Murder at the Miramar (Augusta Burnette Series) (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-five

The shadows that had huddled in the corners of the front room began to move inward, and I was surprised to see the glint of a superb sunset outside the windows.

We’d eaten and cleaned the small kitchen, chatting as if we’d known each other all our lives.

Aunt Sal, as I’d come to think of her, was amazing. Her stories of the early years on the police force, just one of three women on the beat, left me filled with appreciation that I’d never had to experience a boss or peers like she’d had. I couldn’t imagine being treated as if I were a second-class citizen, all because of a few chromosomes that had been left to chance.

Thinking of bosses led my thoughts to Stan West and I grinned to myself, wondering how that gentleman was getting along. As much as I’d have liked him to have an issue or two to deal with, I knew he’d most likely shovel it over his shoulder at folks like Maria.

I glanced idly around the room, my eyes falling on a squat bookcase that hugged a darkened corner. It was filled to overflowing with books of every shape and size, and I was curious what a woman with Sal’s eclectic lifestyle would read. Curiosity being one of my stronger points, I stood up and walked over to the shelves, plopping myself down on the floor in front of them.

Within five seconds my alarm bells had begun to ring, and another ten seconds passed before I registered the form standing behind me. Aunt Sal leaned over and touched my shoulder, making me jump sky high.

‘Surprising, ain’t it?’ Her voice was amused, and I craned my neck to look up at her. ‘Surprising’ wasn’t the word I’d have chosen. Maybe ‘unbelievable’ or ‘mind-boggling’, since that’s exactly how I saw the situation, certainly not a mere ‘surprising’.

‘Yes, it sure is … “surprising”,’ I agreed, turning back to the shelf just in front of me. The titles almost screamed at me: “Thinking Critically” by Drs Evans and Galas; “Knowing Your Mind and Theirs” written by Samuel Johnston, PhD; “Turning Their Reaction into Action” by F. Bacon, M.S.

That last author made me stop and consider. Was this a Bacon family member, as in Sal Bacon? I must have telegraphed my question loud and clear because Sal reached down and lifted the book from the shelf as tenderly as if she was picking up a newborn.

‘This is the book my brother published just before his death,’ Sal said softly, stroking the book with wrinkled hands. ‘He was almost finished with his doctorate when … well, when it happened. I was glad to have this to remember him by.’

I was beginning to think that the Bacon family might be something to contend with. After all, Sal’s brother seemed to know how to manipulate folks and their minds, while Sal herself was someone you wouldn’t want for an enemy. I figured that I’d need to rethink ol’ Annie Bronson as well.

I returned to my browsing in Sal’s private library. If we had to stay here much longer – not that I was complaining, mind – I needed something constructive to do.

Unlike Ellie, I liked to read things like books, not all that abstract nonsense like reading cards.

Behind me I could hear Ellie and Sal chatting, the rocking chair squeaking gently on the worn carpet. Calm had settled down over the room like an old familiar quilt, and I found I’d forgotten for a few minutes why we were even here. Chicken soup can do that to me.

I suddenly recalled some of Sal’s earlier comments that had made me think she knew something about the fake ID ring. I replaced the book on the shelf and stood up, curious about how much she knew. With Detective Annie Bronson as her niece … well, Aunt Sal was probably pretty savvy when it came to the local crime scene.

‘Sal,’ I ventured, verbally stepping all over Ellie in my curiosity, ‘I’m wondering exactly how much you know about … you know, about the problems at the Miramar.’

The rocking chair came to an abrupt halt. I could almost hear the protest from its rockers as Sal firmly planted both feet on the floor and looked me square in the eyes.

‘I know about as much as you two, AJ.’ Her canny expression spoke volumes, and I had a feeling that she was one up in the information department.

Ellie and I exchanged uneasy glances. We actually didn’t know much, aside from the fact that three people were dead, there was a list of names that seemed to be important enough to kill for, and we were on the run for our lives. Other than that, we knew zilch.

I cleared my throat, more of a silence-filler than for any other reason. It’s one of my nervous tics, kind of like chewing fingernails or picking at your cuticles. I needed to know exactly what Sal knew and if she had some ideas that would: a) save me and Ellie from certain death and; b) get us out of San Blanco and back on the road to home sweet home.

‘OK,’ I said, sounding like a cardsharp trying to bluff information from an opponent. ‘This is what I know, what we know,’ indicating Ellie with a nod. ‘Three people are dead. Ellie recovered a list of names and one of the dead men was on the list. His brother has been arrested for harassing me and Ellie, and someone took potshots at us today.’ I looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to show her hand.

