Shattered Image (16 page)

“I would say at least two weeks, Doctor.”

“Very well, then I would like to request permission to tell Mrs. Nikolaides the results—unofficially, of course. It would really be impossible for me to keep the information from her.”

“Of course, that’s fine, as long as she and you understand that the results are not official until they are declared so by CILHI.”

“Yes. We both understand that.”

“Another nice job, Dr. Sullivan. Thank you for your time and dedication to these projects.”

“It is always my privilege, Sergeant Major.”

We said our goodbyes and hung up. My next call was to Reverend Iordani. I wanted to go and tell Irini, but I didn’t want to do it by myself. Besides, I thought she should have a minister there for her when she got this news. Reverend Iordani answered the phone on the second ring.

“Reverend, it’s Toni.”

“Oh, Toni, how is everything going?”

“I finished the bust on the CILHI case, and it is Ted Nikolaides.”

“Ohhh…” He made a soft clicking noise with his tongue. “Well, I guess even though it’s sad, it’s a good thing now that we know. Bittersweet, though. Are you okay?”

“Yes, Reverend, I’m fine.”

I actually wasn’t sure how I was, but I didn’t want to get into a protracted discussion of all that now.

“Reverend, I need to go and tell Irini and I want to tell her in person. Can you go with me, say, later this afternoon?”

“If you can wait until about four, I can go.”

“I think that will be fine, Reverend.”

“Then meet me at four at the Chuck Wagon out on Highway 71. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes, I know exactly where it is. I’ll see you there.”

I said goodbye and we hung up.

I was glad to have it all done. Glad it was over now. Glad that I had Chris’s work to back me up.

There was still this frustration over Addie Waldrep’s and Brian Ferguson’s deaths, though. It was eating at me more than ever. Now that Ted’s status was confirmed, all I had unresolved was finding the murderer of Addie and Brian, and determining the whereabouts of Doug Hughes.

I closed the studio door once again. I needed to pray. There was so much death around me lately, and the evil that had caused those untimely deaths had unbalanced what little inner stillness I had. I would pray for a while—for Ted’s soul, and to try to reclaim my peace and harmony with the Creator—to put the evil out of my mind and keep
it from infecting my peace. By then, it would be time to clean up, so I could rendezvous with Reverend Iordani.

I met Reverend Iordani at the Chuck Wagon right on time. It was on the highway between Austin and Dripping Springs. Dripping Springs was a little bedroom community outside of Austin, and it was where Irini Nikolaides made her home. Irini lived on a three-acre spread where she grew vegetables in her own garden and made baked goods for a local bakery. She also raised goats and had a thriving goat dairy.

I parked in the lot at the Chuck Wagon and went inside. It was a dive, but they had great coffee and that was why Reverend Iordani loved this place. We sat down and had a cup together, and I told him about the bust of Ted.

“So, then, we’re sure it’s him?”

“Yes,” I said. Then I told him about Chris’s part in the reconstruction.

He nodded. “Well, that’s it, then. She didn’t even know him.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Let’s go. I’ll call Irini and tell her I’ll be there in five minutes.”

We got into Reverend Iordani’s car and he called Irini. After he hung up, we said a prayer and headed for Irini’s place.

When we pulled up to the gate, Irini was there to open it. Irini was so short, she barely cleared the top of the gate. She may have been small, but she was strong enough to swing that heavy gate open all by herself. Dad said she had the map of Greece on her face because of her large nose and full lips, but she was Greek from head to toe with her stocky
build. It had not been that long since I had seen her, but she seemed much older now. Her dark hair had been peppered with gray for years, but now there were more lines in her olive skin and the light in her dark eyes seemed to have dimmed. She saw me in the front seat and her expression darkened immediately. We pulled up to the house, and as we got out of Reverend Iordani’s car, Irini walked up to greet us. She kissed Reverend Iordani’s hand in greeting and asked for a blessing, which he gave readily. We all hugged and then went inside.

“I know I should wait until I serve you some coffee and something to eat, but I can’t,” she said. “You must tell me now. I know that’s why you are here. It is either bad news or worse news, so tell me.”

Reverend Iordani looked at me. He was there with me, but he clearly indicated to me with his look that he thought it was my responsibility to tell her what my findings were. He was right. I had made the ID, with Chris’s support, and it was my job to tell her.

“Irini, I have finished the work. Before I finished it, I had Chris Nakis come and check what I had done and give me her opinion. Her opinion matched what I thought. Irini, CILHI has found Teddy.”

