Grapes of Death (9 page)

“What the hell is that?” C.C. asked with wide eyes. “Again with the creepiness.”

Elise pointed in the direction of the hallway. “Sounds like it's coming from back there.”

Setting the journal down on the edge of the dining room table, Jackson unsnapped his holster and drew his gun. “You two stay here.”

“Alone?” Elise crowded up behind him with C.C. right behind her. “We most certainly will not.”

“Oh, for Pete's sake.” Jackson rolled his eyes. “Then stay behind me. I wouldn't want to shoot one of you by mistake.”

“Ha ha. You're just so funny, Jax,” Elise snarked to cover her fear.

Jackson started down the hall with the two of them following closely. He checked the small front bedroom and minuscule bathroom, which both held nothing out of the ordinary.

Then they heard the sound again. It was definitely coming from the second bedroom, and they slowly moved in that direction. As they stepped into what had been her uncle's bedroom, the pounding got much louder. The muffled noise seemed to be emanating from the closet.

Jackson put a finger to his lips and then motioned for them to stand back. As they did, he opened the closet door with one quick motion.

And a bound and bloody Pam Dawson fell out into the room.

Nine

“Oh my gosh! Pam?”
Elise rushed over to help Jackson carefully extricate the older woman from the confines of the closet. “Good Lord, Jax, there's so much blood.”

Jackson nodded. “It looks like she took a pretty nasty blow to the head. That's probably where all the blood came from. Head wounds are bad that way.”

Turning, he handed his phone to C.C. “Take this and call 911. Get an ambulance out here ASAP.”

As C.C. stepped into the hallway to make the call, Elise lifted the edge of the duct tape and removed it from Pam's mouth in one swift jerk.

“Ouch!” The woman moaned and licked her lips. “Was that really necessary? My head is already pounding. I don't need the skin ripped off my face too.”

“Sorry, but with duct tape on skin, I figured it would be better to rip it off in one shot.”

Jackson took out his pocket knife and cut the tape that bound the woman's wrists and ankles. “We're going to get you to the hospital as soon as the ambulance gets here.”

Pam's eyelids fluttered, and then she squinted up at them as if the light caused her great pain. “Where am I?” she asked in a rusty voice.

“You're at my Uncle Edmond's house. We found you in his bedroom closet. Do you remember how you got here?”

When Pam stared up at her and blinked several times as if trying to piece it all together, Jackson took her hand. “What were you doing here?”

The older woman scoffed, and tried to sit up, but Jackson shook his head. With a hand on her shoulder, he lightly pressed her back down. “You need to keep still. At the very least, you probably have a concussion. With that head wound, you could also have a skull fracture. We'll let the EMTs earn their pay when they get here. Okay?”

“I guess that sounds good.” Closing her eyes, she winced in pain and didn't give him an argument. Considering the fact that Pam Dawson was cantankerous as hell and would argue with the devil himself given an opportunity, Elise thought this was probably a first.

C.C. came back into the room and held out Jackson's phone. “The ambulance is on its way.”

“What were you doing here, Pam?” Jackson asked again as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“I was looking for clues and something I gave to Eddy that I wanted back—something important.”

“Yeah? What's that?” Jackson asked.

Elise nodded her understanding. “You were looking for the money, weren't you?”

“The money?” Jackson frowned. “What money?”

“The money she gave Uncle Edmond when she took out the loan using the Pit Barbeque as collateral. That's what happened, isn't it, Pam?” Elise asked and then mouthed “I told you so” at Jackson. “He asked you for money, and you gave it to him, didn't you?”

“Is that true, Pam?” Jackson asked, taking his notepad out of his pocket and scribbling down the information.

“Dirty cheat!” she spat and then opened her eyes. “That man could charm the bark off a tree, but he couldn't be trusted. I should've seen it coming.”

“If you used the Pit as collateral, you must have borrowed a substantial amount. What did he want it for?”

“Said if he could just get out from under his IOUs—and he had a bunch of 'em—he'd quit gambling. He told me we could cash in his part of the inheritance and be living the high-life in nothin' flat.”

Jackson looked up at that. “Inheritance? You mean the part of the vineyard he'd been trying to get Laura to give him?”

Elise rolled her eyes and answered before Pam could respond. “Uncle Edmond was hoping Mom would deed him half of River Bend. He said he had a buyer already lined up, but that was never going to happen.”

Pam grunted. “Yeah, I figured that out when you came by the restaurant on Monday. Didn't take a rocket scientist to realize I'd been weaseled.”

“I take it you didn't find anything here before you were attacked,” Elise commented.

Pam barked out a laugh in response. “Honey, there's nothin' left to find. That donkey's ass took my money and did just what he said he wouldn't; he racked up more gambling debt out at that dive on Highway 20—on top of what he already owed.”

“How do you know that?” Jackson asked.

“I put two and two together when Eddy dropped outta sight. I drove out there and had me a talk with that Rodriguez fella who runs the joint. He wasn't too happy to hear that Eddy had run off, either. He wouldn't tell me how much Eddy owed him, but I could tell by his reaction that it was a boatload.”

