Murder in the Clear Zone Page 21

  “You clean up slick,” Bard said. “What’s the occasion?”

  Les laughed. “I’m on my way to see a chick. Not that it’s any of your business.” He laughed again. “Slick, chick. Hey, I’m a damned poet.” Les picked up Bard’s crystal paperweight and balanced it in his hand. “Heard the Wootsons are moving today.”

  Gordon picked that moment to sail through the doorway. He nodded at Les. “Glad you brought that up, Cardel. That’s an answer I want to hear.”

  “That’s right,” Bard said, wishing that particular news hadn’t traveled so fast. All this interest in the move-out was bad for his plans.

  Gordon frowned. “Why wasn’t Wootson’s address on the board-up list?”

  Bard rubbed his jaw. “Why are you sweating the small stuff, Gordon? You’ve never did before.”

  Cardel handled the board-ups and was always interested in the details. But not Gordon. Now wasn’t the time for him to start getting involved. Or was he Janus?

  “Just answer the damned question,” Gordon growled.

  Bard frowned. Gordon was the boss and deserved an answer. “It’s a late move-out, after five,” Bard said. “I’ll schedule the boarding for first thing in the morning.”

  Gordon hoisted his butt onto the edge of Bard’s desk and dangled a shiny booted foot. Bard noticed that both Les and Gordon wore western boots. Damn, he was surrounded by Hollywood cowboys.

  “Auditing called about your expense sheet,” Gordon said, smoothing his fingers over his sandy brown hair. “Up a thousand from last month. Not having money problems, are you?”

  Bard’s hands curled into fists. Why had Gordon jumped him on this in front of an outsider like Les? “It includes the security fees for the Lord property and travel expenses,” Bard said. “Nothing out of line.”

  Les laughed. “You didn’t think Bard was into gambling and bookies did you, Gordy?”

  Bard looked from Les to Gordon. Was one of them in with the looters? Bard swore under his breath. This could be a subtle trap, a test of whether he’d lied to Lopez. Bard snorted. “If I were an obsessive gambler, you don’t think I’d admit it, do you?”

  Les flashed even white teeth. “Who could begrudge you a little recreation after your success in getting rid of the neighborhood troublemaker?” He winked at Gordon. “Right, Gordy?”

  Gordon was silent a moment. Bard imagined the wheels turning in his head. Weighing, deciding.

  Finally, Gordon nodded. “That’s a fact.” A grin broke out on his face, and he looked like the cat who’d eaten a whole aviary full of birds. “Nichols, you and I make a good team. You got rid of the notorious Paula Lord, and I fixed it so she wouldn’t be coming back for any little visits.”

  Bard’s throat went dry. “What?”

  “While you were off playing Frisbee with the bird lady in San Diego,” Gordon said with self-satisfaction in his tone, “I was busy getting restraining orders. Sometime today deputies will serve them on the widow and all the former residents of the clear zone.”

  Bard shot to his feet, blood pressure soaring, spilling his coffee. “Restraining orders!” His face burned. His fingers itched to grab Gordon’s neck.

  “Hey, is that legal?” Les asked grinning.

  Bard darted him a sharp, back-off look and growled, “Shut up, Les.”

  He turned to Gordon. “Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve single-handedly destroyed the credibility of the county, The Corps, and me in one stupid action.”

  Gordon’s usually dull gray eyes narrowed and sparked fire. His face flushed bright crimson. “Watch your mouth, Nichols! Your job is hanging by a thread. When you cool down you’ll see I did what’s best for the project.” Gordon stabbed the air with his finger. “Who the hell do you think is ripping off the houses over there? It’s the people who’ve already moved out.”

  Les smiled. “Good point, Gordy!

  Bard wished Les wasn’t around to hear all this. “Where’s your proof?” Bard knew Gordon had none, so he rushed on to stronger questions. “What kind of cooperation will we get from the homeowners now?” Bard paced then stopped short and glared at Gordon. “You haven’t cared about the looting up to now, why this sudden concern? Or should I ask Leroy Damas?”

  Gordon wrinkled his brow. “What’s Damas got to do with this?”

