Dying to Know (20 page)

had been counting it. I counted five thousand dollars. But, it

wasn’t the cash that had my attention, it was the three old gold

coins in the ashtray nearby.

I sat on the bed and when my fingers touched the coins, they

ignited the explosion.

183

thirt y-one

It was dark and a steady wind blew, rustling trees and tall grass

all around me. I didn’t recognize the stand of trees either. There were no landmarks to give me the slightest hint. Night sounds

surrounded me and the thick canopy of trees blocked much of

the moonlight. Then there were voices—two curt, harsh tones

ahead in the darkness. They were getting louder and angrier,

though the words escaped me. I moved toward them, conscious

of the sudden heaviness of the air around me. The closer I

moved, my steps became harder and harder, like trudging

through ever-deepening water.

I emerged between several tal , bushy apple trees. Ahead of

me were two animated figures—silhouettes of flailing arms and

harsh voices. The moonlight broke through the trees and bathed

them. The smaller figure was a girl in a long dress that billowed

in the breeze. The moonlight suggested she was young and

blonde; her movements told me she was frantic. She held her

184

shoes in one hand and the other chopped the air—vigorous and

angry. The other person was a tal , broad-shouldered man. His

fists were clenching and threatening with every angry word. His

appearance didn’t match hers—he wore dungarees and a dark

shirt, but the darkness hid their details. I was straining to move closer when he lunged forward and grabbed the girl’s arm. He

shook her with mounting violence. Angry words. Rage. He shook

her again and again—her body flailed like a marionette.

She screamed.

Dread seized me but my body couldn’t move to intercede. Just

as I had been impotent to stop Carmen’s abduction, so was I to

stop this violence. “No … oh, no.”

Something startled the man and he spun around. Another

girl, young and brunette, erupted out of the darkness. She lunged

and clawed at him. He swung wildly, striking her in the face,

stopping her advance and knocking her down. The blonde

kicked him and fought back, trying without success to break free.

He swung her around and downed her with a vicious punch. Her

attack ended in a sickening, dull crack of bone on rock.

He froze and looked down. He yelled out but the words never

formed in my head.

The brunette crawled to her companion and grasped her. She

shook her but her body bobbled lifeless and doll-like. She shook

her again and began screaming, thrashing at the ground as life

evaded her.

“Leave them alone,” I shouted, but they would not hear me—I

wasn’t there, I wasn’t with them. “Damn you, leave them alone.”

The end came.

185

Sorrowful wails lifted the brunette to her feet. She whirled on

the man and unleashed a flurry of punches and screams. Arms

and feet thrashed in a ravenous foray. The man deflected the as-

sault with mere bats of his hands. Then, in a sudden, silent as-

sault, he grabbed her, first by the hair, and then the throat. His strength overwhelmed her, twisting and bending her backwards

until she writhed on the ground. He followed.

A cry. Arms flailed. Broken words; gasps—silence.

He stood, looking down at the result of his rage. His hands

crushed to his face as a he gagged back words I couldn’t under-

stand. At that moment, he knew what I did.

He was a murderer.

186

thirt y-t wo

Reeling, I shook myself free and backed into the darkness

from which I’d emerged. After two steps, I returned to Sarah’s

bedroom. I looked around, thankful for the unmade bed and di-

sheveled baby clothes. It took me minutes to shake off the ugly

vision before returning to her kitchen.

Angel was warming to Sarah. “I know things are hard, Sarah,

but there’s a killer out there. He might kill again. No one is safe. No one.”

“Yeah?” Sarah was wide-eyed and I believed her fear. “Ma’am,

I …”

“Call me Angela.”

“Angela, I’m real sorry. I don’t know anything. Bobby gave me

some money. He said it was life insurance from the company. I

know it wasn’t, but I need it bad. And Poor Nic wants to know

everythin’ I do about Ray’s death.”

