Risky Undertaking (17 page)

Burying people sure was a lot easier than uncovering who killed them.

I changed into another pair of dark slacks, rolled up the sleeves of my dress shirt and ditched the sport coat. When I left the room, I didn't look back down the hall but walked straight to the elevator.

Susan waved to me from a cocktail table standing just outside the poker room. She was still nursing her wine.

“Anybody try to pick you up?” I asked.

“No. But I'm taking that as a sign that everyone must have seen my dashing escort and realized competition was hopeless.”

“Just keep telling me that.”

She studied me a second. “What's wrong? You look upset.”

“I'll tell you later.” I looked around the mezzanine. “Any sighting of our fearsome twosome?”

“No. Either they're masters of disguise or your uncle returned to the blackjack table and will need an armed escort when he leaves.”

“How about Archie?”

“Doing well, as far as I can tell. The father-son duo dropped out and a man and woman took their place.”

“Husband and wife?”

“I doubt it. They're too lovey-dovey.”

“We're husband and wife and we're lovey-dovey.”

“Would you want me nibbling your ear at a poker table?”

“No. But let's take a pass through the room so I can get another photo for Kevin. I don't want to fall victim to the old ear-nibble ruse.”

She laughed. “Of course, a variation of Archie's earlobe tug. Why didn't I think of that?”

“Because you're not a highly trained, professional law enforcement officer.”

Susan sauntered away, and then looked back over her shoulder. “Well, come on, Barney Fife. The sooner we do this, the sooner you can show me your handcuffs.”

A passing elderly woman, whose hearing must have been keener than Susan expected, whipped her walker around. “If you don't want him, honey, send him my way and I'll put the cuffs on him.”

Susan blushed and I felt my face grow warm.

The woman looked at each of us and laughed. “Just as I thought. All bluffs and no cuffs.” She set off again, and I'd swear there was a little more bounce in her step.

Susan and I made a leisurely circle of the poker room before moving to a position to study the new participants. As Susan described, the couple sat close together and held hands. I pegged the woman at mid-thirties and the man in his late twenties. He looked ex-military to me in a tight-fitting pullover sweater with part of a neck tattoo peeking over the rolled collar.

The blonde-from-a-bottle also had a store-bought tan, but she didn't appear to be a brainless floozy. She eyed the other players carefully, noting their checks and raises, and I wondered who had picked up whom. She could have been the one with the money simply enjoying a little time with a temporary boy toy. I took their picture.

Susan and I headed for the door so I could upload the new photo to Kevin in less crowded circumstances, when Kevin walked in. He looked right through us, in keeping with the way I'd expect him to behave.

But for someone who had expressed concern that Tyrell might recognize him, Kevin looped around the room so that he could approach his quarry head on. I had a better view of Archie and I saw his eyes widen for a second as Kevin circled behind him. Then Archie focused on the exposed cards in the middle of the table.

I moved quickly to a spot where I could see Tyrell's face. He glanced up as his eye caught the motion of someone getting too close to the players across from him. Then his poker face broke into undisguised shock as Kevin stepped between Archie and the man sitting on his right.

Kevin said nothing. He smiled, raised his left hand to his forehead, and formed a capital L with his thumb and index finger. Loser. Then he pointed his index finger at Tyrell, letting the upturned thumb become an imaginary hammer on a pistol. He pulled the trigger. Still smiling, he walked away.

“Hey, who are you calling a loser?” The blonde turned in her seat, shouting the question to Kevin's back.

Kevin disappeared down the stairway.

I heard Archie ask, “What was that all about?” A normal question, given the scene.

Tyrell's face had gone red. All he said was, “Let's play cards.”

But Kevin's theatrics had clearly shaken him, and his poker skills deserted him. After losing several hands, he abruptly got up without so much as a word to the others, and left the room.

A new player took his place, and ten minutes later, I gave Archie the signal to cash out.

Chapter Seventeen

“What the hell was that all about?” I didn't wait for the door to Kevin Malone's room to close behind me. I wanted an answer and I wanted it right then.

