Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 04 - Vicksburg (19 page)

I pushed the thoughts aside and started the engine. I
couldn’t believe that in these last few days I still had come
up with nothing more than enough loose ends to fill the
Astrodome.

As I waited at the signal light on the corner of Mission and
Clay, a black limousine sped past. It was either the one in
which I had been taken for a ride, or its twin. And if I was
right, Sal and Manny were inside. On impulse, I followed,
taking care to remain several car lengths behind. I had a
sneaky feeling of their destination.

I was right. The limo pulled into the crowded parking lot
of the Riverboat Casino and turned into a private parking
area on the north side.

“What do you know,” I muttered, quickly parking and hurrying into the casino.

Inside, the noise level was only a couple of decibels below
that of a jet engine. Gaudy lights shone on plush red carpets,
reflecting off the silver and glass of the slots. Bells and
whistles from the whirling machines echoed off the high
ceilings, and excited voices from the tables punched holes
through clamor so thick that not even the proverbial hot
knife could cut it. I paused to study the layout of the casino.
I didn’t figure Sal and Manny came in to play the slots or
tables. Joe Basco probably had an interest in the casino. I
wandered through the slots while covertly searching the spacious casino for the administrative offices.

Then I spotted the door to the offices beside the coin exchange windows. I found a slot machine and started dropping quarters in it. Five minutes and twenty dollars later, the
door opened and Sal and Manny strode toward me. I turned
my back as they passed.

I studied the door from which they had come, convinced
now more than ever that both Stewart and WR were in the
scheme together. Both brothers were deep in debt, both to
the bank, and Stewart also to the Riverboat Casino, a.k.a.
Joe Basco.

I now believed more than ever that to cover their debts, the
brothers conspired with lawyer Goggins to change the will;
work out a deal with Basco for the land; and who knows,
maybe even have their father killed by one of Basco’s thugs.

Still, I reminded myself, there was one big problem with
my theory. Annebelle. If the brothers orchestrated the plot,
why include her in the will? Could it be a cunning effort to
remove themselves from the sphere of blame? Were they
that smart? Was Goggins that smart?

At that moment, the office door opened, and Stewart
Edney stepped onto the floor. I ducked behind a slot.

I followed Stewart to the glass door at the entrance to the
casino and watched as he climbed in his Cadillac and sped
away.

Nodding slowly, I guessed I had finally stumbled across
information to indicate I was heading in the right direction.
It was time to check Stewart’s alibi, his and WR’s. I glanced
at my watch. Three o’clock. If I hurried I could be back in
town by nine.

Swinging by the house, I picked up pictures of the Edney
family. Jack frowned. “What do you want them for?”

Slipping the pictures in my shirt pocket, I replied, “I’ll
explain later. See you about nine or ten”

I headed for Shreveport, a hundred and eighty miles to the
west. The speed limit was seventy. I stayed at seventy-five,
yet for every car I passed, a dozen passed me.

I reached the Tiger’s Den at 6:15. Like most bars, the inte rior was lit by peripheral illumination cast by multi-hued
lights from the jukebox and from behind a valance above the
bar. Behind the bar was an artistic rendering of a crouching
tiger. Unfortunately, the artist had a problem with perspective because the snarl on the animal’s lips looked more like
a sappy grin, and his back legs both came out of the same
socket.

I ordered a draft beer and showed the pictures to the bartender. I indicated WR and Stewart. “You ever see these
guys? Somebody said they were in here last Saturday.”

He eyed me warily. “You a cop?”

“Nope. Private investigator. Long lost sons. Inherited several million dollars. I’m trying to find them for the family.”
It was a ridiculous story, but he took it.

He gave me a crooked grin. “The one on the left looks
like me”

I laughed. “Sorry, pal. What about it? You see them?”

He shook his head. “Can’t help you, sorry.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. I just started work here yesterday. Let me call
Jumbo”

“Jumbo?”

“Yeah, the owner. Hold on a minute.”

Moments later, Jumbo, an apt nickname for he was a good
six inches over my five-ten and a hundred pounds beyond
my one-eighty, lumbered up to the bar. His meaty hand
engulfed mine. I showed him the pictures. “Ain’t seen them.”
He paused, frowned. “When was they supposed to be here?”

“Last Saturday.”

He snorted. “Somebody’s lying to you, boy. We was
closed last Saturday. Cops busted us for selling to minors.
We just opened backup Monday.”

For a moment, I stared at him without comprehending his
words. Then they hit me, right between the eyes. My first
real break! I suppressed my elation. Jumbo had blown WR’s
and Stewart’s alibis out of the water. If they had not been at the Tiger’s Den, just where had they been? In the workshop
with John Wesley Edney? That’s how it now appeared.

During the drive back to Vicksburg, I enumerated aloud the
chain of evidence I had gathered so far. “First, WR and
Stewart owe the bank out the kazoo. Second, Stewart has
gambling debts at the Riverboat Casino, which Joe Basco
either owns outright or is a partner. Third, the mob boss wants
to buy the Edney land south of Vicksburg. Fourth, I saw
Stewart coming out of the casino offices. Fifth, Diane told
WR I was going to Jackson, so he sent the bombers; sixth,
Basco has an interest in Rebel Trucking, vehicles involved in
two attempts on my life; and finally the two brothers had no
alibi for the twenty-sixth just like Annebelle had said.”

