Dumpster Dicing (Bunco Biddies Book 1) Page 17

  Within minutes, the sirens wailed outside her home once again. My neighbors are going to petition to evict me now, for sure.

  Through the sheer curtains, she spotted a police cruiser pull in front of her condo. Two patrolmen got out and walked to the door. Janie eased herself up one more time and limped across the room to thrust it open just as a policeman’s hand rang the bell. Seeing her incapacitated state, he flung open the screen and caught her as she tumbled towards him.

  He held on as she sniffled and clung to his arms. His assistant scooted behind to press a hand on her back. “Mrs. Manson? Let’s get you inside where it is cool.”

  She nodded, unable to make the words roll over her tongue.

  The officers helped her back to the couch and settled her onto the cushions. One swung her leg onto the stack of pillows. The other handed her the now diluted tumbler of iced tea. “Take a few sips of this, catch your breath, and then tell us what happened.”

  Her hand shook as she brought the straw to her lips. The cool liquid tumbled over her tonsils along with half the angst of the moment. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back and sighed. “Thank you. I’m better now.”

  The one named Gonzalez, according to his badge, gave her a soft smile. “Take your time.”

  “No. No, you have to go find him. Young, husky, like a football player, wearing black sweats and jacket with a hood. He went that way into the alley and back by the golf course.” She pointed over the sofa towards the southwest.

  “He was on foot?”

  “Yes. And he threatened me. Put a knife to my neck. Here.” She showed him the right side of her throat.

  The younger of the two officers moved his head closer to her. His badge read Branson. She recognized him from the last time. “Sir, a puncture is visible, and a small amount of blood has oozed.”

  Janie felt the rest leave her face.

  “Now, Mrs. Manson, all is fine. Only needs an adhesive bandage and you’ll be right as rain. I’ll get my first aid kit.”

  Gonzalez spoke into the microphone attached to his shoulder. As he gave her description to the dispatcher, she nodded and answered his questions. His partner scribbled into a notebook, and each time her gaze shot in his direction, gave her a warm, encouraging smile.

  Then whole thing replayed in her head. “Oh, my.”

  “What is it, ma’am?”

  “He must have been waiting for me. He knew the mail always comes at this time. He plotted the route of how to exit the fastest.” Her fingers grasped the policeman’s arm. “He’s been stalking me!”

  The two exchanged a nod. “It’s okay. You’re safe, now. We’re here.”

  “Thank you.” Janie sipped some more lukewarm tea and leaned back to still her racing heart.

  After a few more minutes of one interviewing her while the other one shooed away curious onlookers off her miniscule lawn, Janie calmed down enough to offer them some brownies. Anne Schmidt had brought them over the day before, along with a get well card showing a cat with its paw in a sling.

  “So he wore no gloves? And you’re sure it’s the same guy as before?

  “Yes. Positive.”

  “Branson, get the fingerprint kit. Check if any show up on the mailbox. We have Mrs. Manson’s on file from the last time. The only other ones should be identifiable through the postal service.” He turned to Janie. “All federal employees must agree to undergo fingerprinting as part of the job screening process.”

  “I see.”

  His cell phone jingled. “Yeah?” He nodded and replied, “Uh huh” several times.

  Janie pressed her lips together and listened.

  “Well, keep patrolling. He may be hiding until the coast is clear.”

  The door flew open and whammed into the wall.

  In the entry way straddled a red-faced Blake Johnson. “I want all four units crisscrossing the entire village. Also men on foot checking alleyways, the creek area, and under bushes in the neighborhood. Oh, and check for any breech in the barbed wire.”

  Janie’s lips quivered. He might as well have worn a red cape and a T-shirt with an “s” on it.

  Chapter Thirty-SEVEN

  From behind him, Melody rushed forward and crouched near the couch. She pulled Janie into an embrace. “Mom, are you all right?”

  Janie pulled away and motioned “yes” with her head. Their glistening eyes scoured each other’s faces for a minute before the two women drew themselves into another hug. She picked up on Blake’s voice off the right.

  “I’m half-way to Navasota on Highway 79 when the call comes through the radio. Flipped on my lights and siren. Didn’t realize my car did one-twenty.”

