Killer Moves: The 4th Jolene Jackson Mystery (Jolene Jackson Mysteries) (21 page)

Chapter 27

After informing Gilbert Moore that he was not all that and a bag of chips, and that I had plenty of other choices, I hired him. Yes, I did. In spite of his extensive character flaws, I did believe he could do the job. There were details to be worked out in the morning—few of which I’d probably like—but for tonight, it was a relief to have one less monkey on my back.

As I drove up the hill to the house, the weight on my shoulders even started to feel a little lighter. The lights were on in the living room when I pulled up and I saw someone walk across the room. It was a small person, definitely not Emmajean or Clove. My heart started to race. “What the hell?” I said, wondering who was in my house and why.

Then, as soon as I’d asked the question, my brain cells kicked in and gave me the answer—Melody. Clove had parked her car where it couldn’t be seen, just to be safe, so it was easy to forget that. Still, a wave of guilt washed over me. I hadn’t even thought about her and Doris. And what about my own mother? I’d only been gone an hour and a half or so, but in Lucille-time that was like three days—a lot could happen. I grabbed the phone and dialed.

“Well, it’s about time!” Lucille said in dramatic hushed tones. “I’m in the thick of it here!”

“What’s going on?” I said, sounding tired even to my own ears. “Do I need to come get you?”

“No! You’re not to come back here at all, it would blow my cover. Things are starting to heat up again and we don’t want to scare them off.”

“We who? Have you seen Perez?”

“He’s rolling around the halls in his chair, checking things out. He nodded to me, so I think he wants to meet up at dinner like we’d planned.”

I doubted that was what he wanted, but it was certainly what he was going to get. “Are you feeling okay, Mom?”

“I’m perfectly fine, as you well know. That stupid walker they forced on me has turned out to be a good cover though, because I can go real slow to check things out. That snotty director’s been watching me. I’ve also seen Nurse Linda flitting through the halls. I tried following her, but some wet-behind-the-ears little assistant caught me. Talked to me like I was an idiot, telling me I wasn’t supposed to carry the walker, like I didn’t know any better. Stopped right there in the hall and showed me how I was supposed to use it. The very nerve! I had to bite my tongue and nod like an imbecile. The little twit made me hobble back to my room and watched me every step of the way. I’ve kept my door open, but I haven’t seen…. What’s that?” She paused. “Somebody’s coming.”
Click.

“And goodbye to you too, Mother,” I said.

Yes, I was curious who she’d seen—and a tad concerned over what she might be compelled to do about it—but I wasn’t panicked. Knowing Nurse Linda was there amped things up a bit. But to be fair, the woman could’ve just been doing her job—in the lab and the cover-your-ass house call the next morning. Perez playing patient was a surprise, since last I’d overheard, Director Hall was loudly opposed to it. I wondered if she’d told him her staff had been warned he was coming. Whatever the case, they had been warned and the evidence was probably already long gone. However, with nothing to find, Lucille would be relatively safe.

Allowing myself to mentally check one more worry off my list for tonight, I parked the car and went inside.

Melody hopped up and met me at the door, her long simple dress flowing around her. “Clove told us about your consultant collapsing. Is he okay?”

“No. And Travis gets to figure out how not okay he really was.”

“Are you sure?” Melody said, frowning. “I just spoke with Travis a few moments ago and he didn’t mention anything. In fact, he said things were unusually quiet.”

“Well, I know he was taken to Redwater.” I shrugged. “Maybe they had to take him to the hospital first, official protocol or something,” I said, walking to the kitchen to fix a cup of tea. “How’s your mom doing?”

“She’s doing better,” Melody said, the relief obvious in her voice. “I could probably take her back to her house tomorrow, but we can’t do that and think taking her to my home in Dallas would be hard on her.”

“No, don’t risk it either way,” I said. “Until this is settled, you can’t take her back to her house.” I grabbed my mug and walked toward the living room, which was on the way to my bedroom and soon-to-be private sanctuary. “I may not be a very good host—or even a host at all—but you’re welcome here as long as you want to stay.”

“Thank you,” Melody said, then paused and pressed her lips together, twisting them from side to side. “I know you’re exhausted, but I really do need to share a message about an envelope that the attorneys gave you that I need to share.”

I did not like the phrasing of that statement. Because unless Grant had stopped by while I was gone and told Melody things he couldn’t tell me over the phone, I didn’t know how she could know about the envelope.

“They’re very easy to communicate with,” she said. “The messages have been very clear. Do you know what envelope they’re talking about?”

