Beads of Doubt (14 page)

Beth said, “Lauren, whatever you do, don’t drink the stuff that Kitzi’s getting. It’s not really wine; it’s just some kind of soft drink that, I swear, she makes with Kool-Aid and fizzy water.”

“I do not.” I poured myself a glass and brought the bottle to the table where Beth was sitting. She had a fluffy white towel spread out in front of her, as well as an open bead box and two pairs of pliers. She’d already made a dozen phone dangles and a couple of pairs of earrings. “This wine is made from muscadine grapes,” I said. “Which happen to be delicious and a little sweet. May I join you or is this place taken?”

Beth made a sweeping gesture to indicate the room with all its empty tables. “I think we can squeeze you in.”

The volunteers had cleaned the floors, reset the tables, and even spritzed the plants. The room was lovely and waiting for the guests who would be arriving tomorrow morning.

I had to stop and think what the next day was. Saturday. We’d have our biggest crowds and the tea began at 9 a.m.

“Lauren,” I said, “come join us.”

Beth held up a dangling earring with a turquoise chip, a thin liquid silver tube bead, and a larger piece of turquoise. “I sold four pairs like this today. I thought I’d make a few more. What do you think?”

“Very pretty. Could you make me something similar with blue crystals? Or aquamarine?”

“Sure. The price would be higher, but it’s for a good cause.”

I smiled and Beth went back to her beading, while Lauren sipped her wine. I kept turning to check the door. I had to get a promise from Granger that Houston would be home within the hour. I was willing to resort to bribery, coercion, and even violence if necessary, but I was not about to let the police do anything else that would put more stress on Rebecca.

“Lauren,” I said, abandoning my vigil, “Beth told me earlier that you wanted to talk to me. Did you have some information about Andrew?”

She put down her glass. “I almost forgot. Let me get my purse.” She dashed out of the room.

Beth took the opportunity to say, “Rebecca didn’t sound good on the phone. Is she okay?”

“No, she’s frazzled, and it doesn’t help that Aunt Miranda keeps calling her. We’ve got to get this handled, and I think I’m going to need your help.”

“Of course—”

Lauren was back; she tossed a cell phone and a hot pink sticky note on the table before she sat down. “Remember that appointment we found on Andrew’s Outlook?”

“Right. The hem company. Something like that.”

“What’s this?” Beth asked.

Lauren explained about his twice weekly appointments with TX H’em, then added, “That wasn’t the first time I’d seen that notation. In fact, it’s there almost every week, Saturdays and Wednesdays. I went back through the whole year, and eventually I found a phone number that went with the appointment.” She handed over the sticky note. “This is the number.” She looked proud of herself.

“Have you called it?” Beth asked, looking up from her work.

Lauren’s demeanor and expression went from expecting praise to insecure. “I thought about it, but if I called, I don’t know what I’d say.”

“Oh, you’d think of something,” I said.

Beth said, “Then let Kitzi do it. She was in politics, you know.”

“Like that makes me some kind of liar.” I picked up the phone and dialed the number. The answer was a simple hello; the voice was a woman’s. “Oh, hello,” I said, not quite sure where I was heading with this. “I’m calling for Andrew Lynch.”

“Is he going to be at the tournament? Or is he canceling again?”

“Actually, there’s a problem,” I said. I really wished I knew what we were talking about. “He won’t be able to be there.”

“I’m short two players as it is.” She sounded thoroughly disgusted. “You wouldn’t want to fill in for him?”

I looked at Beth and Lauren, then said to the voice on the phone, “Sure. I’d love to take his place.” Beth’s mouth dropped open, and I went on. “You’ll have to give me directions. And the rules. Any special rules?”

“No special rules, just simple no-limit Texas hold ’em. Entry fee is eighty dollars, cash at the door.”

“Okay,” I said. At least I knew what I’d be doing, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

“You have anyone else you could bring?”

“Well . . .” I looked at Beth and Lauren. Surely one of them could play. “I do.”

“Let me get your name first. Go ahead.”

I hadn’t counted on that. “It’s Katherine Zoe—Zoelnik. Katherine Zoelnik. And my friend is Luby Muscadine.”

