Bye Bye Bones (A CASSIDY CLARK NOVEL Book 1) (23 page)

“The women will love them, unless they’re a redhead. I don’t like me in pink, particularly,” I said, opening one of the bags and spreading the audacious thing out on the table.

“The women won’t get them. And I guess if there’s a redheaded male prisoner he’ll get himself a double insult. But, you didn’t prance in here to see the fashion show.”

“She’s good for it,” I told David Manning, Schlep, and Carson. “Vickery has connections with Karl Marks and Michael Scores. And speaking of Scores, she has scores of white vans. At least four have magnetic signs. On and off signs.”

“Maybe those vans are new and haven’t been painted yet,” Carson said as a most unwelcome devil’s advocate.

“If she ordered the signs, that would take longer than going in to one of a hundred places around here who would paint it in a morning. We already know most of her fleet of vans are painted. She knows who to go to and how to get it done yesterday.”

“Nothing. You have nothing I can take to the D.A., Cassidy,” Manning said.

“I’m not saying we’re ready for that. I’m just filling you in as a courtesy. We have her as an acquaintance with Karl Marks. And Michael Scores. We know she’s a stalker, and she’s found us stalking her. I believe she had something to do with the murder of Karl Marks and our surveillance man. And then there’s the perfume. That damn perfume she, herself, insists was made exclusively for her.

“You’re not a nose,” Manning said. I couldn’t believe he knew the term for that expertise.

“I’m not close to being any perfumer. But I remember that distinct scent. It was at the cabin. It was at Michael Scores’ home. And it was all over Ms. Vickery.

“Look, I know we’re off your payroll, but you need to know where our investigation is headed.”

“Unfortunately, by now the cabin at Mt. Lemmon has been scrubbed clean. Not sure about anything at Scores’ place, but Vickery may be correct. Scores had a lot of debt. He may have just high-tailed it out of here. We’ve talked to his half-brother, your client Jaxon Giles. He asked about Scores. Giles agreed he was flighty and may have gone off to Lala Land. And I don’t see how this connects to the missing women. What gives, Cassie?”

“I know it’s her,” I said.

Silence in the room. The three of them sat staring at me. And then they all nodded in unison. They knew I knew something. That’s all I needed. But they all needed more.

“I think I’m going to have to play a cat and mouse game with her,” I said.

“Careful, Cassie. Tread very carefully,” Manning urged.

“As if I’m walking on cotton candy,” I answered.

I drove straight home. Exhausted and with nothing to show for it. I’d been gone several hours. Too long for any of my three animals. Finnegan and Phoebe always ran to greet me, even when I was gone for ten minutes. After three hours, even my cat, Daphne, slinked around a corner to welcome me home and get her back scratched.

She didn’t come out.

Growing anxious, I searched her favorite haunts. There was no sign of her.

“The time has come, Ms. Connie,” she said with a chortled voice. “Frankly, I still don’t understand why Jaxon even bothered with you. You are—well, on the homely side of town. I’ve wondered about that. Maybe you give good head. Maybe it’s your daughter he was really interested in. I might have to consider her as another threat.

“You can speak freely with me. I’ve kept you well nourished. I’m not about to clean up your urine and feces, but aside from that I’ve treated you well. There’s a drain right behind you. I could hose you off now, but I don’t think you’d like it.

Connie tried to scream, but her throat sounded hoarse and nearing silence.

She whimpered, “Please. I have a daughter.”

“And I just told you your daughter might have to join you. That could work out well for both of us. I haven’t made my mind up on that one.”

Connie struggled for words. She finally managed, “People are looking for me.”

“Not really. I haven’t heard anything on the local news. Maybe your runaway daughter is relieved that you have been the one to run away.”

Vickery pulled out a strongbox from underneath the staircase. Swiftly, she pulled out a filled syringe.

“This is the curare I was telling you about. You’ve had it in small doses. Do you remember?”

