An Unmarked Grave (8 page)

"Next I'm going find the alien's grave. I've looked
through old records and talked to a lot of the old-timers
whose folks were alive when it happened. I've got a good
idea where to look in the cemetery. About fifty yards from
the street marker, there used to be an old oak. White oak, I
think. It's gone, but I think I can find where it was. He was
supposed to be buried around there somewhere"

I rolled my eyes and whistled softly. "Well, good luck. Keep me posted" I didn't really mean it. I just wanted to
get off the line.

A few days later, when I learned he was dead, a strange
sense of guilt washed over me.

Why I felt guilty, I'm not sure. Maybe it was because I
thought Justin was foolish to follow such a ludicrous pursuit. Or maybe it was because he had trusted me, and I didn't
believe him.

Whatever the reason, I owed the gentle man my presence
at his funeral. He was a likeable human being who had troubled no one and gone out of his way to help others.

The day of Justin's funeral dawned cold and drab with a
sharp wind from the north.

Roth Funeral Home conducted the service, a small affair
attended by immediate family and a handful of friends and
acquaintances.

To my surprise, when I entered the nave, I spotted an ornate urn on a pedestal at the front of the room. Justin Chester
had been cremated.

After the brief service, Tricia Chester, wearing a black
hat and dress, stopped me outside the funeral home. "Thank
you for coming, Tony. Justin would have wanted you to be
here. He thought the world of you"

Ears burning, I nodded and mumbled, "It's a shame. He
had a lot of life ahead of him"

She blinked back the tears welling in her eyes. "The family and friends are gathering at the house" She laid a hand
on my arm. "I'd like for you to come if you don't mind"

Death is a natural part of life. At the moment of our birth, we begin dying. I've never had any trouble facing the
specter of death. Sure, there were times that death hurt more
than others, but it is the final act for each of us on this earth.

On the other hand, I was always uncomfortable at a gathering after a funeral, although it was a common practice.
Except for family, I always begged off.

Tricia must have seen the reticence in my face, for she
lowered her voice and whispered urgently, "I must talk to
you, Tony. I don't believe Justin's death was an accident"

That was enough said.

The crowd in the dayroom at the mansion was twice the
size of the one at the funeral. The mood was subdued, but
from the soft laughter and furtive smiles, I had the feeling
that Justin Chester was the last thing on their minds.

Like a lord overseeing his realm, Frank Chester, with his
wife on his arm, made his way around the room, greeting
all with a somber look and a brief handshake.

When he reached me, he nodded and took my hand. He
introduced me to his wife, Judith. Now, I've had the look of
disdain fixed on me more times than I can count by Beatrice
Morrison, my on-again, off-again significant other's aunt,
who is the queen of the condescending eye.

Let me tell you, Judith Chester could match Beatrice
condescending eye for condescending eye.

I nodded to her. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Chester."

A pained smile cracked her perfectly painted lips.

Frank spoke up, his voice resonating with patronizing gratitude. "Thank you for all you did for us, Mr. Boudreaux. At
least we had the opportunity to spend some time with our
brother"

And the lordly couple moved on.

Across the room, Tricia caught my eye and cut hers to
the large veranda beyond the glass doors.

Pausing at the buffet, I skipped the cocktails and placed a
couple of tiny sandwiches on a delicate china plate and went
out to the veranda, halting at the three-foot brick wall around
its perimeter. Beyond lay the gray waters of Lake Travis far
below. I shivered as the December wind cut through my
jacket.

Moments later, Tricia came to stand by my side. "Thank
you for coming, Tony" She gestured to the lake, as if pointing out some of the sights. "I didn't know who else to call,
but I think someone deliberately killed Justin, or had him
killed."

I resisted the impulse to look at her. Instead, I played her
game. "Just what happened?"

"Car wreck. The sheriff at Elysian Hills said the justice of
the peace declared Justin was drunk when he lost control of
his pickup. He ran into a tree, and the pickup rolled down the
side of a hill into a creek"

A tiny frown knit my brow. Gus Perry was the sheriff, I
remembered. He had denied knowing Justin, the very man
on whom he had run a criminal check at the request of the
elementary school principal, Georgiana Irvin, some months
earlier. I nibbled at the sandwich and grimaced. Just my luck,
pimento cheese. I hated pimento cheese. You'd think rich
folks would at least have a slice of ham in there. Of course,
maybe that's one reason they have so much money. "I didn't
think Justin drank anymore"

For several seconds, Tricia remained silent. Then, in a soft, strained voice, she replied, "He doesn't-I mean, didn't. But
that isn't all. Before he went back to that little town, uh-"

"Elysian Hills."

"Yes, Elysian Hills. We probated Father's will"

Now I couldn't resist looking around at her, a puzzled
frown on my face. Through the window of the dayroom, I
spotted Frank Chester looking on. I forced a laugh. "I guess
you know we're being watched"

"I know" She hesitated. "Can we meet later? Say ten
o'clock at the County Line Barbeque?"

Holding my smile, I nodded. "You know the place, huh?"

She nodded. "Surprised?"

I chuckled. "It isn't exactly a hangout for the rich and famous "

She blushed. "I'm not the rich and famous. So, will you?"

"Sure"

"And please," she added, her voice pleading, "be careful.
I think my sister has someone following me"

I frowned. "Why?"

