by Pamela Cowan
“Maybe,” he said, with a shrug that said he wasn’t so sure. “I’m curious. Why are you so interested in this murder? Is someone paying you to look into it?”
With a wry smile Emma shook her head. “I wish. I guess finding Mr. Keller’s body is part of it. It was such a shock to see that. It made me question who would do that to someone else, and why.”
She didn’t share that it had been an arrogant detective that had actually prodded her into action. Better that he think her choice came from compassion rather than petty anger. “I asked around and eventually was led to talk to Bonnie. If she’s right about the time, and if she’s being truthful, then the killer is still out there.”
“That’s unlikely,” said Beale. “I don’t usually do this, but let me help you save some time and effort by sharing what we know. Dodge Keller was the leader of a criminal organization which distributed drugs through a network of dealers in the northern part of the county. Willy Keene was hired by a rival dealer to kill him. As part of his plan, Willy set the warehouse fire, the one you’ve been investigating, we believe in an effort to draw Dodge there, where Willy was waiting.
“When Dodge didn’t show up, Willy took the risk of hunting him down at his ranch, where he shot and killed him. His bloody shoe prints were all over the house. He then hid somewhere until he realized the police were on to him.
At some point he decided he needed money and drove to Hollis intending to rob a store, which he did, holding the clerk at gunpoint. He didn’t realize that he was under observation and was being followed. When he left the store, police from the city and the sheriff’s office were waiting for him. When he saw them, he pulled a gun. Luckily, the officers were prepared, and he was shot several times before he could return fire.”
“That’s very sad.”
“Tragic, yes. Of course the police are now trying to find the man who hired Willy. He’s just as guilty, and should pay for all of this, and I’m including the death of that poor young man.”
“But Bonnie’s story—”
“Is probably just a story, but yes, I’m going to have someone check it out. If it turns out it’s true we’ll reopen the investigation. Given that, I’d like to ask you to do me a favor and stop your investigation. I appreciate this information and we’ll definitely follow up on it, but I’m sure you can understand that you and the police questioning the same people could cause some issues. Leads can become—”
“I do understand,” she said, cutting off his explanation. “I get it, and I’ll stay out of it, for now. I will be calling Bonnie back though. I’m worried about her. I suspect she isn’t going to school. She had a black eye and I’m hoping she didn’t get it from her mother, or maybe some boyfriend of her mothers. Anyway, it has to be looked into and I’ve already talked to someone at DHS.”
“I see,” said Beale, allowing none of his annoyance to show. “It’s too bad you had to call child services, but I’m glad you did. So few people bother to take action when they see something. You aren’t going to ignore it. That takes courage.”
“Oh please,” said Emma, “It took a phone call.”
“Maybe, but you know what I mean.”
“I guess,” said Emma, not totally immune to the man’s charm. It was hard not to notice that he seemed interested. He held eye contact a little longer than normal, leaned toward her as they talked. But maybe she was just imagining it. Normally she would have enjoyed the attention of such a good looking man, but something about him bothered her. She wouldn’t call him cringe worthy, but there was definitely something. Her gut, and all her spidey senses were tingling an alarm. “Well, I think I’ve told you everything. I’m sure your office will make sure someone follows up on Bonnie’s story.” She stood and half turned toward the door.
“Let me walk you out,” he said, moving from behind his desk. It's jury selection day and,” he checked his watch, “yeah, the lobby will be a mess. I’ll take you out the back way.”
“That would be great,” she said, and let him lead her through the maze of offices to a stairway. He even walked to the ground floor with her.
“There you go,” he said, opening and holding the door for her. “Now please remember, don’t talk to anyone about this, or interview anyone else until I get back to you. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Good. I promise I’ll call you soon.”
She tried to smile but it was more a tightening of her lips.
He didn’t seem to notice. His own smile was wide and warm and full of teeth.
Emma heard Beale pull the door shut as she stepped out onto a broad sidewalk. She found herself looking at an employee parking lot, surrounded by a tall cyclone fence, with gates set every few yards. She noticed the row of parking spaces closest to the building were marked reserved.
In that special row was a Tesla. She recognized the stylized T on the rear of the car. Immediately she searched for a sign that might tell her who the parking spot belonged to, but the spots were only identified by numbers painted on the ground.
Beale might know who parked there. Maybe she could catch him. She sprinted back across the sidewalk, grabbed the door handle and yanked. The door was locked and wouldn’t budge.
She went back to the car. Dark blue, she noted. Taking out her phone she took a picture of the license plate. You’re being ridiculous. She told herself. How many Teslas are on the road now? She knew the odds of this being the car the key fob belonged to was, well, maybe not astronomical but still, that kind of luck didn’t happen. Dropping her phone back into her purse she headed for the gate that would bring her closest to her car.
* * *
Beale went back to his office, shut the door firmly and began pacing. His thoughts were moving fast. He’d have to call Leena. Tell her to fix up her act before a child services investigator showed up. Have to make sure she had food in the cupboard and that the place looked halfway decent. He’d helped a guy who owned a handyman service avoid jail time on his third DUI. The guy owed him a favor. He could fix up Leena’s place in no time. All it would take was a phone call. People owing him favors was one of the best parts of being an ADA.
