Surest Poison, The (30 page)

Bobby rumpled his brow. “What if you
don’t find Tony? What’s going to happen to me and my family?”

“Don’t worry,” Jaz said. “We have enough
evidence to prove their responsibility without you. They won’t see you as a
major threat any longer.”

Sid checked his watch. “Fire Investigator
Cran Quincy will be here soon. You need to tell him what you’ve told us,
Bobby. He’ll be looking into Pete Rackard’s involvement in that explosion
and fire. Metro Homicide will also be interested in your story. I expect to
hear from Detective Masterson at any time now.”

“All this sounds like one of them TV cop
shows,” Ned said, tipping his cap back. “I think I’ll stick around a while.
When things settle down, Bobby, I’ll take you back to my
place, and you can get your wife and kid.”

Sid and Jaz went back to her office,
while Bobby and his friend headed to the great room where his grandparents
waited. Sid picked up a phone book off a small bookshelf beside her desk and
began flipping through it.

“What are you looking for?” Jaz asked.

“Dixie Seals.
I need an address.”

“You’d better get a phone number, too,
and see if he’s there. He may be making sales calls on Nissan in Smyrna or
the General Motors plant at Spring Hill.”

Sid found the listing and started to
write down the address. “Whoa . . . where’s your copy of that paper we found
out beyond the fence in back? What’s the number on it?”

She punched a few keys.
“The one-twenty?”

“No. The D—”

“Six-three-seven.”

His face brightened.
“D six-three-seven.
D for
Dixie.
That’s Dixie Seals’ street address. My guess is the driver picked up the van
at Dixie Seals at twelve o’clock, maybe drove somewhere to get his buddy
with the explosive apparatus, then set off on what they thought would be a
mission of murder.”

“Thank God they misjudged that outcome,”
Jaz said. “But if Bobby’s car hadn’t been parked there . . . .” She sighed.
“My house would be a pile of cinders now.”

Sid’s cell phone rang. He checked the
caller ID. “It’s Jeff Lewis from Lewisville.”

When he spoke, Lewis sounded unsure. “I
came up with something, Sid, but I don’t know if it’ll be of any help.”

“What do you have, Jeff?”

“I asked around and learned Fradkin was
involved in promoting offshore corporations ten or fifteen years ago. You
were here around that time. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.”

“If you’ll remember, I wasn’t very high
on Mr. Fradkin’s list of people to do business with. His cronies weren’t
clamoring to have me join their club, either.”

“I suppose you’re right. Anyway, it
appears the deals were set up by a lawyer named Percy Pickslay.”

“He was killed in an accident last
night.”

“I heard about it on the news.”

“Did anyone mention Hank Keglar’s
involvement in the corporations?”

“Yes, I think he liked to stay in the
background, though. Except when some deals went sour and people started
complaining. Keglar put the quietus on them.”

“They say Pickslay lost his law license
from ripping off people.”

“Fradkin claimed to know nothing about
it,” Lewis said, adding
,  “
He put on a show
of innocence. He’s a good actor.”

“Was anyone invited to invest in First
Patriots?”

“I haven’t found anybody who knew about
the company.”

“We learned last night there were only
two investors.”

“Really?”

“Fradkin and Keglar.”

Sid told him about the fire and finding
the files on First Patriots, Ltd. “The fire appears to have been set by the
people who ran Pickslay off the road,” he said. “We think it was the same
car that followed Jaz and me last Friday night.”

“That’s scary. Did they get a license
number?”

“No. But they got a description. It was a
late model black Chrysler with a Nashville Predators sticker on the back
bumper.”

Lewis made a gasping sound. “You know who
owns a car like that?”

“Who?”

“Hank Keglar.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve seen his gorilla Dirk driving it
around town.”

“Thanks, Jeff. I appreciate the info. Now
I have some work to do. Give Maribeth my love.”

Sid shut off the phone and gave Jaz a
dire look. “Hank Keglar is in the thick of it.” He told her what Jeff Lewis
had said. “When Bart calls, I’ll have an earful for him.”

“Do you think it was Dirk who hit you
last night?”

“I don’t know. I’d sure like to know how
they knew I’d have that file, though. I suppose our foray into Centerville
by chopper created quite a buzz around town.” He glanced at his watch. “Hand
me that phone. I’d better check on Mr. Decker.”

“Whether or not he’s Tony, that note
makes it plain he was right in the middle of the plot.”

Sid listened while the phone rang several
times. He was about to hang up when a male voice answered, “Dixie Seals.”

“I had about decided nobody was home,”
Sid said.

“Sorry. We’re closed this morning. I was
getting ready to set up the voice mail gizmo to let callers know. One of our
employees was killed in an automobile accident, and his funeral is at
eleven.”

“Is this Trent Decker?”

“Yes, who’s this?”

“Sidney Chance, the private investigator
who came by your house and called you about the obit on Tony Decker.” He
decided not to mention the seven-minute phone call from Pete Rackard until
they met in person.

“Oh, yes. I remember.”

“I had a few more questions for you and
wanted to drop by. How much longer will you be there?”

“I don’t know what else I can tell you
since you say my brother’s dead.”

“We’ve turned up information refuting
that report.”

“You mean he’s still alive?”

“That’s the way it looks.”

“Well, I haven’t heard from him. But if
you want to come over now, I’ll wait for you. I’m the only one left around
here. The funeral home isn’t far, and I don’t need to be there until time
for the service.”

Sid handed the phone to Jaz. “I’m going
out there.” He told her about the funeral and Dixie Seals being closed.

