Grave Consequences (31 page)

“Why would Jerry tell you he helped kill someone?” Nancy asked.

Lola shrugged. “He was really into me. I guess he wanted to show me how important he was.”

“How'd Sheila find out who took the squash blossom?” DuPree asked.

“I was the only outsider at her party, and everyone else was afraid of her. She called Jerry and told him to get it back by the end of the day, or she'd sic Melinda on me—then him,” Lola said, looking from DuPree to Nancy.

“So Jerry called you?” Charlie offered.

“Yeah, but I had my cell phone off because I was in class, so I had to text him back. I told him the necklace was at your shop and I would try and get it back that afternoon. I didn't tell him I'd already thrown away the damn claim ticket. But by then, I was getting worried. Jerry said he had to get the necklace back, one way or the other, and that I should get lost for a few days and not tell anyone where I was, just in case. Sheila was pissed and when she was pissed she got violent. I knew that already, so I just drove around, parking sometimes, waiting for his call that he had it back. By that time, I'd heard about the shooting at your shop, so I knew I was screwed. I had to drop out of sight.”

DuPree looked over at Nancy, who nodded, then to Charlie and Gordon. “That confirms the final motive for Buck's death—and is consistent with the expensive jewelry purchases the restaurant was supposedly making. You guys have any questions?”

“Did you slip up and call Jerry later for some reason? He came looking for you at that woman's apartment. Her name was … Didi?” Gordon prodded.

“No. Jerry must have remembered me saying her name at one time or the other. Didi Bonner was my friend when we were both working the streets. She got shot trying to hide me,” Lola said, tears forming in her eyes.

“Now that's over and you're safe,” Nancy assured. “Are we done here, Detective?” she asked DuPree.

DuPree nodded. “For now. However, I'll need everyone to come in tomorrow morning to sign their statements. Needless to say, don't any of you leave town. Do you have a safe place to stay tonight, Ms. Tso?”

She nodded. “Yes, and I'll have someone watching over me,” she responded. “I'll be very safe.”

Charlie looked over at Nancy, who mouthed the word “Mike.”

Lola noticed the action and smiled. “It's Mike Schultz. I think you've all met him.”

DuPree rolled his eyes. “Mike the…” then stopped, seeing Nancy shake her head.

“Yeah, we know the guy,” Gordon said with a weary smile.

*   *   *

Charlie woke up and looked over at the clock. It was six in the morning and someone was in the kitchen, running water and clinking dishes. But this was his place and he'd come home alone.

Reaching under his pillow, he brought out his backup Beretta, slipped off the covers, and stepped silently onto the carpet. He listened closely, barely breathing, and could swear he heard the coffeepot perking.

Step by silent step he worked his way down the hall, feeling his way along the hardwood floors barefooted. Ahead, there was a light on in the kitchen.

He was halfway across the living room when he heard a familiar deep voice coming from the kitchen.

“You buy good coffee, Charlie, but where do you keep your sugar?”

Lowering the pistol to his side, Charlie stepped into the doorway. “Leroy Williams?”

The broad-shouldered black man was wearing a dark suit, no tie, and was sitting at the kitchen table, coffee mug in hand.

“You can call me Tyler Jackson from now on, Mr. Henry. I'm with the FBI.” He slid a gold shield across the table.

Charlie shook his head, looked down at the badge, then thumbed the safety on the Beretta and placed it on the table. “So you're a Full-Blooded Indian.”

Jackson laughed. “Yeah, I hear that whenever I work on tribal land. I thought I'd drop by and answer whatever questions might still be bugging you this morning. In exchange for the coffee, of course.”

“I guess I should be a little pissed at you right now,” Charlie said, then walked over and poured himself a mug. He leaned back against the counter, watching the agent as he smelled the aroma of Italian roast.

Charlie took a sip of coffee. “You tried to help my brother. I'm guessing you were the one who called DuPree and told him about the guys planning on working over Al at the warehouse.”

Jackson nodded. “Had to text my handler and hope he could relay the info fast enough. Didn't know you were listening in at the time.”

“How long did you know there was a bug in Clarence's SUV?”

