When the Stars Fall (The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series Book 2) Page 8

  “Of course Curtis! He just up and left, the minute she called!”

  “Do you know it was her?”

  “Well, no, not exactly. He took his phone with him. But I’m sure it must have been her! Who else would it have been?”

  “Maybe someone at the sale barn?” Madison suggested. “Doesn’t someone stay there all night, before and after sale day?”

  “Yes, but-”

  “I’m sure it is exactly what he said, a problem at the barn.”

  “I heard a woman’s voice! I know it had to be her!”

  “Even so, what do you want me to do about it?”

  “I want you to follow him.”

  “I’m already asleep!”

  “Not anymore, you’re not.”

  Madison forced herself to count to ten. “George Gail,” she began, carefully schooling her voice into a semblance of calm, “when you hired me, we did not discuss middle-of-the-night phone calls. This has to stop. I-”

  “I’ll give you another five hundred dollars!” the distraught woman blurted out.

  “What?”

  “Consider it over-time. I’ll pay you five hundred dollars if you’ll follow him and see where he went.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just went to the sale barn and saw for yourself whether or not he was there?”

  Madison could hear the disdainful sniff over the phone. “I guess business must be awfully good, if you can turn down five hundred dollars cash.”

  It was a low blow, delivered right where it hurt the most: her pocketbook. Standing just inside her closet with the door slightly ajar, Madison had a glimpse of her bed. It looked so warm and inviting. Her bank account, however, looked cold and empty. She heard herself asking, “What-What exactly did you want me to do?”

  “Find out where he really went. Take photos. That’s all you have to do. You should be back home in an hour, tops.”

  She gave the bed one more longing perusal. “You’re sure you don’t want to go yourself?”

  “I can’t. I’ve already had a glass of wine. Maybe two.”

  Madison shoved her feet into a pair of tennis shoes, muttering aloud about a wild goose chase. “Do not call me tomorrow night. I can only go so long without sleep.”

  George Gail all but squealed her appreciation. “Thank you, Madison. I knew I could count on you!”

  Madison stuffed the phone into the pocket of her flannel sleep pants as she tugged a Texas A&M sweatshirt from its hanger. Never mind that the maroon clashed with her orange Halloween-themed pants and their dancing ghosts and goblins; no one would see her anyway. She grabbed her purse and camera before slipping out the front door, into a night turned cold and foggy. Good thing the loaner car had a dependable heater, unlike her grandmother’s Buick.

  The heated seat feature was nice, too, she decided fifteen minutes later, as she wiggled against the warmed leather. So far, there was no sign of Curtis Burton at the sale barn. She circled the perimeter twice, looking for signs of his pickup and for the so-called emergency. From what she could see, there was no activity at all at the sale barn. Even the cows slumbered.

  She texted George Gail to see if he had returned home, but the answer was a shouted NO, in capital letters.

  Five minutes later, George Gail called her. “Never mind,” she said, her voice a bit slurred. “You can go home now.”

  “He’s back?”

  “No, but he called. Something about a trailer breaking down full of cattle.”

  “Are you all right? You sound strange.”

  “I finished off the wine. It always makes me sleepy.”

  “I’m glad you had sense enough not to drive,” Madison told her. Putting the car into gear, she did not bother to hide her growled retort. “Just wish I had the same sense!”

  “I’m sorry, Madison. Go home and go to bed.”

  “What was that noise? Are you outside?”

  “Um, the television is on. Go on home and go back to bed.”

  “Believe me, I will!”

  Despite her emphatic reply, Madison’s foot faltered on the gas pedal. Something bothered her about George Gail’s sudden change of heart. Thirty minutes ago, the woman begged her to follow her husband, not believing his excuse. Suddenly she believed him and wanted Madison to go home; insisted upon it, in fact. It did not make sense.

  Since she was already out, it wouldn’t hurt to drive a few streets over and see if Curtis Burton’s truck was parked in front of Caress’s house. Although surely the man would have sense enough to park down the street, she reasoned. He was having an affair, after all.