Kevin walked to the far side by the window, turned to face Susan and me, and threw up his hands. “I know. I know. Change of tactics. I decided to poke the bear and see what reaction we get.”

“And what did you learn?”

Kevin shrugged. “That remains to be seen. But you, Susan, and Archie are in the clear. If he makes a move, it will be against me.”

A soft rap came from the door. Kevin went to the bed, pulled a pistol from under the pillow, and waved for Susan and me to get in the bathroom. He wanted us out of the line of sight, or possibly the line of fire. I put Susan behind me and peeked around the bathroom door jamb. My weapon was packed in my suitcase.

The knock came a second time. Kevin stood at the side of the door, well clear of the peep hole. Using it would have given Tyrell a gift shot to Kevin's head.

“Who is it?” Kevin asked.

“Archie Donovan. Is Barry with you?”

Kevin snapped the door open and yanked a startled Archie inside.

“You should have called first.” Kevin threw the deadbolt.

Archie gave Susan and me a quizzical look as we stepped from the bathroom. “What's going on? Is Tyrell after me?”

“No,” Kevin said. “But he might keep an eye on this room now that he knows I'm here.”

“Why'd you do that?” Archie asked.

“To rattle his tree and see what falls out. How'd you do in the game?”

Archie shook his head and reached in his pocket. “There's a problem.”

“Did you lose the money?” Kevin asked.

“No. I won.” He handed Kevin an envelope. “Four thousand dollars. The casino withheld twenty-five percent for federal taxes. I had to fill out a form. How are you going to get that money?”

Kevin laughed and patted Archie on the back. “I won't. Use it toward your own tax bill. You did great. How much of the four grand came from Tyrell?”

“About fifteen hundred. He lost it after you showed up.”

“Even better. Let's have a drink.” Kevin headed for the minibar.

“None for me.” I wanted a clear head because I planned to confront Kevin later, just the two of us.

“Me either,” Susan said.

“I'll have a Scotch,” Archie said.

“One Scotch coming up. I'm afraid the ice has melted. There's a machine at the end of the hall.”

“Neat's fine.” Archie looked back at the door. “Maybe we should stay out of the hall for a while.”

Kevin poured the two drinks, keeping his the Irish whiskey. He clinked glasses with Archie. “Job well done. Did you see anything unusual happen at the table?”

Kevin was playing his ruse through to the end. He never expected anything to happen.

“Not at the table,” Archie said.

Both Kevin and I picked up on Archie's answer.

“Did something happen elsewhere?” I asked.

“I don't know if it means anything, but your uncle saw Tyrell get into an argument with Mack Collins after he left the poker room.”

“What?” Kevin stepped away from Archie and looked to me for an explanation.

“Where was this?” I asked.

“At the foot of the stairs. Wayne was posted near one of the roulette wheels.”

“Posted!” Kevin's ruddy face turned crimson. “Barry, you brought your uncle into this?”

“I did not. Archie cooked this up all by himself. I learned about it right before he went into the game.”

“I thought we needed backup,” Archie said.

I was afraid blood might spurt from Kevin's ears.

Archie seemed unfazed. “You said you couldn't be seen. Barry and Susan were working as a team in the room because Tyrell wouldn't recognize them. But what if somebody else recognized them? Someone who was supposed to come to the room. Panther was killed in my cemetery and somebody local has to be involved. You don't know the locals. Wayne and Mayor Whitlock do.”

“The mayor? You brought the god damned mayor?”

“Yeah. Everybody knows he likes to play cards.”

“Arguing is getting us nowhere,” I said. “What's done is done. Tell us about Mack Collins.”

“That's your state senator?” Kevin asked. “The one you said was in the middle of this Cherokee Catawba casino rivalry?”

“Yes. He can make or break the Catawba's request for a North Carolina casino.”

Kevin cooled down. “Then tell me about this argument.”

“Not much to tell,” Archie said. “You ought to talk to Wayne directly. He said Mack was angry. That Tyrell pushed the senator out of the way and went outside.”