She chewed on her bottom lip. "I'm not sure, but I think
that maybe my brother or sister might be the one who had
Justin murdered"

hoeeeee, boy," I muttered when I climbed into my
Silverado pickup. "What have you gotten yourself into now,
Tony?"

In the hills west of Austin, the County Line Barbeque on
Bee Tree Road is a rustic establishment that unquestionably serves the most mouthwatering, juiciest barbeque in
all the South with the exception of that cooked by my Uncle Patric Thibodeaux over in Louisiana in the famed chest
freezer he converted to a pit.

At first I was surprised that Tricia Chester had picked the
County Line. The ambiance of the place didn't fit in with
anyone's idea of haute cuisine or the grand atmosphere of
the Michelin Guide restaurants she likely patronized.

She would be as out of place there as common sense is in
the hallowed halls of Congress.

And then I realized that a venue like the County Line was the last place anyone would guess she had gone. As far
as her being followed, I'd find out soon enough.

Esther Carman, the restaurant owner, and I have known
each other for years. Though she is a decade or so my senior, she doesn't look it. She wears western jeans and western
shirts, and I have yet to see one of those little barrel-racing
fillies on the circuit who does as much justice to her gaudy
outfit as she.

After a few years, Esther gave me a parking spot out back.
I entered through the kitchen. I was such a familiar face, no
one paid me any attention.

That night, I arrived an hour early and parked in my usual
spot. Esther frowned when I requested a table in the rear, the
lovers' section behind the fake shrubbery. "Client tonight,
Tony?"

"I'm not sure. We just don't want to be disturbed."

She grinned and winked at me.

"Come on, Esther. Nothing like that"

Nodding emphatically, she laughed. "I'll bet"

I pulled my hand back playfully as if I were going to swat
her on her derriere. She wagged a finger at me. I laughed.
"I'll be outside. Have the waiter show her to my table"

The smile faded from her face. "Serious business, huh?"

"I hope not"

Outside, I eased into the pine and cedar surrounding the
restaurant. The night air carried a chill. I pulled my tweed
jacket about me as I found a spot where I could view the
parking lot. If Tricia was indeed being followed, I wanted
to get a look at him-or her.

Time dragged.

A dozen more vehicles pulled in. One of them, a black
Ford Taurus, deliberately backed into a spot in the last lane
despite several empty slots closer to the restaurant entrance.
I waited for the driver to emerge from the vehicle, but he
remained inside.

Fifteen minutes before the hour, a nondescript Honda
Accord pulled into the crowded lot, parking two lanes from
the door. A woman slipped out.

As she passed under a security light, I saw she wore a
light Windbreaker over dark slacks. I didn't recognize her
until I caught her profile in the open doorway of the restaurant.

I glanced back at the black Ford. The driver remained
behind the wheel.

As soon as Tricia closed the door, a man bundled in a topcoat slipped out of the Ford Taurus. His hat was pulled down
over his eyes as he strode for the restaurant.

Just as he passed under the security light, I gave a shrill
whistle. He froze and looked around.

My jaw dropped open. It was Bulldog Face-the same
guy I had spotted back on the San Antonio Riverwalk. What
the dickens was going on?

For several moments he studied the dark forest of pine and
cedar, then, with a shake of his head, went into the restaurant.

I pondered the situation. He had arrived earlier than Tricia. That meant someone had told him where she was going.
And she was the only one who could have provided that
information. Unless dear Brother and Sister had bugged the
veranda, and even as skeptical as I had become regarding
human nature, that was a stretch.

Slipping to the rear of the County Line, I came in through
the kitchen.

Tricia looked up when she spotted me. "I thought maybe
you'd changed your mind"

"Well, not until I hear what's going on" I eyed her plain
clothes. "I almost didn't recognize you"

Her cheeks colored. "I hope you don't think I'm some
foolish schoolgirl overreacting, but I didn't want anyone to
know I was here"

"Did you mention coming to anyone?"

She frowned. "No. Well, only to my maid, in case she
needed to get in touch with me. Why?"

"Just asking" I glanced past the fake plants but failed to
spot my ugly friend.

Neither of us was hungry, but I ordered a pitcher of beer,
in which Tricia gladly joined me.

I licked the foam from my lips. "So, tell me. What's going on?"

"Like I said today, Justin didn't drink anymore. Somebody lied. We can't do an autopsy, because he'd already
been cremated before I thought" Her face twisted in anguish. "In my heart, I know he was murdered"

Resting my elbows on the table, I leaned forward. "You
mentioned your brother and sister"

"Yes. When Father's will was probated, we learned that
although each of us received ten million from his personal
estate, upon the passing of any sibling, his or her share is to
be divided among the others. If he or she had married, half
of his or her inheritance would go to the spouse before the
division."

I arched an eyebrow. It appeared the old man still wanted to control his children even from the grave. "What about
Frank's wife, Judith? Seems to me she'd object to that"

"She did until Frank pointed out that all the rest of his
holdings would go to her."

"It's that much?"

She smiled at the skepticism in my tone. "Oh, yes. Frank
was a partner with Father. They were more like brothers
than father and son. That's another thirty million"

Like brothers. That explained the first-name business.
With a soft whistle, I leaned back and shook my head. Figures like that boggled my brain.