Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3 Page 10

  “Actually,” I said, “we’d like to take a look inside Hays Cain’s office.”

  “I’m sorry?” Malory looked puzzled. “What on earth for?”

  “We’re following up on an investigation into his disappearance and we need to check his computer, calendar…stuff like that.”

  “His disappearance? He’s missing?”

  I nodded. “He hasn’t been seen or heard from since Friday.”

  “Mrs. Cain came by and said he was out of town on business.” Malory tucked a rebel lock of hair behind her ear. “He’s done that before, so it wasn’t odd.”

  “Well, we need to get into his office to see what’s been going on in his life,” Susan said.

  “I don’t know.” Malory glanced over her shoulder, as though looking for a second opinion. “The manager’s out.”

  “You mean Kelly?” Susan asked.

  Malory nodded slowly. “She didn’t show up this morning. I called, but it rang to her voicemail.”

  “Do you know where we can find her next of kin?” Susan asked.

  “She’s not originally from here. I think she moved here from Texas a few years ago. She doesn’t even talk about—” Malory’s mouth dropped open suddenly. “Wait—next of kin? Why do you need her next of kin? Is something wrong? Is she okay?”

  Susan shook her head. “She’s not okay…she’s dead.”

  Malory recoiled in horror, grabbing at her mouth with both hands. “Dead? Kelly? Are you sure?”

  I frowned. “I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

  Malory’s eyes reddened. “What happened? Was she sick?”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “Say what?”

  “Why’d you ask if she was sick?” I wanted to know.

  Malory shrugged. “I just figured she was sick when she didn’t show up this morning.”

  “We need to have a look inside that office to see if there’s any connection between Kelly’s death and Hays’ disappearance,” Susan explained.

  Malory chewed on her lower lip. “Mr. Cain is very secretive. He’ll fire me if he finds out I let y’all in there.”

  “He’ll never know,” I promised.

  Malory sighed. She pulled a key from her apron and set it on the table. “Be quick about it.”

  Susan snatched the key off the table and slid out of the booth. I followed her to the office door, and we let ourselves in. It was dark and considerably cooler in the office. I felt along the wall, found the light switch, flipped it on.

  “Damn,” Susan said. “This place is a mess.”

  Paper seemed to be piled waist high on Hays’ desk. I thumbed through it, while Susan fired up his computer. Much of the paperwork on the desk consisted of unopened mail that someone had apparently stacked there for him to open on his return. Other than bills and supply lists, there was nothing that offered a clue as to what Hays Cain was involved with.

  “There’s nothing on his computer that would explain the reason for his disappearance,” Susan said.

  “Any mention of meetings on his calendar?”

  “None.”

  “Does he have a business calendar on his computer?”

  Susan nodded. “But there’s nothing about a meeting on Friday. In fact, there are no entries for Friday at all.”

  “What about emails?”

  “I’m browsing through them now,” Susan said idly. “So far, there’s nothing worth noting.”

  I walked around the room and scanned the walls as Susan worked. I paused when I saw a picture of five men dressed in BDU pants. Four of them were shirtless, and the one to the right wore a white T-shirt. I moved closer. The picture was considerably damaged, looked old. “You think one of these guys is Hays Cain?”

  Susan looked up from the monitor and squinted. “I can’t really see from here, but if that is him, it’s an ancient picture. He has to weigh at least two-fifty, and those kids look like they weigh between one-thirty-seven and one-sixty. It could be his son.”

  “What was his name again?”

  “Allen,” Susan answered, eyes fixed on the computer screen.

  I turned back to the picture. They were skinny. Ribs and shoulder bones protruded like they’d been denied rations for weeks. A cigarette dangled from the corner of the guy’s mouth to the far left. I didn’t know if he was trying to look cool or if he was too haggard to hold it straight. Although they clearly suffered from malnutrition, I would’ve guessed their weights a little higher.

  “What makes you such an expert on weight?” I wanted to know.

