Killer Moves: The 4th Jolene Jackson Mystery (Jolene Jackson Mysteries) (10 page)

Chapter 12

The evening with Jerry was way too short and morning came way too soon. And while waking up next to Jerry was just getting better and better, the up-with-the-chickens timing of it was not. Six in the morning is not my time to shine, but he was already up, showered and gone. That would have been fine if I could have gone back to sleep, but I couldn’t. Still, it did make it easier for me to make it to the property to me with Dr. Waverman. And, if I could just keep floating in the blissful mind-blanking moment I was having right now, I might even show up with a smile.

I pulled up to the gate a couple of minutes before seven. It was open so I drove over the cattle guard and followed the red dirt road through the mesquites. I presumed Waverman was already there and waiting for me to bring him the contract. Most of it was boiler plate kind of stuff with the expected consultant weasel words, however, there were no estimated costs and it was basically an open-ended ticket for him to do whatever he wanted to—and charge accordingly.

It was true that we didn’t know what we were getting into, but I had the feeling he would cheerfully bill for whatever he thought he could get away with. So, I wrote across the bottom of the contract my own terms and conditions of how things would be if he wanted to get paid. In short, he had to keep me in the loop about everything—no exceptions. The request for a weekly report, including technical, regulatory and financial details, was going to be more work, but I figured he’d hop on board once I pointed out he would be billing me for it. He wasn’t going to let this big money project get away from him.

Smaller roads veered off in both directions, but I followed the most traveled path that seemed headed toward a row of large holding tanks off to the right. As the road curved around, a big open area sprawled out before me and I sucked in my breath at the sight. Directly in front of me, backed up against a patch of mesquites, were four white canopy tents with tables and equipment under them. To the left, a field of bare red dirt covered with a crusty salt-like substance spread out toward the tank battery. Little colored flags on small wire rods clustered across the salty clay, swaying in the breeze. Sort of reminded me of an outdoor art display I’d seen once that had bulbs on spring rods in a field of grass. Only there was no grass and this wasn’t art. I pulled up beside the other trucks and parked.

Waverman popped out from under one of the covered areas wearing a hardhat and marched toward me.

I grabbed the papers from the seat, stepped out of the Tahoe and walked to the front of the truck. “I have the contract for you.”

“Good,” he said guardedly. “We’re ready to get started as soon as the rig gets here.”

“There are a couple of things I added to the scope of work,” I said, handing him the contract. “You’ll need to look those over and initial them.”

Waverman looked down his nose at me as he took the papers. “That proposal was written for flexibility. We’ve got to move fast and get this done.”

“Absolutely.”

He cut his eyes toward me. “You don’t want to do anything that would cause more agency officials to show up and start asking questions.”

“No, Doctor Waverman, I certainly don’t. That scenario would likely not work out well for either of us.” I paused and smiled—a little. “Your professional reputation is on the line right along with my money, so I know we are both going to make decisions and take actions that move this project forward as smoothly and ethically as possible.”

He frowned, unsure if I was suggesting he might not be ethical, which I was. “Of course,” he said, looking back down at the papers. “That’s how I handle all my projects or I wouldn’t still be in business.”

I didn’t know about that, but I did know I was going to have to—at least to some degree—pander to his ego. My ego didn’t like it, but I didn’t like the idea of being locked in a perpetual pissing contest with an insecure bully with questionable morals either. So, I appealed to his pocketbook and pride to coax him off his high horse—or at least get it heading in the right direction. “You come highly recommended, Doctor Waverman, and I sincerely appreciate your efforts in pulling all this together on such short notice.”

He glanced up warily, wondering if I was being sincere.

“It was very fortunate you had time to take this on. And, as you said, it is quite complex, so the additions I made to the contract are simply tasks to facilitate my understanding and will actually increase your budget.”

