Angry Betty

by Jamie Lee Scott

  What the hell did he know? Kate wasn’t sure she’d ever really been happy a day in her life. Even as hard as Zane tried, nothing made her truly happy.

  “Yeah, well, he got the successful part right. I’m a good cop.”

  Victor nodded. “So now you know. He didn’t know about you in your lean times. Only after you’d become the brilliant young woman you are. And because of this, he left you his estate.”

  When she’d come in, she planned to jump out of the chair with indignation and refuse the old bastard’s goodwill, no matter what it was. Now she decided to listen.

  “If you have time today, I can take you by the plantation, but it will have to be after one o’clock. I have several other appointments.”

  “The plantation?”

  “It’s really just a farm located on the outskirts of Peculiar. It’s been in his family for three generations. Originally a cotton plantation, now it’s acres and acres of pecans. It obviously will skip your mother’s generation, and it’s now yours.”

  Kate still didn’t understand. “He’s leaving me a house?”

  Victor nodded. “The entire property. There are many provisions in his will for the upkeep of the estate. He started leasing the pecan orchards to another farmer about five years ago, so you won’t have to worry about planting and harvest seasons or any of that. And our office, along with his long-time accountant, will handle all of the financials.”

  She might like this. She’d been wanting to move to the country. “I now own a pecan farm?”

  Victor smiled. “You do.”

  “I’m just a cop. I’m not sure I can afford the property taxes on this,” Kate said, frowning.

  “It’s zoned for agriculture, so the property taxes aren’t as high as you’d think. And again, there’s a trust. It will cover all expenses relating to the home and land. Edwin’s accountant has everything in order, so you won’t be burdened.”

  Intending to go back to her apartment and take a nap, Kate barely sipped her latte, knowing the caffeine would keep her buzzed for a few hours at least. She took the cup with her as she left the lawyer’s office, along with the thick folder, and a new appointment card.

  It had taken an hour to go through the papers and sign documents.

  According to Victor and the will, the house was hers, and all maintenance, housekeeping, landscaping, electricity, gas, insurances, and whatever else should come up, would be paid for by a trust managed by Edwin’s financial advisors and the attorney’s office. All Kate had to do was live on the property, and sign papers saying she’d never sell the property or let it fall into disrepair. She also had to let the current renter of the pecan orchards have the first right of refusal for the lease when it was time to renew. And allow the renter to stay in the servants’ home on the property rent free.

  She wasn’t sure she liked the part about the freeloader, but her grandfather probably had good reasons for allowing the person to stay.

  Pulling into her parking space, she turned off her car, then picked up the paper with the address of her new house. She almost restarted her car to drive out to the farm, sure she’d driven by it at least a hundred times, not knowing it belonged to Edwin.

  “Grandpa Edwin,” she said, and it squeezed her heart.

  After all the hate she’d felt since Eva’s phone call, now she felt sadness and loss. That bitch of a mother had kept her from meeting her real family all these years. Made her think she was an orphan, not wanted or loved. “Fuck you, Amy,” she said as she grabbed her coffee cup and the folder and got out of the car.

  Between the runner, the dead body in the trunk, and learning she had a grandfather who loved her, sleep was not coming any time soon. She’d deferred the tour of her new home to the next day, so she could get back to the station to check the progress of her investigation. And it was definitely her investigation. One detective in the department didn’t give him much time for more than a few murder cases. She’d investigate this because it was her traffic stop. If Zane tried to take her off it, she’d do the unthinkable and go over his head.

  Sleep would not come, so she padded into the kitchen. Grounds, filter, water, brew. She could smell it brewing as she headed to the bathroom for a shower.

  Chapter 3

  Zane’s patrol car spent entirely too much time in the parking lot of the station lately. He was a sergeant, and yet he’d been doing the work of a lieutenant for at least three months. He’d damn sure better get the promotion if he was going to be doing the work.

  Zane had been sitting at his desk for more than an hour when Kate walked in without knocking. She sat down in the chair across from him.