“Luby? Is that a man or a woman? We don’t usually have a lot of women. Spell it.”

“Lupe. L-U-P-E. Sorry, I must have mumbled. Let me get a pen and write down the address.”

In less than three minutes I was off the phone, and grinning.

“Well?” Beth demanded. “What kind of a tournament? If it’s golf you are in big trouble because your golf is terrible. Your tennis is worse.”

“Luckily this isn’t tennis or golf. This is poker.
H’em
was apparently Andrew’s shorthand for
hold ’em
.”

“Do you play poker?” Lauren asked.

Beth smiled. “Oh, she plays.”

“Except it’s no-limit hold ’em, and I need to brush up on that one. I don’t necessarily have to win the tournament, but it would be nice not to embarrass myself.”

“If you’re going as Katherine Zoelnik, why does it matter?” Beth asked.

“Personal pride,” I said. “Luckily, I know who can give me a little practice before tomorrow night.” I dialed my daughter Katie’s number, and when she answered I asked how she was doing.

“Oh, we’re fine,” she said. “How is the tea going? I was planning on coming over tomorrow. You aren’t letting Grandmother exhaust herself are you?”

“No, Katie, I’m not. She took a nap this afternoon, and she’s already home tonight.”

“Good. I worry about her. She’s not young, you know.” Katie believes that she is the keeper of the family well-being because I don’t pay enough attention to it. I don’t know who she thinks raised her. I’ve told her repeatedly that she didn’t get her manners from a pack of wolves.

“Can you get me a couple of extra tickets?” she asked. “I only have two, and as it turns out Mark has to work so I’m going to have all the kids.”

She was playing right into my hands. “That won’t be a problem,” I said. “You and Gabrielle can have tea. I’m sure you’ll meet lots of your friends.” The upwardly mobile mommies had packed the place this morning, and Katie probably knew half of them. “I’ll keep Shelby and Cliffie. In fact, why don’t you just drop them off at the gatehouse, and you can shop before you have tea?”

“Are you sure? It would be about nine thirty. They can be a handful.”

“They just need something to keep their minds occupied—it won’t be a problem.”

Despite the fact that they were not quite six, Cliffie is one of the sharpest little poker players around, and Shelby is not only good, she’s ruthless. She’d take her grandmother for her last dollar. Come to think of it, she has.

“That will be wonderful, then,” Katie said. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, dear. I love you,” I added, but she’d already hung up.

Lauren was frowning. “Your daughter is going to practice poker with you?”

“No, no. She’s useless at poker, although at Scrabble she can whip almost anyone. My grandkids are the poker players.”

Beth said, “I don’t see how you can learn techniques from them that will help against real players. They’re only five.”

“Almost six,” I said.

Lauren said, “And they play Texas hold ’em?”

“Yes, but their mother doesn’t like them gambling, so when Katie gets here, don’t mention it, okay?”

“But wait,” Beth said. “If you’re the Katherine Zoelnik who’ll be playing tomorrow, who is Lupe Muscadine?”

“That would be you, unless we can make Shelby look twenty-one.”

“No, we can’t. And I don’t know if I’m willing to go with you. I’m not very good at Texas hold ’em.”

“Fine. Send me off to some illegal gambling den by myself.” I drank more wine. “I wouldn’t let you go alone.”

“Really?” Beth said. “You know, I don’t remember that you were this good with the guilt when your kids were small.”

“I wasn’t, which is why Katie has this perfection complex. I’ll have to work on it.”

Beth finished another pair of earrings and set aside the round nose pliers. “Before I make any decisions, I need you to explain all of this to me. Andrew played poker and now you’re taking his place at some tournament. I don’t understand. Why?”

“Because it’s all we have. He didn’t date. He didn’t have friends that we know of. He just had work and poker. I’m hoping to find out if someone there could have killed him.”

“Really?”

Except that poker didn’t seem a likely reason for murder. This isn’t the old west, and official tournaments have a director who closely watches all the action. I’m not exactly a poker expert, but I’ve watched it on TV and I’ve never seen anything that would lead to a killing.