Poor Nic was doing his own investigation into Ray Salazar’s mur-

der. Either he was hunting down all the witnesses and evidence

187

against him—or he was innocent and trying to prove it. If it was the first reason, more people would die. If the latter, wel , maybe he’d lead us to the real killer. After al , gangsters don’t use search warrants and “good cop-bad cop” games.

Angel asked, “What did you tell Bobby? It’s important.”

“Nothin’, honest.”

“Sarah, please?”

“Real y, I dunno anything to tell you. Bobby asked about Iggi

and I dunno where he is. He also asked about some guy Lucca. I

never heard of no Lucca.”

I knew that name. “Lucca? What about him?” Angel repeated

me.

Sarah pushed away from the table. “Nothin, Angela. I don’t

know no Lucca. That’s what I told him.”

“All right, Sarah,” Angel said with slow, drawn words. Even

Sarah had to know Angel didn’t believe her. “But if you’re lying

and someone else gets hurt, you could be in bigger trouble than

anything Nic will do.”

“I doubt that,” she grumbled. “But I ain’t lying.”

“Good.” Angel stood, she gently stroked Annie’s thin hair.

“Do you have a job?”

“No, can’t with a kid this young. I’m getting’ public assis-

tance—it helps some.”

Angel reached into her purse and withdrew a business card,

laying it on the kitchen table in front of her. “Go out to the university. See our Human Resources people. Ask for Janice and show

her my card. We have a daycare program for staff and students.

Volunteers run it. I think we can find something to help you out.”

188

“You kiddin’?” Sarah picked up the card and looked over the

top of it at Angel. She tried to hide a smile but her broken teeth broke free. “Why? Why do you want to help me? I don’t know

anything.”

“Because I know how it feels to lose a husband. Maybe I can

make it easier—for both of you.”

Sarah clutched Annie and tears replaced her distrust. “Thank

you, Angela. I liked your husband, I real y did.”

“Let’s go, Angel.”

We were out the door and getting in the car when Sarah

emerged through her front door and called for Angel. We re-

turned to her stoop.

“Angela, I dunno if it’s important, but …”

“What is it?”

She looked into the darkness, up and down the rows of cars.

Perhaps she feared Bobby was looming, waiting for us to leave.

Her voice was nervous. “Ray was always worried ’bout money.

Then, a few days before he was … killed, he was talkin’ about us

getting outta here real soon. He said in a week he’d quit all his

jobs.”

“He was going to quit?”

“He said we’d be okay for a while ’cause the money would last

a long time.”

“The money?”

“Yeah. But, Angela,” Sarah whispered, half-closing the screen

door, “we don’t have any money.”

189

thirt y-three

As soon as Angel’s car door closed, I told her about the mur-

ders I’d seen take place in Sarah’s bedroom. Wel , not in her bed-

room, but the murders that I witnessed in her bedroom. It’s a

good thing Sarah didn’t have a foyer.

“Two young girls?” Angel pulled the car onto the street and

headed toward home. “What am I doing? I can’t do this anymore.

I cannot be responsible for more of this.”

“Relax—just listen. I think they’ve been dead a long time.”

“What? How do you know that?”

I told her about the two beautiful young wraiths who visited

me the night someone shot the house up. At first, she didn’t be-

lieve me, but the fact that she was arguing with a dead man

played my way.

“And you think they’re the same girls?”

“Who else could they be? I mean, how many ghosts are gonna

haunt me?”

190

“Do you know who killed them? Or when?”

“No. It could be last year or a hundred years ago. But, they’re

trying to tell me something. I just don’t know what.”

“I’m calling Bear.” When she started to dial, I asked her to put

it on speaker. “No, Tuck. I’ll tell you after—please.”

“Why can’t I listen for myself?”

Angel’s forehead wrinkled as she said, “I just need a little pri-

vacy sometimes.”

From me?

When Bear answered, Angel fil ed him in on what little we

got from Sarah Salazar. She left out the part about the murders in her bedroom. He might not understand that part. The look on

Angel’s face said he was not happy.

She said, “I decided to go without you. She never liked you.

You know that.”

