Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 14 - Murder in a Casbah of Cats (20 page)

Edna gathered her two packages. “Thanks.”

Four packages. That left eight Gadrate had put away in the laundry. And unless I was wrong, one or more of them contained drugs.

Tonight, I would learn the truth.

In my room after dinner, I reread Eddie’s reports on the mansion’s staff. His information did nothing to support my tenuous little theory on Al Guzman’s unexplained appearance on the estate grounds.

I looked around as Hercules padded into my room. He made straight for the desk, sniffed around a few seconds, then departed as silently as he had come. “Stupid cat,” I mumbled, turning my thoughts back to Guzman.

If Guzman were buying from Gadrate, that meant Collins was using the delivery truck to distribute the drugs with Mendoza, a.k.a. Vega, as the mailman.

If so, how could I prove it? First, I had to learn if the linen packages contained drugs. But how? If I tore into the packages, Gadrate would know someone had been snooping. And I was the only someone around.

But if I were right, that would account for Skylar Watkins’s insistence that ghosts played over the estate grounds at night.

When I first broached the subject of ghosts, Henry, then later, Gadrate, lost no time in suggesting the “ghosts” were nothing more than curious trespassers, an innocuous assumption no one would question.

The downstairs clock chimed two o’clock. I waited another couple of minutes before slipping from bed. More times than I could count, I’d made surreptitious forays into offices and homes at the risk of discovery. Nevertheless, adrenaline pounded through my veins with the same intensity as it had that first time so many years earlier.

I headed downstairs. The night-lights along the hall provided ample illumination. In the pocket of my robe, I carried my miniature halogen flashlight. I’d already made up a cover story of a midnight snack. If someone caught me in the laundry, I’d simply claim I heard a noise while I had my head in the refrigerator and went to look.

I glanced at Gadrate’s and Henry’s doors as I passed the second floor. Their lights were off.

The light over the sink was burning, casting a dim glow over the kitchen. I glanced at the door to Edna’s room. No light shone from under the closed door. I looked over my shoulder, then on tiptoe slipped into the laundry and flicked on my flashlight.

Stacked on the shelves on the wall shared with the library were six wrapped packages, just like the ones I’d seen George Mendoza deliver. Hastily, I felt them, cringing as the packaging material crinkled and cracked. All I felt was the spongy give of freshly laundered and folded cloth.

I suppose I’d expected to feel the hard surface of duct-taped kilos. I lifted each one, testing its weight against the others. There was no noticeable difference.

But two were missing. Where were they?

The sound of a door opening froze me. I flipped off my light and stared at the swinging door, expecting it to open any moment.

From beyond, I heard the refrigerator door open. Moments later, it closed, followed shortly by the click of a bedroom-door lock.

I lost no time slipping out and heading up the stairs.

Back in my room, I lay staring at the ceiling. Either my theory was wacky as a daffy duck or the drugs had already been moved.

I reminded myself that Gadrate had given both Henry and Edna two packages. Could all three be involved? Henry had explained away his sudden appearance that second night just as Edna had explained her soaked jeans, although Karla’s assertion had brought the cook’s explanation into question.

I blew softly through my lips. The idea made sense. I found it hard to believe that one person, living in such close proximity with two or three others, could carry out such activities without being discovered.

On the other hand, I had no proof, not even the slightest hint upon which I could hang the assumption that they were involved in drugs. Even if Mendoza were up to his neck in the business, even if he were the mailman, nothing pointed to the mansion as a drop-off. He could be dropping the goods off at any of a hundred other stops.

None of the staff members had given me any reason to believe they were involved in such an endeavor. And to be honest, I had no proof that Vega came after me over drugs.

The only logical explanation was that Collins had somehow learned I was nosing about the library. Fearful I might find something that would enable the district attorney to file murder charges against him, Collins sent Vega to shut me up or scare me off. That explanation made a heck of a lot more sense than Henry and the others brokering drug deals.

Next morning was Sunday, the lazy morning of the week, but I didn’t feel lazy. I pushed through the kitchen door. Everyone had gathered, even Karla. Frank was pouring himself some coffee. He waved me over. “Get a cup and have a seat. Edna’s got us a southern breakfast of scrambled pork brains and eggs, red-eye gravy, and homemade biscuits.”

At the table, Henry and Gadrate had already loaded their plates. The latter’s cell phone, a light blue one, lay beside her plate. Edna passed a platter of brains and eggs to Karla. I said, “Good morning.”

After pouring a cup of steaming coffee, I slipped in at the table and reached for the platter of egg and brains, glancing furtively around the table as I filled my plate, all the while nervously anticipating someone mentioning any strange noises from the night before.

After a few minutes, I began to relax. Apparently, my furtive little sojourn had gone unnoticed.

Edna joked that at least we’d made it through one night without another dead body turning up.

The jangling of the telephone on the wall over the granite countertop interrupted us. Henry, wearing the yellow shirt from that first day, rolled his eyes and pushed back from the table.

He took the call in the kitchen. After answering, he held the receiver up for me. “It’s for you. Lieutenant Fenster.”

Puzzled, I took the receiver. “Hello, Lieutenant. Something wrong?” I listened in growing surprise as he explained the purpose of his call. Once or twice, I started to comment on just how flimsy his little theory was, but I knew better. A PI’s opinion regarding a lawman’s decision was never solicited, and if it were, and didn’t agree with the lawman’s, it was never acknowledged. When he finished, I replied. “Yeah, I understand. When do you think they’ll be out here? Yeah, yeah. OK. I’ll pass word along.”