  The Officer Gonzalez chuckled. “She’s okay. We interviewed her. A touch shaken up. He drew a weapon, though. She thinks a knife. Has a small slash on her neck.”

  Melody gasped. “Blake. Do something.”

  He gave his wife the same reassuring smile he’d given Janie.

  “I have all four units scanning the area in a net pattern. We’ll get him.”

  Jane rubbed her daughter’s arm. “How did you get here?”

  Pushing some of her curls off Janie’s forehead, she sighed. “Blake phoned me as soon as he got word. I’ve been in Lampasas at an Optimist’s soccer council meeting. They are hosting the regional finals next year on their fields and being on the team’s council here, well several of us...” She stopped and took a breath. “Never mind. I’m here now. That’s what counts.”

  Janie took her daughter’s hands in hers. “Miranda came this morning. She did a wonderful job.”

  “Oh, I am so glad. Would you like her to return next week? I’m sure...”

  “Ladies?” Blake’s baritone echoed through the living room. “I think Officer Gonzalez would like to wrap things up.”

  Chins dropped in penitence. Both women turned their attention to the policeman chomping a brownie. He shoved the rest in his mouth, wiped his lips with his hand, and swallowed as he gazed up at his boss. “She offered, sir.”

  Blake cocked an eyebrow and took one for himself. “Continue.”

  He paced the room as Gonzalez stammered through the information, glancing at him every few seconds. His previous confidence must have disappeared down his gullet along with the tasty treat.

  Janie shoved her hands to her hips. “Blake, sit down. You look like a caged lion weaving back and forth. You’re making everyone nervous.”

  Gonzalez widened his eyes at Branson, who had returned with the fingerprint kit, his upper lipped curled to the left in a semi-smile. “Got three complete and two partials off the mailbox.”

  “Good. Run them.” Blake exhaled through his nose and perched on the arm of the sofa, next to his wife who fluffed Janie’s leg pillow.

  “Thank you. Melody, dear, would you bring in some glasses and the pitcher of sun tea?”

  Calm, collected, and in control once more, Janie’s hostess genes kicked in. She ran through her statement again as the policeman polished off the plate of brownies.

  After Officers Gonzalez and Branson exited, Melody collected the paper napkins and platter of crumbs. “Mom, were these for Bunco?”

  “Oh well, I’m sure the Biddies will bring plenty of goodies this evening. Remind me to call Eleanor and ask her to bring some more iced tea. She sun brews her with fresh peaches.”

  Blake gave his wife a peck on the temple. “Gotta git, honey. You’ll stay here for a while longer?”

  “Yes, until three-fifteen, then I must dash to meet Erin’s school bus. Jamie is staying late for practice. He’s getting a ride home with Jeremy.”

  “Okay.”

  She placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “We shouldn’t expect you for dinner, then?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Janie spotted disappointment edge Melody’s eyes, which she tried to hide with a sweet grin. She reached up to her husband and stroked his hair. “Go do your job, sweetheart. The kids will understand.”

  He gave he
r and Janie a quick head bob and left.

  “I’m sorry, Mel. He has enough to do without all this.” She waved her arms around the room.

  “Mom, why is this horrible thug threatening you?”

  Janie glanced away, recalling Blake’s admonition. “I found the body, dear. I guess he wants to make sure I keep my mouth shut. Or perhaps he is trying to send a threat to Blake through me. He knew Blake’s my son-in-law.”

  “How?”

  “Edwin’s murder has been on the news, Mel.”

  Melody worried a piece of fringe on Janie’s afghan throw. “Oh, why did you let me marry a cop?”

  “The first time someone chunked a brick through our sitting room window with threats tied to it, I asked my mother the same thing. You were only two at the time, playing with your dolly. We were having a tea party. I’d gotten up to get us cookies. The thing missed your head by inches.”

  “Oh, Mom. I never knew.”

  “Being a cop’s wife isn’t for the fainthearted, but Blake’s a good man. So was Jack. You have to weigh the good with the bad.”

  Melody’s lower lip vibrated.