  “I thought maybe you’d tell me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gordon said.

  Bard didn’t believe him. Damas’s name in Charlie’s journal and his daily calls to Gordon from the Los Angeles corps headquarters looked suspicious. However, at the moment, he was more concerned about the backlash from Gordon’s action. “No restraining order will keep Paula away.”

  Gordon slammed his hand down on Bard’s desk. “Then she’ll be arrested.”

  Bard clenched his fists. With effort, he managed to keep his arms at his sides. “What about her has you running scared?” Gordon’s pointy, rodent-shaped face darkened. “Look, Nichols, I came in here to compliment you for getting rid of her. But sleeping with the enemy has shrunk your balls. Better get your loyalties straight. Fast.” Gordon pivoted on the two-inch boot heels and stomped out of the office.

  Bard let out a string of swear words he hadn’t unleashed in years.

  Les saluted him. “Hey, great show, Nichols. Got a new job picked out?”

  Bard shot him a go-to-hell look and was about let loose on him verbally when the intercom buzzed.

  “Police Detective Cory Morrison is here to see you,” the office secretary said.

  Bard sure as hell didn’t want Les around for any more private conversations. He jerked his thumb toward the door. “Get out, Cardel.”

  Les lumbered out, looking amused.

  Bard turned back to the intercom. “Send the detective in.”

  Cory seldom dropped by the office, and when he did it meant trouble. Bard frowned. That was just what he needed, more trouble.

  Cory stuck his head through the doorway. “Got a minute?” he asked, smiling.

  Bard stood and shook Cory’s hand. “Sure. What’s up, Detective?”

  Cory looked sharp as always in his sport’s jacket and the usual shiny boots that gave him an extra inch of height meant to intimidate men and impress women. Boots, boots, everywhere boots. Bard sat on the edge of his desk and gestured to a chair.

  Cory ignored the invitation and held out a manila envelope. “Here’s the info on Deeter. But it won’t do you much good now that he’s dead.” Cory raked his dark blond hair off his forehead. “Any other names you want me to run down?”

  “Not unless you can come up with Charlie’s killer.”

  “Speaking of which,” Cory said, “I need Paula Lord’s new address.”

  Bard winced inwardly at the subtle accusation but reined in a retort. He had more pressing worries. He didn’t want her served, and he didn’t want her hassled by a cop who had a personal ax to grind. “Problems?” Bard kept his tone more civil than he felt.

  “I have some questions, and I need to serve this restraining order to keep her away from the Clear Zone. We’re shorthanded, and since I had to see Paula Lord anyway, I offered to serve it.”

  Cory’s self-assured voice grated on Bard’s nerves, but he forced himself to stay focused. “Look, the order was a mistake. Can we pull it?”

  “It’s not up to me. Talk to the judge who signed it.”

  Bard cursed the small town way of operating. Cory shouldn’t be serving the restraining order. But maybe his involvement wasn’t such a bad thing. “Will you hold it until later today?”

  Cory rubbed his jaw. “I can give you until after lunch. Get it retracted by then, or I’ll have no choice. It has to be served today.”

  Bard glanced at his watch. 10:30 A.M. “I need more time. How about three or three thirty?”

  “One o’clock is the best I can do.” Cory shifted his weight. “Whether I serve Paula Lord or not, I need her address. Like I told you, I have a few questions for the lady.”
<
br />   Bard studied Cory’s face. It held no particular malice at the moment. Even if it had, he couldn’t hold out on a cop. After he told Cory Paula’s address, he asked, “New developments on the Borden case?”

  “You know the answer to that.” Cory’s eyes hardened. “Too bad I had to hear it from other sources.”

  A flush crawled up Bard’s neck. “Hear what?”

  “That Paula Lord is the beneficiary on Borden’s insurance policy.”

  “Oh, that. It’s no big deal. She was his sister, for God’s sake.”

  How had Cory found out about that so soon? Bard glanced at his watch. He didn’t have time for this discussion.

  “Sister, my foot,” Cory said. “They weren’t related. And the money’s a connection between the murder cases and a strong motive.”

