An Unmarked Grave (9 page)

She continued. "I don't want to think that Vanessa or
Frank could commit such a reprehensible act, but they are
both greedy. I don't know why, because we've had money all
our lives"

I suppressed the cynicism in me to keep from telling her
that that was probably the reason. The more one has, the
more one wants. It's called avarice.

"Sometimes," she continued, "I think they resented Justin
because he didn't care about the money. I know Father was
always puzzled about him. With the rest of us, Father used
money to force us to do what he wanted, but he couldn't do
that with Justin" She paused, and a sad smile played over
her lips. "Poor Father. He never could figure out why Justin
never touched any of the funds in the bank account Father
set up for him"

Right then, I wished I had known Justin better. A young
man's convictions have to be mighty firm to ignore a $25,000
bank account lying there waiting to be tapped. And then I
realized that perhaps Justin was a little smarter than the others and was aware that while gold will get you through
many gates, it won't get you through heaven's.

"Do you have any proof that either Vanessa or Frank was
responsible?"

"No," she replied softly. She hesitated. "Except that I
saw Vanessa talking to some man. I don't know what about,
but he didn't look like the kind of individual that we associate with in our group-" She caught herself. Her face
turned crimson. "I'm sorry, Tony. I'm being snobbish, and
I don't mean to be"

I slurped my beer and deliberately drew the back of my
hand across my lips. "Forget it, Tricia. I feel the same way
about you rich people. Present company excepted, I don't
like being around 'em. So maybe in my own way, I'm a
snob"

She laughed. "But, you know, there is a big difference in
a rich snob and a poor snob, present company excepted"

Then we both laughed.

I liked her, truly liked the woman. "So, what do you want
from me?"

Her dark eyes studied me for several moments. She
chewed on her bottom lip as she tried to make up her mind.
Finally she spoke, her voice soft but firm. "I want you to
find the truth"

"What about Frank and Vanessa?"

"Don't worry. I'll tell them. I won't say I suspect them,
but I will inform them I've hired you and paid you with my
money to return to Elysian Hills and take care of any of
Justin's unfinished business"

"Unfinished business, huh? Why up there, if you suspect your brother or sister? Besides, I can't investigate a murder.
My boss would lose his license."

She arched a devious eyebrow. "I'll know you'll have work
to do here-on them-but he died up there. Someone might
know something. Besides, his belongings are still up there"
She paused, and a sly smile played over her lips. "I'm no detective, but it seems to me, this winding up the unfinished
business gives you an excuse to.. "She hesitated, searching
for the right word.

Although I figured she was stretching it by suggesting
some sort of covert involvement in Elysian Hills, I grinned
at her audacity. "Snoop," I suggested.

Tricia grinned.

I grinned back at her. "You surprise me"

A frown erased her crooked smile. "Oh?"

"Yeah. You're devious."

"I guess that comes from being rich."

I considered her offer. I'd liked Justin, and if someone
had murdered him, I wanted to know. A little judicious
snooping wouldn't hurt anything while I was in the process
of "winding up his business." "You'll need to come by the
office"

She smiled. "No problem."

I glanced over her shoulder at the crowd filling the restaurant. I had mentioned nothing of Bulldog Face, but now the
time was right. "You saw the man Vanessa was talking to,
right?"

"Yes"

Pushing back from the table, I said, "Come with me"

She frowned. "What?"

"Come on. I want to show you something."

She rose to follow but protested when I headed for the
kitchen. "Just do as I say. Now, come on"

The kitchen staff ignored us. I rubbed the steam from
a small window and peered through it. I spotted Bulldog
Face seated in a booth by himself. "Look over there at the
booths along the wall. That ugly one, sitting by himself-is
he the one you saw?"

She stood on tiptoe and gasped. "Why, yes. That's him."
She looked around at me in surprise. "How-How-"

Taking her arm, I led her back to the table. "Wait here. I'll
be back in a few minutes, and then I'll tell you all about it."

Slipping out the back, I dug out the thirty-foot length of
tow chain I carry in the toolbox in the back of my Silverado.
Fumbling through the box, I found my supply of locks.

What I had in mind I'd seen in a movie years earlier, and
I had always wanted to give it a try. Now was the perfect
time. I felt like a mischievous teenager as I snaked through
the parking lot to the black Ford on the last aisle. It took
only a minute to loop the chain around its axles and lock
the other end around a tall pine.

Before I left, I made a mental note of the license number.

I guessed Vanessa didn't want any surprises. That's why
she'd put a tail on her own sister. But this would let the Bride
of Frankenstein know that her little secret was out.

Tricia looked up hopefully when I returned. I held out my
hand. "Let's go. I want to get you out of here." I dropped
twenty bucks by the half-full pitcher of draft beer and, taking her by the hand, eased her from her chair.

"Now what?"

Glancing over my shoulder, I replied, "Obviously that
joker is the tail your sister hired. He waited out there until you parked, then followed you in" I glanced at the front
door. "Now, here's what you do. Get your keys and walk directly to your car. Get in, start it up, and get out of here.
He'll follow"

"But what if he stops me?"