Silence, then she said, “Believe me, I’m not planning on doing

any more of this. And going there was not my idea, either.” Bear’s grunting and more silence. “Never mind, you wouldn’t believe

me.”

Bear was ranting something that made her scowl. It was prob-

ably best I didn’t hear. She flipped on the speaker button and held the phone out for me to hear. Bear was saying, “Okay, Sarah said

Iggi got Salazar a moonlighting job—maybe legit, maybe not.

Maybe they were planning a big score because money is sud-

denly no problem for Salazar. Then, he’s killed.”

“By Iggi?” Angel asked, but then shook her head already sure

she was wrong.

191

Bear said, “I doubt it, but who knows. It bothers me that Poor

Nic gave Sarah money.”

“Five thousand,” Angel said. “And she had some gold coins,

too.”

“Coins? She said he gave her coins?”

Angel ignored the question.

It hit me. “Angel, the coins might be Poor Nic’s. I saw them in

his den the morning Bear and I went to see him a couple weeks

ago. I can’t be sure, but he has a collection of them.”

Angel told Bear, “André found an antique coin at Kel y’s Dig.

This cannot all be coincidence.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Bear said. “None of it makes sense. I

gotta find Iggi Suarez.”

I reminded Angel about the girls. She was reluctant and I gave

her a nudge. “Ask him, Angel.”

“Bear, someone told me about two young girls being killed

one night in the woods. I’ve never heard of anything like that, so, can you …”

“Oh?” I could hear Bear’s sphincter tightening. “‘Someone’

told you that?”

“Yes—someone did. It could be important. If you need me,

I’ll be at Ernie’s tonight.”

He groaned. “Sure, Angela. I’ll get right on it. This ‘someone’

hasn’t figured out who killed him yet, has he?”

“No.”

“Wel , that’s a relief.”

192

thirt y-four

“You’re a detective now?” Ernie’s tone was dry and contemp-

tuous. He didn’t wait for Angel to answer. “However will you find

time to be a professor?”

“Oh, Ernie, please understand.” Angel picked up her wine

glass from his coffee table separating them. “It’s something I,

wel , that I had to do.”

“That’s the police’s job.”

We’d arrived a little more than an hour ago. Ernie had been

ready with wine and a friendly hug but his spots changed when

Angel turned the conversation to her recent foray as a homicide

investigator. Charm turned to irritation.

“My dear, you are too involved in all this. You are not a crime

fighter—your first responsibility is to the university.”

Angel folded her arms. “Ernie, I have in no way let my duties

at the university lapse.”

“No, I meant …”

193

“In fact, you insisted I take some time off. How I spend it is

entirely up to me. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, of course.”

Angel swirled her wine in the glass but kept hold of Ernie’s

eyes. “I need to help find Tuck’s killer, and Raymundo Salazar’s,

too. It’s therapeutic.”

“Therapeutic? It’s dangerous.” The more Ernie fought her, the

more willing she became to help find my killer.

“Ernie …”

He bound from his chair and went across the room to the

window. “Seriously, Angela. You sound ridiculous. You didn’t

even have a real funeral. What’s got into you?”

“I appreciate your concern.” Angel didn’t look sure as she

gulped some wine. “But I know what I’m doing.”

Ernie took a long pull on his wine but refused to look at her.

“Perhaps a better subject at the moment is the gold coins you

found.”

“Yes, Sarah Salazar has several. And André found one in some

clay samples he took from Kelly’s Dig that day. When I men-

tioned the coins to Tyler Byrd, he suggested I speak with you.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Ernie was annoyed.

“What is he talking about, Ernie?”

He looked toward the window again but said nothing.

“Ernie, you know more than you’re telling me. Where are

these coins coming from and why are they important? Poor Nic

has a collection, too.”

His eyebrows rose. “How do you know Bartalotta has a col-

lection?”

194

“Tuck told me—ah—before he was killed. He saw them one

day when he was in Nicholas’ house.” She redirected him. “Tyler