Dead Set Read online

  “Maybe.” She rang up his purchases. “I’ve only been here six months, and even I recognize that the more dangerous the situation, the more attractive it is to some people.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” He slipped his credit card into the reader, punched in his code, then returned the card to his wallet.

  Georgia put his items into a bag. “Had a few kids drop in looking for metal detectors.”

  “Great.”

  “Yup. Fortunately, that’s not something I carry.” She tapped her bright pink nails against the glass counter. “Heard them say they’d have to go into San Antonio to get some. That it would totally be worth it when they—”

  “Let me guess. When they found the treasure.”

  “Exactly.” She cocked her head to the side. “You’ll probably have to sit on the porch with your Glock if you want to scare them away.”

  “If that’s what I have to do...”

  “Say, do you need some help out there? Because I’d be willing to take a shift.”

  Tony shook his head. “I’m hoping that won’t be necessary.”

  “All right, but if you change your mind give me a call.” She pulled out a business card from beneath the counter, jotted a number on the back, then slipped it into the bag. “Now you have my cell number. Use it if you need it.”

  He made it to the door before he turned around and asked the question that was on his mind. He thought he knew the answer, but what did he really know about Georgia Maples? She seemed like a good person. Agatha had thought the same of Kolbe. “I’m just curious. Why the offer to help? You don’t even know Agatha.”

  “True, but I know you. I know you’re a good customer. Businesses like mine depend on good customers that keep coming back.”

  “And...”

  She laughed. “I was an officer in El Paso. Made it eight years before I burned out.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Most of the time I don’t.”

  He nodded. He definitely understood that. “I’ll call if I need help.”

  “Good.”

  Stepping out into the August heat, Tony realized anew that the world was full of good people. It was easy to forget that when you were chasing the bad guys. But the good people were why you chased the bad guys. Otherwise, you might as well find a cabin deep in the woods and live your life alone. He’d done that. Done it for over a year after Camilla died. He didn’t want to go back.

  Though it was ironic that this was the third murder investigation that Agatha was involved in. He could only hope that it was also the last.

  Thirty minutes later he was sitting in Bannister’s office. Bannister was former military and it showed—crew cut hair, ramrod posture, no nonsense attitude.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Tony. I’m spread thin here. You understand that.”

  “I do, but I’m telling you that there will be more trouble at Agatha’s tonight unless you have a very visible presence.”

  Bannister sighed, shook his head, then leaned back in the chair, causing it to groan. “And you heard this where?”

  “Let’s say it’s an informed intuition.”

  “You must have more than that.”

  Tony told him about the conversation with Georgia Maples.

  “Great. I’m in the middle of a murder investigation and now you’re telling me I have to deal with teenaged treasure hunters.” Bannister shook his head in disbelief, then stood, effectively dismissing him.

  “You’ll put someone on it?”

  “You know first-hand that this department does not budget for overtime.”

  “But...”

  “But I’ll find somewhere to pull the money from. I’ll have a patrolman there tonight, the Texas Rangers will be on scene tomorrow, and then we can put this whole treasure hunt to rest.”

  Tony only hoped it would be that simple.

  He stopped by Julia’s desk, picked up the information he’d requested in a text message, and hot-footed it back to the B&B. It didn’t look as if any lookie-loos were around watching him, but he kept an eye on the road that ran in front of Agatha’s as he repositioned the game cameras to less visible locations and slipped in the new memory cards.

  For the person breaking in to have known where the cameras were, for them to be able to remove the cards without being seen, indicated to Tony that they were workmen on the renovation crew. That made sense. Kolbe was on the crew. In fact, it could have been Kolbe who removed the cards, but somehow that didn’t ring true to him. It wasn’t merely Agatha’s insistence that Kolbe seemed like a good boy. Tony knew that some of the most hardened criminals he’d come up against were very good at hiding their true selves. But there was usually a tell, something that gave them away if you knew what to look for.

