Iris Avenue (19 page)

“Did Theo make a deal with Brian to take care of you financially if Brian disappeared?”

“No, that’s absurd. Brian borrowed a half million from Theo to buy drugs, and when he sold them he paid Theo back. I saw the loan documents. It was Mrs. Wells’ half million that he lost when they wrecked the car. It was his first assignment as her courier and he blew it in a big way.”

“Is Charlotte Theo’s daughter?”

“No.”

“Did you ever have an affair with Theo?”

“We dated the summer after Brian graduated, for a few weeks. That’s all.”

“So, you’re telling me, that because he was once in love with you, way back when you were teenagers, the richest man in this town left you a fortune.”

“I guess so.”

Ava pushed Jamie away, sat down in the car, and shut her door. She fastened her seat belt as he came around and got in the driver’s side of the car. She looked away from him until they backed out and started down the driveway. Then she met his gaze. He looked amused.

“I want more agents,” Ava said.

“More agents?”

“When you arrest Mrs. Wells I want agents watching my children every moment of every day. I want a bodyguard and I don’t care how obvious it is that I have one. I want a team of agents watching over my family every second until this is over.”

Jamie laughed out loud and Ava scowled at him.

“You’re something else, Ava,” he said, and gave her a longing, sexually charged look.

“That’s my price,” she said.

“You’ve got it,” he said. “As long I get the night shift.”

Ava smiled at that, but turned her head away as she said, “we’ll see.”

When they returned to the bed and breakfast they found Scott in the kitchen holding a howling baby while trying to warm a bottle of formula under the hot water tap.

“Thank goodness,” he said, and handed the baby to Ava.

Jamie was trying hard to control his smirk.

“He not only filled his diaper,” Scott said, “He filled both legs of his pajamas. I never knew so much poop could come out of such a small human. And the smell! I threw his pajamas away and hosed him off in the kitchen sink. Then he peed all over everything, including me. You’re going to have to bleach the whole kitchen.”

Ava took the baby, popped a clean pacifier in his mouth, and thanked Scott for his help.

“Hey, man,” Jamie said. “Good news: I’ve got some additional agents coming so you can sleep in your own bed tonight.”

“I don’t mind staying,” Scott told Jamie. “Whatever Ava needs I’m glad to do.”

“Me too, my friend,” Jamie said, while clapping him on the back. “Me too.”

County sheriff’s investigator Sarah Albright knew she had no business investigating Ray’s murder, but she’d received an anonymous tip about a certain tattooed biker who may have been involved in the Theo Eldridge blackmail investigation and the murder of the Roadhouse bartender.

There was nothing she wanted more than to bring credible evidence to lay at the feet of the feds. In return she would only ask that a kind word of praise be shared with her supervisor, who wasn’t too happy with her right now.

She pounded on the door of Phyllis’s motel room, out back of the Roadhouse, until she heard, “Alright already! Give me a second!”

Phyllis opened the door a crack. She looked as if she had just woke up, with smeared makeup and a deeply lined face. Sarah knew the woman was in her mid-thirties but she looked twenty years older.

“You,” Phyllis said in disgust. “What in the hell do you want?”

“Let me in and I’ll tell you,” Sarah said. “Or we can use the cuffs and take you down to the county lockup for a chat.”

“Hold your horses,” Phyllis said, and closed the door long enough to unhook the flimsy security chain.

Sarah picked her way through a thick layer of empty liquor bottles, overflowing ashtrays, gossip magazines, and dirty clothes. She used her notebook to knock a pile of dirty clothing off a chair and sat down.

Phyllis lit a cigarette and sat on the edge of her bed. Her flimsy robe covered a stained tee shirt with a picture of The Golden Girls on it and some sparkly bikini underwear.

“Alright, what?” Phyllis asked.

“It’s about Ray,” Sarah said.

“I don’t know anything about that,” Phyllis said, pointing her cigarette at Sarah. “It’s like I told the state cops: Ray and me partied together the night before he died but when I woke up the next day he was gone. I remember somebody called him on his cell phone, but he didn’t tell me who it was or anything about Brian Fitzpatrick. I wouldn’t cover for Brian, either. That man owes me a month’s rent.”

Phyllis’s legs were crossed and the foot she was dangling was twitching back and forth. She was looking at Sarah through a cloud of cigarette smoke, speculatively, as if she wondered if Sarah was buying her act, but there was also fear in her eyes.

“I don’t think you’re involved,” Sarah said. “But I do think you know who killed Ray.”

“I don’t,” Phyllis said. “You’re wasting my time and yours.”

“We’ve got the bar bugged, Phyllis,” Sarah said. “We heard you talking about it. I have it on tape.”

Sarah pulled a small tape recorder out of her inside jacket pocket, showed it to Phyllis, and then put it back in her pocket. She had clicked “record” before she entered the room, in order to tape their conversation.

“You guys wear me out,” Phyllis said. “It isn’t enough that you hounded my son into an early grave. Why do you gotta keep trying to get me involved in things all the time? Why don’t you arrest the guy who was telling me about it? He’s the one who did it.”

“We can’t find him,” Sarah said, feeling the excitement build now that her bluff was paying off. “But I knew where to find you.”

“Isn’t he out at the cemetery?” Phyllis asked. “Hey, do you mind if I get a drink? My head is about to bust right off my neck.”

“Go right ahead.”

Phyllis went to the bathroom and came back with a stained coffee cup, a child-size juice box, and a pint of vodka. She mixed herself a drink and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Why would this man be in a cemetery?” Sarah asked her.

“Because he works at the Rose Hill cemetery. He’s the caretaker out there, the spooky grave-digger guy.”

“We have someone out there waiting for him,” Sarah said, scrambling to keep Phyllis talking. “But he may have taken off.”

