Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 04 - Saddle Up (18 page)

“Thanks, but what about your autograph?”

Tom turned the buckle over and it was engraved with his signature.

She jumped up and ran away, carrying the buckle close to her chest like it was worth a million dollars. Maybe it was?

“That was nice of you,” I told him.

“It looked like it means more to her than it ever did to me. I just started bull riding because Pam wanted to be a Rodeo Queen.”

“And then your competitive nature kicked in and you did it until you became the best. I’m surprised that you did it for two years.”

Tom smiled. “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “How much money does a World Champion bull rider get?”

“I pulled in close to two million the first year and three the next, mostly from endorsements.”

I started coughing.

“Didn’t know I was a rich guy, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Of course, Pam got half of it.”

“Community property?”

“Yep, but I had enough left to buy my property, have a house custom built and put some away.

“I had to live with my parents for three years and save every dime, just to put the down payment on my townhouse.”

“I guess you should have learned to ride a bull,” Tom suggested, then laughed and pulled me close. “I’ll give it all to you if you’ll tell me what decisions you were talking about earlier. I’m dying of curiosity.”

“No, I want a nice romantic dinner with candles and some chocolate melting cake. Then I’ll spring it on you.”

“Okay, now I’m scared.” He frowned.

“Why?”

“The last time you had chocolate melting cake people kept getting killed around us.”

“Oh that reminds me, I forgot to tell you a few things.”

While a truck came into the arena to set up barrels for the Barrel Racing event, I told Tom about Ray Jenkins’ death, seeing my dad at the parade, the FBI agents crawling all over town and what Justin had found out about Blue Stripe Enterprises.

The Barrel Racing was not as exciting as the bronc riding or team calf roping, but it was fun to watch and I found myself cheering the horse and its rider to move faster. Tom laughed at me when I leaned my body back and forth along with the horse. Bull riding was next and I didn’t even need the program because Tom would be able to explain it all to me.

The first rider was Henry Trexler from Texas. He was a very short stocky man. He wore a helmet and several pads on his knees and elbows. After listening to Tom’s injuries it seemed like a very good idea. He got on the bull inside the chute and the bull, named Thunderdome, thrashed up and around already trying to dislodge him.

When the gate to the chute opened, I held my breath. It was scary to think that Tom used to do this as I watched the bull kick, spin, and buck. When I glanced over at Tom his eyes were intent on the rider and I did see a forgotten longing in them. I guess you never get over something that was an exciting or important part of your life.

My heart beat faster as the clock seconds spun downward. At exactly two seconds, the bull wrenched his head to the right and threw the rest of his body to the left. Henry flew over the bull’s massive horns and landed just two feet in front of the angry bull who lowered his head and headed straight for the rider. I held my breath afraid that he would be gouged by the horns or trampled by the bull’s huge hooves. But the clown and several other men dressed in brightly colored pants ran over and distracted the bull, so the rider could get up and limp from the arena. It was very exciting to watch the men open the gate and have the bull charge out trying desperately to buck the rider off.

The next rider did better, lasting the entire eight seconds and then getting a score of 78.

“That’s all? Only 78?” I asked Tom.

“The cowboy did everything right. He definitely showed constant control and good body position throughout the entire ride. His score was probably in the forties. Did you see how he was spurring the bull?

“Spurring the bull?”

“Yeah, it’s when the rider touches the bull’s back flanks with his feet.”

“So it was the bull’s fault the score was so low?” I asked.

Tom nodded. “The bull was kind of sluggish coming out of the shoot, didn’t change directions very much and certainly never did any body rolls.”

“Body roll?”

“It’s when the bull is in the air and kicks either his hind feet or all four feet to the side. The more of these a bull displays during a ride, the higher the mark is for the bull. The judges should let him have a re-ride.”

“Re-ride?”

“The bull’s score was so low that it affected the cowboy’s score. If he wants he can ride again on a different bull after everyone else has gone.”

“Will he?”

“It depends on what the other’s score. If he thinks he can beat the top score, he probably will go again.”

Jackson stayed on his eight seconds and got an 86.

“Is that good?” I asked.

“Yes, he might have a high enough score to win.”

“How much do you get at a single event like this?”

“In a little rodeo this size, maybe $2500.”