Yes, I knew, and I also knew Melody was getting her information from a source I’d rather not think about. It didn’t stop me from uttering a silent plea though.
Please, no flickering lights tonight. Please.
I took a deep breath. “Yes, I stuck that envelope in a duffel bag right after I got it and haven’t thought of it since.”

“It seems very important that you go through it as soon as possible.”

“Okay.”

This is going to sound a little strange,” she said, as if everything up to now had been perfectly ordinary. “They want you to get four bunches of flowers and go to the cemetery. Put one out for your dad, then walk around a little bit. They say you’ll know what to do.” She stopped my protest and smiled. “That’s all they’ll tell me. But please, do it so they’ll stop bothering me.”

And when would everyone and everything stop bothering me? “By all means. If the spirits of my biological parents want me to go to the cemetery, I will get right to it.”

The lights flickered and Melody giggled. “They’re happy you’ve agree to go.”

Made exactly one of us—especially since I’d just mentally begged them not to do the flicker thing. “Can I presume that my compliance is a step toward keeping the lights on—and the weirdness off?”

Melody just laughed. “It’s really not as crazy as it sounds.”

“Yes, really, it is.” It was just a different version of crazy in a day already filled to the brim with it. And I’d had more than enough. Feeling myself start to fade, I said, “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

“Good idea,” Melody said, smiling. “But you might want to check the door first.” She started walking toward her room. “There’s a sheriff there.”

I spun around and hurried to let Jerry in. As he closed the door and stepped toward me, I asked the one and only question I wanted answered, “Can you stay?”

He pulled me to him and looked down into my eyes. “Yes.”

Relief melted through me and it was all I could do not to cry. I let out a deep sigh and leaned my head against his chest. “I’m really glad.”

He hugged me closer, resting his head against mine and gently running his fingers through my hair. “It’s going to get easier for us, Jo. It is.”

I wanted to believe him—I really did. But whatever was in the cards for the future, we had it really good tonight.

Chapter 28

As usual, after a night with Jerry, the next morning came way too soon. Thankfully, the most serious thing we had discussed was what to have for breakfast. It was a nice respite and I didn’t want it to end. Still, I wanted to know when they’d be doing the autopsy on Waverman. “Have you heard anything on Waverman?”

“Not since last night,” Jerry said, carrying his plate to the sink. “He was listed in good condition.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“There was evidence of a minor heart attack, but it wasn’t the sole source of the episodes. They have more tests scheduled for this morning. He’s in a regular room if you want to call and talk to him.”

Regular room? Talk to him? My mouth hung open. I know because I felt it. “But Finch told me he was dead.”

“He probably looked dead.” Jerry set his dishes on the counter and turned toward me. “He just panicked and jumped to conclusions. It happens.”

I could understand that since I’d sort of done the same thing, only Waverman had started gasping and hacking to prove he wasn’t dead. “I’m really glad he’s okay,” I said, sincerely. “And I will call to check on him.” I shook my head. “But Finch… Well, it just makes me feel better about hiring Gilbert.” I checked the clock on the wall—6:40. “Which means I’ll be sharing all this happy news in about twenty minutes.”

Jerry wrapped his arms around me. “Take it easy today, okay?”

“Oh, you bet. Today is going to be a walk in the park. No problems for me today, I’m certain of it.”

“Are you going to see your Mother?” Jerry asked, homing in on the most obvious problem. “She told me not to come, that I would blow her cover. More importantly, the director was calling for my head on a platter and my hands in cuffs.” I shrugged. “So, yes, I’ll go after my trip to the cemetery.” I shook my head at his questioning look. “Don’t even ask, because I promise you don’t want to know.”

“Perez isn’t going to arrest you,” Jerry said. “But the last message I had from him said they weren’t finding anything of concern.”

“Yeah, they were tipped off that the police were coming. There’s probably not much to find now.”

He hugged me tighter. “Keep me updated on what’s going on.”

I wanted to ask if he’d be back tonight, but he couldn’t answer that any better than I could. The one thing I did know was that he wanted to—and that meant a lot.

Emmajean arrived about the time Jerry left. She wasn’t happy that I hadn’t called her to come cook, but I hadn’t thought about it. I told her that Melody and Doris would probably be leaving in the morning and she seemed a little sad. I think she really did enjoy having a houseful of people. At some point, I wanted to hear her story and really get to know more about her. Right now, however, I had a meeting of the minds on the jobsite.

Heading the Buick slowly down the hill, I had five minutes or so to ponder what my life had become—and was still becoming. My whole world had turned upside down and it just kept turning. Aside from breathing, nothing I was doing on a daily basis even remotely resembled my old life. It wasn’t what I wanted to be doing, but I didn’t want to go back to how it was either. I hated to admit it, but Waverman’s brushes with death had hit me harder than I’d thought and it was making me look harder at my own choices—not that I actually had any anymore.

