Unbinding Love: An Angela Panther Mystery Novella (The Angela Panther Mystery Series) (9 page)

I might have thought too soon about the puking at a crime scene thing. Mel playing detective made me want to hurl.

I leaned in on my good foot, but didn’t use Aaron as a support. I should have because I lost my balance and went tumbling into the hole, head first. I flung my arms out in front of me, hoping they’d stop my face from hitting the dead guy and the dirt.

They didn’t.

I heard the crack first and felt the pain second. I just wasn’t sure which pain it was. The pain of my fingers snapping or the pain of my face hitting the dead guy’s face. Either way, both sucked.

The ME was right. Rigor had set in. His face was hard as a rock. I’d learn later that I’d broken my left maxillary bone—the bone under the eye, and my left ring finger, but at that moment I was more concerned about the grossness of lying on top of a dead guy.

I lay still for a moment as everyone above asked if I was okay. “I’m fine,” I said, too embarrassed to mention the pain throbbing in my hand and face. I pushed myself up with my right hand and scooted over and off of the dead guy as quickly as possible.

“So of a beach ball,” Aaron said. Even from six feet under I could see his face turning red. “We’ll get a stretcher and get you right out.” He shook his head. “Just…Just try not to touch anything.”

“Little late for that.”

Mel laughed.

The medical examiner snorted and walked away.

I knew liked him.

“Juan Garcia.”

I glanced at the dead dude. “Was that you?”

His wide eyes didn’t budge.

“I’m over here.”

I flipped my head to the right and the man’s ghost was floating on that side of me. So was Benny.

“I’m Juan Garcia.”

“Angela Panther. Nice to meet you.”

“Would be nicer under different circumstances.”

“For you, probably. Know how you got here?”

He nodded. “I was killed.”

So many sarcastic comments, so inappropriate at that moment.

“What about the who, what, when, why, and how? Do you know any of those?”

“None of it made sense until after I died, when I could see the person that did it.”

The men with the stretcher showed up at the top of the hole. “Listen, we gotta make this quick because only a few of those people up there know I can talk to your kind and they’re gonna get me outta here in a sec.”

“Okay. I came here for a lock box that Emma Marx told me Bill Marx left for me. I didn’t know she died. I got a letter from her. Now I’m not sure who wrote the letter. When I arrived, I was attacked, but I couldn’t see who did it until I was dead.”

“Who was it?”

“Bill Marx. He was dead. He did it to me. He killed me.”

“Why?”

“He gave me the code for the lockbox but it wouldn’t open.”

“What’s in the lockbox?”

“Money. And lots of it.”

“Why would he tell you about the lock box and the money? Did he owe you money?”

The stretcher dropped down and I crawled onto it, keeping my injured areas as safe as possible from additional harm.

“Come up with me. I’ll have more questions but talking will kind of be hit or miss. Plus, I can help get you where you need to go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The crew pulled the stretcher up, and when my head popped over the top of the hole, Mel started laughing. I shot her a stink eye look that shut her up fast.

“You okay?” Aaron asked.

I nodded but it was a lie. “Juan Garcia is the dead guy. Said Bill Marx killed him when he couldn’t open the lock box.”

“A dead guy killed him?”

I nodded. “I knew something was up. Where’s the lock box?”

He pointed to the front of the house. “Had my guys put it in my car.”

“Bill wants in that lock box bad. Juan said there’s money in there but I can’t figure out what Bill would want with money now that he’s dead.”

“Why can’t he just open the thing himself?” Aaron asked.

“I can’t figure that out either,” I said.

“Emma’s mother,” Mel said. “Didn’t she do some magic whatchamacallit that wouldn’t let him see his son? Maybe she did something so he couldn’t get into the box too?”

“But why?’

“Because the money was for Emma and Justin,” Mel said.

“And now Emma’s dead and she’ll need the money for Justin. So why doesn’t she come and get it?”

“Because she doesn’t know where it is?” Mel asked.

“Wouldn’t Emma have told her?” I asked. I scratched my head with my left hand and howled from the pain.

“What’s wrong?” Mel asked.

“I think I cracked my finger on the dead guy.”

“You need a medic?” Aaron asked.

“No, it’ll be fine. I’ll wrap it when I get home. I wanna figure this out.”

“Jake’s never gonna let you help me again,” he said.

“Jake isn’t the boss of me, at least not all of the time. Mel, where’s your notebook?”

“Right here,” she said, whipping it out of her bag.

“Okay, so Bill Marx works for bad guys and testifies against them. He gets killed. Family is in WITSEC. Emma Marx gets killed. Before that happens, Justin Marx disappears but doesn’t really, because Emma sends him off after fearing for his life. We get a bunch of clues, well, not a bunch but some and they lead us to this lock box. My spidey sense told me Bill knew about the lock box already and knew where it was but was just leading us on a wild goose chase.”

“Why?” Mel asked.

“Why was he leading us on a wild goose chase?”

“That and why did your spidey sense tell you he knew about it?”

“The dog. He wasn’t happy to see Bill at all. I trust dogs and how they feel about people more than I trust people. As for the lock box, it’s not that I knew he knew about it as much as he knew she’d hid the money somewhere, so it had to be in something and it was just a matter of what, and he likely assumed it was the lock box. Juan Garcia confirmed that for me. He said Bill told him about the lock box and he tried to get in it, but didn’t have the right combination. When he couldn’t get in, Bill killed him.”

“So he needed us to help him get the combination?” Mel asked.

“Exactly.”

“But what does he need the money for?” Juan asked.

I’d completely forgotten I’d asked him to stick around. “Does he owe you money?”

Mel and Aaron gave me the curious dog head tilt.