“Not bad for an eight seconds ride,” I told him.

“It’s to pay for all your medical expenses. During the two years I part
icipated, I broke my right hand
and both wrists, injured my pelvic bone, was gouged by a bull’s horns on my back, stomped on by one, and had three concussions, not to mention the bruises and scratches I received that didn’t require stitches, x-rays or casting.”

After two more riders, the rodeo was over for the day. Everyone was invited to a dance back at the Saddle Club and then the mass of people got up in unison and walked toward the exit. It was organized chaos and I always prefer to let most of the people get out of a place before I even stand.

“Let’s go to the dance,” I told Tom.

Before he could answer one of the agents I saw but hadn’t met from earlier in the day sat next to Tom.

He leaned in and whispered something to Tom who laughed and turned to me.

“Agent Bart Souza wants to ask you a question but he doesn’t want you to ask for a lawyer again.”

“He can ask anything he likes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to answer.”

Tom turned to the agent and said, “Go ahead.”

The agent leaned forward and said, “We know that your dad is already here. The pickets started early this morning at the power plant and the lagoon.”

I didn’t respond.

“Okay, we’ve also heard that there is some discontentment in the group’s ranks. We just want some simple information. We don’t want you to tell us anything that might lead us to your father, but we are afraid something bigger than he can control is going to happen here in Ridgedale.”

“Spit out the exact problem, Agent Souza,” Tom said.

“There’s a core group of ten that have always been together and then there are five or six new members that are a bit more radical than the others.”

“How so?” Tom shifted closer to the agent.

“Her dad’s group is always very careful about collateral damage. In fact there are several agents that would applaud what they do, but these new members are only interested in making a big statement. They don’t care who gets hurt.”

“And how am I supposed to help you?” I finally said.

“Talk to your dad.”

“That’s not going to happen with all your agents following me all the time,” I told him.

“I’ll find a way to get them pulled off for tonight.”

“I thought the other agent was in charge. Agent Brown wasn’t it?”

“Peter is, but he’s only focused on your dad. I want to make sure that lives aren’t lost this weekend.”

“If I see my dad, I’ll ask him,” I told him. I wasn’t even sure if my dad was in town and not at one of the two rallies.

“That means that you’ve got to get lost, too, Tom. Her dad won’t come around with you in the picture, either.”

“I just got here. I’m not turning around and going any place.”

“How about this? I tell Agent Brown that you’ve seen her dad and are willing to go around with him to the two rallies and see if you can spot him. It would mean lives would be spared and isn’t that the most important thing?” he pleaded.

Tom looked at me and said, “I just got here. It’s your call. I’d rather have a nice candlelight dinner with you and have chocolate melting cake for dessert than spend even a minute with Agent Brown.”

I looked at the agent and said, “Put your fingers in your ears. I don’t want you to hear this.”

The agent complied immediately. You’ve got to love well trained men.

“What’s up?” Tom asked.

“My dad couldn’t come up yesterday because he was having some problems with the group, so this agent might be telling the truth.”

“Wait, that means that you really were here without either your dad or me yesterday.”

“That’s not the point. I’m fine. I think I’d like to talk to my dad about this. Would you mind spending some time with Agent Brown? I promise you that dinner and dessert later.”

“You and I have some communication issues. You always conveniently forget to tell me some things.”

“Sometimes they’re for the best reasons,” I told him.

Tom frowned and held up his pinky finger. “I want a pact right now. You are not to accidentally on purpose forget to tell me something.”

I started to interrupt but he held up his hand and continued, “even if you think it would be better that I don’t know. I want to be the judge of that.”

“But what if you don’t like it?”

Tom narrowed his eyes at me and said, “What could you do that I wouldn’t like?”

Rather than argue further I linked my pinky with his. “Okay, I pinky swear not to keep anything from you.”

“Fine. I’m going with Agent Brown and you see if you can find your dad. Do you think he’s at the rallies?”

I shrugged, then thought of a horrible scenario. “What are you going to do if you actually see him?”

“My concern is lives, too, so I’m going to conveniently forget what he actually looks like.” He turned to the agent and said, “I want to go back to the boarding house and get my gun.”

“You don’t have it on you now?”

