He ignored that. “You think someone tried to hurt
Marcia the other night in Denver?” he asked.

  “I’d lean that way. There was a fight, she escaped, then came up here to find out why someone’s coming for her after all these years. What if she knew that Toby was a drug smuggler?”

  “Why would she keep her mouth shut all this time?”

  I grimaced. “Maybe since he’s her brother. But when I talked to her, I got the feeling she had something on her father, and the deal was if he paid her bills, she’d keep her mouth shut about him. And he told me himself that when she talked to him the other night, she said she was here because of something from the past. What was that about?”

  He threw up a hand. “How should I know?” He stared hard at me. “I can’t speak to what Marcia might be thinking or doing now, but I do know that what she did back in ’85 was very hurtful to her whole family.”

  “From what I’ve heard, it was more about Mayor Holder being embarrassed, and him and Pastor Sheehan worrying about her pregnancy reflecting poorly on them.”

  “I don’t know about that, but she shouldn’t have gotten herself into that situation in the first place.”

  “What about the guy? He had a piece in that.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “And you know about how Mayor Holder dragged her back from Kansas?” I asked.

  He nodded. “That was awful. Everyone was upset that she’d left, and then to have a big fight like that, and Marcia getting knocked around and hitting her head.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Jennifer. She heard it from Marcia.”

  I mulled that over. Marcia had thought she’d fallen and hit her head. Did Jennifer know what really happened at the hotel? Had she been talking to John Smith? I made a mental note to ask Smith about that – and Jennifer, if she’d talk to me again.

  “Jennifer didn’t hear that from someone else?” I danced carefully, not wanting to let the sheriff know I thought his wife might be lying.

  His eyes narrowed. “Like who?”

  “Did she talk to the guy Marcia had been dating?”

  “Impossible. None of us knew who Marcia had been seeing.” He suddenly stood up. “I have some other things to attend to, but I’ll look into this situation with Toby. I appreciate you letting me know. We don’t want any trouble in this town.”