Sal stared up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed in thought. She stayed that way for so long I was afraid she might have gone catatonic on us. As nervous as I was already, her sudden ‘aha!’ nearly stopped my heart.

‘Annie told me about an identification theft ring she’s been investigating for a while. She and that ex-whatever of hers, that Detective Fischer, found some links to the Miramar resort and they’d sent a few folks in to nose around.’ Here Ellie and I looked at one another in surprise. Who in the world was she talking about? ‘Unfortunately, you two came along and seemed to get in the middle of the whole thing.’ I began to protest, but she shut me up with a majestic motion of her hand. How was I to know anything about what was going down at the Miramar? ‘Annie rang me up and told me that you’d be at her house and to keep an eye out, which is what I was doing when you came tearing over that fence.’

Well, I suppose I should have been relieved that Sal Bacon didn’t tote that gun around all the time. I didn’t need another person gunning for me, pun clearly intended. Ellie stirred around, hands fiddling in her hair. I could tell she was itching to get to those cards; her own nervous tics give it away.

‘If you two don’t have any more questions, I need to start powering down for the evening.’ She got to her feet, pausing to let her body adjust to the movement. Startled, Ellie and I glanced at each other. Sal sounded like she intended to dock the small house at some space station and recharge. Come to think about it, I wouldn’t have been surprised in the least to see her take out a talkie-thingy like I saw in every space movie and say something like, ‘Beam me up, Scotty.’ San Blanco was fast becoming home of the weird and weirder.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ I figured if Sal was going to lock us all in for the night, it would be smart to know exactly how to reverse everything in order to spring myself and Ellie to safety.

‘If you’d like, you can walk the perimeter with me,’ answered Sal, pulling a tatty old cardigan from the closet by the front door. She gave me the once over then tossed an equally worn jacket my way. ‘Better bundle up. It can get a tad nippy out there.’

Where were we headed? To the North Pole? As far as I knew, this was summer in a coastal town, and the chill really didn’t set in until the sun went down.

‘Should I go, too?’ Ellie’s voice sounded uncertain, and I could tell that she didn’t relish the idea of being inside alone.

To my amusement, Sal opened the closet once more but instead of pulling out another sweater, she reached in and fished out another rifle. She tossed it to Ellie who caught it with one hand. The look on her face was hilarious, or at least it might have been if I hadn’t known how petrified she was of anything that required ammunition.

‘I’ll stay, Ellie. You go with Sal,’ I offered, taking off the jacket and holding out my hand for the gun.

‘No, it’s fine, AJ, really,’ said Ellie with an offended look as if I’d just called her a sissy. Really. There’s just no understanding her sometimes, you know?

‘Let’s go,’ commanded Sal, striding to the door with her rifle over her shoulder. ‘We’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’

As she walked through the door, I looked back over my shoulder and grinned at Ellie. I was starting to think we’d been transported into the Midwest somewhere and not to San Blanco’s resort area.

Sal was moving at a fast clip, heading for the area by the rear of her house. By now, the sun had set sufficiently for the edges of the property to be thrown into shadow. I trotted to keep up with her, reminding myself that I really needed to start exercising. It’s embarrassing when an old gal can out-walk you without all the huffing and puffing I was doing.

I could see an old shed, outlined in sunset, leaning into a stand of eucalyptus trees. That seemed to be our target, and when Sal pulled out a bunch of keys from the pocket of her pants and unlocked the door, I could clearly see why. Tucked into every corner and on every available surface were the accoutrements of a police officer’s dream: large metal flashlights; packages of batteries; stacks of goggles both for night vision and the kind used at a shooting range; boxes of ammunition. It looked liked she’d robbed the local precinct.

‘Here, take one of these.’ Sal tossed a flashlight at me.

I caught it by mere chance, not being one of those talented folks who can snag a baseball out of the air with one hand without even looking. Call it a self-preservation move – the thing weighed at least three pounds and could have done some real damage.

‘How do you keep this stuff out here,’ I asked, looking around the shed, ‘without anyone taking it?’

Sal barked a laugh. ‘You’re kidding, right? No one breaks into Sal Bacon’s property. Not unless they want a wrasslin’ match with a bear. And I say, if you’re going to be a bear, be a grizzly.’

She grinned at me, turning around to leave the shed. I’m sure it was just a trick of the rapidly disappearing light, but I could have sworn I saw a row of teeth that any bear would have been proud to own. Shaking my head, I followed her out into the yard.