“No, all I have is my little ankle piece. It will do in a pinch but I’d rather have my Glock.”

“We can loan you one of ours, if you think you really need it. I’d like to get you and Agent Brown together and get him and the rest of the team out of town as soon as possible.”

Tom didn’t look happy but he nodded, then turned to me. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll go back to Sheryl Ann’s and give my dad a call.”

“You have a number for him?” the agent asked.

“I thought your fingers were in your ears?” I reminded him.

The agent stood and handed me his card. “If you talk to your dad, ask him to call me.” To Tom he said, “I’ll meet you at the front gate, Tom.”

He left and Tom said, “If you decide to go someplace, other than Sheryl Ann’s, could you call me and let me know?”

“Is this part of our new pact?”

Tom nodded and I shrugged.

“Are you going to get back in time for us to go to the dance?” I asked, shoving the Fed’s card into my back pocket.

“I have no idea.”

“What about dinner? Should I eat at Sheryl Ann’s or wait for you?”

“Better eat when you can. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back to town.”

When most of the people had left the arena, Tom and I made our way toward the exit.

Outside the gate, Tom leaned over and kissed me. “I’ll call you.”

I nodded and Tom left with Agent Souza and I walked back to the big yellow house. The streets were again filled with people, most looking for dinner. The line to the bar was three blocks long and even the café had people standing outside. I was glad that a hot meal waited for me back at Sheryl Ann’s. This weekend was turning out better than I thought. I would see and talk to my dad without the FBI hovering around me and Tom was going to forget if he saw my dad. Now if I could just figure out what was going on in this town and save a family – the weekend would be complete!

CHAPTER 18

When I was in front of the ice cream shop
,
packed with people enjoying their dessert first, my phone rang. It was Justin.

“Hi, Justin.” I sat on a bench in front of the empty antique shop, everyone more interested in feeding their stomachs than buying knick-knacks.

“Hey, Teach. I’ve got some more information for you.”

“Great.”

“Ray Jenkins seems to be a pretty upstanding guy. He used to work for a cattle ranch and took the job at the Lagoon several years ago as a night watchman. Three years later they made him head of security. I checked his credit cards and bank statements and there aren’t any red flags glaring at me. No large withdrawals or deposits, except his paycheck and his wife’s.”

“Then I wonder why he was shot?”

“I don’t know but I did find that the wife, Jenny, has a couple of credit cards in her own name. The statements don’t go to her home address, either, but are delivered to a post office box in the next town.”

“Now that’s interesting. It sounds like she’s up to something that she doesn’t want her husband to know about. What kind of charges are on the card?”

“Mostly hotel rooms, lingerie, and restaurants in Sacramento. Kind of makes it obvious, doesn’t it?” Justin suggested.

“True. Who makes the payments on the card?”

“Not her. It’s paid by a man named Henry Mullins. I did some research on him. He has a home near the town. Have you met him?”

“No, but I know who he is. What else did you find out about him?”

“So far I’ve found three different accounts with slight variations of his name on them. The name Henry Mullins is tied to a property near the town and it’s going into foreclosure procedures. He’s defaulted on his loan since he’s six months behind paying his mortgage. Now the other two, one in the name of Harold Mullins and they other Henry Miller, are setup as real estate brokerage accounts and are loaded. The average balance on one is 1.5 million and the other is 2.3 million.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of money.”

“That’s not the weird part.”

“What is?”

“Deposits and withdrawals are made to and between those accounts every day. Money flies in, out and back and forth like birds in flight.”

“It sounds like an episode I saw on Law and Order. You think he’s laundering money for someone?”

“Maybe. In goes the dirty money from drugs or whatever and then it is transferred to the other account. Out comes clean money that anyone can spend and nobody knows where it came from.”

“If you track a payment in and out, is it the same amount?”

“Nope a small percentage, maybe only .02 % stays in one of the two accounts.”

“That’s his kickback for fixing the money,” I commented.

“Yep. It’s a pretty slick operation. It took me several hours to track one set of funds from its origin to one of the accounts, then it gets renamed and sent to the other, then dispersed as a real estate transaction.”

“Is all the money coming from the same place?”

“I don’t know. The deposits come from all over the country, but there may be a central distribution point but it’s hidden so deep I haven’t been able to find it.”

