“Could you be a little more specific about ‘snakes and leeches’?” my mother asked. “Are we talking white-collar crime or something that calls for a permit to carry?”
I shot her a look and she responded, “What? It’s the state of Arizona, for crying out loud! Everyone has a permit to carry. Even if they never held a gun!”
I did a mental eye roll and waited for Bud to expound on the bombshell he dropped. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long.
“The Wainwrights, in conjunction with Orlando, bilked people out of their savings with investment schemes that looked good on paper but weren’t even worth the postage they used to mail them.”
“Like Bernie Madoff in the 1990s?”
“On a much smaller scale, but yeah, like that. They were accused of attempted murder to silence a whistleblower but got off due to incompetence at the local police department.”
Just then, Shirley poked Gloria. “Lucinda told us all about it. Lack of evidence. She follows those podcasts almost as much as her Telemundo episodes.”
“Are you saying you think someone in our community murdered Orlando to get even for a bum investment?” By now I felt my pulse quicken as I waited for Bud’s response.
“I’m saying it, but I can’t prove it. I know he was in the senior life-care business as of late, but old grudges die hard. While you’re scoping that out, you may want to do some homework on his past. Not all murders deal with recent events.”
“I don’t like the idea of someone in our community getting killed,” Kenny said, “but if those Wainwrights are as slippery as eels, then we need to stop them now. If they wind up creating their futuristic bowling alley at our expense, I’m afraid Orlando’s murder won’t be the last.”
Cassie, Mary Alice, and Shirley all gasped.
“Are you implying what I think you are?” Marshall asked.
Kenny nodded. “Yep. Got lots of unhinged and unstable people out there. We read about it all the time: Cashier shot to death because they ran out of Marlboro Lights, Server punched in the jaw when she delivered cold French fries, Car run off the road when driver behind him thought the woman drove too slow. Need I go on?”
“Speak of the devil,” Erik said, “isn’t that Harris in the corner over there, having words with the manager?” It was the first time Erik spoke and I detected a slight Southern drawl.
“Yeah, that’s Harris all right, and Jonesy doesn’t look all that happy.” Fred stretched his neck to get a better look. “I’d like to be a fly in that corner.”
“Lordy, that man is most likely telling the manager about his awful plan for Lizard Acres.”
“Okay, folks,” my mother said. Her voice was louder than usual and sharper. “Let’s get down to business. We’ve got a captive audience here and we need to get out the word about the sit-in this Friday, just in case anyone missed it. Not everyone here is a bowler. Like I mentioned earlier, we’ll be in front of the Welcome Courtyard all the way down to the bowling alley. It’s a good way to get the board’s attention.”
“I take it you want us to go table to table and tell them?” Cassie asked.
“More like bar stool to bar stool,” Fred said and laughed.
“I don’t like approaching strange people by myself.” Shirley looked at my mother and then at Gloria.
“The three of us will go together. The rest of you can do whatever makes you comfortable.” She looked my way and smiled.
What makes me comfortable is leaving and going home.
After a few minutes of figuring out the logistics of who would walk where, our group split up. Marshall and I wove our way toward the corner where Jonesy and Harris stood. Their voices were muffled by the bar noise but we were able to make out a rather nasty threat from Harris—“Try to stop me and it will be the last thing you do.”
I nudged Marshall. “I guess Bud’s take on the guy was pretty accurate, huh?”
“And then some. Come on, might as well meander around and see what we overhear. That’s what we came here for. The rest is gravy. Your mother’s friends and the Lane Chasers seem to be doing a good job. Take a look.”
I turned my head, and sure enough, that merry band of bowlers proceeded from group to group spreading the word as if it was a fifty percent off sale at the supermarket.
For the next half hour, I strained to overhear whatever tidbits of chatter I could, while Marshall did the same. By the time we pulled into our driveway, we were exhausted and on overdrive.
“What do you think about the chitchat regarding Orlando blackmailing Harris and Harris getting even?” I asked Marshall.
“It’s as good a theory as anything else. Now all we need to do is substantiate it.”
“Think Bowman and Ranston are making any headway?”
Marshall shook his head. “If they were, they wouldn’t be counting on us.”
• • •
My mother phoned the following morning, and for the first time, at a decent hour. We’d already had breakfast and were preparing to do some food shopping when I took the call.
“The sit-in is going to be a big success, Phee. Everyone we talked to said they’d come.”
“Good. I’d say the evening went as planned.”
“Not for Gloria. Well, the evening was all right, but not the earlier part of her day. She was accosted by both of her daughters, who thought she was being scammed by one of those lotharios who was after her money.”
It was difficult for me to keep mum, but I had no choice. I figured if I let her talk long enough, she might come to realize Lydia and Sue-Lynn were right. “An online thing?”
“That’s how it started. On Facebook, no less. And here’s the kicker—her daughter set up Gloria’s account. Anyway, she chatted with a nice widower who works on an oil rig in Louisiana.”
“Doesn’t that sound a little fishy to you?”
“Not everyone has a white-collar job. Anyway, the man hasn’t asked Gloria for a single dime. He just wants to continue their friendship. Personally, these online things aren’t for me, or Shirley either. But what harm is there in simply corresponding?”
