Baker's Deadly Dozen Read online

  “Well, then, we’ll just have to see what we can do about that,” Phyllis said.

  Chapter 26

  She and Sam drove away from Chase’s apartment a short time later. They had promised not to say anything to anyone about who he really was.

  “That’s all I can ask, isn’t it?” he asked before they left.

  “It’s not going to do any good to reveal it,” Phyllis said. “That wouldn’t bring us any closer to finding out who killed Ray Brooks.”

  Chase shook his head and said, “I’m a cop, you know. It rubs me the wrong way for a civilian to be investigating a murder. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

  Sam said, “We’ve gotten pretty good at lookin’ out for ourselves.”

  “If we find anything that’s solid, we’ll let Victor Appleton know right away,” Phyllis promised.

  Chase laughed. “I’d insist that you stay out of it, but for one thing, it wouldn’t do any good, and for another . . . I could use the help, if we’re being honest here.” He frowned in thought, then went on, “You know, while Appleton was questioning me, he had some of the things they took off of Brooks’s body lying on the desk in that classroom. I didn’t get a close look at them, but I saw there was a business card with the name Oak Trails on it. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Phyllis considered for a moment and then shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”

  “Me, neither,” Sam said. “You’re sure it came from Brooks’s body?”

  “It was in an evidence bag,” Chase said, “and one edge was stained with blood. I think it must have been in his shirt pocket.”

  “We’ll look into it,” Phyllis said.

  Now, as Sam drove away from the apartment complex, Phyllis pulled out her phone and launched a search for Oak Trails. That brought up a lot of results, so she narrowed it down by adding Weatherford to the search terms.

  The first link on the list made her frown in surprise.

  “I’ve found it,” she told Sam. “It’s a drug and alcohol rehabilitation clinic.”

  “A drug rehab place? You reckon maybe Brooks had a drug problem? That might explain why he was so dang grouchy all the time.”

  “And it might be a connection between him and Riley and Duncan.”

  “The fellas that Chase is tryin’ to get the goods on, right?”

  “That’s them,” Phyllis said. “And they were at the dance last night, too. You saw them.”

  “Yeah, I remember. I didn’t notice ’em bein’ around when you called me . . . but I wasn’t lookin’ for ’em, either. Anyway, with all those kids dancin’ and millin’ around, it was hard to keep track of who was in the cafeteria and who wasn’t.”

  “Brooks could have tried to buy drugs from them, and the deal went bad somehow. Jason Duncan is big enough to have fought with him.”

  “You think they’d talk to us at this Oak Trails place?”

  “Probably not,” Phyllis said. “Places like that are very protective of their clients’ privacy, even more so than a regular medical facility. But I don’t suppose it would hurt to try.”

  “After we get somethin’ to eat,” Sam said. “It’s already past lunchtime.”

  Phyllis smiled. “It certainly is.”

  They stopped at the Chinese buffet Sam had mentioned earlier, and when they came out forty-five minutes later, they were pleasantly full. Enough so that it was hard to focus on a murder investigation instead of the need for a nap.

  Thinking about Ronnie was enough to renew Phyllis’s sense of urgency, though. She told Sam how to find Oak Trails, which was on the old Fort Worth Highway east of town.

  It was a sprawling, well-landscaped facility which could have just as easily been a retirement home or an assisted living complex. You had to look closely to see the bars on the windows along one wing. The artfully trimmed shrubbery concealed them for the most part.

  “Got any idea how you’re gonna get ’em to talk to you?” Sam asked as he parked the pickup.

  “I suppose I’ll have to lie,” Phyllis said.

  Sam grinned. “Sort of hard to walk the straight and narrow when you’re a detective.”

  Unfortunately, that was true, Phyllis thought. Sometimes, discovering the truth was more important than moral considerations.

  She supposed that Saturday afternoon was a popular time for visiting, because the big common room that opened off the lobby had quite a few people in it, including some children. Phyllis and Sam went to the desk on the other side of the lobby, where a pudgy, balding young man greeted them with a professional smile and asked, “Can I help you?”