“You’re making sure that none of this is being traced back to you, right?”

Justin laughed. “Of course, Teach.”

“Did you find out anything about Glen Sanders?”

“Now, there’s a guy with a past.”

“Tell me.”

“First off, he really is a doctor, although he almost got his license pulled ten years ago.”

“Why?”

“He was implicated in his wife’s death. They charged him with assisting in her suicide. She’d been sick with cancer for years and then one day she just died. He was charged and his license pulled, but it was dropped a year later and he went back to practicing medicine.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, he used to be a big gambler. He’s got three credit cards that he’s closed five years ago, but I got into the statements and he’s got charges in Vegas, Atlantic City, and Tahoe. I was able to compare those charges with large sums withdrawn and deposited to his checking account.”

“Did he win more or lose?”

“Everybody loses eventually. That’s why it’s called gambling, Teach. The odds are awful.”

“So what happened five years ago?”

“Someone paid off a huge debt he owed to a club in Vegas and he closed all the accounts.”

“How much?”

“$275,000.”

“Wow,” I exclaimed.

“There’s more. I think something is going on between him and Blue Stripe Enterprises. In the last year, he’s gotten at least a million dollars in purchase orders paid by them for equipment for his clinic. The man’s received five x-ray machines, four machines for processing blood samples, ten examination tables, and ton of supplies.”

“He told me he was setting up several clinics in the area.”

“Okay, that could be it, but why is Blue Stripe Enterprises paying for all of it?” Justin asked.

“I think Priscilla Banner is his girlfriend. She’s rich, so maybe she paid off his debt and is the one behind the clinics.”

“So she’s footing the bill for everything. That doesn’t make good business sense plus she’s only has fifty percent of the business. Her partner has to be approving the purchases, too.”

“That’s the partner that we can’t locate, right?”

“I never thought I’d say this, Teach. But I can’t find the partner.”

“Maybe he doesn’t exist?” I suggested.

Silence.

“Justin?” I said.

“That’s an interesting idea, Teach. Maybe I’ve been going at this all wrong. I’ve got some ideas. I’ll get back to you.”

Justin hung up without saying goodbye. I had no idea what I had suggested. I called and left a message for my dad, telling him I would be “watch free” for the evening and then bought myself a chocolate ice cream cone and wandered back toward Sheryl Ann’s house.

When I got back to the house, the streets were lined with cars and trucks and a Garth Brooks’ song blared from the backyard. What was going on? I opened the front door to a wall of people, holding drinks and gathered in groups.

The little girl from the rodeo, wearing Tom’s belt, came up to me and asked, “Where’s Tom?”

“He had to run an errand.”

The little girl frowned. “I told my dad he’d be here, so that’s the only reason he brought the entire family to Sheryl Ann’s yearly BBQ.”

“Yearly BBQ?”

“Yes, she has one after the Saturday events. Everyone in town comes just to get away from the tourists who take over the town. Can you tell me when he gets here?”

“Sure,” I told her and she ran off toward the living room.

Jody and Shelton were in the corner talking to a couple of girls, so I walked over to the familiar faces. “Congratulations on your rides.”

Shelton punched Jody and said, “He outrode me by just four little points.”

Jody laughed and said, “I just got a better bronc, that’s all.”

The two girls giggled and I left them in search of Sheryl Ann. Maybe she needed some help. I found her in the back yard standing next to
a
side of beef turning on a large spit. Under the spit was a huge hole that held a roaring wood fire.

“You need any help?” I asked.

“Actually, I could use some more barbeque sauce. It’s in the refrigerator in a large plastic container.”

“I’ll get it.”

As I wandered back to the kitchen, I listened in on conversations since no one pays any attention to the help. Most were talking about the rodeo, but a few discussed the new road, the incidents of cancer in the community, and Grace’s choice of
a
boyfriend. I heard that Henry Mullins lost several of his cows due to some kind of illness and might lose his entire ranch to the bank if he didn’t bring his mortgage up to date.

Doc was in the kitchen mixing a large salad. He smiled when I came into the room.

“I see she’s got you working, too,” he said when I opened the refrigerator and took out the sauce.

“I don’t know most of the people here, so it gives me something to do,” I told him. “What’s your excuse?”

