I spoke briskly. “What I want us to do is look through sales contracts and signatures to see if we can identify cars bought by this Raymond and a pattern to the sales. If we can get even a last name and an address, I think we ought to call Isaac.”
She stood up, reluctant but game. “Let’s get cracking.”
We closed the door between the front office and the back hall, so nobody looking into the building would know we were there, but I begged, “Can we leave Skell’s door half open? I never can work in a space without windows without feeling I’m underwater in a sub that’s about to spring a leak.” We left it open just a crack, and got to work.
Laura was faster than I. She knew the forms and what to look for. By the time we’d covered the past three months, she had seven sales forms laid to one side. I had two. The last names weren’t the same, and sometimes the name was Raymond, sometimes Ramón, and once Richard, but the scrawl on the bottom was written by the same hand.
She looked at me with frightened eyes. “This is bigger than I imagined. I thought maybe once or twice. But this—” She waved her big hand over the desk. “Every car came up from Miami, every one was expensive, every one was paid for in full with cash. I didn’t know Skell was taking in that much cash—he did his own books; that was part of what Daddy wanted. But this could close us down.”
I mustered a lot more cheerfulness than I felt. “Not necessarily, if you didn’t know anything about it.”
“But Skell—Skell . . .” She couldn’t say it. She pressed her lips together and looked away. “How could he?” she demanded. “Daddy worked his whole life to build up this business. How could he jeopardize it like that? It’s not like he was short of money—we pay him well.”
“Porsche money? Enough to fix up his office like this?”
She shook her head. “We both inherited money from our grandparents, in a trust fund. We got the accumulated interest on it when we turned twenty-one, and control when we turned twenty-five. Skell used his interest for the Porsche and office furniture.” Her mouth twisted in a sad grin. “He wanted to look prosperous.” She’d always understood Skell better than the rest of us.
“What did you buy with yours?” I couldn’t remember a thing she’d ever bought except a few clothes. She didn’t even go anywhere except business trips and family vacations.
She smiled, but her eyes were wistful. “I was saving to buy Daddy out. I thought if I could get together enough for a down payment, he’d know I was serious.” She sat up again and her eyes were now worried. “If Skell goes to jail, won’t they confiscate the business?”
I heaved a heavy sigh. “I have no idea, honey. It would depend on how involved the business is in criminal activities. I think it would just be Sky’s the Limit, in any case.”
“This is going to kill Mama. It will be the absolute last—”
“What are you doing here?”
Jimmy Bratson must have come in with deliberate stealth. Neither of us had heard a sound until he spoke from the open office door. He looked from me to Laura and back again, a tic jumping in one cheek. When he saw the sales records, his eyes narrowed.
“Hey, Jimmy.” Laura swept the records into a pile, covering the ones she’d separated, and her voice was normal and friendly. “I needed some sales figures and asked Judge Yarbrough here to come down with me so I wouldn’t be alone.”
“What figures did you need? I’d have gotten them for you.”
“I know, but I wanted them this evening. With everything I have to do since Daddy died and Skell left town, I’m having to work evenings for a while. I knew you’d worked a lot of overtime already this past week, so I didn’t like to bother you.”
She was as cool and calm as a June magnolia. I was so proud of her I wanted to burst.
It was time to contribute my bit. “Are we done, honey? I told Joe Riddley I’d be back by—” I checked my watch and didn’t have to fake my alarm. “Heavens, we’ve been here longer than I thought.” I reached for my pocketbook.
“Who is it?”
That was another voice, deep and rough. Jimmy Bratson stepped into the office so the other man could fill the door—and fill it he did. He was big in every sense—a big head with thick dark brown hair, big shoulders, and legs like tree trunks, encased in a brown suit classier than we generally saw around Hopemore. The gold buckle to his belt was almost hidden by a paunch that indicated he’d enjoyed more big meals than were good for him in what I guessed to be about forty years of living. As he held open the door, I saw the gleam of a watch that looked a lot like Skye’s Rolex. As his eyes moved from Laura to me, it took all the willpower I possessed not to shudder. Those bulbous brown eyes were the deadest I’d ever seen. If there was still a soul behind them, God alone could see it.
