Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(85)

“How did you end up at Dillon’s office the night he was kidnapped?” Josie asked.

Bea glanced at her husband. “When we found out about the kidnapping, Leroy told me, we got to get our records out of that office before they connect us to Wally. Once the feds figured out Reese was kidnapped, they’d be digging through everybody’s records. And if the feds figured out the shipping connection, our business was screwed. We got too much invested to lose the business.” She looked across the table at her husband, her expression pained. “Can you imagine those dumbass boys trying to run this family?”

Josie noted that Bea was still describing the family business as an honest business, and yet they still needed to get the records from Dillon’s office to keep from being indicted. Josie let the contradiction go. It made little difference at this point.

“How did you end up at Dillon’s office at the same time Wally was there?”

“Leroy. He figured Wally would go for the records, what with the indictment and then the kidnapping. Sure enough. Leroy sent me to check on things. Told me to take the gun with me for protection. Wally was there all right.”

Josie looked at Leroy, who continued to stare at his wife, his eyes wide and expectant. Bea was no longer referring to her son Daryl as the person giving orders. Josie wondered if Bea was implicating her husband to save her son. Josie had never heard Leroy utter a word, but she had no doubt the truth would come out later.

“What time did you go to the office?”

“I got there about eight and sat a block over, parked on the street where I could see the front of the office and the back lot. Christina showed up about nine and opened up the office. I figure, score one for me. I can at least get our records out of there. The front door was unlocked. I walked in and asked her to give me everything for our business. She says no. I say, ‘I’m the customer, I paid, give me the files.’ I start yelling at her and who comes in the front door but Wally Follet.”

Bea stopped talking and rubbed her fingers along the vinyl tablecloth, her attention diverted.

“What did you say when he entered the office?”

“I can’t believe my eyes. I start yelling, ‘Where the hell is the money?’ Christina keeps trying to leave and Wally keeps pushing her back down in the seat. I told Wally, ‘My boys are outside.’ I said, ‘You’re a dead man if you don’t return the money tonight.’”

“Is that true? Were your boys outside?” Josie asked.

“They didn’t know nothing about me going to the office.”

“How did Christina get shot?”

“It was just an accident. It all happened so quick. Wally was standing behind Christina. He took off all the sudden, making a run for the back door, and I raise my gun to shoot the bastard, just stop him in his tracks is all. But the girl pushes off in her chair, rolls it away from Wally at the same time he turns to run. I raise my gun and shoot and it hits her right in the chest. I was aiming at Wally. That’s exactly what happened. I never meant to hurt her.”

“What were you going to do with her once she heard the story about the money?”

She stared dumbly at Josie. “I don’t know. We never got that far.”

“What did you do after you shot Christina?”

The threads of Bea’s life had unraveled all around her. Her face was slack, and her cheeks had taken on a chalky pallor that matched her husband’s. She stared at him for some time, but he didn’t move, just stared back.

“After I shot her, I sat down on the floor,” Bea said. “She just sat there limp in that chair and I knew I’d killed her. By the time I went out back to find Wally, he was long gone.”

She then admitted, “That necklace your cop buddy was asking about? Santa Muerte? That was mine. Hell of a lot a good she did me.”





TWENTY-FIVE


By noon, Bea Conroy was booked in the Arroyo County jail. Three state troopers Otto requested had arrived at the house to assist and ensure that the Conroy boys and their lawyer stayed at a distance while Josie and Otto searched the rest of the house and processed the evidence. At seven o’clock that evening, Josie finally made it back to the office to finish the preliminary paperwork while Otto walked down the street to the Hot Tamale to get them dinner. He arrived thirty minutes later with a feast: two monster burritos loaded with sauce and sour cream, tacos, Spanish rice, chips and guacamole, and sopapilla for dessert. Otto sampled the sugary fried flatbread as they spread the food out on the conference table.

Having skipped lunch, they were both extra hungry. They didn’t bother speaking as they enjoyed the quiet office, cold drinks, and satisfying food.

After they finished eating, Otto said, “Nina wouldn’t take money. She said this was her thank-you for a job well done.”

Josie frowned.

“This was big, Josie. Celebrate the success. When Dillon arrives home, he’ll at least know that Christina’s murderer is in jail.”

“Wally’s still missing. And I doubt Dillon even knows about Christina. He’ll just have one more trauma to deal with. And he’s not home, Otto.” For a minute, she thought she would throw up her dinner. She’d been so hungry those few minutes she hadn’t even been thinking about Dillon, but now once again the same images threatened to descend upon her.