  Tony hadn’t paid close enough attention, but he had met Kolbe. None of his usual alarm bells had gone off. Kolbe had seemed to be a young college kid, making some extra money with a summer job.

  So what had he missed?

  One thing Tony was certain of: he needed to up his game.

  He needed to make absolutely sure that Agatha and Gina were safe, and that was exactly what he intended to do.

  AGATHA AND GINA PARKED in front of the small building with the big sign. Dewald Construction. Looked innocuous enough.

  “Parking seems to be nearly empty.” There was one other vehicle—a metallic gray van that appeared to be brand new.

  “That’s a Dodge Grand Caravan, and it looks brand new.”

  “So?”

  “Just seems a little high-end for a construction business. They run upwards of fifty thousand dollars. My neighbor bought one equipped with handicapped access. The payment on the loan is over a thousand a month, and that’s for six years.” Gina nodded toward the back. “They must have several work crews. Employee parking’s over there.”

  Agatha put on the glasses that were hanging from the chain around her neck. There were a dozen cars parked beyond the gate. She probably needed to be more consistent wearing her glasses. She hadn’t even seen the cars. She wasn’t sure she’d seen the gate. The gate looked as if it could use some adjustment, hanging a bit crooked on its rollers. The parking lot itself was ragged and in dire need of repaving. As they walked toward the front door, they had to skirt several pot holes.

  “I thought business was booming in the Hill Country.” Gina gazed up at the chipped paint on the façade of the building. “Wonder what the problem is here.”

  A bell jingled as they pushed through the door sporting a Yes, We’re Open sign and stepped into an empty reception area. The furniture looked old and tired, the linoleum curling up in places.

  “Coming,” someone called out, and then a woman ten years younger than Agatha walked out of a back office. She looked disturbingly perky—hair cut in a nice shoulder length bob, red golf shirt sporting the words Dewald Construction embroidered over the pocket. Clinging to her side was a small boy. He tugged on her hand, and she bent down to hear his request. “Yes, but only for a few minutes.”

  When he’d turned and run from the room, she turned her attention to Agatha and Gina. “He always wants on the iPad, but I try to limit his time on computer devices. Kids needs to be outside playing, not inside glued to a screen.”

  “It’s a hundred degrees out there,” Gina pointed out.

  “I played in it, and it didn’t kill me. Now how can I help you?”

  “I’m Agatha, and this is Gina. You’re...”

  “Debbie. Debbie Dewald. I’m Derrick’s wife and office manager.” She waved her hand to encompass the office. “Plus delivery person, pick up person, lunch caterer, accountant. I wear many hats.”

  “Is one of those hats a ski mask?”

  Eek. Gina wasn’t wasting any time on the pleasantries.

  “What?” Debbie had straightened her posture and was looking at them as if they were there to rob her.

  “Did you break into Agatha’s last night?”

  “I did not, and if you o
nly came here to accuse me, then you can leave.”

  “Let’s all take a breath.” Agatha had stuck one of the mini loaves of apple nut bread, wrapped in a cloth dish towel, into her oversized purse. She pulled it out and set it on the counter. “Peace offering for my friend’s rudeness.”

  “Hey. I wasn’t being rude...”

  Both Agatha and Debbie stared at Gina, waiting.

  Finally Gina raised her hands and said, “Okay. That might have come off rude. I’m sorry.”

  Debbie shrugged. “No doubt you two are feeling a lot of pressure, and after what happened to Kolbe, I can’t say I blame you. A real tragedy, that, and in a place as nice as Hunt. We’re all in a tizzy about that, plus the fact that buried treasure is popping up all over town.”

  “Not all over town,” Gina corrected. “At Agatha’s.”

  Debbie raised her eyebrows, but she didn’t bother to answer.

  “Can you tell us anything about Kolbe?” Agatha ran her fingertips back and forth over the counter. “I still can’t believe...well, I don’t believe he was involved in the robbery or treasure hunt or whatever you want to call it.”

