If I Had A Nickel (Roy Ballard Mysteries Book 3) Read online

  I gave the rest of the place a quick search—working under the assumption that if the drugs were simply stuck in a drawer, the coins would be hidden in an equally uncreative manner—but I came up empty. The only other discovery of relevance was a stack of ten-year-old AARP magazines mailed to the attention of Phyllis Pitts. I was willing to wager that Phyllis was Leo’s mom. Leo was stashing his drugs in his mother’s rental unit, because if the unit was in his name, it could be searched right along with his residence. What a lowlife. Phyllis could get busted for the drugs. The charges might not stick, but they’d make her life hell for a good while. Not my problem.

  I closed the unit. Then I got back into the van and searched through my collection of spare locks—which I keep for this purpose—and found one identical to the combination lock I’d cut off earlier. I snapped the new lock into place on the door, and then I got the hell out of there.

  16

  “He went three for five,” Mia said. “That included a double where he slid into base headfirst. Then he made a diving catch out in left field. Good stuff. Got great video of it all.”

  We had just ordered breakfast at the Magnolia Café on Lake Austin Boulevard. It was jam-packed, as always. There aren’t many genuine old Austin hippies running around these days, but our waitress was one of them. I knew this from discussions I’d had with her on previous visits to the diner. She was about 65 years old, slender from serving tables all day, and she moved about like a teenage girl. Her face was creased and weathered—a testament to the life she’d led so far.

  “Have you sent the clips to Daniel Ivy?”

  “Last night,” Mia said. “Haven’t heard back yet.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. Nice work.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mia’s quick turnaround hadn’t quite set a record for how quickly either of us had solved a fraud case, but wrapping it up within 24 hours was pretty damned impressive.

  A couple of customers squeezed past on my right to get to a table in the back. They were youngsters. College age. Boy and girl. They held hands across the table as they scanned the menu.

  “Roy?”

  “Yeah?”

  I realized she had said something before that, but I hadn’t caught it.

  “Boy, you are really distracted.”

  True enough. I was thinking about Leo Pitts’s storage unit. Working theory: He was Cole Dunn’s dealer, and Cole had paid him for dope with one of Alex Dunn’s coins—the one I bought on eBay. But did he have more coins? Didn’t look like it, because if he did have some coins, he would’ve hidden them in the storage unit, same as the dope. Right? Why would he hide them anywhere else?

  “Sorry,” I said. “The Dunn case has me brain dead.”

  “So what’s up? Fill me in.”

  Here we go. Time to spill the beans. She needed to know this information, and there was no way to share it without revealing how I’d learned it. So I told her what I’d done.

  “You really are nuts, you know that?” she said.

  “Only in a clinical sense,” I said.

  Right then, the waitress showed up. “Here you go, hon,” she said, setting a plate piled high with migas in front of me. “And French toast for you, sweetheart,” she said to Mia. “Anything else?”

  “I think we’re all set,” Mia said. “Thanks.”

  “Y’all enjoy.”

  When she was gone, Mia said, “What if you’d been caught?”

  I sipped some coffee. “I have to say, that blouse really works for you. The color matches your eyes perfectly. You look lovely.”

  She gave me a look that said, Don’t try to derail the conversation with that bullshit.

  “I’m serious,” I said. “Just because I’m ducking your question, that doesn’t make it any less true.”

  “Roy,” she said, sounding mildly exasperated.

  “What?”

  She shook her head. Stop toying with me.

  So I stopped.

  “What happens when Leo Pitts tries to open his locker?” she said.

  “He thinks his lock is screwed up, or that he forgot the combination, so he cuts it off, finds everything as he left it, and is relieved nobody stole his dope.”

  “Does the place have security cameras?”

  “Nope. Not a one. This place isn’t that nice.”

  “The cameras could’ve been hidden.”