  Janie pulled her daughter’s head to her shoulder as Melody let her emotions spill out in soft sobs.

  Chapter Thirty-EIGHT

  At last, Janie sat alone in her living room, the mantle clock ticking away her life. She scanned the myriad of footprints on her rug. Melody’s, Blake’s, three police officers, and the sketch artist. None of Mrs. Fluffy’s. Now where did that cat run off to?

  Probably deep under her four poster bed. She moved her shoulders in a slow circle to ease the tension so she could objectively ponder what happened. From the panoramic perspective of a bird hovering over the yard, she tried to envision the ordeal.

  Who had stalked her and been bold enough to threaten her in broad daylight? A flash went off in her mind. Only mad dogs and Englishmen... Someone who surmised the pattern of the elderly. At noon, everyone is either in the dining hall, eating, or taking a nap or watching the news. No one had been out and about except her. And her assailant knew that to be a fact.

  The thought gave her the shivers. Who could he be? Anybody. Perhaps a goon for Lenny Weber? A hired thug of Edward Norman? Wherever he had escaped to, he might still have connections in the states, unless he died eight years ago as Blake said.

  She shook her head. Who else? One of the other two robbers with slithery tentacles reaching beyond their jail bars? They no doubt wouldn’t want people nosing into their affairs. Perhaps they hid the stolen money and had silenced Edwin so he couldn’t get to their share. In fact...

  Janie scribbled a new revelation on her trusty notepad before it dissipated back into her brain. What if Edwin had been paid to take the fall for Edward Norman? She tapped the eraser end to her chin. He only drove the get-away vehicle. They figured he’d get a lesser sentence. In the meantime, Edwards slithers off under a rock with the loot.

  Nah, it didn’t make any sense. Criminals never think they will get caught. She crossed the thought out, scratching her pencil over the entry several times. But the idea continued to niggle her. Why?

  She hobbled into the kitchen to get a cold glass of water. Mid-gulp, it hit her. She slammed the plastic tumbler onto the counter top and limped to her bedroom as fast as she could on the new-fangled peg leg. She opened the file folder containing the court transcripts onto her bed and began to flip through the pages. Her eyes scanned the testimonies.

  Ah. She drummed her fingernail on the printed line. The three were not arrested at the scene. They were apprehended days later. Edwin first, outside a bar, then Lopez and Smithers in an abandoned house on a ranch called the Lazy West. Had Edwin been hired as a red herring to resemble Edwards while the others planned their escape with the estimated five million dollars? What if he snitched on them as part of a plea bargain and his action backfired? No, no, no. He’d have been stabbed in prison if that were the case. Argh. She rubbed her eyes.

  Mrs. Fluffy hopped up in the middle of the report and proceeded to raise a leg to the ceiling in preparation for her afternoon bath. Janie stroked her fur. “He wouldn’t have been that stupid, would he, girl? He’d be afraid they’d come after him. Unless he had gotten wind Edwards died in South America. But how would he learn that? No, something else happened after Edwin got out of the pokey to get him butchered.”

  She slammed her hand onto the mattress, causing her cat to jostle mid-lick. “Of course. Emilio Lopez relayed a message to Edwin from his father. Which is why Edwin hired the jailhouse dog attorney. Maybe they offered him a piece of the pie if he got out, retrieved the stolen money, and banked their share in some foreign account. But would they trust him to do it, kitty? What do you think?”

  The animal rolled over to lick her paw.

  Janie scoffed at the lack of concern in her feline.

  “Speaking of being butchered. Who is my assailant who works with raw meat?” She leaned back onto her duvet and worked the theory out in her brain. All of her speculations didn’t account for the reason Edwin had reacted to the scar-faced man in the Get ’em and Go. Emilio didn’t have a slash down his cheek like his dad. So it had to be someone else. But who? If Edwin recognized the hit man from prison and figured he came after him, wouldn’t he take precautions?

  She bopped the palm of her hand against her forehead. “Unless he’d found the cash and thought he’d bribe the killer.”

  Janie made record time back into the living room to where her cell phone lay. She punched in Blake’s number.

