Just then Madrigal, dressed in apple green, flounced through the emergency room cubicle curtain. She read Belinda’s mind. “Well, you’ve got no choice now but to come home with me.”
Belinda
didn’t want to live in a Lincoln
“So
you have bottomless pockets of money?”
“Not
really. But my insurance agent called
me. I’ll have some left from the
insurance money.”
“Let
me put this another way. You’re coming
home with me. If you don’t cooperate,
I’ll grab your shoulder till you squeal.”
“Oh
forevermore.” Drugged on pain pills, the
Lincoln
#
On wy to Maddie’s Belinda texted Sam. Did u
find blue car drvr?
Pain stabbed her shoulder. The hospital sling didn’t help the broken
collar bone at all.
Of course, he texted back. U didnt luk so gud last time I saw u.
Well, who dz the blu car belong to? She
replied.
A guy name of Sears.
Texting set her
arm on fire.
“Sears? That’s Phillip’s last name.” Her stomach knotted, which made her shoulder
hurt more.
“Do
you think your stepfather is a killer?” Maddie said.
“Heck
no. He didn’t even stand up to my mother
when she was on a tear.”
Sears my stpfther, she texted back. U call me at Maddie’s OK? 2 much pain.
‘K he finished and ended the
call.
“There
are probably a couple thousand Searses, you know.”
“I
don’t understand any of this. Where are we going? Do you actually have a house?”
“Sort
of. We’ll be there real soon. Just sit back and try not to move.”
The
Lincoln
#
Maddie
pulled into a parking garage attached to the newest Spokane Casino. “Here we
are, home sweet home.”
“You
lie.”
“Nope,
come on. Do you want me to get you a
wheel chair?”
“Over
my dead body.” Belinda regretted that
crack with every step to the apartment on the seventh floor which had its own
private elevator.
Maddie
opened the door to a room done in beige and fifty shades of blue. It was a suite actually, two bedrooms, with a
view to Idaho
She
waved Belinda into the suite with a huge smile.
There are advantages to being Native American.
“All
the Native Americans have their own casino apartments?”
“Only
the ones who own the casino.”
Belinda’s
mouth dropped open. She gaped at every
part of the apartment. Everything
upscale and brand new.
“I
was thinking you need to paint a picture for me, to go right there.” She pointed to a recessed place on the wall.
“Absolutely.
She managed a grin for her friend. But I
may be out of business soon. The
destroyed painting I was working on was valued at $3200, and that was before it
was finished!. Now I can’t use my
arm. I may starve to death before the
shoulder repairs itself.”
Maddie
walked to change the thermostat and tossed her serape over her head onto a soft
lamb sofa. “I don’t think so. One of the largest stockholders of the
original building conceptualization board was....well, sit down, we need to
talk.”
“We
do?”
“Yes. I didn’t get a chance to tell you that your
father was one of the originators and contributors to the casino. Which is probably why all this is happening
to you. I just thought maybe I was
imagining things.” Madrigal stood and started
to pace the room, her eyes on some horizon known only to her.
“But
my father wasn’t Native American.”
“Right. But previous to 1988 when the Indian Gaming
Regulatory Act was passed, the tribal councils didn’t have enough money to
build a real casino and it was critical to the well being of all our
tribes.
“Your
father made the initial loan in 1986 to open the Child of the Sun Casino. He was making gaming machines all over the
country and had the only company that knew how to make the Cadillac of
machines. He knew that Indian Gaming
actually was in action long before 1988.
The U.S. Congress made a mess of regulation, since their goal was
obviously skimming.
“Your
father explained to the tribal conference that they could buy his machines because
the Supreme Court would allow the Gaming Act soon. Meanwhile, his machines were sold all over
the United States
Belinda
interrupted. “Wait a minute... I’m beginning to see why Chris was adamant about
marrying me. Somehow he must have found
out about an inheritance I didn’t know I had.”
Was it Chris who had killed her ex and her mother? So he could marry her, then kill her as well
and inherit a possible fortune? Or was
it Reedy who ran his mouth about an inheritance he could claim until somebody
(Chris?) stepped in.
“No,
not puppy-eyed Chris.” He was adamant a bout marriage, but he wasn’t
mean.
Madrigal
continued, “Chris could have been working at the casino all along and somehow
found out about the supposed stock certificates. Anyway, a corporation was initiated to issue
stocks. A bazillion people wanted his
machines. Indian casinos were a
different story because they couldn’t pay him with tribal funds. So they paid him with Coca Cola Stock valued
at way less than 5%. Also I heard they
paid him in gold! Only nobody knows
where those certificates or gold are.
They couldn’t get them from your father while he was alive.”
“By
the way, I’m sorry that he died from cancer. Everybody in the business loved him. And I never got a chance to meet him. Anyway, they couldn’t get information from
your mother, who probably didn’t even know about the gold certificates. Your dad wasn’t supposed to die. Your ex-husband was a piece of work. He must have made the killer a deal that he’d
get you to sign over the stock options.”
Belinda
wanted to grab her aching forehead, but her shoulder hurt too much to raise her
opposite arm. “Come to think of it, I
think Reedy was about an eighth Nez Perce.
Maybe he thought that had some weight here in Spokane
“Well
it wasn’t enough weight to make a grab for my casino. It’s good it’s not publicly traded.”
“So
that’s why everything I own or love has been raped. They can’t find the stock certificates.” A lightbulb went on inside Belinda’s head.
“What
about the gold? Isn’t it in a safe deposit box at his bank?” She remembered the key she’d found with the
certificates--Coca Cola stocks? Yikes.
