Dead Wrong Read online

  “Look. I get it. They were your guests. But I’m telling you, those boys were hiding something. They definitely were not fishing in the Guadalupe all week. Add in their financial problems, the note, and their sudden disappearance, and it’s enough for Bannister to release an All-Points Bulletin for their apprehension.”

  Agatha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She also couldn’t explain why she felt suddenly defensive regarding Mason and Paxton.

  “As for the paint on the barn, that seems to be nothing more than a prank. Maybe high school students did it. We might look into getting you some security cameras or outside lighting.”

  “No, we will not.” Agatha had heard quite enough. “This is still a Plain Bed-and-Breakfast, and I will not be adding cameras to spy on my guests or bright lights which will dim the evening stars.”

  “She’s stubborn,” Gina said under her breath.

  “And a bit behind the times,” Tony added.

  “I can hear you both.” She wanted to remain aggravated, but when Gina and Tony smiled at her, she couldn’t hold on to it. “What do we do now?”

  “I’m headed into town. There were a couple of loose ends I wanted to follow up on, though if Bannister is right...we might be close to solving this.” He reached out and gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder, causing Gina to raise an eyebrow. “I’ll be in touch.”

  They stood there and watched him walk away.

  “He’ll be in touch?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “Say, are you two—”

  “Stop right there. The answer is no.”

  Gina might not believe her, but at least she dropped the topic. Once again, Agatha’s property seemed to be returning to normal. Tony was gone, the guests had returned to their various amusements, and Bannister and his crew were packing up. Agatha was trying to decide between going back to the garden or fixing a light lunch when Gina grabbed her arm.

  “Ouch.”

  “Sorry, but look.”

  “Look at what?”

  “Brooklyn.”

  “What about her? She’s taking pictures of the baby. She’s always taking pictures.” Agatha wondered if maybe Gina needed a vacation. Perhaps the murder and investigation had been too much for her. She’d pulled in her bottom lip and when she turned toward Agatha, her eyes were wide.

  As they watched, Stuart picked up baby Hudson, and the couple walked toward their vehicle, plopped the baby into the infant seat, and started the car.

  Lowering her voice, Gina said, “I cleaned their room first thing this morning.”

  “Okay.”

  “I didn’t realize...I didn’t put it together until just now.”

  Stuart started the car, and slowly and carefully pulled out onto the road.

  “You didn’t put what together?”

  This time Gina grabbed Agatha’s arm in both of her hands.

  “The paint...there were drops of paint on the floor. I wondered where it came from, but I hadn’t seen what was on the barn yet. It wasn’t much. Only a few drops.”

  “But you’re sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure. Either Brooklyn or Stuart left you that message on the barn.”

  “All right.”

  “All right?”

  “All right. We’ll ask them what it means.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Sure. As soon as they return.”

  “You mean if they return.”

  Which Agatha thought was nothing more than Gina adding one more dramatic statement on top of an already overly-dramatic situation. Though she couldn’t resist the urge to stop by their suite of rooms upstairs in the main house—just to be sure their suitcases were still there.

  They were, which might mean they were coming back.

  Or it could mean they were more concerned about getting away than they were about their belongings.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Tony realized that what they had on the Cox brothers was flimsy at best. They could have been apologizing for anything, and a part of him sympathized with Agatha. The two seemed like puppies that had been raised with little or no training, but they didn’t strike him as inherently bad or desperate.

  The problem was that they were hiding something.

  Everyone was hiding something, which wasn’t so unusual. People rarely exposed their true selves to the world. Sometimes the reasons for keeping secrets were understandable, and Tony might even do the same in their situation. But other times, what was being hidden didn’t make sense. Like a thread he’d once pulled on a sweater Camilla knit for him, tug hard enough and the entire thing came unraveled.

  That’s what he wanted to do for the next few hours.

  He wanted to tug on a few loose threads.

  Because this case was coming together. Possibly the killer was being pushed into a desperate and ill-timed move, in which case they’d catch him or her. Or maybe the time frame was simply closing. Agatha’s guests would all be gone the next day. Tony knew few cases were solved in less than a week, but he felt they were very close.

  His first stop was at the small fishing shop in downtown Hunt. Tony tapped around on his phone until he pulled up a picture of Paxton and Mason that Bannister had forwarded to him.

  “Have you ever seen these two?”

  “Sure.”

  Dan Littlefield had been in trouble a few times as a teenager. Tony had picked him up once himself—kid was walking down the side of the road too drunk to know he was headed out of town instead of toward it. Dan had changed since those days as a malcontent teenager. He’d found his passion in the Guadalupe River and the little shop on Main Street. Little Bait and Tackle, a play off his name, had an excellent reputation throughout the Hill Country. If you wanted to know what fish were biting and what fly or lure to use, Dan was the man to ask.

  He’d turned thirty a few months before. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and a few tats danced down his browned arms—but his eyes were clear and his hands steady. It did Tony’s heart good to see how the man had turned his life around.

