Chapter Four

 

Jack Boscon unfolded the morning edition of the Fort Worth Star Telegram and frowned at the headline.

"Wouldn't that be a kick in the teeth?" he growled and continued to read the story about a woman who'd been strangled at the Indian Creek flea market.

A security guard had discovered her body when he made late rounds. The victim's name was being withheld pending notification of next of kin and the police were asking the public's help in locating a young woman who had reportedly been involved in a dispute with the victim earlier in the day.

The paper gave a description of the young woman and Jack had a sinking feeling he knew who she was.

A couple of weeks before, a young woman named Krystal Davis had hired him to find her mother. According to her story, her father had shot himself seventeen years earlier and her mother had disappeared that same night. Krystal had spent her childhood with her grandmother and an uncle and neither of them would talk about her mother.

Jack had gotten the idea from the flat, emotionless tone she'd used when she talked about her family they hadn't lost much love on Krystal.

Krystal had explained that she'd inherited her father's controlling interest in Davis Oil and in three months, on her twenty-fifth birthday, she'd gain control of the trust that held the company's assets. In other words, she was fixing to become a very wealthy woman and she was determined to know the truth about her mother. She wanted her mother found and she also wanted a sketch of her mother's lifestyle.

Jack had warned Krystal that if her mother wanted to stay lost, she'd be covered deep and the investigation would likely be expensive. She'd shrugged off the expense and asked him to start immediately.

Jack had done some surveillance work for Krystal's uncle Andrew Davis a few years back, so he was familiar with the family but he'd never handled any of their personal business and he figured it wouldn't hurt to be on the good side of the young heiress.

He'd started Krystal's job the next morning. He hadn’t expected much on the first run-through, but he'd plugged Anna Davis' name into the computer and was surprised to come up with six possible matches. Within hours he'd finished the cross-matching and had a make. Anna hadn't even tried to hide. She had a flea market license from Tarrant County that gave her place of residence as Indian Creek, a small community on the outskirts of Fort Worth.

The next morning Jack cruised out to Indian Creek where a young fellow at the gas station asked if he was a fisherman. Jack nodded and said he'd heard Indian Creek was a good spot for fishing. The kid assured him it was hot. Jack thanked the gas jockey. Then he hung a camera around his neck and went in search of the locals, posing as a writer for Field and Stream.

His first stop was the flea market, where he snapped a few random pictures and asked a talkative old geezer where he might find Anna Davis. Jack did some reconnoitering and managed to snap a couple of pictures while Anna waited on customers.

He finished at the flea market and went in search of gossip. He'd spotted the Hideaway on his way in and figured that as the likeliest spot for gossip. He made it his next stop.

Inside, a group of old timers were gathered around a potbellied stove. Jack sat for a while at the bar, then ordered a round and introduced himself. It hadn't taken Jack long to spot Frank Perkins as the blabbermouth of the bunch and with a little manipulating, he'd managed to hire Frank and his boat for a tour around the lake.

The investment had been more than profitable. Jack gleaned a wealth of information from the old man, who seemed to know everything about everyone. When Jack casually brought Anna Davis' name into the conversation as a woman he'd met at the flea market and tried to interview, Frank let out a snort.

"I'm surprised she didn't take a shotgun to you. She probably hadn't hit the whiskey yet."

"Likes the sauce, does she? Drowning old sorrows or what?"

Frank shrugged. "Hell, nobody knows about her. She's been around this Creek for more'n fifteen years but she hasn't ever had a visitor I know of. She wasn't a bad-looking woman when she first showed up here but she turned herself into a hag in a hell of a hurry. Most of us figure she was married to some rich dude and when she started hitting the bottle, he paid her to get the hell out of his life."

"Could be an interesting story but I don't think I'd like to get myself shot trying to dig into it."

"I'd forget her if I was you. I doubt if there's much to it other than what I said. One thing though. She's got a pile of dough hid somewhere around the Creek."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, I can't rightly say how I know." Frank smirked and looked pleased with himself. "You can take my word for it, though. She's stashed a pile somewhere. I know that for a fact."

Jack recognized cagey when he heard it but he hadn't been hired to dig into Anna's finances, so he'd shrugged it off. Krystal's instructions called for him to find her mother and get a rundown on her lifestyle. With more than enough to wrap up the job, Jack left Indian Creek that night.

The next day he'd left a message on Krystal's answering machine.