  A mental clock ticked in Bard’s brain, counting off costly minutes, but he couldn’t let this go. “What’s behind the vendetta you have against Paula?”

  A nerve twitched near Cory’s left eye.

  Bard sensed it was now or never. “Come on, spill it.”

  Cory stared at Bard for a moment, his face darkening to an unreadable mask. “Yeah,” Cory said. “Maybe to understand where I’m coming from, you need to hear this.”

  Bard steeled himself, knowing he wasn’t going to like it.

  Cory paced like a caged tiger. “Paula’s husband, Dan, and I were partners, buddies. We worked the Fred case together, and both of us were bewitched by Paula. She was sixteen with a woman’s body and a child’s innocent eyes.” Cory sank down in the padded chair, looking disconcerted. “We both wanted to help her, rescue her. Hell, the truth is we both wanted her, period. Dan won, or lost, depending upon how you look at it.”

  Bard’s gut tightened. The resentment in Cory’s voice explained a lot. Paula had turned him down, and Mr. Enormous Ego couldn’t get over it.

  Cory got up and paced again. “It wasn’t long until Dan and Paula’s marriage hit the rocks. He was jealous and possessive, and she didn’t want to deal with a green-eyed monster or be controlled.”

  Bard frowned. “Who would?”

  Impatience flickered in Cory’s eyes, and he ignored the question, and went on with his story. “Things got worse after a shooting forced Dan to retire from the PD. He’d caught a bullet that shattered his leg and the resulting fear affected his mental stability. It was quite complicated. Anyway, the investigatior’s believed the shooter wanted it to look like Dan was killed in the line of duty. His police insurance pays more that way. But the gunman was a bad shot, and Dan was only injured.”

  Bard shook his head. “And you think Paula had something to do with that?”

  “I know it. With the marriage in the toilet, she wanted to end it quickly. She hired a second hit on Dan. This time the gunman didn’t miss. The first bullet ended his career, but the second ended his life. And, I’m going to get her for it.”

  “You’re wrong about her, Cory. But your slant on things explains a lot.”

  “Doesn’t explain crap,” Cory muttered.

  Bard wanted to tell him about Charlie’s confession, but Paula had sworn him to secrecy. Somehow, he had to persuade her to show the letter to Cory.

  A shadow darted back from the doorway. Bard frowned. Had someone been listening? Gordon? Les Cardel?

  Bard stepped to the doorway and saw a booted heel disappear around the corner.

  Cory joined him. “I guess we’re through here.” He glanced at his watch. “You have until one o’clock, Buddy.”

  Bard bolted to his desk and buzzed the secretary. “Was someone outside my door just now?”

  “Yes. I think Les wanted to talk to you again.”

  Bard cursed under his breath. “I have to make a phone call. Give me five minutes, then send him in.”

  “I would but….” She paused. “He must’ve changed his mind. He left the office right behind the police detective.”

  Damn that Les. What was he up to now?

  For about two seconds, Bard cursed everything that had gone wrong this morning then he grabbed the phone and dialed Reed’s office. If anyone could stop the restraining orders, it would be Reed.

  Reed’s secretary came on the line. “I’m sorry, Mr. Reed is out of the office handling an emergency. I don’t expect him back until around two thirty.”

  “This is Bard Nichols. Got a number where I can reach him? It’s important.”

  “Memorial Hospital,” she said, “emergency room. One of our people was shot.”

  Bard was so intent upon his problem that her words didn’t fully register. She gave him the number. He didn’t wait to hear anymore. He re-dialed and reached the emergency unit. While the receptionist paged Reed, soft music played in the background; the monotonous kind used to lull callers into a stupor. Bard tapped his fingers on the desk. What was taking her so long?

  “Sir,” the receptionist finally said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Reed didn’t answer the page.”

  Damn. “Thanks for trying.” Bard hit the disconnect button. His only option was to call Paula and warn her. Her line stayed busy. He tried the number repeatedly. Several important long distance calls came into his office, tying up his time. It was 12:49 when he tried again. Unbelievable. Still busy.