She stood before us for what seemed like minutes, but I know it was only two or three seconds. Then she clutched Reverend Iordani’s shoulder and cried out with the pain she had held for all those years. It was the sound that reflected what we all had known was true, but it was also the sound of hope at last abandoned. She sobbed and Reverend Iordani held her and comforted her. I moved in behind her and put my arm around her shoulder. The three of us stood there in a huddle and there was no sound between us all,
except for Irini’s crying and her mumbled Greek that I didn’t understand. I don’t know how I did it, but somehow strength and composure was mine—or at least God let me believe that it was mine.

I
t was another day of rain and gloom. The rain was actually pleasant, soft and steady and much needed if the bluebonnets were going to flourish this year. Without the thunder, lightning and high winds of a typical Texas storm, this was actually soothing, and I needed soothing. I stood at the back French doors with hot chamomile tea and watched the rain nourish every green and budding thing in the backyard.

The question of Ted’s death was solved. It still saddened me, and all that sadness was compounded by the unresolved murders of Addie Waldrep and Brian Ferguson. I reflected on my conversations with Drew and hoped that his connections and his efforts could yield a warrant to search the Gunther place.

It was time to focus on something other than death. I put on some jeans and an old navy blue T-shirt with my black pointy-toe boots. I got into the Mustang, fired it up and headed over to Daddy’s.

Daddy was eighty-three. He was a mechanic and welder, and just a guy who could fix or build anything. His
name was Michael Kennedy—yes, I named my son after him—but the world called him Red because of the color his hair used to be. Like mine, the gray had come into his hair and rendered it more the shade of pink champagne. Mine wasn’t quite that extreme yet, but I was on my way there. Mom was gone to the other side and had been for years. Daddy lived alone, but kept himself busy with friends, automotive work and the Mustang club and classic car restorations.

When I pulled up into the driveway, the garage door was open and Daddy was where I expected him to be—under a car. He heard the rumble of my Fastback and rolled out from under the car to see me step out. He got up off the creeper and headed for the Go-Jo canister to clean his hands. The Go-Jo having successfully removed all the grease, Daddy came to greet me, wiping his hands on a red shop rag.

“Little Red!”

“Hi, Daddy.”

He gave me a big hug and said, “Where’s my grandson?”

“He’s working, Daddy.”

“Boy’s always on duty. He comes by a lot, but he’s always on duty. Can’t get that boy out of a suit long enough to change a spark plug.”

“It’s his job, Daddy, and it’s not an eight-to-five gig.”

“I know, I would just like to spend some time with him, that’s all. Never mind all that, my Little Red is here. What’s happening with you, kiddo?”

“Well, Daddy, Irini called me a few weeks ago, and asked me to do a reconstruct on some remains CILHI found in ’Nam.”

“Know that already. Mike told me.”

“Oh, didn’t know you had talked to Mike lately.”

“Like I said, he comes by. He don’t ever stay, and he don’t ever help me out here, but he comes by. Chews the fat with his old grandpa—you know.” Daddy beamed as he got back down on the creeper and rolled under the car again.

“Hand me that light, Little Red.”

I handed Daddy the light.

“So, then, what’s up with all that CILHI stuff?”

“I had Chris come over and check my work when I was almost through. Still needed a nose, eyes and hair on it, but she checked everything over and drew me a rough sketch.”

“Hand me that grease gun, Toni.”

I handed him the grease gun.

“So, how’d Chris’s drawing turn out?”

“It was him, Daddy.”

“I’ll be. Did you finish it all up, then?”

“Yes, sir, I finished it yesterday, and called CILHI to tell them.”

“That’s good, Toni. You tell Irini yet?”

“Yes, sir, I went with Reverend Iordani and told her yesterday.”

Dad rolled out from under the car far enough to look me in the eye. “She take it all okay?”

“As well as anyone could take that kind of news, I suppose.”

He rolled completely out from under the car with the grease gun in his hand. He got up off the creeper and hung the gun back on the hook on the wall. He turned around and put his hand on my shoulder.

“You tell her my prayers are with her.”

“I will, Dad,” I said with my eyes turning misty.

“Now, listen here. I know what you did was real hard, but it was necessary. You got Chris’s help, which was smart. I know you did a good job, and you relieved that poor family’s mind. Sometimes doing the right thing is real difficult.
Pfui,
what am I talkin’ about, most of the time doing the right thing is difficult. That’s why so many people these days take the lazy way out.”