She'd appeared in his office a couple of hours later, breathless and trembling. "I want to hear it in person."

Jack chuckled and motioned her to a seat. "I'm glad I've got something to report." He'd smiled and tapped a manila folder.

"Do you mean you've found her already?"

"Yep, sure have. Sometimes I just get lucky and this was one of those times." Handing her the folder, he'd expected her to open it immediately but she'd just sat there clutching it to her chest.

"Aren't you going to look?"

She bite her lip but finally nodded, opened the cover and spread it out on the desk. Clipped to the inside was a photograph of a haggard and emaciated woman. Wisps of gray hair clung to her head and her deep brown eyes had a haunted expression.

"Oh!" Krystal gasped. "She looks so old."

Jack leaned back and closed his eyes. Poor kid. If she thought the picture was bad, wait 'til she read the report. When he opened his eyes again she was staring at the photograph.

"You still want to meet her?"

She'd blinked a couple of times, then nodded her head.

"Okay. It's your call but if I can make a suggestion, why don't you go down to that flea market on Saturday when she's working her stall? As you'll see from the report, she drinks a bit and she's more likely to be sober then. I think that might be better, don't you?"

Krystal looked like she was fighting back tears. Jack patted her hand. She blinked a couple of times and finally answered. "Yes. Thanks. I don't know what I'm going to say but I've got to see her."

That had been three days ago. Now this. He glared at the newspaper and felt a little sick to his stomach. It wouldn't do business any good if it got out that he'd set the girl up to murder her mother.

Sighing, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. Frank Perkins was sure to know what was going on out there and Jack wanted confirmation the body was Anna's before he took any steps.

When he passed the Hideaway, Jack saw the lot was already full of vehicles. No doubt murder was the main attraction but he kept on down the hill toward Frank's cabin. He'd just as soon keep this visit as quiet as possible.

Frank wasn't home but Jack walked down to the creek and spotted him at the dock.

"Hi." He strolled up to Frank and lifted a hand. "You remember me?"

Frank, who'd been bending over the boat, stood up and squinted. "Sure," he said. "I remember. You get the assignment for that boating story?"

"I'm still waiting to hear from the editor. I see you've had a bit of excitement. Surprised the hell out of me when I read the paper. They didn't give the name of the woman who was murdered though. Anybody I know?"

"It was Anna Davis that got it. You remember me telling you there was some fishy stuff going on with her? Well, she sure as hell got on the wrong side of somebody."

"You called that one, all right." Jack smiled and put plenty of syrup in his voice. "Frank, do the cops have a line on the killer?"

"Well, there's some speculation about that." Frank puffed out his chest. "'Fraid I can't go into detail," he said. "They've asked me to give them a hand, you know."

Frank reminded Jack of a bantam rooster. "It's a bit of luck for them—you being on the spot." Jack said, being careful to keep a straight face. "I hope you'll keep me in mind, if anything breaks down here."

"You thinking about doing a story?" Frank's eyes lit up as he contemplated his part in a local whodunit.

"I'm considering it," Jack said. "Of course, I'd need a fresh approach. That's where I thought you might help. What about the money angle? Didn't you mention something about buried treasure?"

"Aw, there's nothing in that." Frank lowered his head and scuffed the dirt with his boot. "You know how guys get together and bullshit. Don't mean nothin'."

"I see," Jack said.

Frank turned his head and nodded toward the bait house. "There's a couple of fishermen waiting for me," he said. "I gotta get goin'."

Jack’d already gotten what he needed. "Nice seein' you again, Frank," he said. "I'd appreciate a call if you come across anything I can use."

On the way back to Fort Worth, he mulled over their conversation. Frank had done some fancy backpedaling on that story he'd told about Anna having money hidden away. The little weasel was probably hoping to find her stash and keep it for himself.

Sighing, Jack pushed Frank to the back of his mind. He'd best swing by Krystal's apartment. At least he could give her a warning before he went to the cops.

Krystal was a graduate student at Texas Christian University and lived in one of the off-campus apartments on Camp Bowie Boulevard. It was only a short run across town.

The Mexican-style complex was attractive, neat, well landscaped and carefully tended. Jack knocked on the door of 103, waited, then rapped again, harder. Finally, the handle turned and the door opened the length of a chain. An Asian girl peered through the crack.

"Yes?" She aimed her eyes at his feet.

"I'd like to see Krystal Davis."

"Why?"