  “You look well rested,” he said dryly, leaning back in his chair.

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “What’s the latest on our investigation?”

  “Our investigation?” Zane said.

  “Oh, come on, it was my traffic stop. I should get to investigate the homicide,” Kate said.

  “Stop whining. What happened at the attorney’s office?” Zane changed the subject. He wasn’t in the mood.

  “I inherited a pecan farm off I-30, just east of town,” she said, completely nonchalant.

  Zane laughed. “That’s a good one.”

  Kate leaned forward, her travel mug in her hand. “I’m serious. Apparently, I had a grandfather named Edwin Barrow, and he left me a pecan farm and an antebellum house.”

  The smile disappeared from Zane’s face. He wasn’t sure he liked this. She’d live further away, be more independent than she already was. At least he got to see her nearly every day, and for the most part, they worked well together.

  “Congratulations, I guess.” Zane leaned even further back in his seat. “That’s going to be a lot of upkeep for one person to handle.”

  “You’d think.” Kate blew on her fingernails and buffed them on the front of her shirt. “But, alas, the place comes with a staff and a trust. Grandpa Edwin wants to be sure the farm doesn’t fall into disrepair. Everything has been taken care of. And if I need anything for the house, I just contact good old Victor. Actually, Eva, because I don’t think Victor has time to take my calls. He barely had time to look at me this morning.” Kate wiggled her brows. “But I got a good look at him.”

  Zane shook his head. It had only been six months since their divorce, and Kate made it clear every chance she got that she was on the prowl, so he’d be on the prowl, too. But he just couldn’t make himself move on.

  “Back to this investigation,” Kate said.

  “We’ll be working it together. Do you think you can handle that? Peebles has a full plate with that domestic last week and another case he’s working with the sheriff’s department.”

  He hoped she wouldn’t balk at working together. Maybe working this close was a bad idea. He’d let sleeping dogs lie, and he’d work this case without her if she didn’t want to be a part of it. But he wasn’t giving it to her to work alone or with anyone else.

  “Cool. Get me up to speed,” Kate said.

  “First, you need to write up a report on your rookie. He’s been riding with you for a week now.”

  Kate crossed her arms. “Oh, that. Fine, I’ll write up my review. We work together again tonight. Then if the chief says it’s all good, he’ll partner with another officer for a few months, and I’ll get my car back to myself.”

  “You had it to yourself last night,” Zane said. “You like being alone, don’t you?”

  Kate put her hand out, like she was stopping traffic. “Don’t even go there. Not up for discussion.”

  Zane sat forward in his chair and moved the pens around on his desk. “I didn’t mean it like that. No need to be bitchy.”

  “Catch me up already. I want to get a move on with this case.”

  “I’ll get you caught up, but we both need to get some sleep. Six o’clock is going to come fast, and as soon as the sun goes down, we’ll both be exhausted.”

  “I’m good, just tell me already. Then I’ll go ba
ck home.”

  Stubborn. Zane opened a file on his computer. “The car was wiped clean except for the driver’s side.”

  “The jackass who ran?” Kate leaned forward, trying to look at his computer screen.

  He moved it to a better angle. “According to the prints, your driver is Daniel Boyd.”

  Kate slapped the top of the desk. “That little snot. I thought I recognized him before he took off. Just didn’t put him in a Mercedes. He’s a 1985 Ford F150 kinda guy.”

  Zane laughed. Boyd was no stranger to Peculiar, Texas cops.

  “We pulled the footage from your chest camera, which corroborates your story about him taking off. Sneaky little shit, stomping on the gas while he was still leaning over like he was getting the registration.”

  “I didn’t see it coming until it was too late.”

  “Obviously,” Zane said.

  “And what about the dead guy?”

  “We ran his name, and he’s no saint either, just smarter. Every charge against him for the last three years has been dropped.”

  “What the hell?” Kate rested her elbows on Zane’s desk.

  “Most of the charges were drug related. Possession, possession with intent to distribute, stuff like that. All dismissed. I’m thinking he’s a rat.”