He leaned over and said, “I know all of these people’s health and emotional problems and if I stop and talk, everyone wants medical advice.”

“Did you always want to be a doctor?” I asked.

“Since I was five and my dad fell off a ladder and hit his head. He was unconscious and I was scared out of mind. I thought he was dead. What about you, did you always want to be a teacher?”

“My mom was a teacher,” I told him as if it was my reason. “Is your daughter here?”

“No, she’s hanging out with a few friends at the Lagoon. Where’s your fiancé?”

“He’s a cop so he had to do some cop stuff.” I didn’t want to talk about me; I wanted to talk about him. “That was a nice new examination table you got yesterday.”

“It’s a beauty and I’ll be delivering it to a clinic thirty miles north of here on Monday. They’re using rectangular folding tables right now.”

“I noticed Blue Stripe Enterprise’s name on the mailing label. Is that the company that bought the table for the clinic?”

“Yes.” Doc picked up the salad and said, “I’ve got to get this out on the food table.”

I followed him out. He certainly didn’t want to talk about Blue Stripe Enterprises and I’ve learned that when people don’t want to talk about something – something is wrong. I took the sauce to Sheryl Ann.

“What took you so long?” she asked, taking the container and popping the lid.

“I met Doc in the kitchen and we talked for a bit.”

“Doc’s a talker, that’s for sure.” Sheryl Ann dipped a small paintbrush into the sauce and smeared it on the side of beef.

“He told me that he was supposed to escort Priscilla to the luncheon. Are they a couple?”

“Yes, they’ve been dating on and off for five years. Every time I think they’re getting serious and we might have a wedding, they cool things off.”

I looked around and asked, “I see most of the town is here. Where is Priscilla?”

“She wouldn’t be here because,” Sheryl Ann pointed to Grace and Henry Mullins in the corner of her backyard, then continued, “Her daughter is here with a man old enough to be her father and who sleeps with several other women, including two that are married to wonderful men, in our little community. Do you know he even has them take out credit cards in their own names to pay for everything? Occasionally he even pays a few of the credit card bills, but mostly, when he drops the women, they end up owing a fortune to some credit card company and he’s moved on to his next target. The man’s an ass and an idiot!”

“Grace told me her dad died five years ago. Maybe that’s exactly what he is, a father figure.”

Sheryl Ann laughed and I watched the Grace and Henry for a few minutes. He had his hand around her waist and she leaned back against him. Sheryl Ann was right – they looked like a couple. It was time to go and talk to Grace.

I grabbed a soda from an ice chest, popped the top, and walked over to where Grace was standing with Henry Mullins.

“Hi, Grace,” I said.

“How’d you enjoy your first day at the rodeo, Liza?” she asked.

“It was very fun. I really enjoyed the bull riding, just like you said.”

“I told you. It’s the best event.”

Henry Mullins cleared his throat and Grace jumped.

She smiled and said, “Liza, this is Henry. He owns a small ranch west of town.”

I extended my hand and the man shook it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Liza,” he said.

“You too, Henry. What kind of ranch do you have?”

“I’ve got a few head of black angus cows.”

“Are those meat or dairy cows?”

He laughed. “Meat. I’m not much into getting up at one in the morning to milk cows and then to make sure I’m back by one in the afternoon to do it all over again. Dairy farms tie you down. Beef cattle just eat the grass, get fat, and then you butcher them and have steak for dinner.”

“How many cows do you have?”

“I’ve got ten, right now, but I’m planning on expanding in the near future.” He smiled, glancing toward Grace who was busy watching the other people in the house. She couldn’t care less about our cow conversation. Her eyes were on the tight jeans of a cowboy’s butt.

He cleared his throat again, and she whipped her head around, smiled, and said, “Ranching is very cool. I got to help deliver a calf last winter.”

“Did your mom and dad ever have cows?” I asked.

“No, we had horses for a while when I was little, but we got rid of them.”

“So what do you do with the land now?” I asked.

Before she could answer, Henry took her hand and said, “Let’s see if the food is ready.”

People kept walking away from me so I must be asking the right questions. I just wished I knew why they were the right questions. Sheryl Ann rang a large triangular dinner bell and everyone moved toward the food tables.