  “But that wouldn’t make sense. They would mount the cameras in the most noticeable spot possible, along with signs drawing attention to them. That’s what deters trespassers and thieves. There weren’t any cameras. Hey, it’s not like I don’t think these things through beforehand.”

  “And yet you still do them anyway,” she said.

  I had to smile at that one.

  “Seriously, Roy,” she said, lowering her voice, “regardless of committing a jailable offense—forget about that part—now you’ve put us into a position where we know about the guy’s drug stash, but we can’t do anything about it.”

  “Like what? Report it?”

  “Exactly. Somebody else could overdose.”

  “Well, if I hadn’t done what I did, we wouldn’t have known about the drugs, so we couldn’t have reported them anyway.”

  She shook her head as a means of saying she wasn’t going to argue about it. If she had continued, she would’ve said I was rationalizing. She said that a lot—because I did it a lot.

  “In fact,” I said, “now that he’s a little nervous and thinks the cops are breathing down his neck, maybe he won’t sell for a while. Maybe my little trespassing episode will prevent a tragedy.”

  “Don’t forget criminal mischief. They’d slap you with that, too.”

  I let it go, chiefly because she had the moral high ground in this situation, as she usually did. I was the one willing to cut ethical corners if I felt it helped me accomplish a larger, more important goal, and if no innocent people were hurt in the process. I realize that philosophy is riddled with potential pitfalls. Luckily, I hadn’t fallen into one yet. Matter of time, I guess.

  We both ate in silence for a moment, until Mia changed the subject by saying, “Hey, you never told me about the house on Raleigh. Did you like it?”

  I had a mouth full of eggs, but after I swallowed, I said, “Nice place. Wouldn’t need any work at all. Beautiful inside.”

  “You’d love the neighborhood,” Mia said.

  She truly seemed excited by the prospect of living so close together.

  The waitress came around again and refilled my iced tea.

  Mia said, “Was it the listing agent who showed you the place, or do you have a realtor now? I didn’t mean to force Abby on you the other day, but you should hire a realtor, if you’re serious about the house.”

  I could feel my face flushing a bit as I thought about Kiersten.

  “Actually,” I said, “I called the agent who’s selling Max Dunn’s house.”

  Mia would immediately understand why I had done that. All else being equal, why not call Max Dunn’s agent?

  She said, “Oh, that was smart. Did you learn anything useful from him?”

  “Her,” I said. “No, not really. I poked around a little bit”—I almost laughed at my inadvertent choice of words—“but she didn’t know anything about Dunn’s financial situation, or if she did, she didn’t share it. She’s probably bound by a code of ethics not to discuss that sort of thing.”

  Mia was just about to reply when my phone began to play the opening notes of Loverboy’s “Working for the Weekend,” which meant it was a text from Heidi, our client.

  It was early in the day for her to be contacting me, so I knew it was going to be good. Or bad. Or at least newsworthy in one sense or another. And it was.

  Call me, Heidi said. Serenity Sweet was arrested last night for theft.

  People play you for a sucker all the time. I know that from experience. They’ll lie right to your face, or even steal something when you turn your head. Later, they’ll
swear up and down—convincingly—that they didn’t lie, or they didn’t steal, or they weren’t faking an injury, or they had not slept with that particular man or woman. I’d hoped Serenity Sweet wasn’t in this category, and maybe she wasn’t, despite what we learned that morning. The facts were still somewhat sketchy.

  Shortly after the text from Heidi, we went out to the van and called her. First thing she said over speakerphone was, “All I know at this point is that they found the curio box at Serenity’s place.”

  “They got a search warrant?” I asked.

  “Don’t know. I assume so.”

  “Where did they find the box?” I asked.

  “Don’t know.”

  “Who searched the place—APD or Travis County?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “So that really was all you know,” I said.

  “Handsome,” Heidi said, “but slow on the uptake sometimes.”

  “Handsome, eh?” I said.

  “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “So they found the box, but not the coins?” Mia said.