The tension in his face lightened and he nodded then went back to reading my additions to the contract. He frowned a little at one point then remembered he’d be billing me for it all and the corners of his mouth actually turned up in a smile. “Yes, well, I think this certainly seems fair,” he said, then laid the contract on the hood of the Tahoe, initialed my changes and signed his name to both copies of the contract. As he handed me my copy, his eyes darted over the top of my head and his smiled faded. Scowling, he grumbled, “What the hell does she want?”

I turned around and followed his gaze to a shiny silver sedan that was pulling up beside his truck over by a tent. I couldn’t see who was behind the wheel, but it wouldn’t have mattered if I could because my eyes were locked on the car’s license plate, which read: MRS RJW. “You have got to be kidding me.” Yes, I think I said it out loud, but Waverman didn’t seem to notice. He apparently had his own issues with the Mrs. “I-have-no-identity-of-my-own” Waverman.

Huffing, sighing and grumbling, Waverman stomped over to the car. Between his bulk, the road noise and the distance, I couldn’t see or hear what was going on. But when he turned back around with a cooler in his hand, it was good bet that his wife had brought him lunch. He walked over to his truck and stuck the cooler inside then came back to me, carrying a large white binder. “If you’re going to be onsite, you need to study this and have training.”

A rumble behind us blocked out whatever he was going to say next as a drill rig, followed by a white extended cab pickup with yellow clearance lights and big poles extended above the roof, pulled up. I recognized both. I couldn’t imagine how Gilbert Moore had recovered enough from his gunshot wound to be onsite, but it sure looked like he was—or at least his truck was.

Seeing Waverman headed over to get the drillers moving, I knew it was my time to exit. I had learned everything I wanted to for the moment—maybe forever—so I climbed back in the Tahoe and tossed the binder in the passenger seat. “Environmental, Health and Safety Manual, my ass. If there’s anything in there I need to know, the good doctor can tell me about it himself. I have bigger fish to fry.”

I started the car then checked my phone. I had a missed call and a voicemail from Melody. I didn’t bother checking the message and dialed.

Melody picked up on the first ring. “She’s coming over here!” she said, her words coming out in a panicked rush. “Nurse Linda just called to say she’s coming here. In just a few minutes. She said she has to do some final evaluations on Mom and to get signatures on the paperwork. I told them I would go to their office today and do that, but now here she is. I don’t like it, Jolene. It doesn’t feel right.”

No, it didn’t. “What are you going to do?”

“She said if we didn’t comply, she’d be obligated by law to turn us in to Social Services for endangerment of a senior. I understand they have rules, and I suppose what I did could be considered not in her best interests by others, but it really felt like she was threatening me!”

“This is not good. Options...options….” I paused, my mind running in a thousand different directions, including all the places I needed to be simultaneously. Amazing how our priorities can instantly be rearranged for us. “You may have to sign the papers, but you don’t have to be alone. I can head that way right now.”

“No, I think I can play dumb and just sign the papers. She won’t be able to do anything to Mother with me watching. But I know she’ll be back. I just know it.”

“And you can’t be there.”

“I know. I’m going to have to take Mother somewhere else. I could take her to my condo in Dallas, but it isn’t ideal. It’s upstairs and doesn’t have a walk-in shower, but that’s not even the biggest concern. She’s just not doing well. I don’t know what’s happened. She’s not strong like your mother, Jolene, and I suppose this whole situation has just worn her out. I think I need to give her a day or two to rest before I try to make the trip.”

“Well, speaking of Lucille, there’s no reason you can’t stay at her house in Kickapoo.” Melody started to protest, saying she had already planned to go to a hotel in Redwater, but I stopped her. “Actually,” I said, looking up the hill. “I just had another idea. It will be better than a hotel and no one could find you there. Let me check it out and I’ll call you back. Either way, be packed and ready to leave as soon as Linda is gone.”

I hung up the phone, grabbed my wallet and pulled out Clovis Stovall’s card. He answered on the third ring, and since caller ID had alerted him to who was calling, we skipped right to the point. “What can I do for you, Miz Jackson?”