  “I don’t believe it either. He’d been working with us all summer, and we never had a peep of trouble out of him.”

  “College kid?” Gina asked. “He had the look of a college kid—underfed, over-caffeinated, in need of a mom.”

  “That actually describes Kolbe pretty well. He was attending Texas Tech, in the mechanical engineering department.”

  “Smart then.”

  “I’d say so, but young and a bit naïve. The work crew used to play practical jokes on him—hide his motorcycle in the break room, Superglue his lunchbox shut, that sort of thing.”

  “But he was a good worker?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Do you know anything about his past?”

  “Only his work history. His references checked out, and we were happy to have the extra help.”

  All three women fell silent as they contemplated the tragedy of a life cut short. The peaceful moment didn’t last long.

  “It had to be someone on the work crew.” Gina crossed her arms, as if she were going to stand there and wait until Debbie gave up the goods and turned in the thief and murderer who just happened to work for their company.

  “Excuse me? It did not have to be someone on the work crew. Besides, my husband is in charge of that crew. I dare you to say something implicating him again.” She reached out and grabbed a stapler, as if she was going to chuck it at one of them.

  Agatha pushed the baked bread closer. “We brought this for you, because we knew you’d be struggling with the situation the same as we are.”

  “I am!” Debbie’s hair bobbed as she turned away from Gina and toward Agatha. “Kolbe’s mom called me. That poor woman was hysterical, and who could blame her. I didn’t know what to say. I don’t know how to talk to grieving moms.”

  “When will a work crew be back out to my place?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure they will.”

  “What?” Gina now had both hands on her hips. “You signed a contract. You have to finish what you’ve started.”

  “That contract stipulates that if the working conditions aren’t safe, we don’t have to do anything. My work crews aren’t too eager to go back to a place that was involved with a murder. And to think it all started with Waynard’s buckle. All of this trouble is because of some stupid treasure.”

  Gina wasn’t buying the grieving boss act at all. “It looks to me as if you could use some treasure around here.”

  “What?” Now Debbie was clutching the stapler.

  Agatha had played a lot of softball as a youngie. She knew the look of a pitcher winding up, and this woman was about to throw a fast pitch with a stapler.

  “We have to go. I hope you enjoy the bread.” Agatha practically pushed Gina out the front door. The sun hit them full in the face, and they both blinked. Gina shoved on her sunglasses, Agatha did the same, and they hustled over to Gina’s Jeep.

  Agatha clipped her belt buckle into place. She never felt quite safe in a car. Why hadn’t they brought her horse and buggy? The last thing she needed was a riled-up Gina peeling down the byways of Hunt. “That was awkward.”

  “Suspicious is what it was.”

  “How do you mean?” Agatha clutched the grab bar as Gina slammed her foot down on the accelerator. “And could you slow down?”

  “I’m still in first gear.”

  “You’d never start off in a horse and buggy that way.”

  Gina rolled her eyes and shoved the gear shift into second. “I thought Dewald Construction was doing well. Their website shows a more prosperous business than the actual building seems to indicate.”

  “You can’t tell that from being in the lobby for ten minutes.”

  “I think I can.”

  “Perhaps they’re more concerned about paying their employees well than they are about spiffing up a reception area that few people ever visit.”

  “If they were paying their employees well, those same employees wouldn’t have to look for buried treasure.”

  “You really think the woman back there is involved?’

  “I don’t know what to think, Agatha. We came looking for answers. As usual, all we found were more questions. And why did you give her one of our loaves of apple bread?”

  “Because it’s polite to take a gift when going to see someone.”

  “A gift?” Gina was now in fifth gear and careening down the road.

  “Don’t look at me. Look at the road.”

  “Why wrap it in one of our dish towels? Now we have one less dish towel.”