Hiring Leena was one of Dodge’s many bad choices. Hiring Dodge was one of his. In fact, it seemed like Dodge was still screwing him from the grave.
Leena. Even her name was starting to piss him off. At least she was an easy problem to fix. Like all junkies, if she continued being a problem, a little uncut product would take care of it. If her mother died of an overdose, Bonnie would go straight into foster care. She’d be far too busy with all the changes to worry about her dead cousin. If she did talk about him he doubted anyone would take the time to listen.
The only real problem was this Emma bitch. The woman was hot. He’d give her that. With thick chestnut hair spilling around her shoulders and a tight curvy body. Throughout their meeting she’d sat poised at the edge of her seat, giving him her full attention, and he’d liked it. He’d also liked how she responded to his explanation, politely, but reserving acceptance. He liked her bright and suspicious mind. Too bad the very thing he admired was the very thing that was going to get her killed.
Beale stopped wearing out the tread in his carpet and sat down. An idea had occurred to him. A way to kill two birds with one stone. “Or so to speak,” he said to himself. Pulling out his phone, he called Jelly. “Remember that task I gave you at our last meeting?” Beale said, referencing their discussion at Redwing Trailhead. “I’ve spoken with the person who took care of it, and guess what, it wasn’t you. What do you have to say about that?”
There was only silence.
“You need to explain why you didn’t do your job.”
“I didn’t have to. It was already taken care of. Not the kind of thing you can do twice.”
Beale smiled, amused by the explanation. “Guess not. Still, you could have said something.”
“Didn’t see the need.”
“Took the credit though.”
Again,
Jelly said nothing.
“I put up with a lot from you. You gotta admit that. Who the hell else would hire someone named Jelly. Where’d you even get such a dumb ass name? You never told me that. How are we supposed to trust each other if you don’t share the most basic shit like that?”
Jelly made a snorting noise. “What, are we bonding now? All you had to do was ask. It’s not a special story.
One of my foster fathers and two of his friends were playing poker and drinking beer. My foster father told me to get one of the men a beer, only I wasn’t tall enough to reach the counter where they’d put them.
They didn’t help, just watched me find a step stool, one of those folding ones, and try to figure it out. After I did, one of them said I was so slow my brain must be like a traffic jam. Then the other one said, ‘He ain’t that thick, he’s more like a traffic jelly.’ Foster dad thought that was funny as hell and started calling me Jelly.
“After I left that place, I took the name with me to remind myself the world’s full of men like that. Men that take away who you are and turn you into a joke. That what you want from me?”
“Of course not,” said Beale. “What I want from you is what you gave Dodge, stay off the product, do the job and be loyal. That’s the only way it will work. Only so far I’m not seeing the loyal part. You lied to me. That shows a definite lack of trust.”
Beale waited a moment but Jelly said nothing. “There’s something I need you to do. Something that will prove you’re committed to this organization. I want you to get your wife to call a private investigator named Emma Richland. I want her to say she has information about the shooting of Dodge Keller. Tell he she wants to meet her at the trailhead, the same place we met to discuss that project you didn’t handle.”
“No,” said Jelly without hesitation. “My wife isn’t part of this. She doesn’t know what I—”
“Don’t say she doesn’t know what you do. She knows. Nobody is that stupid. Besides, rumor has it you love her. There’s no way you didn’t tell her what you do, who you work for. That means she knows what I do and that gives her a lot of power but no involvement in my business. Sure, she’d try to keep you safe, but she’d throw me to the wolves in a heartbeat.
Unless of course, she had a reason not to, like maybe she took part in something once. Just once. That way if the police ask I can say she worked for me. I can tell them to put her on a lie detector. She won’t pass and that will give the DAs office all they need. That’s how the game’s played. I might go down, but so would she. That’s all the insurance I need. For fuck’s sake, I gave you Dodge’s place, made you number one in my organization, and I thought I could trust you. Asking you to do this is nothing.”
Beale was practically shouting, each angry word getting louder and louder. He stopped, listened for a moment, heard no one moving in the hallway outside his door. Good, but he’d better keep it down. He took a deep, calming breath, then another.
“Okay, listen,” he said in a more conversational tone. You get Rose to make that call. You get the Richland bitch to the trailhead at eleven o’clock tonight or you pack your shit and run like hell. I need this business to run smoothly and without all the attention Dodge and his kind of bullshit draws. He rocked the boat way too much and I put up with it way too long. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“I will call the investigator,” Jelly said.
“Were you not listening? That’s not what I asked. Besides, she won’t come alone to meet a man way out there. I’m not even sure she’ll come for a woman, but I know there’s a better chance if she thinks it is.”
“Why do you want her there?”
“Why do you think?” Beale again reminded himself to stay calm, talk quietly. “I need to speak to her privately. It’s a good spot for that. I don’t want her to know who I am until I get a chance to talk to her directly. She found out some stuff about the job you didn’t follow through on. I’m going to offer her something to help her forget.”
