Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 09 - The Crystal Skull Murders (10 page)

I thought fast, which along with a knack for lying, is
essential for a PI, but Doreen beat me to it. “I wonder if
it was Edgar who came in, Tony.” She turned to Mrs.
Bernie. “Edgar works with our company” She held her
hand a few inches over her head. “He’s about six-two,
slender, bald head.”

“No” She pointed her cigarette at me. “This one was
about same height as your man here, maybe a little
taller. Dressed nice. He had black hair in a ponytail and
a broken nose.”

A broken nose! I suppressed my excitement. With a shrug, I replied, “That wasn’t Edgar. But, can we see
the skull?”

She studied us suspiciously, then shrugged. “I don’t
know what it would hurt. Just a minute.”

When she disappeared back into the shelves behind
her, Doreen shook her head. “She’s a rough one.”

I grunted. “On a scale of one to ten, I’d have to say
she’s at least an eleven”

Doreen smiled. “The guy she mentioned. Do you
think he’s the same guy who ran out of the storeroom?”

“Ponytail, broken nose. Has to be, which means
that-”

At that moment, Mrs. Bernie reappeared with a glass
skull in her hands.

“Later,” I muttered to Doreen under my breath.

She set the skull on the counter, but kept her hand on
it while she hefted her bulk up on the stool. With a suspicious frown on her sagging face, she paused and
squinted at me through the cigarette smoke in her eyes.
Reaching under the counter, she retrieved a .357 magnum and laid it beside the skull, which she then slid out
to me with one hand while the fingers on the other
wrapped around the .357.

The skull looked about eight inches from jaw to the
crown of the head. Gingerly, I picked it up, immediately surprised not only by its weight, but also the
craftsmanship of the skull.

Doreen whistled softly. “It’s beautiful.”

I wouldn’t have called it beautiful, but then I could see how it could be called that. While I’m no whiz on
human anatomy, the skull looked anatomically correct
from the forehead down to the lower jaw, which was
hinged and functioned just like a human jaw.

The glass was smoky and heavy, heavier than I
would have guessed.

Doreen ran a slender finger over the crown of the
skull. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she whispered. Then she looked up at Mrs. Bernie. “Do you
know anything about the skull?”

She shook her head. “Naw. I gave the old bum fifty
bucks for it ‘cause I had never seen nothing like it. You
stay in this business long enough, you get to know when
something comes along that’ll bring in a nice piece of
change. I figured on doubling my money, but now I
might ask a little more”

I read the tag tied around the lower jaw. “October fifteenth. That’s when his time’s up?”

“Yeah” She nodded and lit another cigarette.

As I studied the skull, somewhere in the back of my
head, I remembered reading about skulls, but crystal
skulls not glass skulls. Crystal. I hefted the skull in my
hand two or three times, trying to guess how much it
weighed. Fifteen to twenty pounds, I figured. Was that
why this skull was so heavy? It was made of crystal.

I handed it to Doreen. “Feel how heavy it is. Both
hands”

Her eyes grew wide as the weight of the skull caught
her by surprise. “It is heavy.”

“Well,” Mrs. Bernie’s cackle broke into my thoughts.
“What do you think of it?” She held out her hand for it.

“It’s unusual,” I replied, sliding the skull back to her.
“Really unusual.”

By the time we left, I had grown used to Mrs.
Bernie’s colorful language, at least to the extent that
my cheeks didn’t blush at every expletive.

We sat in the pickup for several moments studying
the pawnshop. “Have you ever heard of crystal skulls?”

Doreen thought a moment. “No. Was that one? It
looked like glass to me”

“But you felt how heavy it was”

“Yes, but couldn’t it have just been glass. Glass is
heavy”

She was right. “Could be” I racked my brain trying
to figure out whom we could contact for more information about a crystal skull. Then I thought about Janice
Coffman-Morrison and her Aunt Beatrice. Beatrice
owned the largest distillery in the state, Chalk Hills,
west of Austin. She was richer than the Queen of England, and I had no doubt that every piece of stemware
and glassware in her home was leaded crystal. Heaven
forbid her fingers touch something as common as glass.
I wondered where she purchased her crystal.