"It's kind of important. If you'll tell her it's Jack Boscon, I think she'll want to see me."

"Mr. Boscon. Krissie's detective?" She released the chain and opened the door.

Jack suppressed a grin. During his stint in Vietnam, he'd learned enough about Asian custom to know eye contact was considered rude. She still hadn't looked at his face. He stepped inside and followed her into a tiny kitchenette. A round glass table, set with a tea pot and cups, faced the window. A cereal bowl filled with a milky rice mixture showed he'd caught her in the midst of breakfast.

"You like tea? Krissie having a shower. You wait?"

"Thanks." Jack pulled out a chair. "I'm not much of a tea drinker."

She darted a glance at his chin and nodded. "Krissie laughs at tea. No drink."

"I'm afraid you have the advantage of me," he said. "I don't know your name."

"It's Kwon. Ah…Penny Kwon."

She was obviously still struggling with English. In Chinese, the surname came first. "Nice to meet you, Penny. You're not from around these parts?"

"No. Guangzhou. Canton. You know Hong Kong? Near there."

"That must be quite a change for you. Canton to Texas."

She lifted her eyes, made contact and dropped her head. "Yes."

"How did you happen to hook up with Krystal? She's from Houston, isn't she?"

"Krissie rent this apartment when she first come here to school. I am exchange student. Krissie have ad in school paper. We like each other. Mr. Boscon, I ask something?"

"Jack."

"Jack." She nodded. "I worry for Krissie. You bring bad news, yes?"

Jack frowned. "Why do you ask?"

She fidgeted, her fingers twisting a paper napkin. "Krissie like sister. She upset about mother. Meeting go very bad."

So, she did go out to the flea market. Jack's heart sank at hearing the confirmation that the mysterious woman had indeed been Krystal. "Did anything happen out there?" he asked.

Penny tensed and her face paled. She shrunk back in her chair and tightened her lips.

Jack pressed on. "Can you tell me exactly what time Krystal got home last night?"

Penny's fingers shredded the napkin and she glanced at the doorway. "Shower stop. Krissie here soon."

"It's important, Penny. I need to make sure she was home before midnight."

Relief flooded Penny's face. She bobbed her head. "Krissie home early. Clock say only seven."

"Did she stay in all night or did she maybe go out again?"

"No. She take pills for sleep. Go to bed."

Jack frowned. "You're sure?"

"Very small apartment." Penny waved her arm in a circle. "Krissie no leave. Sleep all night."

"Okay. I hate to break it to you like this but Krystal's mother was murdered last night."

Penny clapped her hand to her mouth.

"Apparently it happened sometime between midnight and two a.m., so you're going to be an important witness for Krystal."

"Witness! Witness? Explain."

"The police will want you to tell them what you've just told me."

Shaking her head back and forth, she clutched her arms across her breasts. "Police? No police. I no talk police."

"Don't be scared." Jack smiled to reassure her. "It's different here. Talking to the police is nothing. They'll ask you a lot of questions but as long as you tell them the truth, they'll treat you just fine."

Her voice rose. "No. Must be other way."

"Tell me about yesterday afternoon?" Jack changed the subject.

"I wait. Krissie tell you." Penny kept her head down but Jack spotted tears through her fingers.

"If Krystal was as upset as you say, she might not remember." Jack's voice was gentle, encouraging. "If I know the whole story, I'll be able to help when the police question you."

Penny lifted her head and almost met his eyes. "Krissie go to Houston. Come home. Say she hire detective to find mother." Penny paused and glanced at the doorway.

Jack took a sip of coffee, waited a moment then nodded encouragement. Finally, Penny continued. "Krissie not talk much. She have fight with uncle. She ask him tell her about mother and father. He no tell. Krissie angry."

"Did Krystal tell her uncle she was going to hire someone to find her mother?"

"Not say." Penny shrugged.

"Okay, that's fine." Jack said. "Now, what about yesterday afternoon. Did Krystal say how she planned to approach her mother?"

"No."

"Do you know what caused the ruckus?"

A puzzled expression crossed her face and she tilted her head. "Ruckus? I not know this."

"Sorry. I mean, what happened that made the security guard think Krystal was attacking her mother?"

"Man come with whiskey. Mother drink. Krissie no like that. She try grab bottle, trip and fall into mother."

"Did Krissie strike her?"

"Not hit. Fall over chair. Guard person come. Krissie run away."