Chapter Twenty-six

By ‘patrolling the perimeter’, Sal meant just that. With me still slightly out of breath – the stop at the shed had let my lungs recover a bit – we marched around the edges of her property. The weather had turned chilly, so I was grateful for the jacket. Sal did her thing in complete silence, stopping every so often to poke her rifle into the undergrowth or to peer over the fence that surrounded most of the land. Who or what she was looking for I had no idea, but I figured I’d know it when she found it. Or them.

The flashlight I carried was indeed a lethal weight, and I amused myself by thinking of folks who deserved a rap over the noggin, beginning with David. I hadn’t spared many thoughts for him lately, so I supposed I was on the road to recovery. For that matter, Detective Baird’s dimpled face hadn’t entered my mind either. Did that mean I was losing interest in men in general or just those two in particular? Hmm. That would be a challenge for Ellie and her ever-lovin’ cards. I grinned to myself. Giving my cousin permission to dig into my private life was like tossing Hershey bars to a chocoholic.

Sal’s steps halted abruptly and I almost knocked into her. I’d been so caught up in my own thoughts that I hadn’t noticed what had gotten her attention. Putting a knotted finger to her mouth, Sal nodded in the direction of the back door to her house. It stood slightly open, a thin stream of light creeping around the door frame. I frowned. We’d gone out the front door, locking it securely behind us, and I couldn’t remember if the back had been left open or not. By the way Sal was reacting, though, my guess was for ‘not’.

The silence in the house scared me more than if Ellie had been screaming her head off. Sal began inching toward the steps that led to the door, using the rifle to nudge it open. A sharp creak made me jump and I fully expected gunfire to erupt at any moment. There was nothing, though, nothing but the quiet of a house that is standing empty.

And that meant no Ellie.

Only, once we got inside, I could see that this wasn’t the case at all. Ellie sat in the couch, not curled up and relaxed as she had been earlier, but ramrod straight, hands in lap and eyes opened as wide as they would go. Standing behind her and seated next to her were two of the toughest-looking men I’d ever had the misfortune of seeing. The one on the couch had both beefy arms crossed in front of him, one large tree trunk of a leg crossed over the other. His eyes, a deep blue and set too close to his nose for my taste, tracked Sal and me as we moved into the front room. I tried not to look directly at either guy; I’ve always heard stories about looking crazed animals in the eyes and then being attacked. I certainly didn’t want
that
to happen, not to me, or Sal, or Ellie.

Sal stood frozen, rifle slung over her shoulder and one hand on her hip. She looked for all money like she’d just come from a day of hunting in the back forty, and the two visitors must’ve had the same idea. Instead of telling her to drop the gun, they simply raised theirs in a macabre greeting. I almost expected them to go into some hunt-inspired fist bump or something equally cheesy.

Ellie’s frightened eyes met mine and I saw the tiniest tremble on her lips. My blood started to boil. I have these family defense genes that kick into high gear whenever someone in my clan is being harassed or hurt, and Ellie was clan. I slid my eyes around the room as cautiously as possible, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention. I needed a starting point for my campaign, somewhere to aim for when I made my first move.

Unfortunately for me, this first move included handing over my flashlight to Goon Number Two who moved from behind the couch and wordlessly held out his hand. I’ve never claimed to be brave, just defensive. Without a sound, he pocketed my would-be weapon in his jacket pocket and resumed his post behind Ellie.

‘McClellan. What a surprise.’ Sal’s words were dry as unbuttered toast, and I saw the man on the couch eye her with undisguised hatred. Well. Sal obviously hadn’t made a friend here, and I was beginning to get an idea of where she’d met him before.

‘We don’t need none of your guff, Bacon,’ retorted Keith McClellan, for that’s indeed who it was: another name from the list.

‘That’s
Detective
Bacon to you,’ Sal replied calmly, turning her gaze to Ellie.

‘You OK, sweetie?’

Ellie glanced nervously at her two captors, obviously too scared to speak for herself. The man who’d pocketed the flashlight clapped one large hand on her shoulder and answered for her.

‘She’s fine. In fact, she insisted we wait for you two so’s we could get this here little party started.’ His thin smile didn’t quite make the journey all the way to his cold dark eyes. By process of elimination, I’d figured that I was looking at the first name on the list, José Ramirez Something-or-other.

