Authors: Fern Michaels
Kentucky Sunrise (19 page)
“You're a fool, Emmie . . .”
. . . Nealy's eyes snapped open when the phone shrilled. She reached out for it with one hand while her free hand wiped at the hot tears scalding her eyes.
“Nealy?”
“Yes, Hatch, it's me. How are you? What's going on? I have so much to tell you, but you go first.” She continued to knuckle her eyes.
Nealy watched as a small brown bird flew into one of the evergreens by the front steps. He seemed poised for flight on the tip of the branch. He was so tiny, so fragile-looking. How could such a tiny bird fly and soar? Once Emmie had been a tiny baby. She couldn't fly, though, and for a long time she couldn't talk either. When the bird took wing, Nealy concentrated on what Hatch was saying.
“Well, we had the court hearing, and Willow has been bound over for trial. Bail wasn't even an option. They had her shackled, which is never nice to see. She's not doing very well right now, but her options ran out when she skipped town. We'll get a court date, probably tomorrow or the next day, and then I have to prepare my defense. I don't know when I'll be home, Nealy.”
“I'll be here whenever that is. Just be the best lawyer you can be, Hatch.”
“You said you had a lot to tell me . . .”
“Jake thinks we should run both Gadfly and Hifly in the Derby. We think we've found a jockey to ride Gadfly. Actually, Jake found him, and you'll never guess who he is. He is the nephew of Doctor Vinh in Thailand. Well you know me, Hatch. I ran with the news. How perfect this is. The young man trained in Japan and is right here in Kentucky running minor races with minor horses. You know how Jake is glued to those training videos he watches all the time. He said Lee Liu is good. That's his name, Lee Liu. Isn't it wonderful, Hatch? Two horses in the Kentucky Derby from the same farm. Racing against each other. It doesn't get any better than that. I cannot tell you how excited I am. I think Jake is going to make it. I wish you were here today to see him ride Hifly. That boy looks like he was born to ride that horse. Hatch, you aren't saying anything.”
“Nealy, does all of this mean our trip to Paris is off?”
Nealy blinked into the late-afternoon sunshine. The small brown bird was back, along with several companions. Her gaze went to the bird feeder hanging from a tree. It was full. Her attention returned to Hatch and what he was saying. “No, no, the trip is not off, just postponed. How could we go with Willow's trial coming up? The Derby is closer than you think. Before you know it, the time will be here, and you know what it's like. As soon as the racing season is over and as soon as you can wind down the trial, we'll go to Paris. I don't see any other way. Do you have some ideas you want to run by me?”
The birds were clustered around the feeder, eating the sunflower seeds ever so daintily. She wondered if birds flew in families. Did they go their separate ways once they left the nest? She should know that, but she didn't. She made a mental note to add more feeders to the trees and possibly some birdbaths.
“I'm sorry, Hatch, what did you say? I think the battery is getting weak on the phone.”
“I said, no, I don't have any ideas. Have you spoken to Nick or Emmie?”
“Oops, there goes the battery, honey,” Nealy lied. “I'll talk to you later after it charges.”
Nealy clicked the OFF button. She looked around for the birds, but they were gone. She stared off into the distance, at the lush bluegrass, almost cobalt blue in the late-afternoon sunshine.
She walked back into the house to replace the phone, aware that she had just done something underhanded where her husband was concerned.
She sniffed the delicious aromas coming from the stove. “What's for dinner?” she asked Gertie.
“One of your favorites, Miss Nealy. Stuffed peppers, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, and string beans with bacon. For dessert, blackberry cobbler and yes, I made two, one for you to eat before you go to bed. I know your sweet tooth. I hope your dentist doesn't come after me with all the sweets you eat.”
“Doctor Eugene Katz has a sweet tooth himself. Don't fret over it, Gertie. I won't eat any dessert tomorrow. Instead of walking back and forth to the barn, I'll run or jog. Did you make an extra one for Jake?”
“Yes, it's in the oven now.”