  Madison looked for the blue pickup as she turned onto North River Oaks. There was only one vehicle parked alongside the entire street; the rest were tucked into garages and snuggled beneath carports.

  She slowed as she passed the house bearing the address 562. Hardly movie-star status, but clearly the nicest house on the block. The lights were still on and the blinds were wide open. Madison could never understand why people left their blinds open at night. Didn’t they realize how easily people could see inside? Like right now, she could see Caress standing in what was obviously the dining room, talking with someone. Madison only got a glimpse of the other person as she drove past, but she knew the short, stocky blur wasn’t Curtis Burton.

  “I guess he was telling the truth,” she muttered aloud. “So that means my work here is done and I can go home to my nice, warm bed.”

  Madison rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill, dutifully obeying traffic rules even though she was the lone traveler on this foggy night. Fog settled in low, swirling around her headlights. A hazy tuft of murk bobbed in front of her, reminding Madison of the shadowed visitor at Caress’s. Something about the person pricked at Madison’s subconscious…

  The shape, she realized. The rounded shape definitely did not belong to Curtis, but could it possibly belong to George Gail?

  She made a U-turn in the road and proceeded back up the hill, rolling to a stop across the street from Caress’s. From there she had a clear view inside the house.

  Caress appeared to be shouting now, her features fully animated. It was difficult to see much about her visitor. The person was slightly taller than Caress, but much heavier. It was impossible to tell anything about their age or even gender; the khaki colored trench coat was universal. Even the sporty little fedora could be worn by either sex. With no hair visible beneath the hat and no facial features showing, Madison could not rule out the possibility of it being George Gail. The size and shape was about right.

  Madison thought about the background noise from George Gail’s call. She claimed it was the television, but it sounded more like a car engine. Was George Gail just drunk enough to confront Caress herself? Was that why she insisted Madison forget the stake-out and go home to bed?

  Madison watched for a few more minutes as the argument appeared to escalate. At one point Caress shoved the other person, pushing them completely out of view. The one Madison dubbed ‘Trench Coat’ stormed into the frame again angrily, broad back to the window, advancing toward Caress. Even Madison could sense the menacing atmosphere. She watched as Caress shrank back in fear.

  Madison gasped out loud when she saw Trench Coat’s hand suddenly dart out, striking Caress across the cheek. The actress’s reaction was so melodramatic that Madison wondered if the two of them were rehearsing for a scene.

  The two people inside the house engaged in a brief push and shove contest. Caress slowly edged out of view of the window, except for the occasional slender wrist shooting forward with a slap or shove. Just because she was the smaller of the two did not mean she was the weaker; the sixty-something woman gave as good as she got.

  “Okay, this has to be pretend.” Madison spoke aloud in her car, trying to convince herself she witnessed a make-believe fight. Otherwise, shouldn’t she call the police?

  And say what, exactly? That she was sitting outside, spying on the occupants of a house as they had a domestic argument? Neve
r mind that the blinds were open and she could plainly see inside, even at this distance. Propriety dictated she refrain from looking.

  What about domestic abuse? Shouldn’t she at least report it? The problem was, she saw Caress push first. And there was something about the way Trench Coat held his or her body, something about the hands… They were almost feminine. And if that was the case, it was not domestic abuse. Caress and her guest were fighting.

  Is there a law against that? An ordinance, maybe?

  What if she called the fight in and the person turned out to be George Gail, after all? Getting her own client arrested would probably mean forfeiting the bonus money for tonight. Madison still could not get a clear view of the face or see the tell-tale blue eye shadow, but that did not rule out George Gail, come to stake her claim on her husband. She would not be the first woman to confront—or to accost—her husband’s mistress.

  Just for a moment, Madison imaged the satisfaction that must come with such a brave act. She imagined lifting her palm, swinging it back with self-righteous fury, and slinging it forward. She imagined the feel of a resounding ‘smack!’ against a smooth, creamy cheek, that little sting of pleasure and pain that came with delivering a heart-felt slap.