“Mom, if Gloria gives away too much information, and that man turns out to be a scammer, she could lose a fortune. You read about this stuff all the time.”
“Well, as it turns out, Gloria won’t be corresponding with him. His Facebook account disappeared completely and her emails and messages aren’t going through. She thinks her daughters blocked the accounts or something. Can they do that?”
“Um, I know you can unfriend someone on Facebook, and block them on other social media. Did Gloria come right out and ask them?”
“They denied removing his account but Gloria can’t imagine what else could have happened. Anyway, she’s beside herself. I suggested a fun sleepover for her, Thor, and my fur-babies. Also Shirley, since she’s so attached to them.”
I can’t imagine anything worse than a sleepover with Streetman and friends.
“Seriously? A sleepover?”
“We have to do something to cheer Gloria up. We’ll fit it in before or after the sit-in.”
“Um, sure.” As long as I’m not invited.
“Oh my goodness, Phee. I almost forgot. I’m joining your aunt and uncle at a new breakfast place in Peoria for brunch today. First Watch. Or was it Final Watch? Well, it was watching something. I’ll have to give Ina a call. Anyway, you and Marshall are welcome to join us.”
“Thanks, but we already had breakfast and plan to barbeque something later. Maybe another time.”
“If you change your mind, give me a call. If your barbeque meat is fresh, you can always freeze it.”
Advice from the mother whose freezer dates back to the Ice Age.
I thanked her again and ended the call before she had a chance to extol the virtues of freezing food.
“We can thank Rolo,” I told Marshall. “Gloria’s now incommunicado with that cyber-scammer.”
“Let’s see how long that lasts. From what Rolo’s told us on other cases, these criminals move to other servers, other setups, other countries. It never ends.”
“Maybe by then Gloria will have gotten over him.” Fat chance.
• • •
Sunday was as enjoyable as it gets, but Monday morning rolled around way too quickly. We were up, dressed and at the office a few minutes after Augusta arrived.
“You just missed a call from Ranston, Mr. Gregory. Now that they’ve located Orlando’s house, and spoken with his immediate neighbors, they need you and Mr. Williams to ‘widen the net.’ Those were his words. Hoping your schedules will allow you to do that. I don’t suppose Mr. Williams will be any too thrilled when he gets in.”
“Yeah.” Marshall chuckled. “Interviewing the folks at Sun City West almost gave him hives last time. Something about being shown photos of eligible daughters.”
“At least it wasn’t photos of Streetman and Essie. My mother hands people her cell phone to see her photo gallery all the time.”
“I need to talk with the deputies anyway. Phee and I picked up some interesting information on our victim when we went to Lizard Acres Saturday night.”
Augusta’s eyes widened and I quickly added, “I’ll tell you all about it at break.”
That said, I walked toward my office and Marshall headed directly to his. Nate arrived shortly after and the two of them took off for Sun City West. With the fresh information about Harris and Jonesy’s dispute, coupled with Bud’s take on the Wainwrights and Orlando, I imagined those players left standing would be summoned in to chat with the deputies. Or, our guys if they were lucky.
The next day didn’t yield much, except for my mother letting me know that Gloria and Shirley would be “camping out” at her place on Wednesday night with the dogs and Essie. In addition to eating and watching YouTube, they intended to make signs for the sit-in on Friday. Lucinda and Louise had already gotten a head start, and Kenny convinced his wife to get her decorative arts club to help them out with more signs. The very thought of the sit-in gave me the willies and I thanked my lucky stars it was a workday for me.
When Wednesday night finally rolled around, I held my breath that it would be uneventful. And for the first part of the evening, it was. Marshall and I made meatballs and spaghetti with extra toppings of mozzarella and ricotta cheese before plunking ourselves on the couch, too stuffed to budge.
“I think this is what a food coma must feel like,” he said. “Good thing we can sleep it off.”
And with those words, the phone rang. The food I’d eaten felt as if an anvil had lodged in my stomach. “I’ll get it. It’s probably my mother calling to tell me some cute thing Streetman did.”
The second I lifted the receiver, I heard Lydia’s voice. “Sorry to call your landline, Phee, but your cell went straight to voicemail.”
“Oops. What’s up?”
“My mother phoned Sue-Lynn and me from your mother’s house. She was all but doing the Happy Dance. Her cyber-con artist is back. She heard from him a few hours ago. Talk about a line of malarkey. He told her there was a fire on his oil rig and that’s why he couldn’t reach her. Then he covered his sneaky tracks and said it was all hush-hush so that’s why it wasn’t on the news. Said they moved to another rig further out in the ocean and not to be worried if the communication goes dark. Lots of technical issues.”
“Did she ask why it was such a secret?”
“She didn’t have to. He told her they worked for a government agency and that if word got out about the fire, it would compromise oil and gas prices.”
“Oh brother.”
“Now what do we do?”
“Rolo already said he’d be keeping track of the scammer, or scammers in this case, and that he’ll keep shutting them down in the hopes they move elsewhere to a different target. Meantime, keep a tight watch on your mom’s bank accounts and investments. Also, the title to her house.”
“Thankfully she has title insurance, but as far as anything else, it’s definitely concerning.”
“Keep me posted.”
“I will. Hope I didn’t ruin your night.”
“Nah.” I’m waiting for my mother to do that.