Sarah Armstrong: Blood Lines Part 11

"Whered you get that?" he asked.

"Thats not important. Just answer my question. When was it taken?"

Wagner shook his head. "Im not sure, but at least eight years ago. Matter of fact, Im pretty sure it was right before my old partner, Ty d.i.c.kson, retired. It was in December, right before Christmas, because wed made some plans to go to Florida that year for the holidays. We couldnt go because Tys wife, Emily, died unexpectedly a few days later. Id forgotten about that night, when you asked me earlier."

"Why were you there?" I asked.

Wagner shook his head, as if I were the most incompetent woman asking the most ridiculous questions. He sighed and then said, "Ty and I still ran Century Oil back then. We were looking at buying the mineral rights to the field. At the time, oil was dirt cheap and it cost too d.a.m.n much to get it out of those old wells."

"Youre telling me, and youre sure about this, that you havent been to the Stanhope Field since?"

"Nope. Not unless youve got another picture in that case of yours to jog my memory," he challenged.

"Tell me why Billie kept this photograph on her office computer," I asked.

"Beats me." He shrugged. Then he looked at me and flashed a wizened smirk. "The girl did like me. I was kind of a father figure to her. Maybe it was out of deep affection."

When I said nothing, just stared at him, he said, "We about done here? Its time for my afternoon nap."

"Almost," I said. "One more question. Where were you the afternoon Billie c.o.x died?"

"The way this conversation was going, I figured youd get around to asking that," he said. "I was at my doctors office. Ill give you the mans name and phone number, if itll stop your inane questions. You get as old as I am, you spend a lot of time tending to your body. Not that it does much good. No matter how much you patch it, the d.a.m.n thing keeps falling apart."

At four that afternoon, it felt like a long day. I hadnt had much sleep the night before, but I drove to Grant Robertss real estate office. The beautiful Miss April Sims was just heading out the door, with her oversized gold lame purse under her arm. She let me in, gave me a rather cold stare, pointed at the back of the offices, toward Grant Robertss cubicle, and turned to leave. Then she started to stalk out the door. I grabbed it before she could open it.

"I just need to get your recollections of that afternoon on tape," I said. "For my records. When you saw Mr. Roberts at the office the afternoon his sister-in-law died."

She looked at me, tilted her head a bit and frowned, then shrugged. "Okay, but make it quick."

Glad to cooperate, I held up my small digital recorder, pushed the record b.u.t.ton, and said, "This is Lieutenant Armstrong investigating the Billie c.o.x homicide. Im with April Sims. Miss Sims, can you please tell me when you saw Grant Roberts on the afternoon of his sister-in-laws death?"

Sims bent down to get close to the recorder, and then said, in a matter-of-fact manner, "Mr. Roberts was in the office earlier that day and then out previewing properties late that afternoon. He returned here at about six-thirty and left shortly after. Thats all I know."

I clicked off the recorder, and she turned and left, not appearing at all concerned that Id just recorded her statement for posterity.

About then, Roberts walked into the lobby. He must have heard me talking to Sims, because he glared at me and shook his head. "Havent you got better things to do?" he asked.

"Thats funny," I said. "At first, Miss Sims looked less than happy to see me, too. Is there some reason for that? Have I unintentionally hurt someones feelings?"

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I just need to get your whereabouts at the time of the murder," I said, showing him the recorder. "I need it on tape so the secretary can transcribe it and put it into the case file, when I get back to the office."

"Ive told you where I was once," he said. "Why do I have to explain again?"

"Im sure you have forms to fill out in your job," I said. "This is something I have to do for mine."

With that, I clicked the recorder on and held it up to my mouth. "This is Lieutenant Sarah Armstrong of the Texas Rangers, and Im speaking with Mr. Grant Roberts in his offices regarding the investigation into the murder of his sister-in-law, Billie c.o.x," I said. "Mr. Roberts, please tell me where you were on the afternoon of Miss c.o.xs murder."

At first, I wasnt sure hed answer. Roberts appeared wary and angry. Finally, he bent down toward the recorder and said, "I spent that afternoon from about three or three-thirty on previewing houses, narrowing down the possibilities of what was on the market for an out-of-town client who came in that Sunday. I was back at the office about six-thirty, and left not long after, arriving home sometime before seven."

"When you preview houses, you look them over inside and out?" I asked, with a smile. "You want to find something similar in floor plan to what your client has expressed an interest in?"

"Of course," he said. "You have to go inside, see what they look like, what kind of condition theyre in, or you end up taking the client into something totally unsuitable and wasting a lot of time. Thats why I spent the time working on it, to narrow down the choices."

"Then why didnt you enter a single house that afternoon?" I asked, still smiling, the tape recorder rolling.