  “They were in here earlier in the week. Staying at Agatha’s, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Paper says there was a murder out there earlier this week.”

  “We can always count on the Hunt County News to keep our citizens informed.”

  Dan grunted and turned off the light on the magnifying glass he’d been using. He set aside the fly he’d been tying and cracked his neck to the left and then right.

  “Those two stopped by here, but they weren’t interested in fishing.”

  “They didn’t buy anything?”

  “Oh, they bought a few things, but when I told them they wouldn’t catch any fish with the kind of flies they were buying they only shrugged and added another package.”

  “Can you explain that?”

  “Not really. People are strange.”

  “Agreed, but those two—well, in some ways they struck me as harmless.”

  Dan patted his pocket, then grimaced. “Giving up smoking has been twice as hard as staying sober.”

  “But worth the effort.”

  “I guess.” Dan grabbed a bottle of water and downed half of it. “My impression, which is worth less than this bottle of water, is that they wanted to look like fishermen.”

  “But why?”

  “I have no idea. Like I said—people are strange.”

  “All right. Well, thanks for your help.”

  Tony was pushing his way back out onto the sidewalk when Dan called out to him. “I happened to be closing up just after their sale. When I walked out to my jeep, they were still parked out front, rearranging things in the back of their truck.”

  Tony waited, aware that the hairs on his neck were standing on end.

  “Catch a glimpse of something?”

  “Boots, buckets, a shovel, and pans.”

  “Pans?”

  “Yup. They didn’t look like what you’d use on the stove�
�more battered. Plus, I wondered why they’d need them if they were staying at Agatha’s. She’s one of the best cooks in the area.”

  “Yeah, she is. Thanks, Dan.”

  “Any time.”

  Tony’s next stop was the kayak rental spot on the outskirts of town. Patti Baker was squirting off a row of kayaks lying in the sun, bottoms up.

  “Patti.”

  “Tony. Surprised to see you here twice in two days.”

  “Wanted to ask you a couple more questions.”

  Patti was what the courts would call a hostile witness. She didn’t like Tony, and she made no attempt to hide it. He’d been instrumental in busting up a drug ring five years earlier, and her son had been caught in that net. He was currently serving five to ten years in the care of the State of Texas.

  “Don’t suppose I can stop you from asking.”

  Actually, she could. She had every right to ask him to leave, but Tony didn’t think pointing that out would be the best way to get his answers.

  “You told me when I stopped by before that you rented a kayak to Jasmine and Xavier Cooper...”

  “And later saw them sitting south of Agatha’s, spying on her place with binoculars. I remember what I said.”

  “Anything else come to mind since I spoke with you yesterday?”

  “About those two? Not a thing.” She began flipping the kayaks over. Tony was tempted to offer to help, but one pointed look from Patti changed his mind.

  “What about these two? Have you rented to them?”

  He stepped closer and showed her pictures of the Cox brothers. Patti shook her head once—a curt, definitive motion.

  “And what about these two?” This time he showed her a picture of Stuart and Brooklyn. “They would’ve had a baby with them.”

  “I don’t recommend that people with small children go out on kayaks.”

  “So you didn’t rent to them?”

  “I did not.”

  “Haven’t seen them?”

  “I haven’t seen any of them here at my shop. Those two men, I saw them in the river, as I was guiding my group past.”

  “They were fishing?”

  “No. Not that I could tell.”

  “So what were they doing?”

  “Your guess is good as mine—maybe better, what with you having been a detective and all.”

  Tony pushed his phone into his pocket. He hadn’t learned anything, but then he hadn’t really expected to. Mainly he was tugging on the case’s loose ends. He was missing something, but whatever it was lurked just out of his field of vision.

  “I guess you’ve seen the new signs.” Patti’s back was to him, so he had to step closer to clearly hear what she said.

  “What signs?”

  “On McNair’s property.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “I’m telling you. People around here need to wake up.” She squirted the row of kayaks with renewed vigor, as if they were to blame for people not being awake. “If we don’t watch out, this place is going to turn into another Fredericksburg, and that isn’t going to be a good thing for the town or the river. You think we had drug problems before? A place like that only brings in more trouble, more people who don’t belong.”

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

  “Put in on the far side of McNair’s place and paddle toward yours. You’ll see them.” She shut off the water, tossed the hose to the side, and trudged off to the small hut that was her office.

  She didn’t offer to rent him a kayak, but then Tony didn’t need one. He’d bought one years ago when he and Camilla were dreaming of their retirement. The Lifetime Sport Fisher Angler 100 had set him back six hundred dollars. He’d put it in the water twice—both times before her diagnosis. Since then it had been hanging in his garage. Sounded like it was time to pull it out.

  An hour later he was on the river.

  He had to put in half a mile south of McNair’s, because that was the first public access. He could have put in from his own place, but then he’d have to cross Agatha’s. At this point, something told him it would be best to proceed as unobtrusively as possible.