I continued staring at the pawnshop. The left side of
my brain shifted to the right as I thought about the
black-haired goon with the broken nose.

“Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” I looked around at her. “Oh. I was thinking
about the guy who paid Mrs. Bernie a visit earlier today”

She frowned. “What about him?”

I pointed to the pawnshop. “I got a feeling he’s coming back.”

A flicker of alarm raced across her face. “Back?
When?”

“Tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Nope” I shook my head. “But I’d give odds on it.”
I paused, then added. “Stop and think about it. Chances
are this is the guy in the storeroom, and maybe he finally located the skull today. For some reason he wants
it. Obviously, he hasn’t had any more luck that we
have in finding the pawn ticket. That means, if he
wants the skull, then he’s got to get it by some other
means.”

“You think he’s going to try to steal it?”

“Yeah” I nodded. “Tonight.”

Her eyes grew wide momentarily. “So what are we
going to do?”

After pondering her question several moments, I
replied, “First, I’ll inform Mrs. Bernie of our suspicions and have her make sure her alarm system is on.
Then I’ll tell Chief Pachuca about it. He can have the
shift officers keep an eye on her place tonight, and
last, I’ll be where I can watch. Maybe find out where
this scumbag holes up” I opened the door. “Be right
back”

I paused at the entrance to the pawnshop, dismayed
when I failed to spot an alarm system.

Mrs. Bernie frowned when she saw me. “Forget
something?”

Quickly, I explained that someone had murdered the
wino who had pawned the skull, and that there were
others who wanted it. “I might be wrong, but I think
he’ll try to break in tonight. I’ll inform the police. I was
going to remind you to set your alarm system, but I
don’t see one.” I glanced around the shop.

She studied me with amusement. “Oh, my alarm system will be on. It’s always on” She glanced at the floor
at her feet. “Ain’t that right, Max?”

Through the barred window, I could see no lower that
her chest, but the raw growl that came from below the
window was unmistakable. After colorfully describing
any would-be thief’s ancestry, she added. “Any idiot
what tries to break in to my shop will be sorry”

When I climbed in the pickup, I glanced at Doreen.
“We’ll head back to the office, and I’ll contact Pachuca.”

Doreen studied me a moment. “Can I come tonight?”

I looked around in surprise. For a second or so, I just
stared at her. “Well, sure. I just didn’t figure thatwell-that you wanted to”

“When I told you I wanted to learn this business,
Tony, I was serious. I’m not some flighty bimbo.” She
started to say more, then decided against it.

Maybe I had been mistaken about her. “Fine with me.”

I started up the Silverado and headed north on Congress. We caught a red light at Second Street. When it
changed, we met a blue Miata heading south. I spotted it
just in time to recognize my on-again, off-again Significant Other, Janice Coffman-Morrison, one of Austin’s
poor little rich girls.

She honked and waved. I returned the salutation,
glancing in the side mirror in time to see her almost
break her neck looking around when she realized that I
had a woman in the pickup with me. I rolled my eyes. I
would be getting a phone call later today. Then I muttered a curse, suddenly remembering that Janice and I
had a previous date for tonight. Now I was going to
have to break it.

“Someone you know?”

With a rueful grin, I nodded. “A friend. We go out together from time to time.”

When it comes to understanding women, I’m the
best checker player in the world. And once again, I was
mistaken. I didn’t have to wait until later for Janice’s
call. My cell rang immediately.

Janice’s voice was sweet, but I detected a massive
dose of poison in it. “Hello, Tony”

“Hey, Janice. What’s up?” Remembering the crystal
skull, I added. “I was about to give you a call.”

“Well, here I am,” she replied. “What was so important?”

“About tonight, I-”

She interrupted. “Why don’t you come over early for
cocktails before we go to dinner?”

