Where Is Henderson? (Sam Darling mystery #5) Page 9

  “Well, um…,” she dabbed at her eyes again to get some time to think, “uh…well, Cash did all the heavy lifting. And we have a pallet loader. I just packed the boxes.”

  “Wow. How many urns are in a box?”

  “I don’t really remember. There’s a lot of them.”

  Gotcha.

  “Where do you pack your bottles of water for your associates?”

  “Well, I began in my kitchen. However, the orders increased until I had to find another place.”

  “Where is that?”

  Without missing a beat, she said, “It’s secret. I’m sure you understand. I wouldn’t want anyone tampering with the water bottles. It could be dangerous.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it could be,” I said, under my breath and with great sarcasm.

  I then allowed her to just prattle on about the wonders of the water from Happy Acres. I tuned out however, and wouldn’t be able to accurately report what she said when I debriefed with George. The warehouse was still off limits to everyone but the police because it hadn’t been gone over with a fine-toothed comb yet. George and I needed to search the warehouse, because I was absolutely sure that’s where she packed her water for shipment. I also had a sinking feeling that she didn’t fill the bottles at Happy Acres. That was just my gut, my vibes speaking to me, but it’s what I thought. If we were lucky we might find evidence of the water being packed and shipped from there.

  That certainly didn’t mean she was a murderer, but it did mean something was up.

  The door to the conference room finally opened and both George and Jonah appeared in the doorway.

  “Thanks for the conversation, Louise,” I said, and turned to George. “May I speak to you a minute before we trade people?”

  He nodded and I followed him back into the conference room. “Honey, I know you have an open search warrant for the plant, and I especially think we need to concentrate on Jonah’s office and the warehouse.” I looked at him with absolute certainty. “Especially the warehouse. Something is up there.”

  Before he could even ask why, I continued, “I believe Louise is shipping her water out through this warehouse. Yes, I know that’s not a crime.” I held up my hand like he always did to me. “But it was just the two of them working there at times—her and Cash. If he helped her, something could have gone wrong. I don’t know what, but I’ve got an inkling that she’s not using Happy Acres water. No proof, no admission. And I didn’t say anything about it. I know that it’s just a feeling, but neither Clancy nor I trust her.”

  “Where is Clancy?” George asked.

  We opened the door again and she was right outside it, with her back to us. As if she were protecting us from Jonah and Louise.

  “Good girl,” I said, and patted her. She felt something for one or both of them, but I couldn’t figure it out. And with my own vibes, were they because Louise was a huckster or because she was a murderer? Quite different crimes, but unfortunately the vibes felt the same.

  George and I switched Hendersons. Instead of sitting in the dreaded sling-back chairs, Jonah indicated a comfortable looking chair on the opposite side of his massive desk. Jonah eased his bulk into an oversized desk chair with wheels. Clancy lay at my feet, a little more relaxed, but still on guard. Jonah sat and didn’t say anything at first. Just stared—first at me, then at the window, then back at me.

  “So. Do you think my wife or I killed our nephew?”

  Wow. He lost his filter too. Before now, his voice had been steady and low, almost unctuous. Now it was just plain creepy. I took a deep breath before answering.

  “I told Detective Lansing that I wouldn’t talk about the murder without him. So if you don’t mind I’d like to talk about something else. To briefly answer your question though, no, I don’t think either of you killed your nephew. As I said, my filter doesn’t work sometimes.” I got really good at lying, ever since I started helping out George.

  He nodded then looked at the window again while I talked.

  “Where does your wife package the water bottles for shipment?”

  “Why here of course. Why in the hell should she have to pay for a place when our warehouse has plenty of space?”

  He was so defensive he could have played lineman for the St. Louis Rams.

  “You’ll get no argument from me on that score,” I said. “How does she bottle the spring water? I imagine that’s quite a job.”

  He shook his head and finally looked back at me. “I don’t know. I’m running a business here. Even though it belongs to my brother, I am the boss. I really don’t have time to follow my wife’s business too. She asked if she could use our warehouse for packing and shipping and I said yes. Sorry, I just don’t know.”

  “No problem.”

  “I have a question for you.”

  My turn to nod.

  “Why didn’t you ask my wife these questions about her business?”

  Before I could make up an answer, the door opened. Saved by George yet again.

  FOURTEEN

  “Thanks for your time,” George said to Jonah and Louise. He was so polite I think he would have tipped his hat if he’d worn one. “I believe Samantha and I are going to look around. We’d like to wind up the investigation so we don’t keep interfering in your lives and your business.”

  “I appreciate that,” said Jonah, as he stuck out a chubby hand to shake George’s.

  “We appreciate it,” said Louise, emphasizing their togetherness. The Hendersons stayed in Jonah’s office.

  Clancy led George and me to the hall where she attempted to turn right to the exit.

  “Wait, Clancy, let’s go this way,” George indicated a covered portico connecting the office building to the factory itself.

  “Let’s hurry before the FBI guy gets here,” I said. “What time is he supposed to arrive?”

  “Right about now.” The deep voice caused us to turn on our heels. “Hello. I’m Special Agent Matt Fuller.”