Laura stood and held out her hand. “I’m Laura MacDonald, one of the owners. And you are—?”
The other man looked at her without saying a word. Jimmy answered quickly. “A customer. I told him I’d meet him here when he got off work.” He gave a little laugh. “Anything for a sale these days, you know.”
Laura gave the big man her wide, friendly smile. “You’re in good hands. I hope you find the car you want. And if you decide you’d rather have a new car, come on up to MacDonald Motors. We’ll see to it that Jimmy doesn’t lose his commission. Good night.” She’d been gathering the records into a pile and stuffing them into her briefcase. Now she turned off Skell’s desk lamp, so that the only light came from the hall behind the big man. Still smiling, she started toward the door as if it were the most normal thing in the world to leave these two thugs in her brother’s office. But I’d seen that smile on Laura’s face before. It was the smile she wore when she planned to lead her team to slaughter their opponents.
“Lady, we’re going to need to see what you’ve got in that bag.” The big man hadn’t moved from the door. Now he put out his hand like a father asking for a smutty magazine.
“Sorry, these are confidential files.” Laura continued walking toward the door. “If you all will excuse us—” Jimmy Bratson shifted nearer to me, and I felt trapped in a very small space with too many people. My corner didn’t hold as much air as I was going to need in the next few minutes. I reached for my pocketbook, wondering if we could bluff our way out of this. That man in the doorway was the most unpleasant customer I’d seen in a long time.
“Give me the briefcase.” He reached out a hand the size of a salad plate to take it. Laura swung it behind her, turned like a discus thrower, and delivered a knee to his groin.
“Pocketbook!” she shouted. As he doubled over in pain, she threw her shoulder at him. Off balance, he toppled. I heard him crash to the floor, but I didn’t stop to look. I was busy.
I swung my pocketbook hard. It hit Jimmy Bratson’s most vulnerable parts with a most satisfying
thwack.
Jimmy fell to the floor, yelping and clutching himself. I circled him and hared after Laura faster than I knew I could run.
20
We dashed out the front door into the glare of the parking lot halogen lights—straight into Isaac James, who had his arms raised and his gun drawn. He jerked us away from the glass door and thrust us roughly aside. “What you doin’ in there?”
I was panting too hard to talk. Laura caught her breath and explained.
“There’s two men in Skell’s office writhing on the floor, wishing they’d been born female. I got one with my knee and Mac took out the other with her pocketbook. We think those lowlifes have been using this place to pass drugs.”
I noticed she didn’t mention her brother.
Ike put a heavy hand on my shoulder and another at Laura’s shoulder. “That’s why we’re here.” He shoved, not real gently. “Go. We can talk later.”
I looked around and saw several officers peering from behind cars.
“There’s a back door,” I warned as Ike hustled us toward our cars.
“We got it covered,” he promised. “You all go home.”
When Isaac growled in that tone of voice, people obeyed.
Laura and I headed for our respective vehicles. She looked as pale and wrung-out as a bleached dishrag. My knees were so wobbly, I could hardly walk. “Honey, we both need a stiff drink after all that,” I told her. “Come out to our place for a cup of coffee.”
She hesitated. “I’d like to go see if Skell’s home. Come to our place, instead.”
“Just for a few minutes.”
On the way, I pulled over and tried to call Joe Riddley, but he wasn’t there. No point in leaving a message—he never checked the answering machine.
When I parked in front of the MacDonalds’ big garage, Laura came to meet me. “Skell’s car’s not here, and Mama and Tansy are in the den—probably watching TV. I don’t know about you, but I’m too shaky to go in there. Come up to my place. Okay?”
I agreed. We didn’t want Gwen Ellen asking what had us as white and trembling as dogwoods in a gale. Besides, I was curious about Laura’s apartment. You can tell a lot about a woman from how she fixes up her home.
While we climbed the stairs, I heard the boom of a deep-voiced clock chiming nine. Laura looked back with a worried frown. “I still think I ought to be over at the used-car lot. I don’t like not being around when something’s going on.”
“Ike will call you if he needs to,” I reassured her. “He knows where to find you.”