I grinned at the tactful way she was beating around
the bush, then drew a deep breath. “I have to beg off tonight, Janice. I’ve got to work”

“What? But, we have a date.”

Hastily I tried to explain. “I know, but I just found
out. I’ve got to run a surveillance tonight.”

Acidly, she replied, “Who are you going to run a surveillance on, that-that-that woman in the pickup
with you?”

I rolled my eyes, wondering how I had managed to
get myself in such a predicament. “No. She’s a new PI
Marty hired. We’re working on an arson case on Sixth
Street.”

Doreen arched an eyebrow at me.

“I bet you are.”

“It’s the truth, Janice. I promise it is.”

“I can’t believe you would do this to me, Tony”

Frustrated, I struggled to explain. “Janice, I’m not
doing anything to you. Believe me”

She sniffed. “Well, I don’t believe you. I don’t care if
I ever see you again.”

“But Janice-”

She didn’t even say good-bye. She slammed her cell
phone shut.

After I punched off, Doreen’s eyes glittered with
amusement. “Your girlfriend?”

I nodded. “Was.”

“Problems?”

“What do you think?”

She laughed. “I think she’s jealous.”

“You’re crazy.”

Doreen remained silent. On impulse I turned down
Sixth Street.

“I thought we were going back to the office.”

Slowing the pickup, I scanned the sidewalks and alleys. “Watch that side.”

“For what?”

“Goofyfoot, Pookie, any of the old winos.” When we
stopped at the first signal light, I quickly hit the automatic dial on my cell phone for Beatrice Morrison, figuring if I waited until Janice vented her spleen to her aunt,
I might never learn the Morrison source of lead crystal.

Beatrice’s male secretary answered. Normally, rustic
yokels like me can never speak to the grand dame of
Texas Distilleries, but since I dated her niece, the secretary recognized my name and put me through.

Beatrice didn’t particularly care for the idea of her
only relative dating a bourgeois and ignorant Cajun, but
she tolerated me for Janice’s sake. The only time Aunt
Beatrice deigned to socialize with me was when she
wanted a pot of my gumbo for one of her dinners.

“Hello, Tony,” she replied with a big dose of reservation in her tone.

“How are you today, Aunt Beatrice?” Although she
had requested me to address her as such, I knew the
words coming from my lips rankled her, and each time
I went to confession, I had to admit I enjoyed rankling
her like that.

“I’m well, thank you.”

Behind us a horn honked. The light had changed. I
moved across the intersection, and as I pulled into a
Loading Zone, I said, “I hate to impose, Aunt Beatrice,
but I figured you, of all people in Austin, could give
me the name of someone who is an expert on leaded
crystal”

My request took her aback momentarily. “Crystal?”
I heard a hint of disbelief in her tone. “Are you buying
crystal?”

“No, ma’am. I just need to talk to someone who is
very knowledgeable in the field.” In the rearview mirror, I spotted a police cruiser turning the corner.

Phone at my ear, I hastily climbed out, fumbled for
my magnetized sign, slapped it on the door, and leaned
casually against the fender of the Silverado as Beatrice
replied, “We purchase all of our crystal from Tower Jewelers. J.C.Towers is the connoisseur of crystal in
Texas. All of our crystal comes from him.” In the background, I heard a door close. She hesitated. “Oh, hello,
Janice.”

I heard Janice ask. “Am I interrupting anything, Aunt
Beatrice?”

“No, dear. I’m just talking to Tony”

I spoke up. “Thank you for the information, Aunt Beatrice. And if you don’t mind, may I speak with Janice?”

She must have offered the receiver to Janice for I
heard my poor little rich girl snap, “I don’t want to talk
to him ever again.”

Now, I can’t swear for certain, but I thought that I detected a hint of smug satisfaction in Beatrice’s voice
when she replied, “I’m sorry, Tony. But she never wants
to speak to you again.”

Shaking my head, I punched off just as the police
cruiser stopped beside me. The shotgun window hissed
down and the officer leaned over. “What are you doing
down here, Boudreaux? Slumming?”