"He won't. And, trust me, he won't follow you more than
a few feet"

I could see the apprehension in her face. I patted her
hand. "I know what I'm doing. Now, go. And if your sister
should mention anything about tonight, play dumb"

A crooked grin played over her lips. "That won't be hard.
I've got no idea what's going on"

Hurrying out the rear and around to the back lane, I
watched as Tricia started her car. Seconds after the lights
flashed on, the restaurant door burst open, and Bulldog Face
came running across the lot.

By now, Tricia had exited the parking area and was pulling
onto the highway below.

The Ford's engine roared to life, and the car shot forward.
In a shrill shriek of ripping metal, the howling automobile
jerked to a sudden halt, and its rear end shot up into the air
and then crashed to the gravel, raising a cloud of dust.

I grinned and muttered. "Thanks, American Graffiti!"

uring the drive back to my apartment on Payton-Gin
Road, I went back over what little information I had. First,
Vanessa Chester had hired Bulldog Face to tail her sister.
Why? Obviously, to see what she was up to.

No question she had hired him to find Justin, but why,
after she insisted she would spend none of her money on
the effort to locate her brother?

I had spotted him in San Antonio three times. He had to
have been tailing me. Someone had entered my room. Could
he be the one? But if so, he'd learned nothing. From what
Bones had said, Bulldog Face never found the Grasshoppers,
so he couldn't have discovered Elysian Hills.

So, if he were responsible for Justin's death, the only way
he could have learned of the small community was from
Vanessa, and only after Justin returned to Austin, which made
her a conspirator.

Motive? Plenty of that. Hey, ten million is motive enough to check out just about anyone, except perhaps the Pope.
And then-well, I won't say any more.

That night, I dreamed about Justin and the spaceship. I
saw him crumpling the piece of aircraft skin, and then, as if
by magic, it unfolded itself.

That's when A.B. jumped onto the bed and awakened me.

As long as I can remember, I've had pets around. As I
grew older, they became more of a chore, but I was forced
to keep them. Have you ever tried to find a home for a cat?
What about a brain-damaged Albino Barb exotic fish?

I've had them all, and now it was A.B. He had it made.
And the little guy couldn't argue that. All had been right
with his world ever since that day I plucked him from the
grasp of two swamp Neanderthals who were planning on
running a 12/0 shark hook through him for alligator bait.
That's how he came up with that moniker, A.B.

Down at the office the next day, I briefed Marty on the
situation. When Tricia arrived, I reminded her that she was
not hiring us to investigate Justin's death but to gather his
belongings and talk to his friends, both in Austin and Elysian
Hills.

She glanced warily at Marty.

I winked at her. "I told him everything"

She seemed to relax. "Good. I told the sheriff up there
we were sending someone to gather Justin's possessions
and talk to the people he worked with. He's expecting you"

Once again I took care to explain that since the body had
been cremated, we could not prove Justin had not been
drinking. The justice of the peace's report would stand.

"I understand, but-" She paused and glanced at Marty.
"As I told Tony, I want to know, if for nothing else, for my
own peace of mind. If my brother or sister is involved,
then .. " Her voice trailed off.

Marty shrugged. "We'll do you a good job, Miss Chester.
Don't you worry."

After she left, I turned to Marty. "Must be a good feeling
not to worry. Looks like I'm the only one worrying here"

Marty slapped me on the shoulder. "Stop it then, Tony.
Look into the brother and sister here. Then get up there and
pick up his junk. Talk to the people in town, then come on
back and write up the report, and we bill her. Simple. Hey,
the guy got drunk and killed himself. That's all there is to it."

I wondered how it felt to be so omniscient. "All right"

I didn't mention it to Tricia, for I could see no sense in
upsetting her any further, but in any murder investigation,
the first suspects are always family. I not only wanted to
check out Frank and Vanessa, as she wanted, too, but also
Tricia herself before returning to Elysian Hills, where I
didn't expect to learn anything. In fact, I didn't plan on being there more than a few hours.

My first job, however, was to run a check on the license
number of the goon tailing Tricia. It belonged to Lone Star
Security, another PI office in Austin.

After that, it was a simple matter of going to Lone Star's
Web site and pulling up its employees, but my man wasn't
among them.

I gave Lone Star a call. Five minutes later I hung up and
leaned back in my chair. The Ford had been stolen. That
put the entire matter in a different light.

On impulse, I dialed Danny O'Banion. Austin's rumored caporegime. Danny and I go way back to high school, where
we got into a few jams together. He dropped out in the
eleventh grade, and we lost touch. Next time I ran into him
was at the annual UT-Oklahoma brawl in Dallas. We sipped
from his silver flask, laughed a little, lied a lot, and then went
our separate ways.

I endeared myself to his people when I saved them a
bundle of cash-a big bundle. On two or three occasions
over the last few years, he'd sent his soldiers to bail me out
of untenable situations in which I had idiotically placed
myself. Whenever I needed information about his side of
the street, he had proven invaluable.

This time was no different.

After I described my man, Danny grunted. "The only
one that ugly is Lester Taggart. They call him Bulldog.
He's a freelance muscleman. For the right money, he'll do
a hit, nice and clean" He paused. When he continued, there
was a hint of concern in his voice. "Be careful around
him, Tony. The guy's bananas. No telling what he'll do" He
paused and added, "One thing about him, though-the guy
is as loyal as a pet dog. He takes a job, he finishes it. That's
why he's in demand"