The only other thing we knew about Andrew was that he made investments. Those don’t have to be so precise. When I was going to UCLA for two years, before I came back to Texas, I worked part-time in a brokerage house. Twice we’d had irate clients come in the door shouting about how some broker had given them bad advice and lost them money. One of the men had found himself at practically zero in his account after pouring funds into the commodities market, which is volatile to begin with. He brought a gun and actually shot his broker, although it was just in the arm. The client went to jail for six months, and the broker got more sympathy than I thought he deserved. He’d been giving bad advice, and he’d made money whether his client lost or won. That’s not the way I think it should work, but then shooting people doesn’t work, either.

Houston and Andrew weren’t handling stocks and bonds, which kept them from being as closely regulated as the securities industry. I had no idea what investments Andrew was so proud of, or if he was really good at making money for people like he claimed. I did know that Houston had put together some limited partnerships to purchase commercial buildings, acreage, and even two private jets. Some investments had been successful, and others hadn’t been, according to my brother.

“You’re sighing again,” Beth said to me.

“There’s something else we have to do,” I said. “We have to find out about Andrew’s business. What he bought, what he sold, and if he made a profit.” I changed my mind. “Actually, it doesn’t matter if he made a profit—it’s whether his clients did.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Beth asked.

“I’m thinking about it.”

Lauren sat up a little straighter. “There might be a way. I don’t want to get in trouble . . .”

“With Kitzi?” Beth said. “Never happen.”

Lauren wasn’t sure whether Beth was kidding, but she went on with only a little hesitation in her voice. “Our computers are linked. Andrew’s and mine. I can operate his remotely. I don’t know if I can get into the files you want, but I could try. I have my laptop upstairs.”

I could feel myself smiling. “Lauren, you are a genius. No rush to get it done—whenever you have a minute.”

I heard the office door open, and I stood up. “Be right back.” Nate wasn’t around, and I caught Sergeant Granger just as he was picking up his notebook. “I need five minutes of your time,” I said. “Maybe less.”

He sat back down. “Certainly. This sounds important.”

“It is.” I took a place on the loveseat and began. “I know you said that Houston Webber was at the police department voluntarily, but however he got there, he needs to leave. Now. Right now. I don’t care what he’s telling you, or what else you need to know, but he’s got to be with his wife.”

“I’m really not the one—”

“Doesn’t matter, because you can make it happen.” I slowed down and remembered to ask nicely. I’d use a bludgeon later if this didn’t work. “His wife has cancer and just finished chemotherapy. She’s alone, ill, and stressed to the limit. If you don’t want another death on your plate, you need to get him home.”

Beth walked in the door in time to hear the last of what I’d said. Granger looked at both of us, and thought about it.

“Look,” I said. “I know why you’re keeping him there. You think he has a solid motive to kill Andrew, but nothing is as important to him as his wife. He wouldn’t risk leaving her.”

Granger said, “You don’t know anything about his motive—”

“Yes, actually, I do. Andrew was starting his own company and taking some of Houston’s clients.” I wasn’t positive, but I hit the mark.

Granger’s face turned red. “How do you know that?”

“Andrew told me last night.”

“And you didn’t bother to pass it along when I asked who might be angry with Lynch?”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.” I gestured toward the phone on the desk. “One of us needs to make a phone call. Either you need to call the station, or I’ve got to call lawyers. As Beth will tell you, I don’t care for lawyers.”

Beth said, “Please, Dwayne. This is important.”

His heart was warring with his testicles. I never trust that a man in that position will do the right thing.

A cell phone rang in the distance and I jumped up. “We’ll be right back,” I said, taking Beth out the door with me. Once we were down the hall I said, “Maybe he’ll come to the right decision if we don’t sit there and pressure him.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“We’ll get Cliffie and Shelby to mug him.”

We followed the ring of the cell phone to the dining-room table, where Beth’s purse was on a chair. She spent a minute digging for the phone and finally pulled it out. “Hello? Who?” She listened. “I can’t hear . . . hello? Hello?”

“Who was it?” I asked.

She punched a button to hang up the phone and turned to me. “I think it was Ron, but who cares? I need another glass of wine while I put my beads away.”