  “I’m a fighter. It’s my job to know weight.”

  “That makes sense.” I looked at the wall across from Hays’ desk and saw another picture. This one was large and framed, and the young man in the military dress uniform seemed to be staring down at Hays’ desk. I approached it so I could make out the gold nameplate affixed to the bottom of the woodwork. It read, Allen Hays Cain, 19, KIA. “Damn, he was young.”

  “Too young,” called a voice from the door. I turned to see Malory standing there, arms folded across her chest. “I don’t know how he did it every day.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I don’t know how he woke up and came to work every day, as though his life were normal.” She frowned. “I still remember when Allen used to play in the restaurant after school—remember it like it was yesterday. He was such a funny kid. Although it’s been two years, it’s still so hard.”

  “People handle grief differently,” I explained.

  “Don’t I know it. Mrs. Cain’s life stopped dead in its tracks. She started drinking all the time. Stopped coming to the restaurant.” Malory shook her head. “But not Mr. Cain. He handled his grief in a different way.”

  “How do you mean?” I asked.

  Malory glanced over her shoulder, then looked back to me. “He started having new lady friends, if you know what I mean. There was a rumor he was dating Kelly, but we all thought it was just talk.”

  Susan stood from the computer and walked around the desk. “Nothing useful here.”

  “So, are y’all done?” Malory asked.

  Susan nodded as she walked by her and into the dining area. I followed, but stopped to watch Malory lock up.

  “Thanks for letting us have a look,” I said. “I know you risked a lot.”

  “If it’ll help find Mr. Cain and figure out who did this to Kelly, it’s a small price to pay.”

  “Do you have any idea who might have a reason to hurt Hays Cain?”

  Malory shook her head. “Everyone seems to like him.”

  “Has he ever messed with any married women? Maybe pissed off a husband or two?”

  “I mean, he’s messed with a lot of women. He throws his money around and that attracts certain types of women—some married, some not.” Malory shrugged. “So, I’m really not sure.”

  I nodded. “Thanks for your help.”

  CHAPTER 20

  After we’d eaten, Susan and I stopped at the hospital to check on Dexter Boudreaux.

  “He’s sleeping now,” said the nurse in the intensive care unit. “His wife saw him earlier, and it really put a strain on him. The doctor doesn’t want him getting too worked up, so he’s limiting visitation.”

  “What’s his condition?” Susan asked.

  “It’s improving. Slowly, but it is improving.”

  We took the elevator back to the first floor and walked out into the parking lot. Susan’s phone rang and she answered it, spoke for a while, then handed it to me. “It’s Melvin.”

  “What’s going on, Melvin?”

  “I delivered the phone, Chief. He listened to it and said it’ll take some doing, but he should be able to extract the voices. He said to give him a couple of days.”

  “Did you tell him we didn’t have a couple of days?” I asked.

  Melvin was silent on the other end. Finally, he said, “Um…was I supposed to?”

  “No, that’s okay. If it’ll take a couple of days
, I guess we’ll just have to wait.” I handed Susan back her phone and we rode in silence to the police department.

  “Clint, I need a favor,” Susan said when I’d pulled my Tahoe into the sally port.

  “Sure, anything.”

  “Can I have tomorrow and Friday off? I need to relax and game plan for my fight, and it’s hard to do that at work.”

  “Absolutely! Take whatever time you need.” I stepped out and followed her to the back door. “It’s this Saturday, right?”

  Susan nodded. “I’m fighting a girl from Texas. She’s good. If I beat her, it’ll elevate me in the sport.”

  I smiled. “You’ll beat her, and I’ll definitely be there to witness—”

  “Where’s Clint?” a booming voice asked from inside the police station, and I heard Lindsey stammering.

  I hurried through the door and into the lobby. “I’m here, Mayor.”

  Mayor Landry wiped sweat from his head. “Jesus, Clint! What the hell is going on around here? I heard you were shot at. Is that true?”