  Zane had a pretty good idea of how the guy worked. As long as a crime wasn’t against another person, like assault, battery, burglary or theft, to name a few, a guy could offer up a bigger fish and get his charges lessened or dropped. If it was really good information, charges went away in the blink of an eye. This guy knew things. And if Zane was the betting type, he’d bet this guy had done a whole lot of talking.

  “I wonder who he ratted out to end up in the trunk of his own car with his head blown apart?” Kate had a faraway look, as if she already had plans to investigate that angle.

  “Good question,” Zane said.

  “And my runner?” Kate asked.

  “Boyd’s a small-time petty thief. Apparently, he’s moved up to murder and grand theft auto.” Zane tapped a few keys.

  “We got an address on this weasel?”

  “We do, and I sent a couple of uniforms to see if he’s home. No answer.”

  “That’s it? We need to find him.”

  “We’ve got a BOLO, and I got a warrant.”

  “We damn sure better. How often does the killer land in our laps like this?”

  Zane stifled a laugh at her remark. She’d never investigated a homicide, so she had no idea how often a killer landed in their laps. Or maybe she did. She and Peebles being good friends and all. Then he really laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” She leaned back.

  “Nothing. You been buddying up with Peebles, learning about murder investigations?”

  Kate’s face went blank, then she got it. “Screw you.”

  Zane laughed harder.

  “Look, I’ve got a line on this. We’ve got eyes on the streets. Go home. Drink some hot tea, or whatever it is you do to relax. Be back here at four.”

  “Hot tea? Seriously? It’s summer in Texas.” Kate stood, shoving her travel mug in his face. “Even my coffee has ice in it.”

  “Whatever you need to do to relax, do it. I’m going home for a few hours. Neither of us is going to be worth a shit with no sleep. And if you don’t go home, I’ll make sure you don’t work tonight. I don’t need a sleep deprived officer behind the wheel of a patrol car.”

  “What other evidence did you find?” she asked, ignoring him.

  “Marco Lopez was shot, then stuffed in the trunk of his own car. Boyd either took his car for one last joy ride, or he was moving the car to a different location, but never made it to his destination, thanks to you. We’re still working on more evidence.”

  “The thing that bothers me is the car being wiped clean,” Kate said.

  “It may have been wiped completely clean if Boyd had made it to his destination. He didn’t exactly have time to clean up his prints before he took off.”

  He saw the red rise from her neck, up across her face. She’d lost her guy and bringing it up pissed her off.

  She stood. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  Zane stood and walked to his office door. He closed it behind her before she could argue or change her mind.

  Once she was gone, he leaned against the door, closed his eyes, and sighed. He opened the door again and went back to his desk.

  Everything about this case screamed drugs. Zane needed to connect Lopez to Boyd somehow. And he needed to see where it went. Who had Lopez snitched out to stay out of jail? He hadn’t had time to look deep into Lopez, but he planned to do just that.

  He sat down at his desk and fired up his computer again. “Who are you, Marco Lopez, and why don’t I already know you if you’re in my town?”

  After twenty minutes of digging, Marco’s history came to life. Even though his Mercedes was registered in Dallas County, he seemed to spend more time in East Texas than near Dallas. He had warrants in three counties. Minor crap: traffic violations, trespassing, failure to appear. Marco had to have some good intel in North Texas and East Texas, because he’d had charges dropped in Dallas, Clay, and Hunt counties.

  Pulling up a booking photo, Marco didn’t look like the kind of guy who drove a Mercedes. He looked rough around the edges, with hair that was too long, a patchy wannabe beard, and sad brown eyes.

  “Who are you?” Zane asked out loud. “And what were you doing in Peculiar?”

  Zane willed the image to talk, but Marco only stared back at him.

  He looked up to see Chief Rambone standing in his doorway, about ready to knock. Zane waved him in.

  “I hear it’s been an eventful morning. Where’s Darby?”

  “You’re in early,” Zane said.

  “Not really. I talked to Peebles. Wanna fill me in?” Rambone stepped into the room and leaned against the wall.