She gave a short, not-funny laugh. “He sure does. After I blurted out to Chief Muggins yesterday that Skell was coming home today, every police car in town’s been watching us. They’ve had a cruiser at the end of our drive all day, another outside the dealership, and one over at Skell’s place. Nobody’s here just now, but when they’re done down at the car lot, they’ll be back.” She unlocked her door and held it wide. “I wish I’d invited you up here before. This isn’t the happiest of times, but welcome.”
I stepped in to the scents of lemon polish and potpourri, and spoke without remembering to be tactful. “Why, honey, this is lovely.” I dropped my pocketbook on the nearest chair and stood there staring and smelling like a kid at the circus.
She wore a smile as she turned on lamps. “Did you think I’d just thrown together a place to sleep in?”
That was exactly what I had thought, but Mama used to say there are times in a woman’s life when the truth just won’t do. “Of course not,” I said with all the indignation I could muster. “But some folks don’t fix up a place if they are mostly there to sleep.” Her brother’s stinking, cluttered apartment came to mind. “This is wonderful.”
She’d painted the walls taupe and the woodwork white, and put in oak floors that were bare except for two striking Oriental rugs in a pattern of greens and blues. Valances in the MacDonald green-and-navy tartan hung over oak miniblinds at the two windows in the front wall, and oak bookshelves lined the back wall. Her grandmother Skellton’s grandfather clock sat in one corner. That’s what I’d heard coming up the stairs. Three big square chairs—one green, one blue, and one in the MacDonald tartan—sat diagonally in the corners of one rug, and each had an ottoman in front of it and a small table beside it with a good light for reading and a place to set a mug. “You make me want to sit down and read for hours.”
“I do,” she admitted, setting her briefcase on a small bench by the door. “When I walk through that door, I drop my work right here and forget all about it.” She moved with her long, graceful gait to the other side of the long room, where a round oak table with four chairs sat on the companion rug and a compact kitchen lurked behind louvered doors. “Coffee or tea?” She pulled down thick white mugs.
“Coffee—leaded. After what we’ve been through, I need all the lead I can get.”
“Would you like to wash your hands while it brews?”
“I feel like a shower after meeting those two charmers, but I’ll settle for a good wash.”
She led me into a small bedroom with pale green walls, white muslin curtains, bare floors except for two small rugs beside the bed, and a tailored spread of—what else?—the clan tartan.
I looked around admiringly. “This is real restful. You’ve created a beautiful home.”
“Thanks.” Her cheeks grew so pink with pleasure, I figured she hadn’t gotten many chances to show it off. “Bathroom’s through that door in the corner.”
The bathroom was as simple as the bedroom, but it smelled like Irish Spring soap and was full of thick towels and one real good pencil drawing that not only soothed my spirits, but made me want to go home and do something to spruce up my own bathroom a bit.
I was just stepping back into the main room to the tempting smell of fresh coffee when we heard feet on the stairs and a soft tattoo on the door. It opened a crack. “You here, Sissy? You got Marvin?”
Skell peered around the door. He wore white jeans with a sharp crease and a freshly ironed shirt. He also had that pink look of a man who has just stepped out of the shower. His dark curls were still damp.
His face brightened as he saw Laura. “Hey, you cut your hair! It looks great. And Mac. Hey! How’re you doin’?”
Laura and I both knew Skell was being charming to disarm. She flew across the room, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him furiously. “Where the dickens have you been? You—”
“Don’t loosen his fillings,” I chided, hurrying over to give Skell a hug. “We’ve been missing you, boy.” I almost reached up to push back a curl that fell over his forehead before I recalled that he was grown now, not the little boy who used to come stay with us for long weekends.
“Yeah, we missed you all right.” It distressed me to see how much Laura’s frown mirrored Skye’s when he was displeased with his son. “You sure picked the wrong time to skip town, Bro.”
I reached for my pocketbook. “I’ll go. You all have got a lot of talking to do.”
“Don’t leave.” She caught my arm. “Stay and keep me from killing him.”
He looked from one of us to the other, puzzled. “Hey, I’ll pay back the money. Is Daddy furious? I’m going to see him in a minute, but I thought I’d better come up here first to test the waters.”