“I didn't, not until Melinda discovered it yesterday afternoon. That's when Sheila decided to produce that little
revenge is best served cold
conversation, hoping you were listening in,” Jackson added.

“Yeah, we picked up on that. Sounded too rehearsed,” Charlie replied.

“Sorry. Her script, not mine.”

“So what happened to the bug? We never quite got around to removing it,” Charlie pointed out.

Jackson smiled. “Melissa got rid of it before she left the last time. By the way, don't tell anyone in law enforcement about that. It could hurt the prosecution.”

“No problem,” Charlie replied. He thought about it for a moment. “You were undercover all this time trying to break up the vehicle theft operation?”

The agent nodded. “Unfortunately, my work had to be kept from the locals until this morning. My supervisors were afraid the Night Crew might have a law enforcement informant. The good thing is that I was Clarence's security so I didn't have to take part in any actual carjackings. I got to spend time with him and Sheila during their planning, however. The hard part was learning the names and identities of their Mexican buyers. Most of that information was gathered at the southern end of the pipeline.”

“I understand there were some Mexican honchos that escaped the roundup,” Charlie said, taking a seat across the table from Tyler. “What made your people finally decide to move in and make the arrests?”

“You and your buddy Gordon. You two had whittled away so many of the New Mexico operatives that the operation was about to shut down anyway. The Mexican people were upset, already looking for new sources of product. Our people had to get what they could.”

“New Mexico was running low on car thieves?” Charlie asked with a smile.

“Right. Imagine that.”

“Did anyone, Clarence or Sheila, ever say anything about killing Cordell Buck?” Charlie asked, wondering just how close the undercover agent had been.

“Not a damned thing. I didn't know about the connection or why they wanted that squash blossom back until I was briefed by Detective DuPree a few hours ago. Sorry.”

“Still, I'm betting you were the one who tried to warn us about Melinda Foy last night,” Charlie said, sure of the answer already.

“Yeah, but I wasn't able to get free to text until I dropped off Sheila at her home. Until that moment I'd ruled out Melinda completely. Clarence only spoke of her in sexual terms so I never considered her a threat or had her background traced.”

Charlie nodded. “Same with us. But at least we figured out someone was making a move and who the likely target was. That gave us enough lead time to set the trap.”

Jackson leaned back in the chair, stretched, then yawned. “You guys are great at psyching people out. You should consider law enforcement. But not the Bureau, okay?” Jackson stood, placed his mug in the sink, and reached out to shake Charlie's hand. “Time to go. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Thanks for breaking in and making a pot,” Charlie replied. “And for filling in the gaps.”

“Hey, if you ever need a lock picked…” Jackson answered with a grin, reaching into his pocket and bringing out his card.

“Who knows, maybe someday,” Charlie said, taking the business card. “Mind if I tell Gordon about you?”

Jackson shook his head. “Just him, okay? I may be working this area again one of these days.” The Bureau agent stepped into the living room, then stopped and turned around. “Want me to lock up on the way out?”

Charlie laughed, shrugged, and stood there sipping his coffee as the agent left.

He looked at the clock above the fireplace. “Damn, six thirty already.” Walking back into the bedroom, Charlie picked up his cell phone from the nightstand and called Gordon.

The phone rang six times. “Hey, guy, now that you're awake, how about joining me for breakfast at the Range in, say, forty-five minutes? I'm buying. You'll never guess who I ran into this morning in my kitchen.”

 

About the Authors

D
AVID
and
A
IMÉE
T
HURLO
have, together and separately, written more than seventy novels. Their books have been sold worldwide in more than eighteen countries and have received the
Romantic
Times
Career Achievement Award, a Willa Cather Award for Contemporary Fiction, and the New Mexico Book Award for Mystery and Suspense. Aimée Thurlo was born in Havana, Cuba, and passed away in 2014. David Thurlo was raised on the Navajo Nation in Shiprock. He now lives in New Mexico with his two standard poodles. You can sign up for email updates
here
.

 

ALSO BY
DAVID
AND
AIM
É
E THURLO

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Mourning Dove

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THE SISTER AGATHA MYSTERIES

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