  “That’s the situation as I understand it,” Heidi said. “Ruelas left a voicemail earlier, but there wasn’t much to it. I assume if they’d found the coins, he would’ve mentioned that part. I called him back and left a message.”

  “Interesting,” Mia said.

  “Obviously, this doesn’t close the case,” Heidi said, “but it gives us plenty of justification for denying the claim—until we know more.”

  “If she did steal the coins,” Mia said, “won’t you still have to pay out?”

  “Sure,” Heidi said, “but if she stole them, there’s a good chance we can get them back. Maybe she still has them, or if she managed to sell them, we can get them back from the buyer.”

  “Or maybe she didn’t steal anything,” I said.

  Mia and Heidi both remained quiet.

  “It’s still possible, you know,” I said.

  Heidi said, “Is it also possible, my dear, that you are overly enchanted by this woman and her attributes?”

  Mia grinned.

  “Well, sure it is,” I said. “You’re talking about her eyes, right? Gorgeous. Only Liz Taylor had eyes that captivating.”

  “Let’s just wait and see what Ruelas has to say,” Heidi said.

  “You mind if we call him?” Mia asked.

  “Be my guest. Let me know if you learn anything.”

  We hung up and Mia immediately called Ruelas. No answer. She left a voicemail. Then we waited for ten minutes, hoping he would call back. He didn’t.

  So I said, “How about if we skip Ruelas and go straight to the source?”

  “Meaning Serenity? You think we should call her?”

  “Or just drive over there,” I said. “It’s not far. There’s a good chance she’s bonded out by now, or she will be in the next couple of hours.”

  “We might as well check,” Mia said. “She’ll probably actually be happy to see us.”

  17

  Serenity’s front door swung open and a very large man said, “Who the fuck are you? You’re trespassing.”

  He stood about six-three and was broad enough that I couldn’t see past him into the house. He had the enormous rounded muscles of a steroid junkie, and any exposed skin seemed to be glistening, perhaps with baby oil. He was in his late twenties, with a jaw like a tractor shovel. His hair was sheared to about a quarter-inch, and it was thinning on top, but he was trying to make up for it by growing a beard. Directly in the center of his forehead was a perfectly round scar—still somewhat red, so it couldn’t have been very old. Bullet wound? If so, the man was lucky to be standing here.

  “Uh, my name is Otto Preminger and I’m casting a new feature about the Visigoths. Ever done any work in front of a camera?”

  He continued to glare at me for several long seconds. Then he looked at Mia for a moment. Then back at me. “I don’t like it when people fuck with me. Are you fucking with me?”

  “Never,” I said. “Nope. No way.”

  Mia spoke up. “I’m Mia Madison and my wildly inappropriate partner here is Roy Ballard. We work on fraud cases for insurance companies. We met with Serenity three days ago about the Alex Dunn situation. We understand she was arrested last night, and if she is innocent, we are still willing to help her.”

  “What the hell do you mean ‘if she is innocent’?” the ogre said.

  He took a half-step toward Mia as he spoke—body language that was plainly meant to intimidate. This was a guy who regularly used his size to cow people. I guess I couldn’t blame him.

  “Buddy,” I said, “all we did was knock on the door. If Serenity isn’t in there, just tell us and we’ll leave. If she’s in there and doesn’t want to talk, that’s fine, too. But if you—”

  “Roy,” Mia said.

  I couldn’t stop myself. “But if you make another move toward my partner, I promise you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

  By this time, my face and the back of my neck were burning hot. I could feel sweat beginning under my arms and in the small of my back. Adrenaline had kicked in hard and fast, and my own words had stoked my anger. I hadn’t intended to get this worked up, but I also meant every word I said.

  The big man was staring at me with a poker face. I couldn’t tell if he was contemplating maiming me or wondering what he might have for lunch later. After two more seconds, he said, “Hang on.”

  He closed the door.

  I let out a breath.

  “One of these days, Roy,” Mia said quietly. “But thank you.”