As I pulled slowly up to the tents, Gilbert and Finch were already there. Waverman, thankfully, was not. I don’t think any of us could have lived through round three. That didn’t mean I was totally out of the woods on potential personal emergencies.

Gilbert Moore might be leaning against his truck as if he didn’t have a care in the world, but he too had checked himself out of the hospital AMA—against medical advice. The gunshot wound from the fiasco at the cabin had been serious and he was lucky he lived to tell about it. But if he kept pushing himself, his luck was liable to run out. So as good as he might be at his job, he was still a ticking time bomb for a health crisis.

Phillip Finch stood under the canopy, wearing his hard hat, holding a clipboard and smiling. “Gilbert’s already explained the changes,” he said as I walked up. “I’m sure Doctor Waverman will understand why you’re choosing to go in this direction.”

“Yes, I’m sure he will, especially now that he’s alive,” I said, pointedly.

Finch’s face bloomed with embarrassment. “It was such a shock, seeing him like that. And then to find out he was okay, well, it felt like a miracle.”

I looked at Gilbert. “Is there anything I need to know?”

Gilbert shook his head. “We’ll work out contract details later. I know you’re good for it.”

“Indeed I am.” I looked back to Finch, a little unsettled at how easily it was all going. “You know what needs to be done as well?” When he nodded, I said, “Do you need any clarification or have any questions for me?”

“No, no, everything is fine,” Finch said, smiling brightly. “I completely understand why you’d want Gilbert to take the lead on finishing this part of the project and I am happy to work with him as you’ve outlined.”

Gilbert Moore pushed away from his truck and stepped forward. “Finch will make sure all the environmental requirements are met and I’ll make sure the holes get punched and everything keeps moving.” He grinned and nodded to Finch. “We know what we’re doing.”

Finch beamed as he’d been given an atta-boy by daddy.

It sure looked like my work here was done, not that I’d actually done anything. “I’ll stop by later this afternoon.”

“Do what you want,” Gilbert said. “But there’s not much point. If there’s a problem, I’ll call.”

It was really throwing me off balance to think I might not have to worry about the project.

“If you’re going to be onsite,” Finch said, scurrying behind the table, “you’ll need these.” He held out a hardhat and safety glasses. You’ll also have to have a card showing you’ve been trained. That won’t take long, especially if you’ve read the manual.”

“Yes, the manual,” I said, remembering it’s resting place in the seat of the Tahoe. “Yeah, burned right through that baby, so I figure I’m good to go.”

Finch grinned wider. “Good. I’ll be happy to get you certified any time.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Gilbert said, leading the way.

“Ordering me around is not a good start here, Gilbert,” I said following behind him.

“Yeah, you’re probably not happy you didn’t get to tell Finch he wasn’t in charge either.”

No, I was actually relieved, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “It’s still my project, my responsibility.”

He opened my car door, which seemed totally out of character and made me suspicious. “I’ve got this,” he said. “Just forget about it for a while and go do whatever it is an heiress-in-training does.”

“You condescending jackass!”

“Hey, stop,” he said, and without a grin. “It was a joke. I know you’ve got a shitload going on besides this. What’s left to do here is straightforward. Finch is pissed about being knocked down, don’t doubt it, but he’s not going to screw up, he’s too afraid to.” Gilbert motioned me to get in the car. “You hired me, now go on and let me do my job.”

I climbed in the car and looked back at him. “You’re still a jackass.”

Gilbert grinned. “Never said I wasn’t.”

As he closed the door, I almost smiled—okay, I smiled a little. But it didn’t last long, because once I put the key in the ignition, I remembered where I had to go next—the cemetery. This little meeting had been brief and reasonably uneventful. I hoped I could count on the same when I was standing in the graveyard.

I headed the Buick back down the rutted red dirt road toward the highway, finally allowing myself to wonder about the four bunches of flowers business. One for Dad was obvious, but why three more? Even if I did wander around the massive grounds long enough to find Bob and Glenda’s plot, why three bunches? Then, I had a strange thought. Maybe I’d had a brother or sister I didn’t know about? And they’d died before I was born. Maybe that was it. Still didn’t mean I’d be able to find the markers. Although, I could if I stopped at the office and asked. I didn’t want to do that, but I might have to. And what was the point in it all anyway?

Thump. Thud. Bang.

I slammed on the brakes. “What the hell!”

Before I could get my thoughts together on what had just happened, Gilbert Moore had pulled up beside me in his truck. I rolled down my window and he rolled down his passenger window.