  Phyllis linked her arm with Sam’s and said, “We’d like to talk to someone about our grandson.”

  “Is he one of our clients?”

  “No . . . but I’m thinking that perhaps he should be.”

  A solemn look replaced the man’s smile. He said, “That’s something that has to be determined by a medical professional, ma’am. If you’d like to schedule an appointment for your grandson to be evaluated, you can do that, but you have to understand, all our clients come to us on a voluntary basis.”

  “Of course,” Phyllis said. “I wouldn’t want it to be any other way. I just thought that we could take a look around, talk to someone in charge, get an idea what your program is like . . .”

  Her voice trailed off as the young man shook his head. “I can make an appointment for you to talk to one of our doctors next week, but here at Oak Trails, we pride ourselves on our discretion and consideration for your clients. I’m sure you’d want that for your grandson.”

  “Naturally,” Phyllis said. She wasn’t ready to give up, despite the front that this man was putting up. “It’s just that this facility was highly recommended by a friend of ours, a man named Ray Brooks—”

  He held up a hand to stop her. “I’m sorry, I really am, but that doesn’t matter. We have our protocol, and it has to be followed.”

  Sam sighed and said, “Looks like maybe we’ll have to try somewhere else, darlin’.”

  “No, let’s not be hasty. You know what Ray said.”

  “Well, I don’t know . . .”

  The act didn’t do any good. The young man behind the desk continued to look up at them with a bland expression on his face that gave absolutely nothing away.

  Phyllis made one last try. “This is the facility that Ray recommended to us, isn’t it? We’re not in the wrong place.”

  The young man shook his head and said, “I wouldn’t have any way of knowing about that, ma’am. You’ll just have to go talk to your friend again. Would you like to schedule an appointment for your grandson?”

  “No, not right now,” Phyllis said. She and Sam turned and headed back to the glass doors at the front entrance.

  There were two sets of double doors, with a tiny foyer between them, and they had just gone through the second set and let the doors swing closed when they opened again. A woman said, “Excuse me.”

  Phyllis and Sam stopped and looked back. The woman who had followed them out of the rehab clinic was in her thirties, Phyllis guessed, although it was difficult to be sure. Her face was thin, and she had the look of a person who had been through a lot in life, most of it unpleasant.

  Her eyes were clear, though, and had a look of anger and determination in them.

  “I heard you say something in there about Ray Brooks,” she went on.

  “That’s right,” Phyllis said. “He’s a friend of ours—”

  “No, he’s not,” the woman interrupted sharply. “I know all of Ray’s friends. Trust me, there weren’t that many. But I was one of them.”

  Phyllis noticed the way the woman phrased that. She said, “Then you know—”

  “That he’s dead?” The woman’s voice caught. “Yeah, I . . . The cops talked to me . . . last night.”

  She lifted a hand and brushed the back of it across her mouth. She was obviously shaken. But something strengthened her resolve and she took a de
ep breath.

  “I want to know who you people are and why you’re coming around here poking into Ray’s business.”

  “When you say Ray’s business,” Phyllis said, “do you mean he owns this facility?”

  “What? No!” A harsh laugh came from the woman. “Ray was a rent-a-cop. Some big corporation owns this place.”

  “That’s what I thought. Then he must have been a patient—”

  The woman’s features tightened and she took a step toward Phyllis.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. If you start going around and spreading lies about Ray, you’ll be sorry. I’ll—”

  Sam lifted his hands and said, “Hold on, hold on. I think we all got off on the wrong foot here. We’re not tryin’ to spread lies about Ray Brooks or do anything else to hurt his reputation.”

  “That’s good, because I won’t stand for it.” The woman swallowed hard. “I owe that man so much. I . . . loved him . . .”