“Okay, I'll see you at suppertime, Gertie. It will just be me.”
It's not a bad thing being alone,
Nealy thought as she made her way to the barn.
Not a bad thing at all.
Nealy thought as she made her way to the barn.
Not a bad thing at all.
9
Willow Bishop saw her opening and didn't think twice. She moved in a slow, straight line and followed the pest-control technician out the front door of the police station. Five minutes later she was nowhere to be seen on the streets of Las Vegas.
Dressed in sneakers, jeans, and white tee shirt, she blended in with the throngs of tourists. It took her an hour to maneuver the back streets and finally hitch a ride with an old gentleman with poor eyesight. She knew he had cataracts because the pupils of his eyes were pearly white. “I know I shouldn't be driving, and that's why I stick to the back streets. The police are always hauling me in, but I can drive these roads blindfolded. Lived here all my life. Lost my license a year back. Can't afford the operation,” the old-timer said.
“If you take me to where I want to go, mister, I'll give you the money for the operation. You have to promise not to tell anyone where you're taking me. I ran away from my husband. He beat me so bad I just got out of the hospital. I have to try and get my kids back before he does something to them. I really need your help. Will you promise not to tell?” Willow dabbed at her eyes.
“Well, sure, little lady, just as long as you don't tell anyone I'm driving.”
“I'd appreciate it if you'd lend me that fishing cap you're wearing, sir. Just in case someone remembers seeing me riding along with you. I'll pay for the cap, too. The place I want to go to is about ten miles out past the Chicken Ranch. Do you know the way?”
“Should. Been a regular customer out there for a good many years. Got real lonely when my wife passed on. Nice bunch of gals. You got a name, gal?”
“Mazie. What's yours, old-timer?”
“Zack. Zack Leroy. Used to mine some. Did a bit of farming. Did a whole bunch of a lot of things. Don't do nothing much these days but watch game shows and think about the good old days. I was just funnin' with you about the operation. I have money to pay for it. I just don't want to go to the hospital because old people like me die when they go to a hospital. That's what happened to my wife. You need to be saving your money for your young'uns. I'm happy to take you to where you're going. Terrible thing when a man abuses his wife. Some men are just no-account. You gonna be all right, little lady?”
“I hope so. My biggest problem right now is getting some kind of vehicle. I just ran away and left everything behind. The place you're taking me to is my mother's house that has been closed up for a long time. I have some money hidden there, but it's doubtful Mom's car will still be there. If it is, it might not start up. You got any ideas, Zack?”
“Can help you with the gas. Always carry a spare five-gallon can in the back. Can't see good enough to work on the engine, though.”
“I'll figure something out. You're sure now, you won't tell anyone you picked me up?”
“Swear I won't,” the old man said solemnly. “Never go back on my word. Never!”
They rode in companionable silence until Willow waved her arm, and said, “Okay, slow down, we're coming up to the driveway now. It's about a half mile back in there. You can't see the house from the road. Oh, my goodness, everything is all grown over. It doesn't look like anyone has been here for a long time. I don't remember the ruts being this bad in the road. Are you sure you'll be able to find your way back?”
“Got some peripheral vision in my right eye. I'll make it back. You got a key to get in the house? I can stay long enough to make sure you're okay.”
“I hid a key in the garage a long time ago. I'll be okay. Are you sure I can't pay you for bringing me out here?”
“Nope. Glad to do it. Nice to have someone to talk to once in a while.”
Willow climbed out of the truck and started to walk away. On the fifth step, she turned around, walked back, and climbed back into the truck. “Listen, Zack, I lied to you a little while ago. I was desperate to get out here, and I didn't want the police to find me. I guess you could say I'm a fugitive. This house belongs to a man I lived with for a while. He was murdered out here, and the police think I did it. I swear to God, I didn't. I ran away because I thought they would try to blame me. They finally caught up with me. Twice. This is my last chance to get away. I can't be locked up for the rest of my life. They're looking for me now.”