The woman sunk her head as far as it would go into her lap.

“Slut-woman! Listen to me! Even now, at this moment, it won’t be your time of death, if I do this right. It’s all about calculating your weight. You’ve lost some, Connie. You would be happy. You were on the pudgy side when I found you.”

“My—my daughter.”

“Let’s talk about you. And me. I want you to know what is going to happen. If I give you the right dosage you will remain fully conscious, but the funniest thing occurs. You will have no muscle movement. You’ll be completely paralyzed. I don’t think you’ll even be able to close your eyelids, so if you prefer, you may want to do that now.

“You’ll notice that you’re now sitting on a wheeled cart, I’ll unchain you and move you toward the vat. Paralyzed, you will feel like dead weight to me. Good thing I’ve been lifting weights, and you’ve lost weight. This is going to go smoothly.

“The vat is quite amazing. Do you know that it will even dissolve gold teeth? Nothing remains. Nothing.”

“How?” her guest mumbled.

“I’m happy you asked. I read this incredible article. A disgruntled wife, Marrissa Schuster, decided to kill her very bad husband. She was a chemist of some sort in Clovis, California. Her agent of choice was hydrochloric acid, readily available to her. Turns out she was a dumb woman, after all. She didn’t use enough gallons for the dickhead and the place started to stink. And she kept it in a public storage unit. I learned a few things. The woman used a stun gun to disarm her victim. Chloroform to cause them to pass out. Same kind of vat. It’s actually quite fascinating. These big commercial vats, when filled with the acid, can dissolve a human body but not compromise the container.

“It should be easy for you to understand that I have access to muriatic acid. I have over two-hundred gallons stored right here. It’s a swimming pool supply necessity. And do you know, I think it’s better than the hydrochloric stuff? If you do it right there is no trace of any human remains. Gone. Gone. Gone. I’ve been doing it right. I just wanted to try out the curare. I want this to be perfect for my next guest. You know her. My last threat. Jessica Silva.

“Time. Eyes open or closed. Your choice. Either way, you’ll feel everything up to the instant of your death. What I don’t know is if it’s the curare that will kill you, because you will stop breathing, or if it will be the acid.”

Connie chose. She closed her eyes as Vickery jabbed the needle into her victim’s arm.

The land currently housed a four-story office building. The property, a virtual scientific experiment in black mold, termite condos, and multiple code violations, could be demolished cheaper than being made inhabitable.

Situated in the middle of the plat designated for the Tucson downtown revitalization project, which had been on hold for years, the property now presented itself as a prime opportunity.ryt

Jaxon already had two investors drooling for the opportunity.

The seller’s assistant texted Jaxon. The owner of the property would be there at seven that evening. He was to bring the listing agreement to be signed.

An unusual time for any commercial real estate broker, Jaxon overly prepared for the meeting and arrived downtown fifteen minutes early. The unlocked door and interior lights invited him in, but he still knocked.

“Mr. Greenwald? Mr. Greenwald? It’s Jaxon Giles.”

Silence.

A light faintly shined through down a dismal interior corridor. Jaxon proceeded.

Cranky old bastard, Jaxon thought. He’s getting a deal of a lifetime and he’s making me play hide and seek.

“Mr. Greenwald?”

Jaxon neared the office he knew to be in the back. He found the door, barely hanging on the aged hinges, ajar.

No sign of Mr. Greenwald.

Scented candles flickered.

“Oh my God,” Jaxon uttered.

Jaxon grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. Blood smeared the littered office walls. That’s the first thing I saw, as it decorated all four walls.

The shrine, in the middle of the room and alit with more than twenty candles, rose up from crude cement block steps. Photographs of a woman were crudely attached to the walls or littered on the floor.

“Jaxon, who is this?” I asked.

“It’s my—it’s my ex-girlfriend.”

The red envelope remained at the base of the largest photograph of the woman.