“I know, Daddy.”

“Craziest war I ever heard of. Now, World War II—that was a war worth fightin’. Hitler, Mussolini, Japanese military—all a bunch ’a nuts trying to take over the world. We had to stop ’em. By golly, we did stop ’em, too. But, Vietnam, what a terrible waste. Send all our best young men over there, and some of our best young women, too. How many of ’em killed and still missing?”

“Over 58,000 killed, over 1,900 still missing.”

“Terrible—over 58,000 killed. Craziest war I ever heard of. Wasted all those lives, ruined all those families, totally messed up our country’s values—even to this day.”

“I know, Dad.”

“Okay, I’m talkin’ too much. Just gets me upset thinking about little Irini and her family—and then I start thinking about all the other families just like hers,” Dad sighed. “Tell me about your other case instead. What’s going on there?”

He walked around to the front of the car and stuck his head under the hood.

“Hand me that light again, Toni.”

I picked up the light off the floor and handed it to him.

“And that spark-plug wrench over there on the bench.”

I handed him the spark-plug wrench.

“Well, we found bones down on Red Bud Isle…”

“I know that part. Mike told me some and I saw some of it on the news. Details, I want details.”

I smiled and then I told him about Doug Hughes and Addie Waldrep. I told him about Jimmy Hughes and Lori Webster. I told him about Dody. I told him about Brian Ferguson and his mother, and what his friends in Hempstead had said. I told him everything Leo had said. I told him about Drew getting involved. I told him about Doris and the famous pie.

“Well, that all sounds real interesting—especially the part about that pie. You gotta take me up there, Little Red, introduce me to Doris and her pie,” he chuckled.

I laughed, “All right, Daddy. When this case is over, I’ll take you up to Viola.”

“So, has Drew gotten the warrant yet?”

“Haven’t heard from him, but I imagine it’s going to be real hard to get, if not impossible.”

“Some justice system,” he said, pulling his head out from under the car hood. “Some nut with a shotgun holds up the whole works, while another nut gets by with murder.”

“Well, Dad, the system is designed the way it is to protect the innocent.”

“I understand all that. Still bugs me when it protects some nutball who wants to go off killin’ people, and some poor kid who never did anything gets killed, breaks his mama’s and daddy’s hearts.”

“I know, Dad.”

“You say the mom is dying.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dad shook his head. “Sad, sad. You better catch that weirdo, Toni. Catch him and put him away.”

“We’re trying, Daddy. We’re working as hard as we can.”

“Well, I know that’s right,” he said, scrutinizing me with a squint. “You’ve got the same disease my grandson has—you work too much.”

“And what are you doing out here, if not working on the neighbor’s Chevrolet?”

“Aw, Toni, this is playin’, not workin’. I’ve been playin’ at this my whole life.” He laughed. He laughed because he knew it wasn’t true about it not being work.

“Right, Daddy.”

“’Stang sounds like it’s running good. You must have been keeping up with it pretty well,” he said, eyeballing my Black Beauty in the driveway.

“Yeah, I tuned it up about a month or so ago, so it’s in prime condition. Just did a carb overhaul on the Jeep last week.”

“Well!” he said, beaming. “I’m impressed. Did that without the old man, did you?”

I laughed, “Yeah, Daddy, I did. I needed the therapy.”

“Yep, know what you mean. Well, so how does it run now?”

“Great.”

“Heh, you’re a chip off the old block. Nice work, kiddo. I’d like to hear it run, drive it a little bit.”

“Anytime you want, Dad.”

“Got a son, got a grandson—neither one of ’em is worth much in the garage. Got a redheaded daughter who could overhaul any engine as well as any guy can, and better than most. Heck, I think this calls for Mexican food and a game of pool. What do you think, Little Red?”

“I’m all over that, Daddy.”

My dad was like a doctor with a prescription for my mood. He was one smart old guy. He went inside and took
a quick shower, while I closed up the garage for him. By the time I got inside and had washed my hands, he was in clean trousers, a plaid shirt and a lightweight jacket. He had put on socks and his work shoes again. I don’t think the man owned but one pair of shoes. He liked them and that was all that mattered.

We went to Dad’s favorite hole-in-the-wall Tex-Mex joint. There we ate cheesy, greasy food that I almost never eat, and talked more about my latest two cases.

“What are y’all going to do if Drew can’t get that warrant to search that ol’ boy’s property?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll get the evidence eventually, and then we’ll identify the killer. The last thing any of us want to do is go to trial and have the killer acquitted, so we want to be careful how we do things.”

