Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 14 - Murder in a Casbah of Cats (24 page)

Frank laid his hand on my shoulder. “How do you know Gadrate was there, Tony? How did you get down there? You just think you heard her. That’s a big knot on your head.”

I couldn’t think straight. I closed my eyes and leaned back, hoping the pounding in my skull would ease. “Heard Gadrate. Too dark. Heard Gadrate and Placide.”

Edna’s calming voice cut in. “You couldn’t have, Tony. I had to wake Gadrate up. I found you in here. Henry and Gadrate were in their rooms. I had to wake them up. Frank too.”

Henry’s thin voice said, “She’s right, Tony. Look, why don’t you just lie back and rest. You put a big knot on your head.”

Gadrate whispered. “You think we should call the doctor?”

Frank grunted. “Might not hurt. He’s banged that head of his around pretty good this week.”

I fought against the dizzying swirl in my head. I couldn’t think straight. Maybe I had imagined it all. Or could it have been Emerente? My voice cracked when I spoke. “No. I just need to close my eyes for a…”

Next thing I knew, I awakened in my bed with a throbbing headache, still wearing my slacks and polo shirt. Sunlight filled the room. Henry was standing at the French doors, staring out across the grounds. “Morning,” I whispered, my lips parched.

Wearing a purple T-shirt with the maxim “Nature is always wrong so if all is going right with you, it is wrong,” he looked around, his beardless face stiff with concern. “How you feeling?”

I remained motionless. “I’m afraid to move.”

We both chuckled.

“Looks like you’ll be OK.”

I closed my eyes, balled my fists, and stretched my arms overhead with a drawn-out yawn. “Suppose you’re right. Head still
hurts, but looks like I’ll live.” I glanced around the room. “How’d I get up here?”

“Couldn’t let you sleep on the couch. Why, you ought to know by now, that’s the cats’ favorite lounging spot.” The serious expression on his face deepened. “Tell me. What’s this about Gadrate and Placide? You saw them down there?”

“No, but I heard them.” I paused. “It sounded like her, the accent and all. The guy had a Cajun accent too. I’m positive of that.” I looked up at him. “Who else could it have been?”

He studied me a moment. I read the skepticism in his face.

I continued. “I know it sounds screwy. It was dark. I was hiding in small alcove. I never saw them, but I heard them.” I fixed my eyes on his. “I know. In a situation like that, I could have been mistaken. Maybe it wasn’t her and her brother, but both were Cajun. On that I’d bet my life.”

Henry gestured to the door. “If you feel like walking, let’s go downstairs and you can fill us in on what happened.”

“Us?”

“Yeah. I told the others I’d call them when you woke up. You got us all curious as can be about the tunnel. To tell the truth, I figured it was all just talk.”

Grimacing against the throbbing in the back of my head, I sat up and slipped into my house shoes. “I’m ready.”

The others were waiting in the library, even Gadrate, which made me doubt my ears. I must have been wrong about her. My head was pounding too hard to make an elaborate production of my discovery. I simply plopped down on the couch and pointed to the brick on the bottom concourse. “Tap on it.”

Henry frowned at me.

“Go ahead. The one next to the wall, tap hard on one end.”

He glanced at the others and shrugged. “Here goes.” He tapped, and the firebox slid open.

Edna and Gadrate gasped. Henry whistled softly. Frank muttered a curse, and Karla plopped down beside me, speechless. “It was a simple matter for Watkins’s killer to climb over the logs, light them from inside, then close the firebox before the fire got too hot.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Henry said.

“The tunnel goes two ways,” I said. “One to the street, the other—”

Henry interrupted. “The street?”

“Comes up in one of the columns. The cast-iron image of the mansion swivels to let someone in or out.”

“What about the other end of the tunnel?” Edna asked. “Where does it come out?

“The laundry room.”

Instinctively, everyone looked at Gadrate, who gaped at me, her wide eyes showing disbelief. “The laundry? But where? Me, I never see nothing.”

“The shelves where you store the linens.”

Frank shook his balding head. “How can that be? The police went over every inch of the wall between the library and laundry. They took out all the books and cut holes in the wall.”

A spasm of pain raced through my skull and exploded against my forehead. I leaned back and clenched my teeth. After a few moments, I explained. “There’s a fake wall next to the library.”

“Fake wall?”

“Yeah. When the cops cut through the library wall, they spotted the fake one and assumed it was the one to the laundry. The real wall to the laundry is about two feet over.”

Henry had been peering into the darkness of the tunnel. He looked around, his face animated with excitement. “Let’s get some flashlights and see what’s down there.” He paused. “Wait a minute.” The others looked at him. “Just wait a minute,” he said again. “It just hit me.”

“What?” Edna piped up.

“This proves how Bill Collins got back in and then escaped after murdering Mr. Watkins.”

“That’s right,” the diminutive cook exclaimed. “Now they can fry the guy,” she added with a surprisingly unfeminine glee in her voice.

I wanted to tell her they didn’t “fry” killers in Texas any longer, but my head hurt too much to make the effort.

“That’s be right,” Gadrate replied. “And that explain how that one, Vega, got in.”

“Well, let’s go,” said Henry, flipping on his flashlight.

I agreed, but still, there were Guzman and Morena. Where did they fit in?

“Not me. I’m not going down there,” Karla said, backing away from the fireplace. “There’s probably snakes and all kinds of spiders down there.”

“Well, I am,” exclaimed Henry.

“I’ll go,” Frank said. “Where’s a flashlight?”

By now, Henry had squeezed through. He called from the darkness. “Awful tight, Frank”

The old gardener eyed the small opening and grunted. “Too big for that. Where’d you say it was in the laundry room, Tony?”

