Totally Buzzed (A Miller Sisters Mystery) (34 page)

Bob laughed. "I must be. I look just like you, my friend."

29

Chest heaving, feet killing him, Rob Graff stepped around the side of a house and stood with his hands on his knees, willing his heart to slow. It seemed like he had run miles, but he could still see the tower on the top of the hospital about a half mile away. What the hell was he going to do? He had to get out of here. He had to pack and go…go somewhere. L.A. or Mexico maybe.

Jumping over a hedge Rob crouched near a shed. Good. No dog. He spotted clothes hanging on a line and couldn't believe his luck. Keeping an eye on the back door, Rob scuttled across the yard and snatched sweatpants and a tee shirt off the line. He heard a dog bark and his heart jumped to his throat. He ran like Jesse Owens toward the hedge and flew over the top. As he stumbled around the corner, he dumped the stolen coat on the ground, dragged the sweats over the hospital gown and pulled the too-small tee over his head.

The sound of a diesel engine kept him heading toward the street.
Wow. That's Bill Miller at the stop sign
. He ran to the intersection.

"Hi Mr. Miller," he called through the window.

"Well, hello there Rob, I thought you were in some sort of accident or something. Shouldn't you be resting at home?"

"Yes I should, but I got stuck here in town. If you're heading home, could I catch a ride with you?"

"Sure enough Rob. Hop in, I'm heading out now."

Rob was deep in thought during the ride, mentally making a to do list. He jumped out of the truck at the entrance to the garden center, yelled his thanks, and ran toward the house. First on the agenda: band aids, socks, and shoes for his feet. Then pack up and get the hell out.

* * *

FBI Bob, J.J., and I drove to J.J.'s Mom's house where we dropped off Bob. He hugged J.J.'s mom when she answered the door and went inside. I thought what a great sport she was, hugging a stranger she had never met. Just in case someone was watching, Bob waited five minutes, and then went out the back door. He hopped Mrs. Leskowitz's fence, ran three houses over, and crossed the street to where Mag waited with her car. He jumped into the car and they headed toward Mom's house.

Meanwhile, J.J. and I picked up the Luminol at the office. J.J. took his time and listened to his messages. Knowing Martinez would pick up anything he said with the listening device, J.J. proceeded to bait the hook so he could lure Martinez to the greenhouse. He checked in with Curly, who was on patrol. J.J. told Curly we were headed out to Graff's greenhouse, and if he needed him to use the cell phone. Acting as he would if no one was listening, J.J. made a couple of return calls. He called his mother, told her we were a little later than we had expected to be, and for her to tell Bob he'd be home by 8:30 or so. He rang off, and we headed out to the Graff's place.

* * *

Bob, Ian, Mag, Moe, and Alejandro drove up my parent's driveway and pulled up close to the barn. Ian silently pointed across the field to Graff's greenhouses. Bob nodded. Inside the barn six ATVs and eight black-clad FBI agents waited.

Bob and Ian grabbed vests from the agent by the barn door and mounted the closest ATV. Moe and Mag climbed onto the second ATV, donned vests. Everyone was ready to go.

Alejandro headed past Ian. Ian grabbed his arm. "Amigo, remember we talked about this. It is way too dangerous for you to come. Those people want you dead. Go to the house. Bill and Gerry are expecting you. I promise you, I will see justice done."

Alejandro bit his lip. He looked at the ground and sighed. "I understand."

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but walked off through the barn toward the house. Bob gave the signal and everyone else set off toward Graff's.

Mag was surprised the machines made almost no noise. Moe leaned back and whispered, "Electric
–
like a golf cart."

"Cool-lee-O," she whispered back.

They covered the distance to the Graff property in less than five minutes and pulled quietly into place along the back fence. Mag stayed back with one other agent. She plugged in her ear phone so she could listen in. Bob, Ian, Moe, and the agents crept slowly through the tall weeds toward the barn.

Mag watched them seemingly melt into the twilight. A tingle crawled slowly up her spine.
Wow. This is real.
The ball was rolling, and she was a part of it!

Rob Graff was in the driveway in front of the main building when J.J. and I arrived. He gave no greeting, but opened the side gate so we could drive through. He left the gate open and got into the back seat at J.J.'s wave. He sat with his arms folded across his chest and stared out the window.

We rolled slowly through the yard. J.J. struck up a conversation, giving no indication he had just put out an all-points bulletin on Rob. "So Rob, is your dad back in town yet?"

"Why do you want to know? What's it to you?" was the snotty reply.

J.J. sighed. "Because I care about how you guys are doing, that's why. I haven't heard from your father and I admit I am a little anxious, that's all. I would expect you would be concerned too."

Rob sat back and said sullenly, "He'll turn up
–
he always lands on his feet."

J.J. slowed to a crawl and looked at Rob in the rear-view mirror. "Rob, is there something you want to tell us? Do you know something about your dad's whereabouts you're not telling us?"

Rob grabbed the door handle, like he was going to jump out of the moving vehicle, and thought better of it. He rubbed the heels of his hands in his eyes and said miserably, "I don't know, man. It wasn't supposed to be like this!"

J.J. would have said more, but we had arrived at the barn. Rob threw open the door and bolted for the stable door. The lock was back on the door. Rob had it open before we got there. He stood back, looking at the ground. We entered the empty building.

"Sherriff Green–"

We stopped. "Yes Rob, do you have something to tell us?"