“No kidding. They did that in one of them cases up in Dallas where some ol’ boy killed his wife. They went to trial, and I wondered at the time why they were in such an all-fired hurry.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I remember that one, too.”

“Nut can just go out into the middle of the street in downtown Dallas and confess it if he wants to. Ain’t nothin’ anyone can do. The law can’t touch him.” Daddy shook his head in disgust.

“I know, Dad, it’s called double jeopardy, and that’s exactly what we’re trying to avoid here by being careful.”

“Well, from what you tell me, that boy Brian disappeared in Hempstead, and that’s where y’all think he was probably killed, along with that woman, right?”

“Yes.”

“He wouldn’t have had any reason to go up to Viola as far you can tell, right?”

“Right—so far anyway.”

“So, what was Addie Waldrep doing in Hempstead?”

“We don’t know, Dad.”

“Well, I ain’t no detective, but it seems to me that if a person kills someone somewhere, or buries someone somewhere, it’s for a reason. I mean, he don’t just throw darts at a map, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, she was there for a reason, and that’s where the killer killed her with that Brian kid. What’s Addie’s tie to Hempstead?”

“I don’t know. We’ve asked people in Hempstead about Addie, but no one knows her. Mike and Tommy asked, and so did I.”

“Well, I don’t know, Little Red, but it’s got to be there somewhere. I know you’ll find it.”

Dad and I headed to the pool hall. We played pool until eleven o’clock that night. Daddy was just the tonic I needed to get out of the doldrums and back on track. I want to be just like him when I grow up.

The phone woke me the next morning. It sounded like a fire bell and I groaned as I rolled over to pick it up. It was Chief Grant.

“Dr. Sullivan, it’s Chief Grant from Hempstead. I wanted to let you know that we’ve discovered some bones in a fresh shallow grave, similar to what has been found up there in Austin.”

I sat up in bed.

“Old bones?”

“They appear to be.”

“How were they found?”

The chief cleared his throat. “Julie and Frances went exploring on the old Gunther place at Angler’s Point. They checked out all of Brian’s favorite spots and found nothing, then they made a little side trip trying to get off the property and literally stumbled over this grave.”

“I’d like to come down, Chief, and see the site. Who’s handling the investigation?”

“I’ve called Lieutenant Smith with the Texas Rangers. He’s on his way down.”

“Good. Do you mind if I come down with him?”

“No, if he doesn’t mind, then I don’t. You’re welcome to come on down and see this.”

After I hung up with the chief, I virtually leaped out of bed. I started to run for the shower and then I decided I’d call Drew first, then Mike, but before I could call anyone, the phone rang again.

“Toni. Drew.”

“Tell me that you’re calling because you want me to come with you to Hempstead.”

“I am. Chief Grant already call you?”

“He did.”

“I want you to do the reconstruct on this one. If you want to ride with me, you’ll have to be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Come on by. Oh, could you call my son and let him know?”

“I’ve already done that, Toni.”

I loved the efficiency of Drew Smith. I hung up and ran for the shower. Another great thing about having short hair is the five-minute shower. I dried off, slapped on the bare minimum of makeup just so I wouldn’t scare small children or animals, combed my hair and put on my jeans,
a brown cotton sweater and my brown snakeskin boots, grabbed a jacket and dashed outside to wait on the curb for Drew.

We talked about the case on the way down. Drew had beaten his head against a wall to try to get a warrant, but he had not been able to do so. The old coot who owned the property, Mr. Burkhardt, was apparently as mad as a wet hen, and wanted to press trespassing charges against Julie and Frances. The chief, with Drew’s instruction, had informed Mr. Burkhardt that trespassing or not, two citizens had reported finding a skeleton on his property, and that he could either cooperate or a warrant would be obtained and his property forcibly searched. The old man had relented. No trespassing charges would be pressed. Access to his property had been granted.

“I had no luck tracking the whereabouts of Doug Hughes, but I’d bet credits to navy beans those two women just found him,” Drew said.

“I agree, but we’ll need proof to back up that assumption.”

“That’s why you’re here,” Drew said and smiled.

“Chief Grant said this wasn’t exactly where the women were looking.”

“It wasn’t, which explains why nothing was found when they searched for Brian sixteen years ago. Apparently, Julie and Frances looked in all Brian’s old haunts and then decided to take what the chief referred to as ‘one of Brian’s alternate trails’ out of the property.”