Everyone was looking at me when I replaced the receiver. I turned to face them. “That was Lieutenant Fenster. I’m afraid we’re going to have company next week.”

Henry laid his fork down on his plate. “Why?”

I had mixed feelings over the lieutenant’s call. On the one hand, I welcomed it, for it would provide the answer to several questions tumbling about in my mind; but on the other, I inexplicably felt the same sense of violation as the others would feel. “He’s going to petition a judge tomorrow for a court order to tear down the fireplace.”

All five gaped at me in disbelief. Edna was first to find her voice. “He’s what?”

Eyes wide with shock, Karla gasped and pressed her fingers to her lips, speechless.

Henry jumped to his feet. His beardless cheeks flushed with anger, Henry barked, “He can’t do that.”

I tried to calm him. “He can, if he can get the judge to go along with his line of reasoning.”

Gadrate spoke up. “But what could that be? Why should that one, he want to tear down the fireplace?”

Laying my hand on Henry’s shoulder, I pressed him back down into his chair. “Now listen. Let me tell you what he said, and then you can figure out your next step.”

Karla was shaking her head.

Frank blurted out. “He can’t do that, can he? I mean, just walk in and start ripping out part of a person’s house.”

“No. Not without probable cause. That’s what I was going to tell you, his reasons, what he’s going to tell the judge. Then the judge will decide. Understand?”

Edna shook her head adamantly. “No, but go ahead.”

The others agreed.

“Like I said, the law’s got to have good reason. And Fenster believes he does.”

Henry demanded, “What reason could he have?”

“The two guys that were killed here on the grounds. Both were connected with Bill Collins, who the cops still believe murdered Mr. Watkins.”

Frank Creek snorted. “I’d bet my life on it.”

“Me too,” Edna muttered.

“His idea is that where there’s smoke, there’s fire. In other words, since the two were running with Collins, and because Jimmy Vega tried to waste me, he believes there is a connection between those incidents and the killer who vanished from the library after the old man’s murder.”

The old gardener shook his balding head. “That seems awful shaky to me.”

I agreed. “You can’t tell, though. The judge could go along with him.”

“But that was fifteen years ago,” Edna said.

“Yep, but there’s no statute of limitations on first-degree murder.”

Resting his elbows on the table, Henry leaned forward and looked at each of his coworkers. “We can’t let them do that. We got to do something.”

Karla cleared her throat. In a thin voice, she asked. “But what?” She looked up at me.

The others followed her gaze. “The only way I know to stop it,” I said. “Is to appeal the court order.”

“But how do we do that?”

I looked at Henry. “You can’t. Only Miss Watkins can. She needs to get her own lawyer to take care of it.”

Karla jumped to her feet. “Then I’ll call her. Right now.”

Within seconds, she contacted her sister in Barbados. Five minutes later, she punched off with a smug grin. “Aunt Skylar is contacting her lawyer here in Austin. She’ll call back to let us know what’s going on.”

We all nodded, and strangely enough, even though my own curiosity concerning the library bordered on all consuming, I felt a sense of satisfaction. I hated to see the fireplace dismantled, even though it would be rebuilt. Perhaps it was foolish on my part, but the idea of a craftsman’s work of a hundred and fifty
years being replaced with one of today destroyed the intrinsic historical charm of the fireplace.

Ten minutes later, Karla’s cell rang. Actually, it played that same jarring rap music. She answered quickly and listened with a smile. “Thanks, Skylar,” she said. “Have fun, huh?” She shot us a sheepish glance. “Yeah. Yeah. No, no problems at all with Kevin. Yeah, OK. I love you too.” Red-faced, she punched off. “Her lawyer will file an appeal as soon as he can.”

Edna clucked like an old mother hen. “You ought to be ashamed, lying to your aunt like that.”

“I know, but I promise, I’ll tell her the truth when she gets back, OK?” She looked at each staff person at the table. Each one agreed.

Edna shoved back from the table. “Put your dishes in the dishwasher when you finish. I’m going to get ready for church.” She called over her shoulder. “Give me a yell when you’re ready, Gadrate.”

The slender maid downed the last of her orange juice and scooped up her dishes. “
Oui
.”

Henry cleared his throat. “You have any plans this morning, Miss Karla?”

She smiled sweetly. “No, Henry. You go ahead and drive them to church. I plan on laying out at the pool with a new book. If you have something to do, go ahead.”

“I had planned on stopping by the mall. Higgins is running a special sale on cutoffs and T-shirts.”

I couldn’t believe my luck. The whole house was bailing out except for the gardener and Karla.

Frank Creek looked around at her.

The small blonde blushed. “I know what you’re thinking, Frank. No, Kevin’s not coming over. I don’t want to ever see him again.”

The old gardener chuckled. “I’m glad to hear that, honey. You can do a lot better than that one. I never heard of a drug dealer living to old age.”

She pushed back from the table and gathered her dishes. With an impish smile, she replied, “That’s why I’m finished with him.”

“Good.” Frank dabbed at his lips with his napkin and sighed. “I ate way too much. I always do when I come up to the big house.”

I patted my stomach. “A guy could put on a few pounds.”