“You’ve not touched this?” Manning asked Jaxon.

“No,” he said, holding his hands above his head and backing away.

Manning lifted the envelope with his gloved hands, only after it had been photographed. The envelope had not been sealed. He removed the contents. A single sheet of pink paper.

The note read, “It’s after seven. Do you know where your skank is?”

“David, this is not a threat.” Stress. I needed my friend and his name was David.

“Damn well it is,” Manning answered.

“Listen to me. In the mind of a psychopath this is a receipt.”

“What the heck are you saying? We have to move on.”

“Not until you realize that it’s a receipt. It means the deed is done.”

“I didn’t run away this time, honest,” the girl said. “I told Mom I wanted to go on a sailing trip with friends in San Carlos. She was totally cool with it.”

“Did your mom mention any plans of hers while you were gone?”

“Sure. She had to be in Tucson on some business. My friends drove me back from San Carlos yesterday and Mom will be picking me up later this evening.”

“You’re here? In Tucson?”

“Yes. And I was only gone for four nights. Just like I promised. Honest.”

Manning spoke, “This is Chief David Manning with the Tucson Police Department. Do you mind telling us where you are right now?”

She stammered, “I’m—I’m at my friend’s parents’ house in Vail. Mom will be here around six. What’s going on? Jaxon, are you there?”

“I’m here, honey. Have you heard from your mom? Do you know where she was conducting business?”

“No, and no. But that’s not unusual. She needs to know where I am every minute of the day and yet she never really shares much with me. You’re starting to really freak me out, Jaxon. Is Mom okay?”

“We believe your mom is fine,” Manning said. “We just have to get some information from you to help us figure out some things. Do you mind if we come by your friend’s house?”

“If Jaxon comes,” she said.

“What happened to the man you were supposed to meet here?” I asked.

“I called him. He told me he didn’t know what I was talking about. He said he’d never make an appointment after five, with anyone, because he has bad night vision and he likes to start imbibing at 5:01.”

“You and Jessica Silva both have restraining orders against Ms. Vickery. I warn you. No more accidental contacts. If you walk into a restaurant, a movie theater, an event… and you see her. Walk away.

“She’s a clever girl. Much more. I believe she’s more dangerous than you give her credit for. You’ve told me that she won’t harm you, but that she wants to harm anything and everything you hold dear. The problem is that she must know we are all on to her. That makes her more dangerous than ever. She may escalate in her violence.”

“Like what?” Jaxon asked.

“Like, she may want to take you both out so that you can be with one another in a world beyond. That kind of danger.”

“You don’t think she has something to do with Connie?”

“She could have learned you want to list that property. Hell, it’s not a stretch that she could know the owner likes his cocktails, at home, at five. And it was you that told me your old girlfriend and her daughter felt forced to move away after some ugly encounters with Vickery.”

I continued driving north on Oracle Road, irritated with the arrival of the snowbirds and their navigational abilities. Our destination was Oro Valley, the far northwest side of the metropolitan area, where most of the buildings were years younger than the occupants.

Jaxon glanced over at me a few times, always looking away as soon as I acknowledged his gaze.

“You stayed on the case, even when I quit you,” his said.

“That’s my job. That’s my mission.”

“And you think Connie is now a victim?”

“It’s way too early to jump to conclusions. We’re going to find out what we can from Connie’s daughter, keep her calm, and make sure she has a place to stay.”

“I’m well aware of those instincts you have. Now? Do you think Sandra Vickery is behind this.”

I turned away. “My blood boils. I sense an evil. I can tell you to stay away from this woman and pay attention. The devil is in the details, Jaxon. Stay safe and, when we go home tonight and anytime thereafter, call me when anything doesn’t feel right.”

I knew I wouldn’t be going home that night. My pupcakes wouldn’t be able to hold their bladders, and I still hadn’t seen a trace of my cat. I cared, but they would all be okay in my absence.