A fierce gleam came into her eyes, and she jabbed a finger at Jackson. “And I know just what you're thinkin', Landry, but I didn't have nothin' to do with Eddy's death. Can't say beatin' him senseless didn't cross my mind and that I wouldn't have whupped the ever-lovin' crap out of him if I'd found him. But the fact is I didn't, though I have no way to prove it.”

Jackson made a few more notes before looking up and pinning the older woman with a stern gaze. “You understand that we're gonna need to have a much longer conversation about all of this at some point in the near future, right?”

Pam made a sour face but gave a slight nod. “Fine by me. I ain't got nothin' to hide.”

“Well, until that time comes, first things first. You've been unconscious at least part of the time you've been here and you probably don't know how long you were in the closet, but can you tell me when you arrived?”

The woman let out a resigned sigh. “I got here at about half past ten. Figured I'd get in and out without much bother and be back at the restaurant before the lunch rush.”

Jackson glanced at his watch. “It's almost two now. Do you remember what happened—how you ended up in the closet?”

“I'd already done a pretty good search of the front rooms. Came back here to see what Eddy had snaked away in his room. He's got … uh …
had
several hidey-holes in here.” She drew in a shaky breath before going on. “I didn't even hear him. Bastard hit me hard from behind—clocked me at least a couple of times. The first strike took me down. And I didn't just see stars, I can tell you that; it was like the entire universe exploded in my head. Sonofabitch didn't even wait for me to try to get up before bashing me again, and I was gone. The next thing I know y'all are draggin' me out into the light.”

Sirens could be heard in the distance now and were getting louder. They were running out of time. Pam would be taken to the hospital, and they wouldn't get any more information from her until later. Elise exchanged looks with Jackson and knew he was thinking the same thing.

“Pam, you keep referring to your attacker as male, but you don't really know who attacked you, do you?” he asked. “If the perp hit you from behind, you can't actually tell me if it was a man or a woman?”

“Well, no. I guess it could have been either.”

Disappointment was written all over Jackson's face, but he pressed for more. “I know this is hard and your head probably feels like it's about to split wide open, but is there anything else you can think of that would help me figure out who did this to you? The scent of perfume or aftershave? A sound—no matter how small?”

“I'm sorry, Deputy.” Pam put a hand to her forehead. “Whoever it was, they were sure light on their feet because I didn't hear a thing. Like I said, I didn't even know there was someone else in the house. But if somethin' comes to me, you'll be my first phone call. Believe me, I'd like to know who did this as much or more than you do.”

Elise could tell that Jackson was frustrated—she was frustrated herself. As the EMTs arrived and began to work on Pam, she knew that was the last bit of information they were going to get out of the woman for some time.

However, Pam surprised them all a few minutes later as the techs started to wheel her out on the gurney. Reaching out, she grabbed Jackson's sleeve as they passed.

“Hang on a minute,” he said to the techs. “What is it, Pam?”

Pulling the oxygen mask to the side for a moment, she frowned up at him. “There is something else I remember, Deputy. Out on the road … there was a car parked off to one side. At the time, I thought someone had just had car trouble and left it there. Could be nothin', but … ” She shrugged and put the mask back in place.

“Thanks, Pam. I'll check it out,” Jackson replied and watched the techs take her from the room.

Elise's mind raced with the possibilities. There had been no car parked out on the road when she and C.C. had arrived. Could the car Pam noticed have belonged to her assailant? And could the person who attacked Pam perhaps be the same person who had killed Edmond?

“So was there a car parked out on the road when you two got here?” Jackson asked as if reading her thoughts. “There was nothing there when I pulled up.”

Elise shook her head. “No, I didn't notice anything. Did you, C.C.?”

“Nope.”

“Could be just a coincidence,” Elise commented, but by the look on Jackson's face, she knew he didn't believe that.

Jackson closed his notepad and put it back into his pocket. “Could be, but I don't like coincidences.”

“How do we find out who the car belonged to if it's no longer there?”

“
We
don't do anything.” Jackson narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Again, you just can't help yourself, can you? I want you two to go home, and I mean straight home. I don't want to find you doing any more snooping around, do you hear me?”

“You don't have to tell me twice,” C.C. said, shaking her head almost before the words were out of his mouth. Noticing the annoyed look on Elise's face, she shrugged. “What? Sleuthing is one thing, but that was a little more drama than I was anticipating, if you know what I mean. I'm ready to go home.”

Elise huffed out a breath. “Fine. Whatever. Let's go.”

“Remember what I said, El,” Jackson called after them as they headed down the hallway. “
Directly home
.”

Elise had to fight to keep from throwing up a very naughty hand gesture. Instead, she called out a terse, “Heard you the first time, butthead.”

“That's Deputy Butthead to you, pal.”

C.C. laughed out loud at the exchange, eliciting another dirty look from Elise. “Do
not
humor him.”

“I'm sorry, but I can't help it. He's just so dang cute.”

“I worry about you, C.C.,” Elise replied absently. “I really do.”

All thoughts of Jackson's attributes dissolved like sugar in water a moment later as they passed through the small dining area and Elise caught sight of the notebook Jackson had left on the table.