  ****

  Les Cardel sat in his truck watching Paula’s house, waiting for the fireworks. He’d set things up with a telephone company lineman friend of his. Paula couldn’t make or receive any calls. Her line registered busy. Bard would regret the times he kicked him out of his office. Les laughed. He didn’t get mad. He got even.

  Chapter Thirty

  At 1:01 P.M., true to his word, Cory swung his unmarked Mustang into Paula’s driveway. At the door, he shifted his weight several times. In his charged up frame of mind, coming here was asking for trouble.

  After a few moments, Paula opened the door, her eyes wide. “Detective Morrison. Thought I’d left you behind in the clear zone.”

  She was in a white terry robe and smelled of soap and shampoo. She was barefoot—probably bare all the way up. Her wet hair was swept up on top of her head in a crown of copper ringlets. The slender arch of her neck begged for kisses. Cory took a deep breath. The old feelings were as strong as ever. She stared at him for a moment, wariness flickering in her eyes. She half closed the door and stepped behind it.

  “Do you mind if I come in?” With effort, he kept his voice controlled and official sounding.

  “I was just getting ready to go out,” she said stiffly.

  He put his hand on the door and pushed his way in, forcing her backward. “It’s important.”

  Her eyes sparked fire. “Dammit, Cory. Do you have a warrant to come barging in here?”

  He closed the door behind himself and paused in the entry, giving her his most intimidating look. “No warrant, but a document just as official.”

  She belted her robe tighter, pulled her collar up around her neck. “Let’s see it.”

  He thrust the document in her hand. “Bard asked me to wait until after lunch to serve this.”

  “What is it?”

  Two familiar frown creases appeared at the bridge of her nose. She didn’t look twenty-four to Cory; she still looked sixteen and vulnerable, like the first day he’d set eyes on her.

  “Didn’t Bard call to explain?” Cory raked a strand of hair off his forehead, silently cursing his shaky fingers. “It’s a restraining order. If you come within five hundred feet of the clear zone, you’ll be arrested and hauled off to jail.”

  “Bard did this?”

  “You weren’t singled out. All the relocated people got orders.”

  “Why?”

  “I’d say the individual who issued this doesn’t want any of you ousted folks there stirring up trouble.”

  Something flickered briefly in Paula’s eyes, then her face became a mask. “What about Charlie’s murder? Any new developments?”

  “A big one. A $100,000 insurance policy. As Charlie’s beneficiary, you’ve got a stro
ng motive.”

  She snorted. “Because of the money? You know I have plenty of that.”

  “Maybe,” Cory said. “From what I’ve been able to determine, Deeter was in with the looters, and he spent a lot of time hanging around your house.”

  “So what?”

  “The head of the looting ring is someone who knows everyone living in the clear zone, their move out dates, and their house-boarding dates.” Cory’s heart thudded against his chest. “Know anyone who fits that description?”

  Her eyes glowed. “Sure, Les Cardel. Gordon Davies. All The Corps people. And you!”

  “Not funny, Paula. As the head of the Homeowners Group you have all that information.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Am I a suspect in Deeter’s murder, too?”

  “Maybe. But his biker buddies said Bard was after him.”

  Paula shook her head. “That’s nothing. Deeter followed us. Bard wanted to find out why.”

  Cory felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. “If I didn’t know Bard so well, I’d wonder why his name keeps coming up in this investigation.”

  Paula arched a brow, looking as cocky as hell. “Here I thought all along, with you guys being roommates, you’d be close enough to ask him a question like that yourself.”

  “As my prime suspect, it would benefit you to be more helpful.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  Her look was as direct as her question. Sweat broke out above Cory’s upper lip. Drumming up all his resentment against her hadn’t weakened his obsession. It had only grown stronger every day from the first moment he’d seen her. He hadn’t meant to let her know he still had feelings for her, at least not yet, but looking at her made him reckless.

  “Nothing to do with the case.”

  She lifted her chin. “If it’s not about the case, then I don’t want to hear it.”

  The clean, flowery scent of her was intoxicating. He couldn’t forget that she was probably bare under her robe. Unable to resist any longer, he grabbed her, digging his fingers into her upper arms.