  Towering pecan and cypress trees lined the bank. The upper portion of the river ran through the towns of Kerrville, Hunt, Ingram, Comfort, and Boerne. The southern portion, which was inundated with tourists, river floaters, swimmers, and fishermen, went through New Braunfels and Gruene.

  The congestion and subsequent litter became such a problem that New Braunfels passed a law banning disposable food and beverage containers on the river. Although the river itself belonged to the State of Texas and was open to all, access to the river was limited because the land that bordered it was largely privately owned.

  It was a constant source of tension to find the right balance between tourist dollars, people’s right to enjoy the river, and landowners’ rights for privacy.

  But those problems hadn’t reached Hunt.

  This part of the river was still serene. Unspoiled. Patti was right when she said people needed to be aware of the cost of development, and money was just the beginning of it. Many folks would fight to keep the area undeveloped. They saw it as their responsibility to protect the river.

  The area across from Tony’s place, Agatha’s, and McNair’s was owned by a youth camp. Much of it was undeveloped though most evenings the kids staying at the camp trekked down to the river and used an old rope swing to plunge into its cold water. As Tony paddled around a bend that led to McNair’s property, the river widened.

  It didn’t take him long to find the signs Patti mentioned.

  Coming soon

  The Guadalupe Resort

  Private Property. No Trespassing.

  Tony stared at the sign for several moments.

  What was The Guadalupe Resort? He hadn’t heard of it. No one had mentioned it, and from what he could see with his binoculars, nothing had been done on McNair’s property. Had the development been in the local news and he’d simply missed it? If Patti Baker knew about it, it must be public knowledge.

  But McNair hadn’t mentioned it.

  He’d complained about Agatha’s guests, and he’d mentioned...what was it? He said he’d posted signs about the river frontage being private property. He’d changed the subject then and offered to give Tony a tour of the place. Staring at McNair’s property now through his binoculars, Tony wished he’d accepted that offer.

  Sun glinted off the second story windows, but he didn’t see any activity on the property at all. In fact, it seemed completely devoid of people.

  Tony paddled back to his truck, loaded the kayak, and once again turned toward town.

  He didn’t know whether McNair’s development plans had anything to do with Dixon’s murder—seemed a stretch to think it would. McNair had offered an alibi for himself and his men, and Bannister had checked it out.

  Correction.

  McNair said Bannister checked it out. Had he?

  One more question he needed answered.

  But first, it was time to visit an old friend.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Stuart and Brooklyn didn’t return until well after lunch.

  Gina hung around to provide moral backup, or maybe because she thought Agatha wouldn’t be aggressive enough in her questioning.

  “You baked them cookies? You think the way to make them confess is...” She picked one up, broke off a piece and popped it into her mouth. “Oatmeal?”

  “Oatmeal raisin with nuts.”

  “Nuts are what got us into this trouble in the first place.”

  “Cooks and bakers know the secret to a good day is patience.”

  “Is that another one of your proverbs?”

  “It is.”

  “Any idea what it means?”

  “Stick around and you’ll find out.”

  Stuart apparently couldn’t resist the scent of freshly-baked cookies. He walked into the room, carrying a very sleepy Hudson. Brooklyn followed them into th
e kitchen, though she held back at the door.

  Agatha poured Stuart a tall glass of cold milk and pushed the platter of still-warm cookies toward him. He practically melted into the chair. Brooklyn sighed deeply, then joined him at the table, removing her camera strap from her around her neck and placing the device on the table. She didn’t sit so much as perch on the edge of her chair, as if she needed to be ready to flee.

  Agatha started by asking them how their day was going. They’d taken Hudson to a local farm that had a small petting zoo.

  “He especially liked the baby goats.” Stuart kissed his son’s hair.

  “Don’t we all?” Agatha said. “I’ve thought of getting a few to help with the lawn around here.”

  Hudson was fast asleep against his father. There was no doubt that both Stuart and Brooklyn dearly loved their child. There was also no doubt in Agatha’s mind that they had not killed Russell Dixon, but they knew something.

  Agatha turned her attention to Brooklyn, but she apparently had nothing to add to the conversation. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, and she tapped an erratic pattern on the kitchen table with her thumb. Agatha’s heart went out to the woman, but one look from Gina firmed up her resolve to find out what was going on.

  “I guess you all heard about the Cox brothers leaving.”

  Stuart’s head bobbed as he reached for another cookie. He offered one to his wife who waved it away. She still hadn’t looked directly at Agatha or Gina.

  “And the painting on the barn? Did you see that, too?”

  Now Brooklyn’s eyes widened, and she looked up before jerking her gaze away and pulling Hudson from Stuart’s arms.

  Apparently Agatha was taking too long to get to the point, because Gina jumped in.

  “Couldn’t help noticing when I cleaned your room that there were some paint spots on the floor. Paint spots the same color as the message splashed across Agatha’s barn. So which one of you did it?”

  So much for being subtle.

  Agatha folded one hand over the other. “Not that we’re accusing you of anything, but...well, can you explain that?”

  Brooklyn clutched Hudson to her chest, as if Agatha might grab the child and run off with him.