  “Don’t go there.” She spoke sharply, pulling herself back on task. No time for daydreaming, not when she had a decision to make. Should she call the police or not? Brash would want to know why she was there in the first place and then she would have to explain her latest gig, not that it was any of his business. What she was doing was perfectly legal.

  She hoped.

  In the end, she decided to call George Gail. She would probably wake the other woman—which she definitely deserved—but at least Madison would know her whereabouts. And if she didn’t answer… well, there would be no clear determination, but it was still worth the chance.

  There was no answer on the other end of the line.

  Madison watched the scene playing out through the plate glass window. If a phone rang from within Trench Coat’s pocket, neither person gave any indication of the intrusion. They continued to argue without pause. In truth, in the few moments while she dialed the phone, the scuffle had turned into an all-out brawl. Caress flew forward, flinging her small body onto Trench Coat. Then she staggered backwards, pushed by the force of a lowered beefy shoulder.

  No matter who the other person was, the fight was real. Madison’s breath hung in her chest. There was another body-smack from Caress. Was that something in Trench Coat’s raised hand? Madison strained to get a better view, but a flurry of sudden movement changed everything. Trench Coat surged forward, knocking Caress to the ground and out of Madison’s line of vision.

  “What’s happening?” Even to her own ears, Madison’s voice was shaky. She had a sinister feeling about what was transpiring inside the house. If only to soothe her own taut nerves, she talked aloud inside the car. “Where is she? Where’s Caress... where’s Trench Coat? Oh, wait, I see movement… Trench Coat! Now where’s Caress?”

  As she watched, Trench Coat lumbered slowly up, teetering for a moment in an effort to regain equilibrium. Madison saw a flash of something red before Trench Coat turned away, quickly moving out of Madison’s line of vision.

  Madison was intent on watching for signs of Caress. When a car came flying out of Caress’s driveway, headlights glaring directly at her, she never thought to duck. She was like the proverbial deer, caught in the blinding headlights. The car careened past her in a blur and flew down the hill. Even if her mind had been in working order, the dark fog made it impossible to see any details about the vehicle.

  Madison sat in her own car for another long moment, willing Caress to appear at the window. A cold sense of dread welled within her. By now, Caress should be up and moving. She should be at the door, demanding that her guest return and apologize. She should be on the phone, sobbing for a friend or an official to come to her aid. She should be showing some of that fighting spirit Madison witnessed earlier.

  The memory of something red haunted her mind.

  With shaking hands, Madison punched in the number on her cell phone.

  “9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

  Her voice was weak, but her words strong. “I-I think I just witnessed a crime.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Brash killed the siren as he pulled up to the house on North River Oaks. He left the strobe going, casting red and blue lights into air thick with fog and gloom.

  He informed dispatch of his arrival on scene before crawling out into the chill of the night. He was the first to arrive but he would hardly be the last, not if a crime truly had taken place here. Details were sketchy, but the caller mentioned a possible homicide.

  Thankfully, murder was not a common crime here in The Sisters. Theft, yes. Illegal drugs, unfortunately. Even illegal gambling. But murder? Other than Ronny Gleason’s death last month, the last murder had taken place over two years ago. Even that had eventually been ruled as involuntary manslaughter.

  Snapping on a pair of latex gloves, Brash studied the house from where he stood. Single-story brick home, nice yard, drive-through carport with one car parked beneath the double space. A white late model Lincoln, just like the one Caress Ellingsworth drove. No name had come in with the address, but he thought the former actress lived somewhere on this side of town.

  Across the street, a car door opened and he saw a familiar long leg slide out to touch the pavement.

  Maddy.

  Tamping down the surge of pleasure that came with seeing her twice in one day, he took one glimpse at her pale face and knew her presence was no coincidence.