He scuffed a toe in the dirt. "Uh, I guess not."

Rob stayed by the door while J.J. and I entered the barn. J.J. flipped on the aisle lights and we proceeded toward the drain, about half way down the building.

Edie had prepared four spray bottles of Luminol. J.J. and I each picked one up and turned to the onerous task of looking for evidence of bloodshed. Luminol was not evidence per se, but rather a last resort tactic when other investigative methods have failed to produce clues to what transpired at a crime scene. Blood spatter patterns can be analyzed to determine what type of instrument was used to kill. Footprints, fingerprints, and other forensic evidence have been uncovered by the use of Luminol, and have connected killers to crime scenes. The type of Luminol police agencies used does not destroy DNA, so there was also a chance of picking up clues and evidence of the horse dying, or if Huerta or Carole bled anywhere in the stable.

Rob stood off in a corner with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He shuffled his feet and looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here. I looked at him and said, "Rob, do you want to help? Grab a bottle and go along the bottom two boards near the cross ties."

Rob dragged his feet over to where the remaining Luminol sat, looked around, and picked up a bottle. J.J. told him, "Be careful and don't breathe the fumes." He tossed Rob a paper mask. "The ventilation is good in here, but we need to be careful anyway."

J.J. and I worked opposite sides of the drain, methodically spraying the rubber matting leading to the drain hole in the floor. Rob walked over to the boards near the cross ties and gave them a couple of half-hearted strokes with the spray bottle. He stopped and looked over where we were working. Bending, he sprayed the boards once more before stopping again.

Rob looked toward the ceiling, shuffled his feet, fidgeted, and glanced back at J.J. "Sheriff Green, I gotta go to the bathroom, I'll be right back."

He dropped the bottle and sprinted toward the door. We watched as he skidded to a halt
–
his arms flailing and his legs going in opposite directions. Blocking his way was the shadow of a huge man. He stood there like a stone statue.

Rob slid smack into the giant's legs, but the giant never wavered. Rob bounced off the giant and landed on his back at the giant's feet.

The giant picked him up by the tee shirt and tossed the wheezing Rob aside with one hand. He straightened, folded his hands in front, and stared straight ahead once more.

J.J. grabbed my wrist to stop me when I started toward Rob. He gestured toward the stone giant by the door. From behind the giant strolled an elegantly dressed man. He slowly stepped into the light, fiddling with his cuffs and taking in his surroundings with an air of disdainful nonchalance. His black hair gleamed in the light, and his dark eyes were fixed on us.

He moved gracefully across the rubber floor to where we stood. He looked down his nose at us as if we were fly specks on a window. I felt my hackles rise as his dead black gaze slithered up my body.

Hands on hips, I spoke. "Martinez, I presume?"

The man sniffed and turned his profile to me. "American women do not know their place." With lightning speed he whipped a hand out and blasted me across the face.

I went down hard, smacking my head on the floor. My bottle of Luminol went flying, broke apart, and splashed up the pant leg of Martinez's expensive suit. "Clod! Stupido!" He shook his leg to rid himself of the liquid. J.J. never moved a muscle; neither did the gargantuan statue by the door.

I picked myself up, my cheek burning and my eyes watering. I stumbled sideways and collapsed on a bale of hay. Through my tears I eyed the giant in the doorway. Did the man ever even blink? I rolled my head to make sure it was still attached to my neck and tried to focus on the conversation between J.J. and Martinez. When the ringing in my ears subsided, I rose and stepped close enough to hear what they were saying.

In a dead calm voice Martinez said, "I want Montoya, and I want him now."

J.J. played the big dumb cowboy, exactly what Martinez expected him to be. He pushed his cowboy hat up with one hand and rubbed the back of his neck with the other.

"I am afraid to tell you this, Mr. Martinez, but we found your boy buried out back of the neighbor's place, along with one of your horses."

Montoya looked down his nose. "Let us not toy with each other, Sheriff Green. You know as well as I that the dead man is not Montoya, but a traitorous thief. A man named Huerta who was stupid enough to steal from me."

J.J. twirled his hat in his hand. "Well, that's where you're wrong amigo. I mean, he is dead and all, but that Huerta fellow never stole from you. All that time you had your boys torture him? He was telling you the truth from the beginning. Huerta grabbed the wrong case from the truck. I have the case with your note, your money, your fingerprints, and your little bomb."

"You lie, policeman." Martinez pulled out a gun and trained it on J.J.'s chest. "That case held 15 million dollars of my Columbian money. The Columbians came looking for it in Fort Worth. Huerta ran with it and came here. I was afraid they would come after me if the mares and the drugs were not delivered. The Columbians blamed my operation for the bad bag that leaked and killed my horse though it was their defective bag.

"I had to clean up after their bumbling in Fort Worth, and I lost a champion mare in the process. Instead of terminating Montoya in Texas, I sent Montoya with the mares to Chicago. That imbecile followed my men here and went running to you. Too many loose ends, Sheriff Green, and now the two of you. I am tired of this mess. Sometimes I think I am the only one with a brain in this world."

Martinez stepped closer to J.J. and I began to sweat. I wondered how long J.J. could keep him talking. I also wondered how the hell long Bob was going to wait before the Calvary came-a-runnin'. I inched my hand along my leg and under my sweatshirt. I touched the butt of my revolver and left my hand there. I could barely see the stone statue in my peripheral vision, but I knew he was still there.