“The shelves where Gadrate stores the linens. I don’t know where the outside latch is. The inside one is easy to see.”

“I’ll get it for you, Frank,” Henry called from the tunnel, but the older man was already out of earshot.

Neither Edna nor Gadrate entered the tunnel.

“Me, I be nosy, but I not be that nosy,” Gadrate said.

Edna laughed with her.

Me? I still wasn’t sure about the little Cajun woman.

Lieutenant Fenster glowered at me; then a faint grin erased the angry sneer. “At least you let me have Sunday off, Boudreaux. Now what? It had better be good.”

“Anything better than closing a fifteen-year-old case?”

He stared at me in disbelief. “Don’t be jacking me around, you hear?”

“Follow me, Lieutenant.”

He caught his breath, then uttered a soft curse as the fireback slid open. I toured him through the tunnel to the street, pointing out how the figure had evaded us that night out on the grounds. Back at the other end, I opened the wall. He climbed out, then closed the wall. After a moment, he called out, “Where’s the latch out here?”

I called through the wall. “I don’t know. Go on around to the library. I’ll meet you there.”

Back in the library, the lieutenant jotted down notes regarding the fireplace and the second wall between the laundry and the library.

“What about Collins, Lieutenant? This tunnel blows his alibi to shreds.”

He slipped his notepad back in his pocket. His face grim, he replied. “Fifteen years, Boudreaux. A lot changes in fifteen years. And remember, no one saw him. There’s no proof he came back through the tunnel or even knew of it.” He paused. “But, who knows. Maybe he’ll get a little antsy and mess up when he hears we’ve discovered it.” He pushed to his feet. “I’ll have some men out to see what else we can find.”

Late that afternoon, Karla came into the kitchen, where Edna, Henry, and I were relaxing with a cup of coffee. She informed us she’d just gotten word from Skylar that she and Dot would fly in at Bergstrom International next morning at ten.

“Might as well tell her the appeal isn’t necessary now,” I said. “The cops know all they need to about the fireplace.”

“I told her, but she wants to come on anyway.” She glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s Gadrate? She needs to put fresh linens on Skylar’s and Dot’s beds.”

Edna waved her hand as if dismissing the question. “She went down to Bedroom Boutique to pick up some new silk sheets. Frank dropped her off on his way to pick up some more gasoline.”

Gasoline? Just yesterday when he returned with a load of lumber in the Ford pickup, he had four full cans of gasoline. What did he need more for?

In the back of my mind, a nagging suspicion stirred.

Henry glanced at his watch. “It’s been three hours. They should be back by now.”

Edna guffawed. “Not if Gadrate found a sale. She’ll be there until it closes.”

H&H Laundry pulled up in back. George hopped out and with an armload of packages, bounced up the steps. “Afternoon, everyone. Sorry I’m late.” He paused, looking around for Gadrate.

I saw my chance. “I’ll take them. She’s gone right now, but I’ll put them in the laundry room.” I expected him to protest, but to my surprise, he slid the load in my arms. “Whatever you say. I got one more load out here.”

Stacking the packages on the washing machine, I hurried back out for the second load, which I placed beside the first.

Edna came in. “He wants the dirty linens,” she said.

I glanced around the room. “I don’t see anything.”

The small cook snorted. “Well, we’ll just have a bigger load next time.”

Back in the kitchen after Mendoza left, I faced the three of them. “Look, you three have made me feel right at home, and I appreciate it. I’ll be gone tomorrow, but before I go, there’s something I’ve got to find out.”

Edna and Henry frowned at each other. Karla pressed her fingers to her lips. “What?”

I drew a deep breath. “Understand, I’m just talking off the top of my head, but I think there’s something going on around here right under our noses.”

Henry narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”

“Drugs, Henry. Drugs.” I looked at Karla. “No, not Kevin. The tunnels explain how people come and go. Vega, for example. And the one who dumped the spiders in my room. It could explain both the murders, and you know that both Guzman and Morena were neck-deep in the business.”

I paused, then continued. “Collins is at H&H. Mendoza is out of juvenile hall. His real name is Vega.” They were surprised. I continued. “That’s right, Jimmy Vega’s brother, and I think Mendoza delivers the goods to Gadrate in these packaged linens, which she then delivers to her own distributors.”

Henry shrugged. “No way.”

“When did she start insisting the linens be packaged, five years ago? That’s when Collins started at H&H.”

Edna rolled her eyes. “I agree with Henry. No way she would do that.”

I paused, then continued. “Edna said Gadrate told her that Skylar had jumped her about the cleanliness of the house, right?”

Edna agreed.

“But Karla says Skylar would never say anything like that.”

Karla nodded.

I turned back to Edna. “Did you hear Skylar tell her, or was that what Gadrate told you?”

“She told me. Why shouldn’t I believe her?”

“I agree, why shouldn’t you? But there’s enough questions in my mind that I want to look at those packages. I might be wrong. If I am, I’ll apologize, but I want to open those twelve packages Mendoza delivered.”

Henry stared at me. “You think he brings drugs in here, and Gadrate sells them?”

I fixed my eyes on his. “Yes,” I said firmly.

Silence settled over the kitchen like a waiting bomb. Edna snorted. “You’re wrong, Tony, but go ahead. If that’ll make you feel better, take a look. But you’re wrong about the girl.”

Henry agreed.

Edna folded her arms over her chest. “Well, satisfied?”

Disappointed, I looked at the unwrapped linens. I’d found nothing. I shook my head. “You were right. I was wrong. I’ll apologize to her as soon as she returns.” Still that nagging little worry tickled the back of my neck.