“You plan to bribe her?”
“Hell yes. You know the saying, never met a man that can’t be fought. Never met a woman that can’t be bought.”
“You say so,” Jelly said doubtfully.
“I do say so. Now get on it. I need her there tonight and I need you to call me back and tell me it’s been set up.” Beale hung up the cell phone with a stab of his finger. Slamming it down would have made him feel better. Technology was a cold bitch.
He dialed another number, listened to the ring until it was answered, then he said, “Ernesto. I need a favor.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Tuesday, September 18
Jelly was sitting on the front porch smoking a cigarette. Something he did only rarely, and stared at the row of roses along the fence. He took a long drag, exhaled slowly and watched the smoke curl around him. Tobacco was sacred. Tobacco smoke was protection and prayer, not much different than a Catholic crossing himself. Bad things were stirring. Choices must be made.
He heard her car before he saw it but he didn’t move or look away from the roses. He wasn’t ready to face her. She loved her job, loved having a home. He had to remind himself that mostly she loved him. That was what she said every time they met, every night when they touched. He would believe it—someday.
* * *
As she drove in, Rose saw Jelly sitting there, the cigarette in his hand moving up and down slowly, smoke trailing from the corner of his mouth. Something was wrong. She turned off the car, and pulled the keys from the ignition. She held them tight in her hand and sat up straighter. Her mantra ran through her mind. When I am weak he is my strength. When he is weak I am his strength.
Rose was a strong person, but she believed most of her strength came from her dedication to the man who sat on their porch, speaking to the spirits. She knew without him she’d still be the frightened child with no home she had once been. When they met he became her home, her heart. If love made you strong, then she was unbreakable.
Five minutes later she’d moved from loving and supportive to furious. “So what you’re saying is, he wants me to call that investigator and ask her to meet me at Redwing Trailhead. What if I call and tell her the truth instead?” Rose asked. How would he like that?
Jelly shook his head. This argument was getting nowhere. He’d told Rose about Beale’s demand and they’d been going back and forth ever since. “You have no idea how wide his network reaches,” he explained. “He’s got connections with a Mexican cartel, a biker gang out of LA, and some sort of lab in Nevada. He provides drugs to WIP, to the Padillo’s and who the hell else I don’t even know. He’s the single biggest supplier of drugs for Eulalona County, and I wouldn't be surprised if he has distributors in other counties. Dodge only had one small piece of the pie.”
“And now that’s your piece. I know you did this for us, but we don't need this. This man is asking you to hurt people, to kill people. You're not that kind of man. If you were, I wouldn’t have married you. Money isn’t that important to us. If you do this, you could go to prison, you could die. It’s too dangerous.”
“If I don’t it’s dangerous too. I don’t think saying no is healthy. Besides, I know you say money isn’t important but it is. This is more than just pickups and drop offs. The money Dodge made was unbelievable. We’re talking about enough that in just a few years I could quit and we’d still have enough to build a house somewhere. We could travel. I could give you the life you deserve.”
“You are my life,” said Rose. “You can quit now. We can leave. Go far away. As long as we’re together, nothing else matters.”
“It does matter. It’s wearing you down. Rented houses we can get kicked out of on a whim. Shitty cars that break down all the time. Our life sucks.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Maybe, a little. It’s just that you deserve more. You want—”
“Don’t you dare tell me what I want,” Rose said in a voice that had gone dangerously soft. “Don’t you use
me to rationalize this. I never asked you to make a ton of money or buy me a house. I sure as hell never asked you to get involved with that man.”
“That’s true, but I am involved and now he wants to get you involved too. I’m not sure what to do. Leave the money out of it. I’m worried if we take off he’ll send someone to find us. What if leaving isn’t a choice. What if I’m trapped?”
“You mean what if we’re trapped. Both of us, caught in some web of his making, while he sits back like a fat smug spider knowing we’re stuck and helpless.
“I don’t know what to do,” Jelly admitted. “I don’t know if we should run or stay and try to make the best of it. One thing I do know though, is I’m not letting you make the call. I’m not letting you get involved.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “Letting me?” she said, folding her arms she stared into the fire in the wood stove. Flames danced and the green wood she’d fed into it when they came inside hissed and snapped, a good reflection of her feelings, she thought.
“That didn’t come out right,” he said.
“Really?” Rose said. Jelly could feel her anger, but at least she was looking at him again.
“What I meant to say is, I think Beale has lost his mind. He’s every bit as crazy as Dodge. I don’t think he’s going to lure that woman to the trailhead to bribe her. I think he is going to kill her.”
When Jelly said it he realized it was the truth. Beale was cleaning house. He’d dealt with Dodge because he wasn’t able to control him. Then, when the investigation might point to one of his men, he’d pasted a target on an innocent young man and had him killed by the police. Now, the Richland woman was causing problems. She was the last of the stepping stones on a path that could lead the police to him, and he wanted it removed. Sighing, Jelly swept a rough hand across his face.