“What about Cran Quincy?” she asked.

“You and Bobby can tell him all he needs
to know. I want to catch Decker while he’s available. Call me on the cell
phone if you hear from your vital statistics friend.”

Jaz stared at him. “Be careful, Sid.
Don’t forget those murders.”

He reached up to pat the swollen place on
his head. “I haven’t forgotten last night, either. I’d be happy to return
the favor. And I have this.”

He lifted his jacket to show the Sig
holstered at his belt.

Jaz shook her head. “I know you, Sid.
That weapon won’t move from its accustomed place unless there’s no other
way.”

“You do what you have to do.”

“Don’t wait too long.”

48

Jaz provided
chairs for her three guests and took her seat behind the desk. Marie slipped
in like a cat on the prowl, dispensed soft drinks,
then
disappeared. Cran Quincy wasn’t sure about Ned sitting in on the interview,
but the jovial young man said he was Bobby’s bodyguard and he’d like to
stay. While they were going through the preliminaries, Jaz’s phone rang.

“Excuse me a minute,” she said and
answered it.

“This is Marcy,” said a pleasant female
voice. “I found your record.”

“What does it say?”

“One male, white baby boy named Tony
Virgil Decker was born in Memphis, Tennessee, at four thirty-six a.m. on
March 14, 1965.”

“That’s our boy. Did he have a twin?”

Marcy paused.
“Nope.
Single birth.”

“Thanks.”

Jaz held the phone in her hand and
pressed the button to break the connection. “It appears Mr. Tony Decker has
been masquerading as a twin brother who doesn’t exist. Let me call Sid and
tell him.”

She lifted her finger and punched in his
cell number. He answered on the second ring.

“What’s up?”

“You can call him Tony, if you’d like,”
she said.

“No twin?”

“No twin. No clone.
Just Tony.”

“Thanks. I’m pulling onto the interstate.
I’ll let you know when I have something.”

As she put the phone down, Quincy stared
at her with those penetrating eyes. “I think you had better clue me in, Miss
LeMieux. What’s going on here?”

“A lot,” she said. “In the past
twenty-four hours we’ve been about as busy as a trucker chasing down a load
of
runaway  cattle
.”

She sketched out the situation with Percy
Pickslay’s death and house fire, the stranger who had inquired about Bobby
at the Welcome Traveler Store, and their conclusions regarding the cryptic
note found where the firebugs had parked. She had Bobby relate the story of
Tony Decker’s threats.

“So all of this is related to the
chemical pollution case in Ashland City?” Quincy asked when they finished.

“That’s our take on it. Sid called
Homicide Detective Masterson to give him the latest, but he must be at home
playing zombie after an overdose of overtime.”

Quincy grinned. “He can have the murders
with my compliments. I’m only concerned with the arson here. I’ll head on
out to Franklin. I need to get one of the locals to go with me when I
question Rackard and the mechanic named Shak. If there’s a connection to
Dixie Seals, the cops may have to give me a hand with Decker.”

Quincy got up and started for the door.
Before Jaz could join him, her phone rang again.

“Bobby, would you show Mr. Quincy out?”
she asked and picked up the phone.

“What’s Sid talking about with this new
info on the Gillie Younger murder?” Bart Masterson asked.

“He called you two or three hours ago.”

“I know. After an all-nighter, I had to
crash for a bit.”

“You haven’t talked to Sid?”

“He doesn’t answer his cell phone. I
thought he always kept that thing turned on.”

“He does, except when he’s in the woods.
I talked to him not long after he left here on his way to see Tony Decker.”

“The pollution case
guy?”

“Right.
He ran Auto Parts Rehabbers.”

“Where’d you find him?”

“We discovered he’s pretending to be a
twin brother. We also learned Gillie Younger and Larry Irwin both worked for
him at the Rehabbers plant. Bobby Wallace confessed they were all involved
in the chemical dump. He says Decker threatened him and his family if he
talked about it.”

“Damn, Jaz,” Bart said. “That means he
could be our killer. And Sid goes off to confront him? Wasn’t he the one who
told you a good cop doesn’t go in without backup?”

As Sid’s failure to answer his cell phone
hit home, Jaz sat up with a start. “I’m going out there.”

“Where is it?”

She gave him the address.

“I’ll meet you.”

49

Sid wore a
grin
as wide as the five lanes of
I-24. After the call from Jaz, he had something worth shouting about. He had
Tony Decker cornered. It never failed. Sooner or later, they all screwed up.
Decker got a little too clever with his obituary scam. Sid thought about
buzzing Arnie Bailey but decided to wait until after the confrontation. He
also considered trying Bart again. Decker had to qualify as a major suspect
in the murder of his former employees. The homicide detective would have
plenty of questions for him, but if Bart was awake, he would have returned
the call. Sid had spent way too much time running on idle with this case,
waiting around for something to happen. He was in no mood to delay things
any longer. If he got the answers he expected, he would hand Decker over,
gift wrapped, and tied with a big red bow.

Though the sun still lurked behind the
clouds, the sky seemed a bit brighter as he sped down the interstate toward
the exit for Dixie Seals.

He found the number 637 on a sign
designating a gray prefab building that was not just a twin, but one of
triplets that lined the street. Two brown vans sat behind a security fence
at the side of the building. Sid pulled into the parking lot in front. A
black Lincoln and a small pickup were the only vehicles in view. The Lincoln
occupied a slot with “Mr. Decker” painted on the concrete. The truck, parked
some distance away, must have been left by an employee who rode with a
friend to the funeral home. Decker had said he was the last to leave.