  Zane thought it weird he didn’t come in and sit down. Maybe he was busy and didn’t want to get too comfortable. He gave him the lowdown on Darby’s traffic stop.

  “Shame she let the driver get away. This could have been all wrapped up.” He looked past Zane, staring at the wall behind him.

  “You know how it is. I’m just glad she didn’t get shot or run over.”

  “Did the driver have a gun?” the chief asked.

  “Who knows?” Zane said, thinking it was a stupid question. “He ran. We still haven’t tracked him down, but we’re working on it.”

  The chief pushed off the wall. “What about the house on M Street? Any more trouble?”

  Swift change of subject.

  “It’s always something. I’m working on getting a warrant to search the property. Hoping it comes in this afternoon.”

  “You’ve got probable cause?”

  Zane didn’t feel the need to explain all the work he and Darby had put into the case, so he said, “I do.”

  That seemed to be enough for Rambone. “Okay, well, keep me posted. I want to know when it goes down.”

  With that, Rambone left Zane’s office. Zane felt exhaustion overwhelm him as he looked back at Marco’s photo again.

  Chapter 4

  Even though he practically grew up in Peculiar, Jake Underwood felt weird being back and calling it home. He didn’t even have his own place yet. He’d been too busy working since he finished at the police academy.

  Jake’s uncle, Tucker Simon, had run Lucien’s Diner for as long as he could remember, and still did. Uncle Tucker opened his home to Jake until he could get settled. As far as Jake was concerned, Tucker had the coolest house on Caddo Lake. At least that’s how he’d remembered it as a kid. Maybe not the biggest house, and maybe not the coolest now, but when Jake was a kid, it was heaven.

  He stayed in Peculiar from Memorial Day weekend until the week before school started, and his uncle was so much fun. Little did he know back then, his mom was getting rid of them for the summer. To Jake and his little sister, Mom was sending them to
summer camp. Every day was a picnic: BBQ, boating, tubing, skiing. It was Jake’s home away from home.

  Now here he was, Officer Jake Underwood, working in the lake town of his childhood. He smiled at the thought.

  Tucker walked into the kitchen while Jake was preparing a pot of coffee. “How’s it going so far?”

  He was already dressed in his Peculiar Police Department uniform, duty belt and all. “It’s okay. I feel sorta stupid right now, but I’m learning.”

  Uncle Tucker looked just like Jake’s mom. And Jake looked like her too, mostly. At fifteen, he’d already been taller than her, and at twenty-four, he stood six-one and tipped the scale at two hundred pounds. His mom stood barely five feet tall, a waif of a woman. His dad had been a jockey at tracks all over the south, only a little taller than his mom. Jake was glad he was built like Uncle Tucker, but without the belly. Yet.

  “You have your own patrol car?” Tucker pulled the pot out of the machine before all the coffee had brewed.

  “Uncle Tucker, now mine is going to be like brown water with no flavor.”

  He looked up at Jake through his bushy brows. “Who bought the damn coffee?”

  Tucker had him there. Jake was a guest, eating his food, drinking his beer, and choking down his coffee.

  “I have to ride with a seasoned officer for sixty days before I’m on my own.” Jake poured the weak coffee into his cup and tried to drink it black. Or brown, as the case may be.

  “Then what the hell did you go to the police academy for?” He twisted the wire tie off a loaf of bread and pulled two slices from the bag. As he popped them into the toaster he said, “I thought they taught you everything you needed to know.”

  He’d already explained it to him a dozen times, maybe more. “There’s always more to learn.”

  Jake put the lid on his travel mug and headed out the door. “Maybe I can talk Kate into eating at Lucien’s tonight. And shouldn’t you be there already? I thought you were working nights this week, too.”

  Tucker grunted as a response. Jake knew Tucker had been trying to cut his hours back for years, but good management was hard to find, and even harder to keep. He expected Uncle Tucker would work eighty hours a week until the day he closed the doors on Lucien’s Diner or died.