Texas Tango: A Flint Rock Novel (4 page)

“That must have been a shock.”

“It was!
 
Joe was a careful driver.
 
A drunk veered across the road and head on crashed into him.
 
Only Joe was killed.”

“How long ago was this?”
 
Flint could not tell how old Ava was.
 
He thought maybe thirty.

Ava thought for a second.
 
“I am thirty-seven—so it was twelve years ago.
 
I needed to get away from all the reminders of Joe.
 
I went to Houston for an internship and residency in psychiatry and, while I was at it, did the certification program at the Houston-Galveston Psychoanalytic Institute.
 
I also earned a Ph.D. in medical leadership offered jointly by Baylor Medical College and Rice University on the campus at Rice.
 
All of that took five years.
 
I then spent a year in Hyderabad, India studying hypnosis.
 
After that I returned to Austin and opened a private psychoanalytic practice.”

“Quite impressive,” Flint observed.
 
“Are you close to your husband’s family?”

“I was.
 
Both of his parents have recently passed on.
 
He had no siblings.
 
I contented myself with working long hours.
 
I tried dating, but I seem to scare most men.
 
You aren’t afraid of me are you?”

Flint looked at her straight.
 
“No, not afraid.
 
I am impressed."
 
He started to tell her more about why he was not scared of her when his phone sounded.
 
It was a Texas Ranger friend.
 

“Flint.
 
Harry here.
 
The Austin police think your accident was not an accident.
 
They found a Ford L8000 dump truck abandoned near downtown Austin.
 
Yellow.
 
Registered to a San Antonio address.
 
Reported stolen.
 
It had paint from your car and one other on its front bumper.
 
The other belongs to a local shrink who was run off the road last night.”

“Yes.
 
I am talking to Dr. Milan right at this moment.”

“Want to enlighten me?”

“Don’t know enough yet to enlighten you.
 
Any evidence in the truck?”

“Nothing in the truck but something in a different vehicle.
 
A new cheap cell phone was in your car. Know anything about it?"

"No."

"I thought not.
 
It was on, broadcasting location information through the GPS software.
 
Someone must have planted it to keep track of you."

Flint remembered Shana in the parking lot, stumbling into him, retrieving the dropped card from his floorboard.
 
He told Harry about the incident.
 
"I don't suppose you found a strange mobile phone in Dr. Milan's car?" Flint wondered aloud.

"No, but her car hasn't been gone through in detail.
 
Her accident happened about twenty minutes after yours, a mile closer to Austin.
 
The wreckage got taken to a different garage.
 
How are you by the
way.
 
I should have asked first.
 
Are you hurt?”

“Not enough to talk about.
 
What makes the Texas Rangers interested?”

“The chief of Austin police asked us to do some forensic work.
 
Of course I recognized your name on the title in the glove box of your car.
 
How long have you known Dr. Milan?”

“About fifty-five minutes.
 
Saw her at the Menger in San Antonio last night; talked to her on the phone this morning and met her in person less than an hour ago.”

“Well!
 
A stolen truck causing wrecks near each other only twenty minutes apart.
 
I have to assume this was not a coincidence.
 
What is the connection?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“I have your friend Zeta Chu working on it.”

Flint had recently met Zeta in Uruguay where he and she had been part of a gunfight between Chinese and Mexican mafia.
 
Flint had introduced her to Harry and had sponsored a phone conference that led to the Rangers taking Zeta as a consultant.
 
She was a martial artist and a world class computer expert.

Flint hung up with Harry and turned back to Ava.
 
His phone sounded again.
 
“Zeta.
 
How good to hear your voice!
 
Harry says that he has taken you away from what you were doing so you can help me out.”

“Yes.
 
It is good to hear your voice too.
 
Are you ready for my questions?”

“Soon.
 
I am seeing what I can learn myself.
 
Can I call you in an hour?”

“For sure you can, yes.
 
Talk to you shortly.”

Flint looked at Ava.
 
“I have a couple of friends at the Texas Rangers.
 
Harry Johnson and Zeta Chu.
 
That was Zeta.”

“Zeta is a woman?
 
I didn’t know that Texas Rangers are ever female.”

“Only a few of the one hundred forty-four rangers are women—and those few are recent.
 
Zeta is technically on loan from the Chinese army.
 