  “I might not be willing to die for you,” I said, “but I guess I’d be willing to have my arms ripped from their sockets.”

  Now the door swung open again, and there stood Serenity. She laughed and shook her head when she saw us. “Did he scare you?” she said.

  “Only in the sense that I thought I might die,” I said.

  “Sorry about that,” Serenity said. “He thought you might be with one of the TV stations. Come on in.”

  Mia and I sat on the same couch we’d occupied three days earlier, while Serenity and the big guy, who was named Colin Kelly, sat together on the love seat. It was a tight fit. Serenity was wearing a muumuu again, and I began to suspect that this was her go-to outfit when relaxing at home.

  “You still believe me?” Serenity said. “That I’m innocent?”

  Mia looked at me, knowing I’d insist on answering that one, but no doubt apprehensive about what I might say.

  I said, “Let me put it this way: I believe you, and I think Mia does, too, but we’ve both been fooled plenty of times. I hope you’re telling the truth, because I know for sure that I liked you right off the bat, and nothing sucks worse than when somebody you like turns out to be jerking you around. Have you ever been in a situation like that?”

  Serenity said, “Sure. I guess everybody has.”

  I looked at Colin. “How about you?”

  He gave a slow nod, but he didn’t appear particularly happy. Perhaps still stewing that I’d called him out. Or maybe that was just the way he was. I couldn’t figure out the relationship between him and Serenity. Friend? Neighbor? Manager? Bodyguard?

  “So all I can do is go with my gut, and yeah, I think you told us the complete truth when we were here last time. Of course, the bottom line is that we were hired to find the coin collection, and that’s what we’re trying to do, regardless of who took it.”

  “Meaning you’ll bust me in a heartbeat if you find out I did it,” Serenity said. She was grinning again. Colin was still doing an impression of Mount Rushmore.

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  “Without question,” Mia said.

  “Well, the good news is, I am innocent. Maybe you can help me prove it.”

  “Baby,” Colin said. “You sure about this?”

  Baby. Not her manager, unless he was a manager with benefits.

  Serenity took one of his large hands in hers. “Ronnie told me to stop talking
to the cops, but he didn’t say anything about insurance investigators.” She looked at us again. “Ronnie is my attorney.”

  “So what happened yesterday?” Mia asked.

  “I’d just finished lunch when the cops knocked on my door. It was that guy Ruelas, along with an officer from the Austin Police Department. He asked if he could search the shed in my backyard.”

  “Shoulda said no,” Colin muttered.

  “I know,” Serenity said, squeezing his hand, “and I wish I had. They didn’t have a warrant—it was completely voluntary—but I said yes, because I have nothing to hide. Stupid. They wanted me to stay in the house, so I watched through the back window. Ruelas opened the door and didn’t even step inside. He pointed at something and the Austin cop looked in the shed, too. Then they took some pictures, and then they went inside and came out with Alex’s wooden box—the one he kept his coins in.”

  “Somebody set her up,” Colin said.

  “It’s just so stupid,” Serenity said. “First, if I stole those coins, why would I hang onto that box? And second, if I did hang onto the box, why would I leave it in a shed in my backyard?”

  “Because it was a set-up,” Colin said.

  “Which is what I told the cops,” Serenity said, plainly frustrated, “but they didn’t believe me. I still refused to answer any questions, so they left, and they came back a few hours later with an arrest warrant. I had to spend the damn night in jail.”

  Colin was seething. I could almost feel the heat coming off him.

  “Any idea how they knew to look in your shed?” I asked.

  “None at all. If they had asked to search my house, I would have said no, just on general principle. But the shed? That seemed so harmless. All I keep back there is junk.”

  “You should’ve said no, then searched the shed yourself,” Colin said. “I wish you would’ve called me.”

  “Serenity,” I said, “is there any chance they’ll find your fingerprints on that box?”

  I knew from photos that the box had a lacquered finish that would easily hold prints.