"What are you talking about?" he said, looking stunned, glancing nervously at the recorder. "Of course I went inside the houses. I went into a bunch of houses."

"The folks who monitor the lockboxes for all the real estate agents in Houston gave us copies of their records. Your computerized keypad wasnt used to access a single house that entire day," I said. "Where were you really?"

Looking up at the tile ceiling and fluorescent lights, Roberts remained silent for a few moments, as if trying to decide what to say. When he spoke, he said exactly what Id expected: "Ill hire an attorney. You can talk to him. Now, please leave."

I looked at Roberts, turned off the recorder, and smiled.

"Now that I have your lies recorded, so they can be played in a courtroom at the proper moment, you need to come clean," I said. "No sense in continuing to lie. Well figure this out. Well find out what youre afraid of."

"I said, 'Leave, " he repeated. "Now."

With no warrant for his arrest, no real evidence, I didnt have a choice. I couldnt take him in. Instead, I said, "Mr. Roberts, I promise you that I am going to find the person who murdered your sister-in-law, and if its you, youre better off working with me than p.i.s.sing me off."

Flushed with anger, he opened the office door and held it. I walked through, and he slammed it behind me.

Nineteen.

I made one stop on the way home, at a convenience store, chugged gas into the Tahoe, watching the cost climb on the digital display, all the time thinking about oilman Clayton Wagners mansion, and bought myself a Dove ice cream bar, the kind with crispies mixed into the chocolate. On my way out the door, I spied the magazine rack and made a detour. Ca.s.sidy Collins was on the cover of nearly every teen magazine. I peered at the options for a few minutes: "Ca.s.sidy at Home!" "Is Ca.s.sidy in Love?" "Can you kiss like Ca.s.sidy Collins?"

Geez, it was worse than I thought. I bought them all and then headed out the door munching on the Dove bar.

Davids government-issue, blue, four-door sedan was in the driveway when I pulled into the ranch. I figured hed called my office and heard I was on my way home. I a.s.sumed he wanted to finalize the details for our trip to Dallas the next day. In the house, Mom had every available countertop and the stove covered with cheesecake ingredients, more desserts in the making for Bobbys barbeque cook-off party that night. I thought about the years Mom baked for us like that. She used to all the time, until she went pro and it became work. Now she only gets the bug when somethings needling her. I guess having Bobby around had settled her down, because I, despite the now-consumed Dove bar, started to long for the days when dinner ended with homemade apple cobbler.

"David Garrity is up in the stable with Maggie," Mom said, when I walked in.

"Davids in the stable?" I asked. "Never realized he was into horses."

"It was Maggies idea," she explained. "She wanted him to meet Warrior."

"How is the little guy?" I asked.

"Small, Sarah. Cant remember when weve had such a little one," she said. "But strong. I think the name Warrior fits that horse."

"Hope youre right," I said.

Mom nodded, and I tunneled my finger though a bowl of whipped-cream frosting dyed green to top her armadillo cheesecakes. She feigned annoyance and slapped at my hand, missing as always. When I got to the shed, David and Maggie were petting Warrior. He was chatting it up with the colt like they were old buddies.

"Youre a handsome guy, arent you?" he said, his voice gentle. "Beautiful black coat. One day youll be a real ladies man."

"I dont know," I said. "Seems to me that Warrior has more sense than that."

"Ah, the voice of reason," David said, with a small laugh.

"Hi, Mom," Maggie said, glancing up. "Mr. Garrity and me were just keeping Warrior company."

"Mr. Garrity and I," I corrected.

Maggie grimaced. Math, not English, was her subject. "Mr. Garrity and I," she repeated.

"Hows he eating?" I asked.

"He didnt finish his afternoon feeding," Maggie said, worried. "But Gram says maybe Doc will give the okay and h.e.l.l be able to feed from Emma Lou tomorrow, if the blood tests are all right."

"That would be good news, Maggie," David said. He looked at me and smiled. "You look tired."

"Thanks, that always makes a girl feel beautiful," I said. "A long day, and Im worn out after last night."

"Are you up to talking about tomorrow?" he asked.

"Sure," I said, sincerely glad to see him. As much as I didnt understand what had happened between us, I missed being with him. "Ill grab a couple of beers and meet you at the picnic table."

Nursing our beers, we spread the plans for Dalla.s.s American Airlines Center out on the picnic table under the corral elm tree, the one with Maggies lights strung on every limb. "I think weve got the arena covered," David said, pointing to the ma.s.sive stadiums perimeter and motioning at the doors. "Per the plan you discussed with them, Dallas P.D. is bringing in enough extra men to guard every entrance and exit, public and private, along with scanners for the doors. Even the workers will be checked. And youve got that sweep with the dogs you set up for two hours before the concert. That should uncover anyone hiding inside."

"So what are we forgetting?" I asked.

David shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "But lets face it, theres no way to ensure that kids safe. If someone really wants to, theyll find a way to get a weapon in."

"Unfortunately, thats true," I agreed. We sat there for a moment, and then I said, "Nice of you to talk to Maggie like that. I didnt know you liked horses. Thats something you never mentioned last year when we were-"

"Yeah, we were, werent we?" he said with a chuckle. He shook his head, as if recalling an old memory. "Last year was one heck of an investigation, in more ways than one. We were something else, werent we, Sarah? Traveling all over the state, chasing a killer."

"Yeah, we were," I said, glad to see his wide grin and the bit of mischief in his eyes. Id missed that. "Thats a good smile, David. Whereve you been hiding it?"

"Sarah, you can be absolutely exasperating," he said, followed by another small laugh.

"Glad you still think so," I said, meaning it. "Seems to me thats something."

"It is. It certainly is. You know . . . ," he said, but then he stopped, looked at me, and as quickly as hed let his guard down, it was back. "Weve got a tough day ahead of us," he said, motioning at the diagram. "Anything else we can do? Anything at all to get ready for tomorrow?"

Deciding yet again that somewhere inside the man sitting across from me hid the old David, waiting to burst out, I figured Id better follow his lead and concentrate on work. At least that was something I had a chance at understanding. Unlike men, especially this one. So I considered the ways Argus could smuggle a weapon into the arena. There had to be a bunch, but maybe I was just too tired to think of them. Id just have to stick to that kid like a second skin to make sure nothing happened.

"Did you follow up on having the arenas sound equipment inspected?" I asked.

"Everything has been checked and double-checked," he said. "Theyve run circuit tests on every system, from the audio to the headphone systems used by the security people. They didnt find a thing."

"So, if the guy finds a way to break into Collinss headphone and talks to her again, what are the possibilities?"

"The folks at the arena say none of their systems cover beyond the inside of the arena," David said. "So if he manages to break in like he did in San Diego, hes on-site, in the audience or behind the stage, somewhere in that arena."

"Okay," I said. "Lets make sure theyre videotaping the entrances and exits and that they scan the audience in the auditorium with the cameras. We could get lucky and get this guy on tape."

"Good idea," David said.

"What if he is there?" I asked. "How do we respond?"

"With twenty-thousand screaming fans, mostly kids, we cant close the place down," David said. "Our best option is to man the exits, search anyone leaving who looks the part, a man, maybe carrying a large bag, something that could hold audio equipment."

"Okay," I said. "Were all set then. One oclock tomorrow, Ill meet you at the airstrip."

"One oclock," he said. I walked him to his car, and then watched him drive away. It made me feel lonely. I went inside and found Mom spreading whipped cream over her last armadillo cheesecake.

"You look like youre down in the dumps," she said. She stood there for just a moment, sizing me up, Im sure able to see as clearly as she could in grade school that I was upset. With that, she cut a wide slice of the cake on the counter. "Try this. It always works for me. As a matter of fact, Ill join you."

Mom cut herself a piece, I grabbed two forks and two napkins, and we went out onto the porch, sat in the rockers, and ate. Late afternoon, there was a briskness in the air. The cheesecake was made with creme de menthe, and it tasted like the old gra.s.shopper drinks my pop used to make after dinner.

"You need to talk to the man," Mom said, as if reading my mind.

"Ive tried," I said. I closed my lips around the fork and peeled off another rich bite. "The man isnt talking."

I took another forkful, skinned it off with my teeth and let it dissolve in my mouth. This probably wasnt a good food day nutritionally, but for pure comfort, its hard to beat a Dove bar and cheesecake. Yet as good as Moms cake tasted, it didnt make up for what was missing in my life. That I knew. I wondered about how the world was set up, if folks really ever get second chances at happiness. My pop died, but now Mom had Bobby.

"Is it the same with Bobby as it was with Dad?" I asked.

"Well, its good," she said. "But in a different way."

"How different?"

"Different because Im different, older and wiser," she said. "Different because were not kids, and weve both been batted around by life."

"But different is good?" I asked, sincerely wanting to know.

"Sure," she said. "We dont have the heat of a younger love. But maybe its sweeter, because we know we dont have all the time in the world to enjoy it."

I nodded. That made sense. Id been head over heels with Bill from the day we met, and hed been the same way with me. Maybe I expected too much to hope for that again. It had been different with David. An early attraction, but I was more cautious. Maybe that wasnt bad. Maybe it was even understandable. But maybe that was why Id lost him. The truth was that Id never stopped thinking about David, but I had to accept that maybe the kind of love I had with Bill only comes once in a lifetime. The thought tasted bitter, but the cheesecake went down smooth and sweet. For just a little while, it masked the pain of remembering David driving away.

Twenty.