  “Yes, Janie.”

  “Are you on the road?”

  “Yes, back to Navasota. Something you need?” His voice sounded as if he tried not to be as terse this time.

  “No, but a thought occurred to me. What if Lopez, Smithers, and Edwards paid Edwin to take the fall but, through Emilio Lopez, arranged for that shyster attorney to get him out?”

  The whoosh of the car traveling along the highway hummed in her ear. Then Blake’s voice came through the receiver. “You can’t call him a shyster, Janie. It’s only jealous attorney talk because the guy found a niche for his practice and often ends up the hero in the headlines. Edwin didn’t deserve the sentencing, and the charges brought against the Texas Prison System are not trumped up...”

  “Yes, yes. Whatever. But what if Edwin isn’t…er, wasn’t as innocent in all this as we assumed?”

  “Okay? There’s an interesting twist.”

  She nodded but realized he couldn’t see her gesture over the phone. “Maybe the deal was to get him out and have him hunt down the stolen bank money. If Edwin double-crossed Lopez and Smithers, they might have hired a hit man, perhaps an ex-con Edwin knew, to do away with him. Thus the thug with the scar who freaked Edwin out.”

  “Hmmm. Good reasoning, Janie. Jack’s detective instincts must have rubbed off on you. We’ll check out that angle while we are at Watson Pack. Check for any men with scars who were recently released.”

  “Thanks. Perhaps you’ll discover a connection. Still, the business of a woman with black hair and ruby lips visiting him only a day or so after he moves in still haunts me.”

  Blake laughed. “Come on. He’d been in prison for years. Don’t tell me you’re that naive.”

  She cleared her throat and felt a warm sensation inch into her face. “Oh, well, of course. Guess he might want companionship. I mean...”

  His tone became stern. “Stay put, Janie. Don’t get any ideas now. You ladies are supposed to poll your neighbors, not ex-cons or their kin. And definitely no ladies of the evening, okay?”

  “Drive safely, Blake.” She punched off to end the conversation. A tingling behind her ears spread across into her smile. As Ethel loved to quote, the game once again was afoot.

  Chapter Thirty-NINE

  Blake tapped his knuckles on the steering wheel after he switched off his Bluetooth. His partner turned to him. “What she say?”

  “Sometimes, I have to put up with my mother-in-law’s quirkiness. But on days l
ike today, I realize she’s made of pretty stern stuff and still has it up here, ya know?” He pressed his finger to his temple.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He glanced over before returning his attention to the road. “So instead of whimpering over a man who threatened her at knife point, she starts churning out a new theory.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Well, Connor, she asked what if Edwin had been paid to take the fall for Edward Norman all along, allowing Norman to hide the loot and skip the country. After all, they arrested Edwin outside a bar several days later, as I recall.”

  Connor Hemphill protruded his lower lip. “So he assumed Norman’s identity, went to trial knowing he’d be able to plea bargain for a lighter sentence as an accomplice since he drove the getaway car?”

  “That’s her theory. Then Lopez and Smithers get caught anyway, and they surmise it’s because Edwin squealed.”

  “Sorry, sir. Doesn’t jive. They’d have someone shiv him in the county jail. Man never would have made it to the unit.”

  Blake wobbled his head back and forth. “Unless something else happened during those years he lay in prison. Janie hinted that maybe the plan was for him to get out on a technicality and hunt down Edwards and the dough. How long did his niece fight for his release?”

  Connor thumbed through his notes. “A little over a year.”

  “Hmmm. He had been incarcerated for quite a while before that. So what, all of a sudden, made him a target when he got out? His face in the press? His settling in this area instead of Oklahoma? The money the State of Texas awarded him?” He motioned to his underling with his chin. “Motive, Connor. Until we nail that, none of these puzzle pieces will begin to fit.”

  * * *

  Janie eyed the digital clock on her bed stand. 3:15. Betsy Ann and Ethel, along with George, should be driving back from Dallas by now. They were due over at five to pow-wow and help set up the card tables. The Bunco Biddies would start to arrive at six-ish. And what to do until then? Her body screamed for a nap, but her brain swirled too fast.