  “Susan, you can go ahead and leave. Have a good one. See you Saturday.” I turned to the mayor and waved him into my office. When we were inside, I closed my door and took a seat at my desk. I filled him in on what had happened and the information we’d uncovered.

  “Do you have an idea who shot at you?” Mayor Landry asked.

  I shook my head. “No clue. I didn’t get a good look at him or the truck he was in.”

  “Truck? He was in a truck?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t get a good look at it. I don’t even know what color it was.”

  “Take your Tahoe over to Randall’s place. He’ll patch it up until your new one is ready.”

  I scowled. “Mayor, I think Randall knows something. Hays texted his girlfriend Friday and told her he had a meeting to go to. Randall talked to him earlier that same day, so I think he knows something about the meeting.”

  Mayor Landry waved his hand dismissively. “The two of them were inseparable. It’s not unusual that they talked that Friday. They’ve been friends—”

  “Since high school and they served in the military together.”

  Mayor Landry smiled. “Look at that…we’ve been working together only a few days and we can already finish each other’s sentences. I can’t say that about my wife, and I’ve been married to her for thirty years.”

  “That’s not the problem. The problem is this—Randall said the last time he talked to Hays was Wednesday or Thursday, but we have evidence he talked to him on Friday.”

  Mayor Landry’s brows came together in a scowl. “Go careful with that one. He might have lied, or he might have made a mistake. He does a lot of work for the town, and I’d hate to make him mad by falsely accusing him of lying if it was only a mistake. I mean, I can’t remember exactly what day you moved here for good. Was it Sunday or Saturday?”

  “I moved Saturday, and we met at the police station on Sunday.”

  He smiled. “You see? We old guys have a hard time remembering things, so go easy on him and don’t accuse him of anything unless you have solid proof he did something wrong.”

  I nodded, not liking it, but realizing he was right. While there was something I didn’t like about Randall Rupe and he might very well be keeping a secret, it certainly didn’t mean he was a killer.

  Mayor Landry stood to go, then stopped and pulled something from his shirt pocket. “I almost forgot. Here’s your new phone. I’d appreciate it if you’d answer when I call.”

  “Sure thing.” I took the phone and studied it. It was similar to Susan’s phone. “What the hell is this?”

  “Welcome to the new millennium, Clint, where phones are smarter than we are.”

  “I don’t want this shit.”

  “You don’t have to use all the extra features if you don’t want to. Hell, you don’t have to even use it to call anyone. Just answer it when I call.” As he walked out, Mayor Landry called over his shoulder, “And I put it in a waterproof case if you ever decide to go swimming with all your clothes on again.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Saturday, June 28

  I stared at myself in the mirror. I was eight days from my thirtieth birthday, but even I had to admit I looked forty. Achilles whined at my feet. I looked down. He sat with his ears perked up, head cocked sideways. I smiled.

  “No, little monster, you can’t come with me.”

  I walked out of the bathroom and he followed, pushing up against my jeans as he always did when we walked. I stopped in the kitchen to fix his food and water, waved my hand toward the living room, where the guts of two sofa cushions were strewn about the floor. “If you don’t stop tearing up my shit, I’m going to sell you to a cat lover.”

  Achilles barked like he understood me and, already knowing the drill, plopped his butt in the corner waiting for me to give the command. I smiled, proud of him. I’d never owned a German shepherd and I was impressed with how smart he was. Once I set the bowls down, I stood and crossed my arms. He stood, poised, ready to pounce. I waited longer than I had the last time and nodded, said, “Eat!”

  Achilles gave an excited yelp and lunged forward. He darted clumsily toward the food bowl and tried to stop at the last second, but the smooth hardwood was like a slipping slide against his paws. He skidded into the bowl and some bits of dry food went flying. I laughed as he dove snout first into the bowl and ate like he hadn’t done so in days. I squatted beside him and rubbed his neck while he crunched the food. I looked over at my work boots drying in the dish rack near the sink and leaned closer to him.