“As you probably know, I’m moving in today.”

“Grant said you’d be here at eleven.”

I wondered yet again why in the hell I had to explain anything or ask permission to visit my own property from people paid to work there. “Well, we’re going to need to move that up a bit. I’m finishing up here at the project site and I’ll be headed up the hill in just a few minutes.”

There was a long pause then he said, “Meet me at the back door.” And then he hung up.

I stared down at the phone, wanting very badly to call Jerry and tell him how fabulously my day was already going and it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. I wasn’t going to, but I wanted to. Then, as I stared at the phone, his face popped up on the screen. “Oh, shit, how’d I do that!” After a few seconds of staring, I realized I hadn’t done it—he was calling me. “Hello?”

“Hey, honey,” Jerry said in that deep low drawl that I love. “I just called to see how you’re doing.”

“Oh, well, you know, just another day at the office.” I managed a fake little chuckle. “Have you heard anything from Travis?”

“Yes. He called in some favors and should have something to tell us this afternoon.”

“That’s good, because I just talked to Melody and there’s a nurse headed to her mother’s house right now to make her sign paperwork about leaving.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.”

“Yeah, kind of, except that the nurse taking care of things is the same one who drew the blood and she’s threatening to call Social Services if Melody doesn’t do what she says.”

“What county does she live in?

I knew where Mr. Sheriff was headed with that, but it wasn’t going to help. “I don’t know where she is, and even if you could send someone, Melody’s planning to have her mother packed up and out of there before then. And I know we can’t call the Redwater Police Department either. There’s no evidence of any wrongdoing—except, of course, mine—so what are they going to do? And, I figure you’d prefer to avoid another compromising professional situation.”

”Things don’t always work out the way I prefer,” Jerry said.

Yeah, well, ditto here. “I told Melody she could take her mom to Lucille’s for the time being. But then, if we take Lucille there too, odds are good that it won’t be safe anymore. I don’t have specific reasons for that, but history says Lucille will create them.”

“Probably doing so as we speak,” he said, “which is why I asked Fritz to go stay with her. He was reluctant since she’d forbidden him to ever step foot in her room again until he was invited.”

“Let me guess, she didn’t want him seeing her less than perfect.”

“Something like that,” Jerry said. “He should be there by now and I told him we’d be by after three when we finish at the morgue.”

“That doesn’t give me much time.”

Jerry paused then said, “Do I dare ask time for what?”

“Well, I’m just now leaving the jobsite, which looks like a command center for a hostage situation, which I suppose it kind of is—mine. The good news is that Waverman saw the light, or at least dollar signs, and agreed to my changes in the contract. Gilbert Moore is onsite with his healing shoulder and drill rig ready to start work. I have to go tour the house on the hill with my friendly ranch manager Clove to see what options I have for turning the place into a temporary geriatric rehab center. Then it’s back to Mother’s to load up my stuff so I can meet the attorney at eleven to prove I’m moving in today as required by the occupancy clause I failed to read. Then, provided I’m still upright and reasonably sane, I will meet you at the morgue. Aren’t you glad you asked?”

Jerry’s silence indicated he was not. Finally, he said, “What can I do to help right now?”

“You’ve already done it, Jerry.” I smiled and hoped he could feel it through the phone. “You called and you listened.”

In spite of the rapid-fire deterioration of our hopes and dreams for a peaceful day, evening and probably life together, I felt like the luckiest woman in the world to have such a man in my life. I told him exactly that, then hung up.

Looking around the area one last time, I saw Gilbert Moore standing beside his truck, leaning on the fender, talking to Waverman.

Taller than your average pro basketball player and padded with plenty of muscle and bulk, Gilbert was an imposing figure. He wore his usual plain tee-shirt and jeans, and today his heavy work boots were caked in red dirt. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes and his trademark ponytail hung down his back—a personal statement of something, although what, I couldn’t fathom. He was going for a casual pose, but I suspected that pain was actually calling the shots.