  Both George and I held out a hand at the same time. I don’t know if George’s mouth was open, but mine certainly was. The deep voice and the special agent status certainly conjured up an image that was different from the reality of this FBI agent. The guy still had peach fuzz, as I had predicted. Thin didn’t describe him. Scrawny was more like it. However, his grip was strong as was his stare, and I had a feeling he meant business.

  George introduced us and included Clancy. Clancy did what she always does around nice people. She plopped on her back for a belly rub, and the agent cooperated.

  “I talked to the Chief of Police already, and he said you’ve taken the lead on the investigation since you aren’t related to anyone here. You aren’t, are you?”

  Both of us shook our heads. I didn’t look at Clancy to see if she did the same.

  “Well, then. I’m not related to anyone here either, so there’s no conflict of interest with me. As you already know, the crime took place in more than one state, so the FBI has jurisdiction. So I’ll take over as soon as you’ve debriefed me on what you know. And on what you suspect.”

  He was smart to ask about what we suspected. As for me, that’s all I had—suspicions. And I really didn’t want to share those.

  So I finally spoke. “Listen. We have a few things to clear up before we can fill you in. Can we meet in an hour or two at our B&B? Then we’ll tell you everything.”

  I didn’t know if George agreed with me or not, but I wanted to get much more info, and maybe even solve the crime before passing on the torch.

  Matt’s face showed his reluctance, but he surprised me by agreeing. “Um… sure. How about 3:00 this afternoon? I’ll want to talk to the local police for a while, and will be back at the B&B by then. I’m staying there too.”

  I nodded, George nodded, and Clancy nodded. Then we humans exchanged handshakes again.

  When we were finally alone, George said, “Thanks for that. I really didn’t think you’d get away with putting him off until later today.”


  “It’s my charm.” I smiled as I walked ahead of him.

  We walked through an unlocked door to get in the plant. It was larger than I thought it would be. Conveyor belts stood silent, some of them with urns on them, urns in various states of creation.

  “I’d love to see how these are made,” I said idly. “I wonder what they’re made of.”

  “Don’t know,” said George. “We can ask Henderson, if we need to know.”

  “Henderson?” I gave a hearty laugh. “Which one?”

  George stifled a chuckle. I knew Clancy appreciated my joke too.

  “Wonder where the warehouse is.”

  “Henderson gave me a map,” George said as he pulled a wadded up piece of paper from his pants pocket. He unwrapped it to reveal wrinkled clues on how to get where we wanted to go.

  “Wow,” I said, looking over his arm to see the map. “This is a lot more convoluted than I would have suspected.” I saw an overview of the place that looked like a maze. “Maybe they kept adding on to the place as their business grew, but this sure doesn’t make much sense to me.”

  “Looks complicated,” George said.

  “I think it would be dangerous if there were a fire,” I wondered aloud. “Maybe there are other exits.”

  “There would have to be,” said George. “Plants get inspected by OSHA and have to pass certain standards. Appropriate exits in the event of a fire or other disaster are not only expected, but required.

  “Where are they?”

  “They have to be marked with a red exit sign that is lit when it’s dark.”

  “Okay. I guess I’d see them if I needed them,” I gave up worrying about the exits.

  There was an aisle that seemed to span the entire perimeter of the plant. “Let’s go left,” instructed George, and so we did.

  We followed the outside aisle for what seemed like forever, until we reached the end of it. The only way to go from there was to the right. There, things changed. There was a wide aisle that turned left after a while, with the path we were on continuing on straight to the next corner.

  George consulted his map. “We need to take this left and that should lead to the warehouse itself.”

  After we turned, another unlocked door lead us to an obvious warehouse. There were boxes on pallets stacked high. I guessed they were full and ready for shipment. Each box had a large stamp of an urn on the side. There were also many stacks of flat cardboard that could morph into boxes as needed. I walked over to a stack. “Look, George. Here’s the urn I photographed on the train car.”

  He followed me to where I was pointing. “Yep.” A man of few words, my George. He walked around the cardboard stacks until he stood by a stack of full boxes. I followed him. “I’ll get someone from the police department to open some of these randomly to ensure they are full of what they’re supposed to be full of.”

  I nodded and kept walking. Something was niggling at my brain and my stomach was in knots. There was something else going on here. I followed my instincts. The further I walked, the more my stomach rebelled. I walked inside the perimeter of boxes to see how deep it was. I was in physical pain by the time I reached a stack of boxes marked “Happy Acres, the water that will energize and heal.”

  “George,” I yelled.

  I heard the staccato of his shoes run to where I was.

  He must have heard the pain in my voice.

  “We need to check this place for blood.” I turned to George. “This building is where Cash was killed.”

  FIFTEEN

  “Sam, are you okay?” George was a little breathless from the run, but there was love in his voice, and genuine concern.

  “Don’t think I’m crazy, but my stomach hurts and my vibes are telling me this is the place.” I pointed. “And look, there are Happy Acres Water bottles here. Louise told me her shipping location was secret. Wouldn’t be secret from anyone who was ever in the warehouse.”

  George started to say something, but obviously thought better of it.