  “And if you pee in my boots again,” I warned, “you’re going to wake up one night and find me standing over you giving you a golden shower to write home about.”

  Achilles finished crunching the food in his mouth and attacked the bowl once again.

  I opened the back door, and Achilles’ ears perked up and he darted out, barking as he ran. I chased after him, but his young legs were faster than I thought. He stopped at the tree line and I was able to catch up with him. I squatted and took his collar so he wouldn’t run off. He let out a series of ferocious barks, his body jerking as he did. I squinted, trying to penetrate the depths of the woods. It was nearing dark, which made it difficult to make out much in the deep shadows.

  “What is it, boy?”

  Achilles continued barking. There were no squirrels jumping around. No birds chirping. Nothing at all. The wind wasn’t even blowing. I stood and tugged on Achilles’ collar. “Come on, little tiger. Let’s go back inside.”

  Achilles let out a low growl that sounded more like a baby gurgling, and I couldn’t help but admire the little man’s efforts to sound intimidating. He finally lost interest in whatever it was he had seen and followed me back to the house after doing his business.

  Once Achilles was in his crate, I grabbed my Glock that Melvin had recovered from the lake—and cleaned—and shoved it in the back of my waistband, then covered it with my shirt. I locked up my house and headed across town to the bingo hall. I was passing Hays Cain’s restaurant when I spotted a familiar car in the driveway. My heart beat a little faster. Butterflies formed in my stomach. I glanced at the clock on my dash. I was two hours early for Susan’s fight and I was hungry—it was all the excuse I needed. I smashed the brakes, turned into the parking lot, pulled up beside the red car. I hesitated as I stared at the front door of the restaurant.

  What are you doing, Clint? You’ll make a fool out of yourself for sure. Why are you even here, anyway? What do expect will happen?

  I shook the voices out of my head. “To hell with it!”

  I shut off the Tahoe and stepped outside. I took a deep breath, walked inside, and stood just in the doorway for a second to let my eyes adjust to the dim light. Malory was working and walked up to me.

  “Hey, Clint, how are you?” She smiled like she was greeting an old friend.

  I nodded, casually looking around. “I’m good. What’s on the dinner menu?”

>   “Fried catfish and white beans…they’re to die for!”

  “Okay, I’m in.” I followed Malory to a booth in the corner of the room and took a seat. I scanned the large dining room and scowled. There were three families in the restaurant, but she wasn’t among them. I suddenly didn’t feel like eating anymore. I frowned…what was happening to me? I couldn’t explain why I felt that way. It had been a long time since I’d felt anything at all, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it.

  I looked up at the giant clock on the wall. It was still early for the fight, but I could stop at the office and visit with the weekend crew. I was about to stand up to leave when a door opened behind me. It was Hays Cain’s office. I turned and caught my breath, sinking back to my seat, mouth agape.

  CHAPTER 22

  She didn’t see me at first, as she stepped out of Hays Cain’s office and closed the door softly. She wore a light-colored sundress covered in little blue flowers. Her legs were bare, smooth-looking. Her ankle-high boots clacked against the square linoleum tiles when she turned from the door and started to walk away, but she stopped in her tracks when our eyes met. Her mouth fell open; she brushed nervously at her blonde hair.

  “What are you doing?” I blurted.

  “Um…I…I was just—”

  “Hey!” Malory called, stomping across the dining room. “What were you doing in there?”

  Chloe Rushing’s eyes darted around the room as though she were looking for a place to hide. Without thought, I stood and touched Malory’s arm gently. “She asked where the bathroom was located, and I told her it was the first door past the last booth. I meant to say the second door.”

  “She knows where the bathroom is,” Malory said, eyeing Chloe. “Were you snooping around again?”

  “Malory, you know how long it’s been since I’ve come in here, and it’s obvious you’ve remodeled the place recently.”