Harley Rushes In (Book 2 of the Blue Suede Mysteries) (30 page)

Maybe the smugglers were ticked off about not getting their money. Did Harry owe them for the stuff brought in? Or did he pay up-front? It was unlikely any smuggler would risk getting stiffed by shipping stolen artifacts without being paid first, but then the recipient wouldn’t pay first without guarantee of getting the goods. Harry’s out-of-town trips and visits overseas were shopping expeditions for a lot more than Portuguese armoires. He smuggled out the stuff in cheap furniture, shipped it to himself to the shop, then arrived back in Memphis in time to pick it up and get it to its final destination. But what about the money? There had to be a lot of money involved. He’d have to have bank accounts the IRS couldn’t trace.

She really needed to call Bobby again, but she had hung up on him last night when he yelled at her. Really. He could get so excited. Like it was her fault José had hidden in Cami’s car. After thinking for a moment, she decided to try Morgan instead. He just might have info he could be coaxed to share.

“Can you talk?” she asked when he answered, and after a short pause he said yeah, but he sounded a little grumpy.

“Where have you been, Harley? I left messages for you.”

“I know. It was one of those nights. I’ll tell you about it later. Listen, I know you’re not on this case, that you’re off somewhere playing bad guy, but sometimes you hear things. They’ve arrested my aunt for Harry Gordon’s murder.”

“She hasn’t been formally charged yet.”

“But she’s in custody?”

“For now. They won’t be able to hold her much longer without formally charging her.”

“So Bobby was telling the truth? She’s just in protective custody?”

“You’ll have to ask him that. Harley, what are you up to now? And don’t bother telling me you aren’t up to anything. I know you better than that.”

She was thinking fast. If it was true that Darcy was just in protective custody, then the police thought she was in danger from the real killer. That was good. And bad. The real killer was still loose, and Darcy hadn’t exactly made herself low profile. Somehow, she didn’t think it was José. And she knew for a certainty it wasn’t Madelyn or Amanda, and nine-tenths sure it wasn’t Aunt Darcy. Except for Cheríe, she’d about run out of suspects.

“Harley, are you still there, or are you just thinking of a way to get information out of me without being blunt?”

“You know me so well. Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing. Will blunt work?”

Mike said something nasty, then made a huffing sound. “It might. Depends on what you want to know. You get one question.”

“Who do the police think killed Harry and Julio if they don’t think Aunt Darcy did it?”

“Again, you’ll have to ask Baroni that question.”

“Bobby just yells at me lately. He can be very testy. Okay, I have another question—”

“Sorry. Only one question allowed.”

“But you didn’t answer it!”

“Yes, I did. You just didn’t like the answer.”

“This is an unattractive side of your personality, you know.”

He laughed. “You’re assuming I have a two-sided personality.”

“Maybe I’m wrong. Okay, gotta go now.”

“Wait—Harley, I know better than to ask you to promise not to do anything but stay home where you’re safe, but do us all a favor and let the police handle this. They’re better at it than you.”

“That’s true. But I have certain advantages they don’t.”

“I’m scared to ask.”

“I don’t need pesky things like search warrants.”

“Harley, that’s called breaking and entering.”

“Not if you’re invited inside.”

Morgan made a strange noise, and before he could ask what she had in mind, she said a quick good-bye and hung up. She had things to do. Places to go. People to see.

After a shower and change of clothes, she left a note for Cami telling her that she’d be back later and that she’d borrowed some of her clothes, then revved up her bike and coasted down the driveway. It was a sunny day, washed clean by rain the night before, one of those nice late spring days Memphis boasted of in travel brochures.

The trip to Atoka didn’t seem as long this time. And she had her Mace ready in case she ran into Gladys again, though she rather hoped she didn’t have to pepper spray a goose. It didn’t seem very fair, somehow.

There was an extra car in the driveway when she arrived. Harley slowed before she ended up blundering into a situation she wouldn’t like. It was a blue Mustang with Missouri plates, new and shiny. It didn’t seem likely that it’d be José, so she parked her bike on the strip between the ruts where it wasn’t as muddy, and hung her helmet off the handlebars. Mace and phone at the ready, she approached the mobile home. Like last time, the dogs didn’t bark and hardly raised their heads to acknowledge her arrival, and fortunately, there was no sign of a goose lurking on the porch.

Voices came from inside, a little loud at times, and she paused before interrupting.

“You know where she is,” a man snarled, sounding menacing, “and you better tell me!”

“I swear I don’t,” came the reply, and Harley recognized Anna Merritt’s voice. “She never tells me where she’s staying. I haven’t even heard from her lately. I swear it!”

When it seemed like he was going to get even more threatening, Harley rapped loudly on the door. A distraction might help, and, after all, she had her Mace handy. After a moment, Anna appeared in the doorway. She looked a little relieved to see Harley.

“It’s you again,” she said, but didn’t sound too unfriendly. “What do you want?”

“I have a few things to talk over with you. Mind if I come in?”