  Her voice had broken again. She turned away abruptly, and as she did, Phyllis saw the weak autumn sunlight reflecting from the tears running down her cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry,” Phyllis said. “We never meant to upset anyone. I can tell that Mr. Brooks was special to you.”

  “He was a big old jackass,” the woman said. “But he was my big old jackass.”

  There was a small area to one side of the parking lot where some concrete benches and a round concrete table were shaded by a post oak tree. Sam pointed to it and suggested, “Why don’t we go sit over there and talk? It wouldn’t hurt anything to clear the air.”

  “Why should I talk to you?” the woman asked with a trace of defiance in her voice.

  “Because I think you’d like to know who killed your friend,” Phyllis said, “and so would we.”

  “You’re not cops. What do you care?”

  “I was the one who found him, right after he’d been attacked,” Phyllis said.

  The woman stared at her. “Really?”

  “I wouldn’t have any reason to lie about something like that.”

  “You lied inside, to Ralph. I heard you.”

  “Because I was trying to get information about Ray Brooks’s connection to this facility. He had a card from here in his pocket when he was killed.”

  “How do you know—” The woman stopped and shook her head. “Never mind. You’re some sort of a detective, aren’t you?”

  “Some sort,” Phyllis agreed.

  “Oddest-looking one I’ve ever seen.” The woman sighed. “All right. Let’s go sit down and talk.”

  A moment later they had taken seats on the benches, with Phyllis and Sam across the table from the woman, who said, “My name is Keeley Gifford.”

  The name meant nothing to Phyllis, but she nodded and said, “We’re pleased to meet you, Ms. Gifford. You and Ray Brooks were . . . close?”

  “He was my boyfriend, if that’s what you mean.”

  “For how long?”

  Keeley Gifford made a face. “Only a month or so. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t matter.”

  “No, of course not,” Phyllis said quickly. “Did the two of you meet . . . here?”

  “Yeah.” Keeley laughed humorlessly. “But not the way you probably think. I was a patient, but Ray wasn’t. He volunteered here.”

  Phyllis had to frown. The concept of Ray Brooks doing something selfless was just so strange that she couldn’t help it.

  Keeley saw the reaction and laughed again. This time the sound was a little more genuine.

  “Yeah, I know,” she said. “Ray wasn’t an easy guy to get along with. Most people didn’t like him. But he didn’t care. He wanted it that way. He didn’t want to let anybody get too close to him, because of his mother.”

  “What about his mother?” Sam asked.

  “She was a junkie. She used pretty much all the time while he was growing up. She’d try to get clean, and she’d get off the stuff for a little while, but then she’d slip and go right back to it. Ray was fifteen years old when he came home from school one day . . . and found her dead from an overdose.”

  “Good Lord,” Sam muttered.

  Phyllis reached across the table and clasped one of Keeley’s thin hands. “That’s terrible. Is that why he didn’t use drugs?”

  “He hated the damn stuff! Drugs destroyed his mother. He had to go live with a foster family, but as soon as he could, he went out on his own. He started working with different anti-drug and rehab programs, trying to make a difference so other people wouldn’t have to go through the things he did.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Not many people did. Like I said, Ray liked to keep people at arm’s length . . . except for the ones he was trying to help. Like me.” Keeley sniffled. “I don’t know if I would have made it . . . if I’d be clean today . . . if not for Ray. And now he . . . he . . .”

  She sobbed for a few minutes. Phyllis and Sam let her cry. There was nothing they could say to ease the pain of Keeley’s loss.

  But there might be something they could do, Phyllis thought. Finding Brooks’s killer wouldn’t bring him back, but it might help Keeley find closure and acceptance.

  When the woman had gotten her composure again, she said, “The police found my number in Ray’s phone and saw that he had called me a lot. So they came to see me and told me that he’d been killed and asked a lot of questions.” She shrugged slightly. “They might have considered me a suspect, since Ray and I were dating, but I’ve moved back in with my parents and I was with them all evening. I guess the cops believed them when they said I was home. I’ve been volunteering as a counselor here, too, and I almost didn’t come in today after finding out about Ray’s death last night. But it’s always better to stay busy, so I figured . . . I figured I might as well . . .”