  “You know I don’t like using plastics to wrap around food.” Agatha was having trouble focusing on her earth-friendly habits and the reasons for such as they were flying down the road. It seemed like flying to Agatha. When she peeked at the speedometer, it only showed 48 mph, which was super-fast for a horse, but probably not so fast for a Jeep.

  Gina gripped the steering wheel. “I think you need to start your list.”

  “What list?”

  “Your murder list.”

  “My murder list?” A headache was beginning to pulse in Agatha’s right temple. She wanted to rub it, but she didn’t want to let go of the grab bar.

  “Didn’t you have a murder list last time?” Gina backed off as they approached a curve in the road, then floored it again to make up for lost time. “You remember—a list of suspects who might have killed Russell Dixon, and then for who might have killed Nathan King.”

  “Maybe I did. I’ve tried to put those two tragic events out of my mind.”

  “Well, we’re in the middle of another such tragic event, so get out your pen and paper.” Gina scowled at the road as she sped around a tourist who was pointing his cell phone at white-tailed deer grazing in an adjacent field. “And put Debbie and Derrick Dewald at the top of your list.”

  Chapter Eight

  Tony was pleased to find Agatha and Gina at his house when he returned. They must have been tired, or maybe they were afraid of another break-in. He’d hoped they would agree with his idea for them to stay at his house, but realistically he’d expected more resistance.

  They spread the dinner he’d picked up from Sammi’s across the table and filled their plates with a bit of this and a bit of that.

  “You girls are hungry. I’m going to take that as a good sign.”

  “It’s because of our afternoon.” Agatha bit into a chicken leg and sighed. “This really is gut food—almost as gut as Amish food.”

  Gina harumphed as she scooped up a forkful of meatloaf. “It’s not all as gut as yours or mine, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

  Tony buttered a roll, though as he did he remembered his doctor recently telling him to lay off butter and bread. Investigations made him hungry. He dipped the roll in the gravy he’d splashed over the meatloaf and enjoyed several bites. Finally, when it seemed no one was going to jump into
the conversation they needed to have, he said, “So tell me about your afternoon.”

  They did, taking turns, practically tag-teaming their description of the meeting with Debbie Dewald.

  “It sounds funny when we tell it, but at the time I really did think she might bean Gina with that stapler.”

  “I was packing, so it’s a good thing she didn’t.”

  Tony tried to look surprised, but he wasn’t. In Texas it wasn’t unusual for a person to have a License to Carry permit. That wasn’t just a piece of paper to Gina—it was a right to defend herself, and she was determined to exercise that right at every opportunity. “Still carrying that Smith & Wesson?”

  “I am, and I go to the shooting range twice a month, so I don’t need any lecture from you about gun protocol or safety.”

  “See what I mean?” Agatha pulled off a bit of chicken and put it on the floor for Fonzi, who purred appreciatively. “She’s testy.”

  Tony ducked his head and focused on his mashed potatoes and meatloaf. Perhaps once the women had some food in them, they’d settle down.

  An hour later, they’d done the dishes, brewed decaf coffee, and taken the assortment of desserts to the back porch. Tony’s back porch wasn’t as nice as Agatha’s—no throw pillows or pots of flowers. But he had a good view of the river, and at the moment the peace that came from watching the Guadalupe slip past was just what they needed.

  No one seemed eager to break the silence, but he finally put down his empty mug of coffee and propped his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. Agatha and Gina understood that it was his serious look. They both sat up straighter.

  “Tell me why you suspect the Dewalds.”

  Gina jumped right in. “They knew about Waynard’s buckle being found.”

  “Everyone knew that.”

  “Still, they had unique access to the site.”

  Tony motioned for her to continue.

  “At least one, if not several, of the workers heard Agatha say that she was going to her friend’s for the night. And if you ask me, the Dewald’s have motive. Their business didn’t look like it was doing so well, financially speaking.”

  Tony nodded as if that made sense, and tapped a couple of notes into his phone. “Agatha? Do your impressions of the Dewalds line up with Gina’s?”