“Well . . . ” Anna glanced over her shoulder. “I have company right now, but maybe you can come back later.”

“No, I really need to talk to you now. It won’t take long. I can just sit out here on the porch until you’re free, if you prefer.”

“That’s all right.” Anna unlocked the storm door and swung it open. “Come in.”

Harley gave her small Mace canister a good shake just in case, and kept it in her palm as she went inside. A rather large man stood in the center of the living room. His head nearly touched the wooden beam that ran the length of the ceiling. He had gray hair, blue eyes, and an unpleasant expression.

“Hello,” she chirped, eying him as closely as he was watching her, “how are you?” Not that she really wanted to know. It was just something to say while she tried to gauge the tension level.

Ignoring her, he turned to Anna. “I’ll be back later.”

“Oh, don’t let me run you off,” Harley said. “I just came by to chat for a few minutes. Are you the brother, Bernard Plotz?”

It wasn’t that she thought he was, just a shot in the dark, but after a brief hesitation, he said, “Yes. Bernie.”

“Aha,” Harley couldn’t resist saying, “the Plotz thickens.”

He scowled. “And you are—?”

“Intruding on a family reunion, I see. Maybe I should just run along.”

There was something definitely odd going on here. Anna looked tense, Bernie looked mad, and the hair on the back of Harley’s neck tightened. She didn’t need to get in the middle of a family fight, that was for sure.

Before she could edge back to the door, Bernie moved to block her. “What are you really doing here?”

“Well, that’s between me and Anna.”

“And now me.” He towered over her, suddenly seeming much too large and menacing.

Harley thought fast, then blurted, “I wanted to tell Anna that I’m supposed to meet her—your—sister in a little while. At the shop.”

“You heard from Frieda?”

“Well . . . kinda. I, um, bumped into her by accident. She seemed kinda scared and said to meet her today, so that’s where I’m headed. Just wanted to let Anna know she must be all right.” Harley edged the Mace lower in her palm, finger on the nozzle just in case. This guy didn’t look at all friendly. But to her relief, he pushed past her and out the door without another word. After a moment, she heard a car door slam and gravel grind as he took off down the driveway.

Harley looked at Anna, who sagged onto a chair arm and put her hands on her knees. “I don’t believe Frieda told you anything,” she said, and Harley shrugged.

“Well, she did push me into a glass case. Rather strong upper body. Does she work out?”

Anna didn’t say anything, just looked at her, and Harley smiled. “They’re both involved in the smuggling, aren’t they?” When she shook her head, Harley said, “Yes they are, and you’re probably just as mixed up in it as your sister. You know all about everything.”

Anna stood up. “No. But if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. It’s time for you to go.”

“All right, but one more thing—have you looked in the ivory box that Frieda gave you?”

“Why?”

“Because it probably contains what your brother wants. He’s looking for Frieda, right? I don’t think it’s for a family reunion. He’s one of the smugglers. Maybe a courier. He has to want the list of stuff, to find out where it went, or where the money is, or something like that. He didn’t act at all like the kind of guy who’s looking for his sister out of brotherly love.”

Anna gave a short bark of laughter. “Well, you’re wrong there. Look, I don’t know what to tell you, just what
not
to tell you. Please go. If he realizes you lied, he’s liable to come back, and I don’t think you’d like what he’d do next.”

“Aren’t you afraid for your sister?”

“She has better sense than to hang around the shop where . . . Harry was killed. I doubt she’s even in Memphis any longer.”

“Unless she has a reason to be here—like lots of money?”

Anna pressed her lips tightly together, and Harley recognized that she’d said all she was going to say. After an awkward moment, she told Anna to call if she changed her mind and gave her another card that’d probably be thrown away. She eased out the door, half-expecting to be attacked from some angle.

Thankfully, there was no sign of Gladys the goose. Their one encounter had left a lasting impression, and she was in no hurry for a repeat.

As soon as she got out on the main highway, Harley pulled over into the parking lot of an old country store and gas station. She unfastened her helmet and hung it from the handlebars, and still straddling the bike, called Bobby.

He didn’t sound very pleased to hear from her. “All I asked was that you stay home and out of harm’s way, Harley, and you can’t even do that. What’s the matter with you?”

“Do you want this information or not? It’s important, but suit yourself.”

Bobby said something tacky, then said, “Okay, tell me the information that you think’s so important.”

“I shouldn’t since you’re being so hateful, but I thought you might want to know that one of the smugglers is on his way to the design shop at this very moment. He thinks he’s going to meet Cheríe Saucier there. He’s very insistent on speaking with her. I’m sure it has something to do with the smuggled goods and money. Oh, and he—”

“Harley, whatever you do, do
not
follow him. Do you hear me? Stay away from your aunt’s shop. That guy’s dangerous. I’ll have to radio a unit to make sure no one there gets hurt.”

A little irritated, she said, “It’s not open today. The insurance company has to come in and do their inspection before they can even make repairs.”