The last remark about Annebelle had sprung unconsciously from my lips. I frowned, trying to remember when
she had made it. I pulled the three-by-five cards from my
pocket and spread them on the seat. With one eye on the
highway and the other on the cards, I shuffled through them,
but could find no mention of the incident.

I struggled to remember. Slowly, it came to me. “Yeah.
Yeah, that second night when Stewart had questioned her
about softball, and she remarked that `at least I have an alibi.’”

I frowned. How could she have known they had no alibi
unless she was part of the plot with WR and Stewart? I jotted the question on a card.

As I now saw it, with the testimony of Wilson Jenkins and
Doc Raines, and if I could tie one or both of the brothers to
the attorney, William Goggins, I should have enough proof to
convince Chief Herrings that JW Edney had been murdered.

Pretty solid, but yet, in the back of my head, I still had that
nagging feeling that I was overlooking something.

Just as I reached the Mississippi River, a drizzle began to
fall. “I don’t believe it. Rain again.” By the time I pulled up
in front of the old mansion, the clouds had opened up.

When I returned, I found that Diane had left a phone message for me. I gave her a call.

“Hi,” she said cheerily when she picked up the receiver. “I
know it’s late, but I was wondering if you would like to grab
something to eat”

Instantly, I grew wary but I kept my voice amiable. “Sure.
What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing important. I heard you were still in town, so I
figured to show you some Vicksburg hospitality.”

“Sounds good to me. Where?”

“What about Casper’s Steak and Shrimp House, where I
work part-time? I’ll meet you there”

I couldn’t believe my luck. Here was the perfect opportunity to lay a trap for WR and Stewart. “Fine with me. I’ll be
right over. Ten minutes.”

Hastily, I put together a scheme to draw the brothers out.
I regretted I didn’t have more time to lay my plans thoroughly because unfortunately, when I worked too fast, I had
a history of mistakes. “But,” I muttered, quoting a hokey
phrase I had heard somewhere, “time and tide wait for no
man”

I planned to casually reveal to Diane that I had a solid
contact with irrefutable evidence of conspiracy in the death of JW Edney. I was planning on meeting him later that night.
With luck, someone who didn’t want the meeting to take
place would get the word and show up.

Now the truth was, I had an aversion to any sort of physical confrontation. So if someone did show, I planned to surreptitiously fit a bumper bug on his car and then follow from
a safe distance.

As an afterthought, I locked my .38 in the glove compartment.

Just before I reached the steakhouse, I remembered the
battlefield from the brochure I had skimmed my first night at
the motel. The only sites I could recollect were the Illinois
Memorial and the Shirley house a couple of hundred yards
east of the memorial on the crest of the same ridge. That
would have to do for a meeting place.

I had to admit, Diane was a knockout that night. Her shiny
brown hair fell down on her bare shoulders. She wore a yellow sundress that provided a becoming contrast to her
tanned skin. And I couldn’t help noticing she wore my
favorite perfume. She had pulled out all the stops. A Cajun
Mata Hari.

During the meal, we made idle conversation. Afterward,
we retired to the bar where she ordered a cocktail, and I
availed myself of club soda with a slice of lime.

“Well,” she said jauntily, “how’s the investigation going?
When I heard you were still in town, I guessed you didn’t
have any luck the other night.”

With a shrug, I replied, “Way it goes. Sometimes things
work out, sometimes they don’t. But, let’s not talk about that.
How’s your family, your mom and dad? I haven’t seen them
for years”

She failed to cover the flicker of impatience that wrinkled
her forehead. “Why they’re just fine. What about your mom?”

For the next several minutes, we made small talk, but I
could sense her impatience. She was dying to question me
about the investigation.

I gave her the opportunity as we danced around the
stamp-sized dance floor. “Hope you don’t mind if we leave
in thirty minutes or so.‘_’_

Her body stiffened slightly against mine, but she kept her
cheek against my shoulder. “Oh?” She tried to sound casual.

“Yeah. I’m supposed to meet a man tonight. He says he
knows who killed the old man, and he also has proof the will
was a forgery.” Hoping I had not been too obvious, I waited
for her response.

She struggled to keep the excitement from her voice. “A
forgery?”

I nodded.

“Do you think he really does?”

“Who knows?” I suppressed a grin. She had taken the
bait. I tightened the line gradually. “The only constant in this
business is that you never know what will happen next” I
gave another gentle tug on the fishing line. “If you hadn’t
called me, I would have called

you..,This
“Oh? Why is that?” Her obvious puzzlement appeared
genuine.

guy
wants
to
meet
at
the
battlefield
tonight.
Someplace out there called the Illinois Memorial. Supposed
to be near the Shirley house. You know the place?”

She pulled back and looked up into my eyes. She studied
me a moment. “Yes. Sure”

“Can you tell me how to get there?”

“You can’t,” she replied, shaking her head. “The park is
closed at night. Only security is out there”

It was my turn to look into her eyes. “But I’ve got to. It
might only be a wild goose chase, or it could be my only
chance to break the case wide open” I paused a moment,
then squeezed her hand. “Come on. Tell me where it is.”

She pulled away from me, and taking my hand, led me
back to the table. “I shouldn’t,” she said, glancing around the
noisy bar. “But I want to help you. For old time’s sake”

If she hadn’t been looking at me, I would have rolled my
eyes.