  “What are you doing here?” The words came out sharper than he intended, but at least they brought a flash of color into her ashen cheeks. Anger had a way of doing that.

  She lifted her chin with defiance as she crossed the street in her long, smooth stride. “I’m the one who called 9-1-1.”

  “You?” He threw a glance to the house behind him, trying to establish the connection. None came to mind. “Why were you here?”

  She did not answer directly. She tipped her head backwards, indicating the car behind her. “I was parked over there. I-I saw a fight take place in the house. Then someone ran out of the house and drove off in that direction, but I never saw Miss Ellingsworth again after that. I, uh, I think something bad happened to her.”

  A dozen questions ran through his mind. Why was she sitting out here in a parked car after midnight? How did she know Caress to begin with? Why was she always in the thick of trouble? Why was she dressed in a baggy sweatshirt and those ridiculous pajama pants, instead of the threadbare t-shirt he had seen her in before, the one that turned almost translucent when wet? Why did he still wonder what it would be like to kiss her, even now, when he had other things that he should be focusing on? And where was his backup? Shouldn’t the emergency crews be here by now?

  Brash shook his auburn head, hoping that by doing so some of the answers might fall into place. He settled on asking the question upper-most on his mind. “Again, what are you doing here, Maddy? It’s after midnight, and you don’t even live in Naomi.”

  She answered with a question of her own. “Shouldn’t we go in and check on her?”

  “I should check on her,” he corrected her. “You should stay here.” He turned away abruptly, then wheeled back around to stay sternly, “And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you keep avoiding my question.”

  ***

  Madison squirmed uncomfortably beneath Brash’s long pointed finger and his laser blue gaze. So much for their new flirtatious banter. She knew he would demand a straight answer sooner or later, but she hoped it would be later. Maybe by then, she could invent a plausible excuse for her presence here tonight without ratting out George Gail.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Brash dropped his inquisitive stare and started up the driveway. Madison scampered behind him. No way was she standing out here on the sidewalk in the dark.

  The
driveway led to the side entry, where the door stood slightly ajar and a porch light shone like a beacon into the fog-shrouded night. Brash did not acknowledge her presence, but he had to know she was right behind him.

  He knocked as a perfunctory gesture. After a brief moment, he carefully pushed the door open wider. “Miss Ellingsworth?” he called into the empty room. “Caress? Are you home? May I come in?”

  There was no answer in the quiet house. Stepping across the threshold, Brash twisted back toward Madison, his look nothing less than a glare. “Do not touch a thing!” he warned darkly.

  Too nervous to speak, Madison started to nod in agreement, then changed to a negative shake. Realizing that still wasn’t quite right, she nodded again. Brash rolled his eyes and turned away, leading the way through the room.

  As he called for Caress again, Madison glanced around the utility room. It appeared even former daytime television stars were burdened by menial tasks such as laundry. If she expected wispy pieces of satin and silk complete with boa feathers, she was sadly disappointed; the laundry basket contained typical undergarments, no different than most Naomi residents, or so she supposed. For a moment, Madison imagined a dozen backyard clotheslines, all draped with sexy underwear and plenty of red satin. A nervous giggle escaped her lips, earning her another angry glare from Brash.

  The laundry room opened into the kitchen. All new stainless steel appliances winked beneath pendant lighting. Top-of-the-line amenities decked out the small but efficient space.

  “Miss Ellingsworth, we’ve come to check on you.” Brash’s voice echoed across the empty tiled floors.

  Madison clutched his arm and stopped him mid-stride. “In-In there,” she whispered, nodding toward the dining room that opened off the kitchen.

  He glanced down at the death grip she had on his arm. His tone softened as he gently suggested, “Why don’t you stay here, Maddy, and let me take care of this?”

  “I-I’m going with you,” she said bravely. The truth was, she was too frightened to stay behind. Logically, she knew that whoever had harmed Caress was long gone; she had seen them leave with her own eyes. But right now logic did not play into the emotions shooting through her.