“Did Mack follow him?” I asked.

“No. He headed for the hotel lobby. Wayne thought it would be better not to be seen. Mack would want to know what he was doing here.”

“What do you make of it?” Kevin asked me.

“Tyrell pushed me going up the stairs to the poker room. Maybe he did the same to Mack.”

“He's a rude bastard,” Kevin said. “Is Mack Collins hotheaded?”

“He's used to getting his way,” I said.

“Where's Wayne now?” Kevin asked.

“He and the mayor checked into the Days Inn across the street,” Archie said. “Too late for them to drive back to Gainesboro tonight.”

Kevin gulped down his drink. “Let's go see them. I want to know exactly what happened.”

Archie stared at his untasted glass of Scotch and then set it on the desk. “I'll go find out their room numbers. Want to meet in the Days Inn lobby?”

“OK,” Kevin agreed. “And we shouldn't all leave together. I'll arrive last and alone.”

Archie slipped out the door.

“What do you think?” Kevin asked me.

“Could just be a coincidence, but we need to explore it. Yesterday Mack Collins told me he was going to Raleigh and tonight he shows up here at the opposite end of the state.”

“Is he a dirty politician?”

“No scandal I know of.”

“He's been an active and respected citizen,” Susan said. “I think he's been elected five or six times.”

“Is he a lawyer?” Kevin asked.

“He owns a construction company.”

Kevin mulled that over a few minutes. “I expect a new casino would create some lucrative opportunities for a construction company.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Either or both new casinos would. You want me to check it out?”

“If you can do it quietly. We don't want to spook him if there's a connection and we don't want to piss him off if there's not.”

I looked at Susan. “Let's go to our room and I'll make a call.” I checked my watch. “It's nearly ten. Let's meet at ten after. That will give Archie a little more time to round up my uncle and the mayor.”

“All right.” Kevin shook his head.

“What?” I asked.

“I hate to admit it but Archie was right. We needed more eyes that would recognize local faces.”

“For God's sake don't tell him. He'll be injecting himself into every investigation I do from now on.”

“Sometimes good ideas come from unlikely sources,” Kevin said.

And sometimes those sources should be off limits, I thought. Like illegally breaking into a suspect's room.

When we were alone in the elevator, Susan asked, “What's your plan?”

“I'm starting with Melissa Bigham. She has the newspaper's resources and the archives on any stories involving Mack. Most importantly, I can trust her discretion.”

“You want me at the Days Inn meeting?”

“Would you be insulted if I said no?”

She laughed. “Would you be insulted if I told you to stay out of my operating room?”

“Thanks. I need to move forward as a deputy, not a trophy husband.”

“I expect you to be both. So don't stay out all night.”

Once in our room, Susan kicked off her shoes and curled up in the love seat with one of those magazines featuring tourist attractions. I sat on the far edge of the bed and speed-dialed Melissa Bigham.

“What's up, Barry?” She sounded like she was up. At least I didn't wake her.

“Are you at home?”

“Who are you? My mom?”

“I just wondered if you had access to a computer.”

She groaned. “What now? Did you lose Internet service at the cabin?”

“I'm in Cherokee.”

“Oh?” Melissa suddenly seemed interested. “The Panther murder?”

“Yes.”

“I'm at work. Jonah's at a publishers' conference in Austin and he left me in charge of putting the paper to bed.”

I knew that meant looming deadlines after a long day. “Sorry. I guess it's not a good time.”

“It's fine,” she exclaimed. “I was just packing up. What do you need?”

“This might be nothing, but I want you to see if you can find a connection between a Francis Tyrell of Boston and Mack Collins.”

“Collins? How's he figure in this?”

I paused, collecting my thoughts. I had to make sure Melissa didn't go into reporter hyperdrive. “I don't know if he does at all, so play this slow and easy. I've been told he got into an argument with Tyrell at the casino, and Tyrell is a person of interest in our case.”

“Because?”

There was no way to understate it. “Because Tyrell is suspected of being a hit man for Whitey Bulger and his Boston mob.”