“You just drug the bottom off the car.”

“What?”

“Going thirty-five or forty on a cow trail will do that.”

I took my foot off the brake and pushed the gas. The car lurched and a loud roar and clanging followed. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw a few bits of debris on the road. “Shit!”

Gilbert eased up beside me. “Park it and get in.”

Dammit! What had I been thinking? Not about driving, obviously. I eased the car off to the side as far as I could and slammed the gearshift into park. I’ll spare you the cursing and self-flagellation that followed as I rolled up the window, grabbed my stuff and marched myself to Gilbert’s pickup. “Dammit!” I said, climbing in and slamming the door. “I don’t know what happened. Was I really going that fast?”

“Yeah. That’s why I followed you. The car was slinging dirt and bouncing like a son of a bitch. I honked and flashed my lights.”

God help me, I hadn’t noticed. “I...I...”

“The stress is getting to you. You’ve got to get a handle on it.”

I glared at him. “I’ll get right on that.”

He laughed. “Want me to get some gravel out here and fix the road?”

“That would be dandy.” I didn’t bother asking how much it would cost because I really didn’t care. It had already cost me a Buick—and the fallout thereof—so whatever he charged me would be cheap in comparison. “Just send me the bill.”

In the distance, I saw a car turn off the highway and head through the gate. For a fleeting moment I thought it was the ghost of my mother’s car, coming back to haunt me for my negligence. As we got closer to it, however, I noticed the license plate. “Hey, that’s Waverman’s wife. What’s she doing out here?” I leaned up on the dash to get a better look, but I couldn’t see down into the car. “Stop. I want to talk to her.”

Gilbert did not stop. Instead, he swerved off the road onto the even rougher area to let her pass. “I can do asphalt up to the tents if you prefer.”

“What?” I said, looking in the truck’s side mirror as the car faded behind a cloud of dust. “She doesn’t have any business out here. If Waverman thinks he can have her run things by proxy, well, he better think again.”

“Chill, Jolene,” Gilbert said, pulling through the gate onto the highway. “She’s probably just coming to get something he left here. But so what if she’s bringing Finch something. He does still work for Waverman.”

Sometimes, logic and reason are just stupid. “I still don’t like it.”

“From one control freak to another,” he said, “you might want to think about why that is.”

I started to vehemently rebut his judgment of me, but I really couldn’t. So, unable to think of a response—clever or otherwise—I kept my mouth shut.

Pulling through the gate to the house, he said, “If you come back onsite, I’m calling the sheriff.”

“Very funny.”

I’d cooled off enough that I no longer wanted to go back and rip Mrs. Waverman from her car and beat her senseless. I’d also come to the conclusion it wasn’t really her I wanted to mangle—it was that damned license plate. The boast was demeaning and a betrayal of women everywhere—“Look at me! I’m important because I’m somebody’s wife!” You wouldn’t catch some man defining himself by his marital status. But stupid women will give up everything for it. They’ll turn their backs on friends and family, give up their names, identities and even their souls for some lying man who’ll leave them for a teenager in heartbeat. Oh, crap, this was sounding suspiciously familiar. I thought I’d dealt with my anger over my own stupid woman story, but apparently not. Now wasn’t the time to open that can of worms, so I focused on something that I could deal with. “How much damage do you think I did to the car?”

“Considering the age and make, I’d say you totaled it.”

“Perfect.”

As we pulled up on the back side of the house, I saw Clove speeding toward us on the four-wheeler. “I really don’t want to explain this to him, really I don’t.”

“Go on,” Gilbert said. “I’ll let him know I’ve got a trailer onsite and can help him load the Buick.”

I hopped out of the truck then looked back in at him. “Thanks, Gilbert.”

Clove zipped up and jerked to a stop, bellowing, “What the hell happened now?”

I nodded to Gilbert then took myself into the house.

Emmajean stood by the kitchen sink. Melody and Doris sat at the dining table. They all looked at me expectantly and with more than a little concern, but I just waved and kept walking. Not fast enough though, because I still saw the blip in the light over the table. “I said I’d go to the cemetery and I will,” I muttered under my breath.

After availing myself of the facilities, washing my hands and face, brushing my hair and changing shirts—mostly just pointless exercises in procrastination—I ventured out the door from my bedroom into the garage to find something to drive. There were four choices on this side of the house, although not really since I wasn’t touching the Mustang with a ten-foot pole and the Buick now just become a replacement vehicle for my mother. That left the convertible and the BMW. Since the only wind I wanted blowing in my hair today was from an air conditioner, I moseyed over to the sparkling sporty BMW sedan and introduced myself.