She has a blue passport, having been born in the United States to a Korean mother and a Chinese father.
 
She can hack through any level of security, even the most effectively encrypted bank accounts.
 
But back to your situation . . . and mine.
 
Harry says that we were attacked by the same truck last night.
 
About two hours after we saw each other in the Menger.
 
Harry insists on knowing the connection between you and me.
 
I can see why, but I know of no connection.
 
Do you know something that I don’t?”

Ava paused, looking sheepish.
 
”Flint, no—no I don’t.
 
As I told you, last night's encounter with you was unexpected.
 
I had not heard of you at all despite the flirtatious statement on the card."

"But you had my number—you called me this morning."

"I got it from Laura last night.
 
She called me as I was driving back to Austin.
 
She wanted to tell me that it was she with whom you were sitting in the Menger bar.
 
She told me some things about you including that you often help people in trouble.
 
I was glad to get your number because I find you attractive.
 
I didn't know at that moment I had a problem, but I definitely do—have a problem, that is.
 
So I called you this morning.”

Ava sounded less calm than she looked.
 
So Flint asked:
 
“How scared are you?”

“Enough to not sleep.
 
I was awake all night thinking about my current patients and those I've finished with.
 
It was the only place I could think of to start.
 
I have treated or am still treating a total of nearly thirteen hundred people in the past five years, some only once or a few times and some as much as weekly for five years.
 
I focused on the men because a higher percentage of psychopaths are males.
 
Running a person off the road with a truck seems to be a male tactic more than a woman's.”

Flint nodded.
 
“It does.
 
Do you have a short list of male suspects?”

“Yes.
 
Of the nearly six hundred males I have treated, two hundred and six
stand
out as having personalities that are compatible with displaced anger.
 
However, only eleven of them might have the personality configuration to kill, and I'm not sure of four of those names."
 

Ava walked to her printer, brought back a page which she handed to Flint.
 
"Having sociopathic personality characteristics does not in itself indicate killers.
 
They can be sharp operators on Wall Street or successful black ops or
special forces
troops and at least seem to be in step with society."

Flint took the paper from her, said as he looked at her, "how about someone who has never been one of your medical patients?
 
Someone from another part of your life?
 
From Italy before you came to the States?
 
Or maybe someone who had a grievance against your husband or his family?"

Ava poured more tea as she thought.
 
"I don't know of anything connected to Joe or his father or mother."
 
She paused.
 
"That's not accurate.
 
About a year before I met Joe, his father was sued by a rancher for malpractice.
 
Immediately after Joe's dad won, someone set fire to their house.
 
The police never identified the arsonist."

"How about before you came to the states?"

"I don't see how it is related, but I did know a powerful man in Italy.
 
He is dead now.
 
The Immigration and Naturalization Service asked me about him when I was applying for United States citizenship.
 
The agent who interviewed me said the man was Mafioso.
 
I was a call girl when I knew him.
 
I thought that he was mob connected, but he never discussed those things in front of me.
 
He was shot a few years ago.
 
Somewhere in the States.
 
I became, not friends but friendly with his mother.
 
His mom phoned me crying.
 
I had not seen him for years.
 
His mother still lives in Naples.
 
I hear from her a couple of times a year."

Ava sipped tea,

Flint asked, "any of your thirteen hundred clients die or become disabled?"

Ava paused.
 
"Yes.
 
Nine have died—that I know about.
 
Four of cancer, three heart attacks, one of a stroke, and one more that I am not sure about the cause of death.
 
There may be others that I don't know about.
 
Some people stay in communication with me after treatment ends, some do not."

"Anyone blame you for any of the deaths?'

"No.
 
A least I don't think so."

Flint was quiet, thinking,
then
said, “of course a woman could have stolen that truck and driven it aggressively last night.
 
The model Harry described to me could be driven by anyone who can drive a stick shift.
 
How about female clients who might hold you responsible for something they don’t like about themselves or their lives?”

Ava looked at him intensely.
 
“I’ll make that list right away.”

“While you are at it, do you have any clients who don’t do well with hypnosis or who refuse to let you use it?”

Ava’s eyes widened.
 
“What makes you ask?"

“Because you spent a year in India learning about it.
 
I assume that you find it a fast and powerful tool for bypassing guilty secrets.
 
Those who are hiding something while pretending to ask you to know them might be worth another look.”