Jack shook his head. "I was afraid something might happen out there. Anna wasn't exactly Harriet Nelson."

Penny's face clouded again and Jack corrected himself. "Sorry, that was an inside joke about an old television shows I'm sure you've never seen."

"Very bad thing. Krissie not like to talk."

"I'll go easy on her. She'll have to be told about her mother's death, though, and she'll need to explain to the police."

"I go get Krissie now? You like music?"

Jack nodded and gave her a friendly smile. She reached across the table and turned on the radio. Another Asian custom—entertain your guests.

"Thanks," he said. "You go get Krystal. I'll be fine."

She padded out of the room. Jack leaned back and listened to a country ballad. Sunlight streamed in the window and whoops of laugher drifted up from the swimming pool. After Penny'd been gone about five minutes, Jack started to get restless. He was up, pacing the floor, when a news bulletin caught his attention.

"Early this morning the body of a white, middle-aged woman was found by a security guard at the Indian Creek flea market. The woman, whose name is being withheld pending notification of next of kin, had been strangled. The coroner estimates time of death between eleven-thirty p.m. and one-thirty a.m.

"Police are seeking a young woman who was involved in a struggle with the deceased earlier in the day. This woman is in her early twenties, attractive, with light blond hair and a slim figure. She is approximately five feet five or six and was wearing dark wool slacks and a red-and-blue print sweater. Police are asking anyone with information to contact the Tarrant County Sheriff's Department."

Jack heard a gasp and jerked his head around. Krystal stood in the doorway. She had her hair pulled back and tied with a scarf and her slim body was wrapped in an oversize white robe. All the blood drained from her face, leaving it the color of chalk. Just as she slumped, Penny—who barely reached five feet—grabbed her from behind.

"I've got her," Jack said

Penny nodded and allowed Jack to lift Krystal into his arms.

"This way." She led him into a small living room.

Jack settled Krystal onto the couch and stood back. Penny dropped to her knees, smoothed Krystal's hair and crooned reassurances.

The lyrics of a Texas line dance pulsed from the radio. Jack walked back to the kitchen and shut it off. Silence gripped the room. Tears spilled down Krystal's cheeks and Penny fetched a washcloth to wipe her friend's eyes.

"I never even got to ask my mother why Daddy killed himself," Krystal sobbed.

"It's okay, Krissie," Penny soothed.

Krystal lay silent for several moments, then opened her eyes and focused her gaze on Jack.

"Is this why you're here?" she asked in a barely audible voice.

Jack bent down beside the couch and took her hand. "It was in the morning paper. I'm afraid I'm going to have to talk to the police but I wanted to give you some time to prepare yourself for their questions."

"Oh, no!" Her eyes sprang open. "I can't see the police. I've got to talk to Uncle Andrew first. He doesn't even know I hired you to find my mother. I've got to go to Houston. I can't tell him on the telephone. I just can't."

Jack frowned and shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't wait that long. I could lose my license for withholding information in a murder case."

Krystal clutched his hand, her eyes wide and pleading. "Couldn't you wait a couple of hours? Please. Just give me time to catch a plane to Houston and tell my uncle in person."

Her voice was pathetic. Damn! He always went soft when a pretty young thing begged for help. "I'm taking a big chance here but I guess I can give you that much. I have some business over in Arlington that'll take me 'til about four. I'll head over there now and call in at the cop shop after I'm done."

"Thank you." She smiled through her tears.

"I call. Get seat on plane." Penny said. She lifted her eyes to Jack and gave him a warm, grateful smile.

Jack let himself out of the apartment and walked back to his pickup.

Jack leaned against his truck and took a deep breath. It’d seemed like a good idea back when Krystal hired him to confirm things with her Uncle Andrew. Andrew’d sure thought so and been grateful for Jack's confidence. He'd felt a bit guilty at the time. Technically it was a violation of Krystal's confidence. But given the circumstances, he'd eased his own conscience by reassuring himself that it was in Krystal's best interests to keep her uncle informed. The money Andrew paid him for duplicate copies of his reports hadn't hurt any, either.

What the hell! It was a tough business and a man had to look out for himself if he wanted to stay independent. Jack gave himself a mental shake and climbed into his truck.

"I'll give her a break and then wash my hands of it," he muttered. He turned the key and started the truck.

By the time he'd pulled out onto Camp Bowie, his mind was fixed on his client in Arlington and Krystal's problems were left behind.