“Talking to Juan,” I said.

“He owes a lot of people money,” he said. “And if he doesn’t pay them back, they’re going to kill his son.”

Just then a ridiculously attractive, tall man in a pair of cowboy boots and a cowboy hat sauntered up. Next to him was a short woman with gorgeous dark hair, the kind of movie stars. I knew immediately she was a reporter, probably because she had a recorder in her hand.

Aaron shook hands with the good-looking guy. I snuck a peek at Mel, who I swore was drooling. “Reeder, how good to see you.”

“You too, Detective. What’ve you got?”

He introduced Mel and I to Reeder Cullen of the Mullins Crossing Police Department and Kelly Monroe, a reporter for the Mullins Crossing Herald. Mullins Crossing was two towns over and I wasn’t sure what they were doing in our neck of the woods, but I didn’t like the fact that a reporter was there with a recorder in her hand.

“Nice to meet you, “ I said, eyeing the recorder and then Aaron.

“Reeder and I went through the Academy together. I asked him to stop by and see if he had any thoughts on the case.”

I nodded, trying hard not to show my obvious concern about the reporter.

Apparently it didn’t work.

“Ms. Monroe was with me on another case, so she came along for the ride,” Detective Cullen said. “She’s not here to report on anything.”

“Unless of course there’s something worth reporting,” she said.

“I don’t think so,” I said. I ran my good hand through my hair. I felt tiny pieces of dirt on my scalp and shuddered but I wasn’t sure if it was because of that or because of the idea of Justin Marx possibly dying as we sat and wasted our time on small talk.

“Aaron, can I talk to you for a minute? In private?”

His eyes darted to Reeder. “Give me a sec?”

Reeder nodded. “No problem.”

Kelly smiled at me. “I really need to get back to work. I’ve got an update due on a story about a teacher killed this week.”

I’d read about that. “Oh, yeah, the teacher of the year. That’s right, that was in MC. You’re covering that? It sounded horrible.”

“It is. She was a nice woman. I’d just interviewed her about her teacher of the year win.”

“Well I hope they find out what happened to her.”

“Reeder’s working the case, so I’m sure he will,” she said. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too.”

Reeder walked over to another officer and Aaron, Mel, and I whispered over the hole.

“What on God’s earth were you thinking, inviting a reporter here?” Mel asked. “You know how Angela feels about that kind of thing.”

“I didn’t invite a reporter. I invited a detective. He brought a reporter.”

“Guys, come on. We’ve got more important things to deal with right now. And besides, it’s all starting to make sense now,” I said.

“What?” Aaron asked.

“Juan said Bill Marx needs the money in the lock box to pay people he owes money to or they’re going to kill his son.”

“Whose he owe money?”

I glanced back at Juan.

He shrugged. “I only know of the people I worked for but the list is long. You need to talk to Bill.”

“Who are the people you worked for?” I asked.

“What’s that light?” Juan asked. He gazed up at the sky. “It’s beautiful.”

I watched as he smiled upwards, and threw myself at him as he slowly disappeared. “Juan—crap.” I fell to the ground and moaned because it hurt.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Mel asked.

I nodded.

“Did he say who he worked for?” Aaron asked.

“Nope.”

“Son of a beach ball.”

“Now whadda we do?” Mel asked.

“We don’t do anything,” Aaron said. “You two need to get her to a doctor, and I have a case to handle.” He headed toward the good-looking cowboy.

“That’s one hot cop,” Mel said.

“Number one, you’re taken. Number two, from the way he was looking at that reporter, he’s taken too.”

“I’m just sayin’…”

“What about the lock box?” I yelled to Aaron.

“I told you, it’s in my car. I’ll have it processed and secured.”

“But Justin—“

He cut me off. “I’m getting someone out to take the kid and his grandmother into PC as we speak. Go get yourself looked at before your husband gets ahold of me.”

I nodded but had the fingers on my good hand crossed in front of me.

Mel wrapped her arm around me. “We’re so gettin’ that lock box. Aren’t we?”

“Heck yeah, we are,” I said, and we shuffled as fast two injured, middle-aged women could over to Aaron’s car, grabbed the lock box, and skedaddled. Our plan was to head out to Justin’s grandmother’s house, grab the kid, and take him into our own protective custody. Why, I wasn’t exactly sure, but we’d figure that all out later.

“What if he’s not there?” Mel asked.

“He’s got to be.” I hadn’t considered any other option. “Do you think his grandmother knows what’s going on?”

“She has to because she did that magic mojo stuff. Maybe we should send your mother out there first to check, just in case.”

“That’s what I’m thinkin’.”

I called for my mother and she popped into the backseat in seconds flat. “What? I’m followin’ that good for nothin’ Bill Marx. I knew from the start he was up to no good, and now I know for sure.”

“We know. He’s gotta get the money in the lock box to the people he owes it to or they’re going to kill his son.”

“Ah Madone, that poor boy,” she said. “No wonder Emma was a mess. He still with his grandma?”

“That’s why I called you. Aaron’s sending someone there to get him into protective custody.”

“Then why you wanna get him outta there?”

“Because I just got a feeling something’s not right, and I don’t trust Bill. Even his dog doesn’t like him, Ma.”

“Bill’s not goin’ over there. He’s followin’ some hoodlums. I’m guessin’ he’s watchin’ them to make sure they don’t hurt his boy.”

“Unless the hoodlums are headed to that way.”

Mel nudged me. “What’s she saying?”

After giving me the info, we all decided Ma would keep her eye on the boy while we sniffed out Bill—through her directions of course—and do our best to find out who the hoodlums were, and get Aaron to them so he could do his detective work and keep Justin safe. Ma went on her way, and we went ours.