  Keeley had to take a moment again.

  “How are you two involved with this?” she asked after she had drawn in several deep breaths.

  Phyllis explained their connection to the case, and as she spoke, Keeley’s eyes widened.

  “I remember now!” the woman said. “I’ve read about you. You really are a detective.”

  “I try to figure things out,” Phyllis said.

  “And you think you can figure out who killed Ray?”

  “I’m going to try.”

  “Good. But I don’t envy you the job. Except for me and a few other people, everybody hated him. I can admit that. He was always talking about the trouble he’d had with people at school.”

  “Did he ever mention someone named Chase Hamilton?” Phyllis asked.

  “Hamilton . . . No, I don’t think so.”

  “Alan Riley or Jason Duncan?”

  Keeley shook her head. “Ray never mentioned names much. It was always some crazy bitch or some no-good . . . Well, let’s just say that Ray had a colorful vocabulary and knew how to use it. But that didn’t mean he was a bad guy. His whole attitude, that was just a way of putting up a wall so people wouldn’t try to get too close to him. He might not have ever let me in, if he hadn’t just broken up with his last girlfriend. He didn’t deserve to get killed for being like that, though. Some people in this world maybe deserve killing, I don’t know about that. But I’m absolutely sure that Ray Brooks wasn’t one of them.”

  Chapter 27

  “Do you believe her?” Sam asked as they drove away from Oak Trails a short time later.

  “About what?” Phyllis said. “Ray Brooks actually being a decent human being? I’m not sure. I barely knew the man, and she seemed awfully sincere about the way she felt about him.” She thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yes, I’m inclined to believe her.”

  “Then he wouldn’t have been tryin’ to buy drugs from Riley and Duncan. Wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with anybody who was mixed up in that business.”

  “That’s the way it seems to me. So the motive for his murder must be something else. A disagreement with some other teacher, maybe?”

  Sam frown
ed and said, “Not so fast. Brooks wouldn’t have been buyin’ drugs from those two, but maybe he caught ’em sellin’ to somebody else. That makes a lot more sense than somebody gettin’ mad enough to kill because Brooks yelled at ’em for parkin’ in the wrong place or somethin’ like that.”

  “You’re right,” Phyllis agreed. “That brings us back to something we can’t really investigate, though. You and I aren’t equipped to try to bring down a drug ring.”

  “I dunno. Jason Norris is blamed near our age, and I’ll bet he probably could.”

  “Neither one of us is Jason Norris.”

  “Well, that’s true. You know why he doesn’t wear a watch?”

  “Who, Jason Norris?”

  “Yeah. It’s because he tells the rest of the world what time it is.”

  Phyllis laughed in spite of herself and said, “Okay. Good point.”

  Then she went back to thinking about Ray Brooks. They had found out more about him than she had really expected to when they paid a visit to Oak Trails . . . but they still didn’t seem to be any closer to finding his killer.

  ◄♦►

  Nor were they by the time Monday morning rolled around and it was time to go to school again. Phyllis had spent the rest of the weekend pondering the case from every angle she could think of, but the answer still eluded her. She felt like it was out there just beyond her reach, that she ought to be able to grasp it, but whatever the theory that was trying to form in her brain might be, it kept slipping away from her.

  And school, like death and taxes, waited for no one. The bell would ring when it was scheduled to ring.

  Ronnie rode with Sam. They left a few minutes before Phyllis did, so by the time she reached the school and parked, she didn’t see them anywhere in the parking lot and knew they had gone inside already. She knew Ronnie was disappointed that she hadn’t solved the murder yet. When she and Sam got back to the house on Saturday afternoon, Ronnie had been waiting for them, and she obviously expected to hear that the real killer was in custody and Chase’s name had been cleared. That hadn’t happened.