“I know all that. I always play the radio in the truck. I heard all about it on a breaking news bulletin and then you showed up ten minutes later. Your giveaway was asking for my hat. Now, Mazie, what can I do to help you?”
“My name's Willow Bishop.”
“Know that, too. I kinda like Mazie. Used to know a girl up to the Chicken Ranch named Mazie. Made my blood sing, she did.”
Willow laughed. The old-timer joined in.
“That was smart of you to come back here. They're never going to think you'd head back to the scene of the crime. But you best be doing whatever it was you came here to do and get out of here as fast as you can. Where you headed if you don't mind me asking?”
“Santa Fe. My ex-husband lives there.”
“You said there was a car here.”
“In the garage. There were three or four at one time. I don't know if the police took the keys or not. Look, the yellow tape is still across the doors, and it even goes around to the back. I'll get the key. I need some clothes and some of the stuff I left behind. Can you see well enough to check out the cars, Zack?”
“Keys would help, Mazie.”
“Junior kept a spare set in the garage, taped to the back of motor-oil cans. I found them once when I was looking for something in the garage. Stand back, Zack, I have to break the glass to open the door. Let's just hope the police didn't figure out how to set the alarms when they closed it up. Junior had all kinds of systems in place. Okay, door's open. Good, the cars are still here.”
“Mazie, what were you doing with a man like that?”
Willow turned around. “Having some fun and lining my pockets. In the beginning, I thought he was just a high roller. I didn't have any problem taking that kind of money. I didn't kill him. That's the truth, Zack. I was getting ready to split anyway. Another week, two at the most, and I would have been out of there.”
“Nice vehicles,” Zack said, tilting his head to the side to better observe them with his limited vision.
“Here are the keys. You do what you have to do while I check the house. I want to make sure none of the alarms are set.”
It was eerie, Willow thought as she walked through the bare, stainless-steel kitchen. It looked just the way it had looked the last time she'd been there. Her wineglass was still sitting in the sink. The box of opened crackers was still on the counter. She picked up the phone and was surprised to hear the dial tone.
It was a one-of-a-kind house, a drug house built with drug money. It was decadent, lavish, and over the top with the custom furnishings, rich marble floors, and pricey Oriental rugs. She'd never paid much attention before simply because those things would do her no good when it was time to leave. Jewelry and hard cash were her forte.
She walked up the steps to the second floor, her gaze sweeping the intricate panel that housed the alarm system. Good, it was off. She made her way down a thickly carpeted hallway to the bedroom she'd shared with Junior Belez. She looked at the bed and then looked away. The bedding was still on the bed, the blood long dried and dark brown. She skirted the bed and walked into the bathroom. The first time she'd seen it, she'd been stunned. It had been crafted to look like a grotto with real stone. Moss grew out of the cracks and crawled toward the ceiling. The fixtures weren't gold-plated, they were solid gold. The thick Egyptian towels that Junior favored hung limply on the racks. His shaving gear was still on the triple vanity.
She dropped to her knees and opened the vanity doors. She pulled out toilet tissue, soap, stacks of toothpaste, toothbrushes and mouthwash. She yanked at the extra shaving cream, razors, and aftershave. The nine bottles of Grecian Formula that Junior used to darken his hair went on top of the vanity. She was going to need it later.
Willow sat back on her haunches, remembering the day she'd seen Junior pry up the floor of the vanity and either take something out or put something in. She'd been so scared, she'd turned and run down to the kitchen. As far as she knew, Junior had never known she'd seen him that day. The question now was, how to pry up the floor.
In the bedroom in the little Victorian secretary, there was a pearl-handled letter opener. She ran to get it and started to pry and gouge. It took her twenty minutes to lift out the entire floor in one long piece. She stared down at the contents, her jaw dropping. Half of the entire opening, six layers deep, were stacks and stacks of money held together with tight rubber bands. A single sheet of paper said, ALDON'S MONEY. Aldon was Junior's brother. She'd never seen so much money in her life. She inched along the floor until she was in front of another section of the flooring. Again, neat stacks of money were lined up, six deep. Everything was neatly compartmentalized. Notes on top of the stacks of money designated winnings from different casinos. She flopped down on her rump and hugged her knees. She turned when she heard Zack enter the room.