“Jesus.” The word rushed out in a single hiss.

“Melissa, I don't have a shred of evidence, just a coincidence of timing. I want to know if there was any record of Collins and Tyrell intersecting at some point in the past. Or any issues regarding Collins' exercise of political power and personal gain regarding the Cherokee casino or other construction for that matter.”

“I understand. Leave no footprints.”

“If you can avoid it. Are you good with our usual arrangement?”

“Yes.”

Our usual arrangement meant she got the first interview and extensive background once the case was solved. For a reporter, breaking the story was as good as it got.

“Great,” I said. “Call me whenever you have something.”

“Barry, any hint as to how Boston can be connected to Cherokee?”

“Not a clue. That's why I'm counting on you.” I hung up.

“Is the barracuda on the prowl?” Susan asked.

“Yes. And very hungry.”

***

We met in Mayor Whitlock's room because His Honor had already changed for bed. He sat in his orange Clemson warm-up suit in the only chair, leaving Uncle Wayne, Archie, and me to share the edge of the king-size bed.

Kevin remained standing, clearly viewing the scene as his meeting. “Wayne, walk me through exactly what you saw. Nothing is too trivial.”

“Well, I was standing at the railing on the mezzanine, drinking a soda and watching people lose their money on the roulette wheel. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw that man from the poker room. The one Archie gave us the high sign on. He was looking around, and not looking too happy. I figured Archie must have got the best of him.”

I expected Archie to jump in with some boastful claim, but he said nothing.

“Then he spotted someone on the lower level and beelined it down the stairs.”

“Could you tell who it was?”

“Not at first,” Uncle Wayne said. “He just started pushing people and following somebody with his eyes. I looked where he was looking and saw Mack Collins. Mack was walking real casual, in no hurry. The poker player yelled something.”

“Mack's name?”

“Nah. More like ‘wait up' or ‘hold up.' Anyway, Mack looked up the staircase and his face turned red as a vine-ripe tomato. He headed for the man and both of them looked mad as smoked-out hornets. I thought there was going to be a fight, but they just got up in each other's face. Mack said, ‘Who brought you down here?' and the man said, ‘Who brought the law down here, you stupid son of a bitch?' Then Mack looked around, like he remembered he was in public. He said, ‘You better get out of here and don't let me see your face again.' Poker Man said, ‘I ain't done nothing, old man. Get the hell out of my way.' And he pushed Mack and walked toward the exit.”

“What did Mack do next?” Kevin asked.

“He watched him go, and then straightened his suit coat and headed toward the hotel lobby.”

“So, he was clearly surprised, but he definitely knew Tyrell.”

“Tyrell?” Uncle Wayne asked.

“Yes,” Kevin said. “That's the poker player's name.”

“He never said it, but he definitely knew him.”

Kevin looked across the broad bed to Mayor Whitlock. “Did you see any of this?”

“No. I ran into Luther at the bar and we started talking.”

“What?” I jumped from the bed. “Luther's here?”

“Yeah,” Mayor Whitlock said. “And I think it's good for him to get out of that house. He's with his daughter from Atlanta. Sandra thought it would do him good.” Whitlock waved his hand. “Don't worry, Barry. I didn't say anything about us watching that fellow. I told him I was feeling the same way. Eurleen was my sister and I needed to get away too.”

“What about Darren?” I asked. “Did you see him?”

“No. Darren's in DC.”

I knew he wasn't, but I didn't know if Sandra hadn't yet told Luther the truth about Mack costing Darren his job, or if Luther knew and was embarrassed to tell his brother-in-law. What I did know was that Luther, Darren, Mack, and Frankie Tyrell were all at the casino.

“I told Luther I'd meet him for breakfast,” Mayor Whitlock said. “Is that all right?”

I looked to Kevin.

“Yeah. That's fine,” Kevin said. “Wayne, you can join them if you want. Then I suggest you both head back to Gainesboro. Archie, you might want to leave before daylight. Tyrell's unpredictable and if he happened to see you with me, he might figure you set him up.”