“Might
be gold certificates. I don’t know the
intricacies of the U.S.
“But
I don’t know where it is either!” Alarms
went off in Belinda’s head--she needed to go back to the loft and read those
certificates discreetly hidden behind her painting. And she needed to see if the damn key fit
anything in the warehouse. But what if
somebody was lying in wait? Maybe he’d
give up? Nope, not after two murders.
Belinda
waited till Maddie had gone to work to call Phillip.
#
Phillip
answered, “Hello?” with a sob in his voice that actually wrenched Belinda’s
heart. “Pop Phil? This is Belinda. I’m so sorry about mom.” More sobs.
“I think we need to talk about
mom’s funeral pretty soon.”
“Eric
and Gary went with me to the funeral home.”
Snif. “Then Gail and Kitty went back to the house for me and got some
clothes for Rachel to wear--you know...”
Yes,
she did know that Phillip’s daughters would choose the dress her mother would
be buried in. She wanted to scream. But she had something more important in mind.
“I’m
going to go to the loft and work I guess.
I can’t do anything else right now.”
Like get those certificates. “Tell your kids if I learn the coroner’s
release date for mother, I’ll call you.”
She
texted to Chris. am going to mom’s house to get dress for mom’s funeral. He immediately responded, ‘k, let me no what u find out. That should keep him out of the way.
First
more pain pills or she’d never get through today.
Driving
with one arm was worse than it seemed. Muscles,
tendons, bones and nerve endings were in the middle of her shoulder, she
discovered. The pills gave her a
floating sensation like an out-of-body experience. “Ha!” she laughed. Nobody better get in front of me
todaaaaayyy. I weel run you over like a
bug.
#
She
started the Toyota
No
cars, especially blue ones, were parked anywhere on the street or parking lots.
Maybe minus two degrees had
something to do with that. Heavy from
three layers of clothing, it was hard to bend her already aching arms.
The
two deadbolts on the door now could only be opened with keys that hung around
her neck on a chain.
Upstairs
she went to the painting, took the envelope off the back and pulled out one of
the papers. She knew what they would be
but she shook when she realized how valuable that stack of vellum actually
could be. She didn’t find gold
certificates in that stack. If the
little key would somehow open the safe upstairs, she could end this whole
affair. The certificates fit inside her
jeans against her body with a lot of ouching her way through the layers of
clothing.
She
noticed a vase with long dead flowers she’d brought to the studio to paint
sometime last summer. They were so depressing
she picked up the vase, headed for the trashcan which had been moved. She’d forgotten how heavy that crystal vase
was. She looked around for the trashcan.
Hair
stood up on the back of her neck when one of the down stairs creaked. Oh, God, not again. She stepped to the inside door and opened it
a crack. A head covered with a huge coat
was coming up, feet tip-toeing like a bad cartoon character. Someone else was behind the first person.
Anger
took over what sense she had left. Belinda
heaved the vase of dead flowers at them.
Three hundred marbles popped out of the vase and pelted down the
staircase like a Pachinko machine gone mad.
She gasped as the two bodies flapped their arms. That’s when she saw the huge knife in the
first one’s hand that stabbed into a stair as the body went sailing backward.
She
ran to her work table, grabbed a roll of blue painter’s tape and, hearing
nothing from the pileup at the bottom of the stairs, hurried down, dusting
marbles off the stairs as she went, panting at her own audacity. She grabbed the first person’s arms, pulled
back the coat sleeves and wrapped half a roll of tape around wrists and
hands. Then repeated it on the second
person, shaking so badly she thought she wouldn’t be able to finish. To make sure, she ran as fast as the marbles
would allow back upstairs to the utility box, found duct tape and returned to
wrap up their legs as well. Then jerked
the hoods off two heads.
#
Gail? Holy Shit! And Chris. Conked out cold. She put some more duct tape around the blue
tape then ran more of it down to their feet from the hands taped behind their
backs. She almost pulled the knife out
of the stair it was impaled on, but tiptoed around it instead, calling 911 and
Sam and Maddie and everybody else she could think of.
After
the place was scoured with policemen who fought the marbles with every step,
Sam rolled up. “I bet you’re hell on
turkey trussing.”
Still
shaking, too angry to cry for once in her life, Belinda sat in the Toyota
After
the crime scene was released, Belinda
took a can of WD-40 upstairs to the last place she hadn’t been able to get into
in the warehouse--the fake Red Cross door.
“I’ve
never seen a double door safe before,” Sam said.
“We
need one of my step-sisters to crack this lock.
I can’t believe Gail and/or Chris could open every single lock I put on
this place.”
“Not
to mention her being a knife killer. Now
we know where she got the help to get Reedy up on the canvas. Nice touch painting him too. Locks don’t keep
out the bad guys.”
She
tried another combination. She’d been
through all the birthday dates, anniversary dates, and holidays, famed war
battle dates she could think of. Then
she took a leap of logic and tried the date the first Coca-cola stock
certificate had been issued in the 1950’s.
The lock popped open. With great
anticipation she pulled the door on its rusted hinges toward her. A safe-deposit box was concreted into the
wall.
“Forever
more!”
“Forever
more?” Sam said as he grinned at her, dimples deepening.
“My
mother’s favorite swear word.”
“Aha. Now what are you going to do?”
“I’m
going to try this little key...She inserted the key that had accompanied
the stock certificates. Inside was packed with stacks of plastic
envelopes, each holding a solid gold one-ounce Eagle coin. She couldn’t take her eyes off of that
box. “What did you say gold was selling
for?”
THE
END
Sounds like it'll be an exciting read!
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