‘And Rascon, too. How can a gal get so lucky,’ Sal drawled, all but rolling her eyes. She remained on her feet, and I noticed McClellan’s eyes had shifted to the rifle held loosely in her hands. Before I could get another thought pieced together, he sprang from the couch and lunged at Sal. I screamed. I shouldn’t have worried, though. With one swift step to the side and a chop to the bridge of his nose with the rifle butt, it was suddenly three to one, advantage Team Bacon.

Ellie, moving with more alacrity than I’d seen since we were kids running from Sammy Burkheart and his pump-action air rifle filled with rock salt, leapt to her feet and all but flew at me. I grabbed her and together we raced out the back door, leaving Sal to tackle Rascon alone. Oddly enough, I wasn’t worried.

‘We’ve gotta get some help.’ Ellie’s teeth were chattering so much I almost couldn’t understand her. Shock was setting in rapidly and I knew from experience that if I didn’t get something into her soon – of course, I was thinking sugar – she’d be unable to move on her own accord.

I chewed my lip, trying to come up with a plan that would make sense. My first instinct, naturally, was to run screaming for help, but all that would do for us was put a target on our backs. And if my calculations were right, there was still one name on the list that was unaccounted for: Richard Olsen. For all I knew, he was standing guard somewhere nearby, waiting for his
compadres
to get rid of three more witnesses. That thought scared me into action.

Taking Ellie’s arm, I all but dragged her back toward the little shed. I hoped with all my heart that Sal had forgotten to lock it, although I sincerely doubted that would be the case. Anyone as security savvy as Sal wouldn’t forget a detail as important as that.

Someone must have been watching out for us. To my surprise, the lock gave way easily, its hasp not fully secured by the heavy bolt. Thanking my lucky stars and vowing to start giving more thought to churchgoing once more, which would thrill my mother no end, I dragged Ellie inside. The sun had disappeared completely now and the shed was in total darkness. I felt my way around the small room, trying to remember exactly where the flashlights had been stored. I didn’t need a light as much as I needed something heavy to knock some would-be killer over the head.

I could still hear Ellie’s teeth chattering against one another. She was in serious condition, no big surprise there, considering all she’d been through in the past few days. Chancing Olsen’s location, I crouched down and switched the light on, holding the bulb end close to the floor. Ellie stood where I’d left her, her eyes focused on something I couldn’t see. She looked awful.

‘Ellie, I want you to stay in here. I’m going to get some help, OK?’ I rose to my feet, grasping both her arms in mine, forcing her to look at me. ‘OK, Ellie?’

She nodded slowly, but I could see that some of the color was coming back into her face. I was relieved; it looked like she’d be fine to leave for a while. I didn’t have much time, though, and I knew it. It would only be a matter of minutes before someone, either Olsen or Rascon, would be out looking for us.

I grabbed another flashlight and handed it her before heading back out into the darkness. I’ve never been overly excited about ghost hunts, or haunted houses, or anything that makes me jump, so it was no surprise that my heart had begun to pick up speed with my first tentative steps. I held my breath, forcing the rhythm to slow down. I might need to run and having a pulse already at sky-high levels would probably not be a good thing.

I looked around the yard, waiting for my eyes to fully adjust themselves to the blackness. It took just a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. All I needed now was for someone to come pouncing out of the night and take me down. Ellie would be trapped in the shed and Sal would be left to fend for herself against the marauders. I shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold. I still had that old ratty jacket on, glad now that I’d taken it from Sal. Slipping my hands into the pockets, I froze: something cold and metallic and cellphone size met my fingers. There was no way, I thought stupidly. I’d seen Sal’s cellphone and it was in
her
pocket. How in the Sam Hill had it managed to find its way to my jacket?

Whirling around, I ran back toward the shed. I needed to get to Ellie and call the San Blanco PD. I was two steps away, no more, when a voice reached my ears.

‘Well, well, now. If it isn’t Little Miss Nosey herself. I thought I told you to get lost. Too bad you don’t take friendly advice.’ The words were spoken in a low tone, so soft that if I had wanted to, I could have convinced myself that I’d imagined the whole thing. Unfortunately, I don’t have that good an imagination.

The man who stepped forward from the shadows was tall, that much I could tell. If his voice was anything to judge, he was also dangerous. I’d seen movies where the hit man or assassin or mob don would speak softly, almost kindly, just before he let go with a blast from his gun.

OK – maybe I
did
have an imagination. What I wouldn’t have given at that moment to be wrong. Or at least to have seen different movies. Knowledge may be power, but it’s also painful, especially when you know what’s coming. Taking a deep breath, I turned toward the voice.

And froze in astonishment. I realized that I had known Richard Olsen all along.