  “Well, maybe secret from folks who just took a cursory look. The urns are all around the outside and the pallets of water don’t show unless you really search.” I continued, “Let’s look around. I just know this is where it happened.”

  “Okay” was all he said. Smart man.

  “Let’s walk in opposite directions like we did in the train car,” I suggested.

  “Good idea. You keep Clancy with you.”

  Clancy could sense the danger too. She leaned against me until I started walking, but even then stayed close to my left leg. We moved again to the outer expanse of pallets of urns.

  “Be careful,” George said.

  “Always,” I replied, then added, “Love you.”

  He didn’t say it back. He’d probably thought he couldn’t because this was official business. But my vibes were so strong that I wanted him to hear me saying it.

  I went to the right of the huge, square warehouse. George went left. My section was full of boxes of urns. Boxes, and more boxes. But as I checked further, there was only one row of urn pallets that I’d bet went in a rectangle all around the warehouse. Internal to them would be all water boxes. That’s all I saw until I got to a conveyor belt. I moved inward to investigate. At one end was robotic machinery that would take the bottles and place them in a box. When I looked left for the other end of the belt, I saw something suspicious.

  “George,” I yelled. “George.”

  Again the clip clop of the soles of his shoes brought him to me, but this time even faster. His breathing was labored as he arrived and said, “What? What? You okay?”

  “Yes,” I said. “But look. Look at this spigot. I bet you a dollar to a donut that this is where Louise bottles her Happy Acres Water.”

  George bent over to catch his breath. Then he stood, and he didn’t even really have to speak. His glare said it all.

  “Sam, you screamed as if you were in danger. I thought you… you…”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. But see this. It’s important.”

  “It’s important to you, Sam. But this has nothing to do with the murder.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “How is it connected?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, feeling a bit defensive by now. “I just know it does. And even if it doesn’t, it does mean Louise is committing fraud.”

  “Yes. And we’ll tell Chief Henderson and let him investigate. We are just here because Cash’s body fell off the train in Quincy.”

  “I know,” I said like a petulant child. “I know. But… Louise is a big, fat cheater.”

  He patted my head, then kissed it, and said softly, “She’s not fat.” I deserved the condescension.

  He went on. “I’m going back to where I was, and you continue here. We’ll meet somewhere in the middle.” As George left, he moved a little more slowly than he did when he arrived. He was in much better shape than I was, but hadn’t been working out as much lately. Guess it was because he spent most of his off time with me, and I was not an enthusiastic exerciser.

  “Never mind that,” I said to myself out loud. I continued my search around the outside, but really wanted to go down the aisles of Happy Acres boxes. Bored at finding nothing, I decided to walk in between the rows of boxes instead of staying on the perimeter. I turned left, then right, then left, and left again, and I lost track after that. I just followed my nose, and my vibes. Clancy didn’t make any noise, she just followed me without complaint.

  Soon I arrived at what felt like the middle of the huge warehouse. One thing I knew for sure—there were more water bottles in the building than there were urns. And I found that suspicious.

  Clancy growled and I jumped. I didn’t see or hear anything. However, she saw or smelled something. Clancy put her nose down near a pallet of water, smelled it, then turned and gave another low growl.

  “What is it, girl?”

  She backed up, so I could get close to whatever it was she was smelling.

&nbs
p; I didn’t smell anything with my mere human olfactory processors, but as I bent down to look more closely, I saw what looked like a faded rust stain. Having seen blood before after someone tried to clean it up, I looked at Clancy and said, “Good job. Is it blood?” I know she can’t really talk to me, but I sense what she means, and vice versa.

  “George!” I yelled again. “It’s not an emergency, but can you come here?”

  “Where are you?”

  “In the middle somewhere. I’ll send Clancy to you.” I turned to my chum. “Go bring George here, will you please?” I knew she could find her way out and back in again much more easily than I could.

  When she’d gone, I looked around to see if there was anything else of interest. I couldn’t see anything else, but kept looking until Clancy returned with George.

  “Honey, Clancy found this. It looks like blood to me.”

  He bent down for a closer look. “Hmmm. Could be.” George turned around to face me. “I’ve got a kit in the trunk of the car. I’ll get the luminol and spray the stain. Be back in a flash.” He stopped and smiled. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, but as usual it was Clancy and not me.”

  “Yeah, but your vibes warned you that something was hinky. I’ll leave Clancy with you and I’ll be back ASAP.”

  “Are you sure you can find your way out and back again?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Are you kidding me? I can find my way anywhere—even with my eyes closed.”

  “Okay. If you insist.” I sat on the edge of a pallet. There wasn’t much room for my ample bottom on the splintery wood, but I was tired of standing. Clancy came over and put her head on my knee. I absentmindedly stroked her head as I thought about possibilities.

  What if this is the place someone killed Cash? Since it’s near Louise’s stash, maybe it was her. “Nah, that’s just wishful thinking,” I said, changing to thinking out loud, and I wondered at that mean streak in me.

  Clancy lifted her head from my lap as if she read my mind. Of course, if anyone asked me I’d say that’s exactly what she does. We maintained eye contact for longer than dogs normally like, but Clancy wasn’t like “normal” dogs.