Without a second thought, she snatched it up and continued through the living room and out the front door.

“Mmm, girl,” C.C. murmured with a cluck of her tongue on the way to the car. “You're just gonna get yourself into more hot water. Jax will know where that journal went the minute he comes out of the bedroom and realizes it's not where he left it.”

“Well, until he comes looking for it,” she began, looking over at her friend as she climbed into the car, “I'm going to go through as much of it as I can.”

“You better be quick about it. Jax is a pretty sharp guy. You won't have much time.”

“I know.” Elise started the car and slowly backed out of the driveway. “Not much time at all.”

Ten

Jackson realized within ten
minutes of the women's departure that the journal he'd left on the dining room table was gone. And as Pam had put it earlier, it didn't take a rocket scientist to recognize he'd been weaseled; that his weasel was a damn sight more attractive than Pam's had been was of no consolation.

Annoying him further was the fact that he had to wait for assistance and then process the bedroom before he could do anything about Elise's sticky fingers. Which he was certain she would have been well aware of when she lifted the notebook on the way out of the house. The woman could be infuriatingly clever at times, too clever for her own damn good.

That she kept him off balance was as intriguing as it was exasperating. One minute he wanted to throttle her with his bare hands, and the next he was having very different thoughts about where he wanted to put those hands. Thoughts he had no business thinking, especially with her in a relationship with another man. He'd felt a flash of it off and on during the years they'd known each other, but this was harder to set aside. It was something he was going to have to get under control, and quick.

It was nearly five o'clock when he finished up at Edmond's and headed into town, and by then he'd built up a pretty good head of steam. Elise would be lucky if he didn't haul her pretty behind down to the station just on pure principle.

It wasn't just the fact that she'd taken the notebook or that she kept nosing around in his investigation whenever and wherever she could that kept eating at him. It was that she and C.C. had been very lucky to arrive
after
the perp had attacked Pam and left the scene. Who knew what could have taken place had they turned up at the house any earlier? That one thought had him by the throat, and he couldn't shake it. If something would have happened to her, to either of them …

He took the stairs at her apartment building two at a time and pounded on her door. When she didn't answer right away, he pounded some more. Her car was parked in front of the building, so he knew she was home. He decided he would just keep banging on the door until she opened it, no matter what her neighbors thought.

“Come on, El, I know you're in there. Open the damn door before I bust it in.”

He finally heard the locks being disengaged and her curt, “Keep your pants on, for heaven's sake. I'm coming already.”

When the door finally opened, he pushed his way past her and stalked into the living room. “Where the hell is it?”

“Well, criminy, Jax, why don't you just come on in?” she answered with irritation.

“Don't even start with me! You took evidence from a crime scene. I would be perfectly justified in my actions if I decided to haul your ass to jail.”

“Oh, please. It wasn't a crime scene when we found the journal.”

Jackson threw up his hands in exasperation. “That's not the point. That journal is now evidence in a
murder investigation
, dumbass! And you lifted it from the scene of a
related crime
,” he yelled and then had to back away before he ended up with his hands around that long, lovely neck of hers.

“Jax, it's just a journal,” she said quietly, raising
her hands in a gesture of surrender when he whipped around to glare at her. “Okay, I get that it's evidence and could hold clues to Uncle Edmond's mindset before his murder—maybe even to who killed him—but that doesn't justify this kind of anger. What's going on with you?”

Taking several deep breaths, he scrubbed his hands over his face and struggled with the fear that still had a hold on him.

When she came over and pulled his hands away from his face, the anger he'd felt drained away only to be replaced by something else, something perilously close to longing.

Pulling her into his arms, he gave her a squeeze and kissed the top of her head. “Damn it, El. You guys scared the crap out of me.”

“Scared you? Why?”

Jackson sighed and shook his head. “Do you even realize how lucky you and C.C. were today? To get there after Pam's attacker had gone? If you had gotten to Edmond's earlier, you two could have been in serious danger.”

“Yes, I understand that now,” she murmured with her head on his shoulder. “But Jax, we had no way of knowing that then.”

Jackson growled and couldn't decide if he wanted to strangle her or hold her close. “That would be why you need to quit poking around. There's still a murderer out there somewhere, and the next time you could stumble onto something much more dangerous.”

When she leaned back and looked up at him with those big, liquid-blue eyes, he was a goner—probably always had been. His mouth dried up like a deserted watering hole and his mind went hazy. He literally felt himself leaning closer.

Her face tilted up, eyes wide, and her lips parted. Those full, moist-looking lips were just inches away, and he suddenly wanted a taste of them more than he wanted his next breath.

In his befuddled state, it took him a moment to realize the knocking sound he heard wasn't just his heart pounding in his chest but someone at her front door. He watched her blink and step back as she realized it too.

“Someone's at your door,” was all he could think to say.

“Uh-huh. Someone's at the door,” she repeated and then ran a hand through her hair. “I'll … uh … just go see who it is. Be right back.”

Someone's at your door? Geez, how lame was that?
he thought as he watched her go to the door.

Her next word doused him with ice water.

“Stuart!”