“Well, if he killed Brian he’d have the money to do it. Fifty grand, they’re paying. That night in the bar he was trying to buy my services, if you know what I mean. I asked him, what did he take me for? I wouldn’t sleep with that creep for all fifty grand.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I do have standards, believe it or not, and he smells like cemetery dirt,” Phyllis said with a shudder. “He has creepy tattoos of devil stuff all over him. He has these horn thingies under his skin on top of his head. He calls himself the crypt keeper. Crystal says he does black magic in the graveyard.”

“Who’s Crystal?”

“She strips at Hotter Trotters over on Route 16. She’s a Wicker, you know, one of those good witches.”

“You mean she’s a Wiccan?”

“Yeah, yeah, one of those. She says he has an evil aura.”

“Okay, great. That’s very helpful. So why did he kill Ray?”

“So Ray couldn’t collect the reward. Somebody tipped him off about Ray meeting Brian. Not me, though. I didn’t know it was Brian who called Ray. I figured that out after I talked to the state cops.”

“What did the crypt keeper say happened?”

“Brian showed up on the wrong side of the river, so he killed Ray and Brian got away.”

“Who’s paying the reward?”

“Now, that I don’t know,” Phyllis said. “And I don’t want to know.”

“Why did he tell you all this?”

“He was falling down drunk, is why, and trying to get in my pants. He probably doesn’t even remember telling me. Least I hope not. Hey! You gotta give me police protection.”

“Did he tell you his name?”

“It’s Duane something, I think.”

“Now, Phyllis, we’re going to cut you a break for cooperating with us.”

“About damn time.”

“As long as you don’t tell anyone I was here or what we talked about; do you understand?”

“You better keep a close eye on this place,” Phyllis said. “I don’t wanna end up in the river like Ray.”

“If you hear from Duane, you let me know. Don’t meet alone with him. It wouldn’t be safe.”

“You have to protect me.”

“Someone will be watching this place,” Sarah said.

Phyllis didn’t get up as Sarah went to the door.

“You know,” Phyllis said, and Sarah paused at the open door. “I used to be pretty like you.”

“What happened?” Sarah asked her.

“I wasted it,” Phyllis said, “on losers and users.”

Hannah met the vet’s van in her driveway with a wave and a heavy heart.

“Hey, Gene,” she said, as the vet on rotation got out of the vehicle.

He had a new assistant with him and introduced her as Rhonda. Hannah shook her hand.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I hate to see you arrive,” Hannah said.

“I understand,” Gene said, and patted her shoulder. “Let’s see what we have.”

Afterward, Hannah offered them coffee and they took her up on it. They sat at the kitchen table. Hannah was trembling with emotion, and had to excuse herself to go throw up in the little bathroom under the stairs.

“How far along are you?” Rhonda asked when she came back.

Hannah started to deny it but then shook her head and sighed instead.

“Three months and some change.”

“You’re through the worst of it, I bet,” Rhonda said. “The whole nine months I cried every time someone looked at me cross-eyed, but I only threw up during the first trimester.”

“It’s the hormones,” Gene said. “My wife did the same thing.”

Hannah made them coffee and served them some coffee cake, but neither wanted anything to eat.

“I think my day’s bad until I think about yours,” Hannah said. “You’re just getting started.”

“It’s hard,” Gene said, and Rhonda nodded. “But I ask myself what kind of a life it would be locked up in a little cage, angry and unhappy and unloved. I’d rather go to sleep forever than live like that.”

“I don’t know,” Hannah said. “I think just to be alive, warm, fed, and able to see the sky each day is worth something.”

Gene stood up, said, “Well, we have miles to go before we sleep.”

Hannah shook hands with both of them.

“Congratulations on the baby,” Rhonda said.

“Thanks,” Hannah said, but her thoughts were on the quiet barn and her missing housedogs.

After the county vet left, Hannah worked in the house all morning, doing anything she could think of to avoid the silence of the barn. Gene and Rhonda had taken the dead dogs away, so all Hannah had left to do was sterilize their empty kennels, and she had all day to do it. She was sitting at the kitchen table, nibbling on saltines and reading the grant application instructions when she heard a vehicle coming down the long drive. She looked out to see Patrick’s truck, and he leaned on the horn as soon as he started down the driveway.

When she got outside, she saw Patrick had three dogs in the cab of the truck with him; two were hers. As soon as he opened the door Wally and Jax leaped out of the cab in a frenzy of happy barking and wagging, and almost knocked her over.

“Patrick! Thank you!” she cried.

They were muddy and stinky and covered in burrs, but they were beautiful to Hannah.

“Oh my gosh, I missed you guys!” she told them as they jumped up and put their muddy paws all over her, trying to kiss her face. “You bad, bad dogs! Let’s go get you cleaned up so you can come inside.”

Patrick followed her out to the barn. Banjo trotted alongside Patrick, looking proud, as if he’d done this good thing all by himself.

“Where did you find them?” she asked.

“I put the word out to all the beverage distribution guys and they must have told every bar owner and convenience store clerk in all of God’s country. Last night I heard back from a man over at Bruceton Mills who said he saw the dogs on his property. He said he fed them on his back porch yesterday evening but couldn’t catch them. I didn’t want to get your hopes up so I didn’t call. I got up early this morning and headed over there. I stood out back of that man’s house yelling my fool head off for an hour. Sure enough, eventually they came running down the hillside, and they were glad to see their Uncle Patrick.”

“That’s over twenty miles from here.”

“They must have gone as the crow flies. Probably still ten miles.”

“How can I ever thank you? I thought I’d never see them again.”

“Tweren’t nothing, as the man over in Bruceton Mills said. I knew you were having a bad day today.”