“I guess this is why he was killed. Whoever did it wanted
that,”
she said, pointing to the neat stack of white-plastic bags. “I'm sure it's cocaine, but I'm not going to touch it. This is what we're going to do, Zack. See all this money, here on the left side? I'm pretty sure it's drug money. I'm going to give it all to you to play Santa Claus with. This money, from here to the white bags, is gambling money. That, I'm taking. Are you okay with this?”
that,”
she said, pointing to the neat stack of white-plastic bags. “I'm sure it's cocaine, but I'm not going to touch it. This is what we're going to do, Zack. See all this money, here on the left side? I'm pretty sure it's drug money. I'm going to give it all to you to play Santa Claus with. This money, from here to the white bags, is gambling money. That, I'm taking. Are you okay with this?”
“You mean you want me to give all that money away?” Zack asked in awe.
“Yes. The homeless, soup kitchens, orphanages, animal shelters. Wherever there is a need for money. Do it at night or figure out how to do it anonymously. Maybe you do need to think about getting your cataracts removed. It's a one, two, three kind of operation. You shouldn't be afraid. Think about how much fun you'll have giving all this away. And if you can see while you're doing it, think how much better it will be.”
“I never seen so much money in my whole life. There must be millions of dollars there. How did the police miss that?”
“They didn't know about it. Guess they didn't bring any drug-sniffing dogs in here. If they had, the dogs would have found it. I'll get some bags, so we can carry all this money out to the cars. By the way, how are the cars?”
“All the batteries are dead. I'll give you my truck, and I'll pick up a secondhand one. Engine is sound as a dollar. The body ain't much to look at, but it will get you to where you want to go. The registration and insurance card are in the glove compartment. Don't even ask me why I'm doing this, or why I'm believing you. Maybe because you came back and told me the truth. You don't look like no killer to me.”
“I'm not. I appreciate you helping me, Zack. Listen, do you mind loading up the money while I hack off my hair and add some of this color juice to it?”
“You go to it, little lady. Just get me the bags.”
“Be sure to keep it separate. I don't want anything to do with drug money. That's not what I'm about. I want you to give it all away. Every last cent. When I get to where I feel safe, I'll call the authorities and tell them about the cocaine. I don't want you to do it, Zack. You're too old to go to jail, and I'm too young.”
As Willow sawed and hacked at her long, curly hair, she risked a glance at Zack, who appeared to be having the time of his life.
Sixty minutes later, Willow cleaned up the bathroom and flushed her shorn locks. She was dressed in a long navy blue linen dress with matching straw sandals. Her hair was still damp when she settled a denim hat with a huge yellow sunflower on it. “What do you think, Zack?”
The old man tilted his head to the side. “You look like you could be my granddaughter. I got the money all packed up. The blue suitcase goes with me. The green is yours. That's a lot of money to be toting around. Do you want me to keep some of it for you in case you head into a spot of trouble? Sort of like a safety blanket.”
“That's a good idea. You're sure about the truck now?”
“Lord, yes. I've been hankering for a new one. Might get one of those Range Rovers I hear about all the time. They're a bit pricey to my way of thinking. Then again, I might get a used one. Depends on my mood.”
“You know what I always say, Zack. Either go first-class or don't go at all. Here,” she said, tossing him a packet of money from her green case. “Be sure to keep it separate. I don't want to have nightmares about you spending drug money. This,” she said, tossing more bundles of money into a plastic bag, “is my reserve in case I get short of cash. If you give me your phone number, I'll stay in touch. Just tell it to me and I'll remember. If I ever have to call you, I'll say I'm Mazie, okay? Remember, you promised to get that operation. Use the gambling money.”
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