Sitting on a Fortune Page 18

  “But maybe that’s what the message was talking about. Maybe someone knew I was looking up information about gold and searching for the necklace online.”

  “What message?”

  “Did I not mention that, either?” she winced. Shaking her head, Madison groaned. “I’m telling you, Genny, keeping a secret from Brash has made me a nervous wreck! And that was when I only had the gold to worry about! Before all this business of old men going missing, cars circling the house, hiding a fortune in my house, lights going out, threatening phone calls, and this new nasty habit I’ve picked up of breaking and entering. I have a perpetual headache from the stress. It’s getting harder and harder to remember a thing.”

  “Again. What message?” Genny demanded. “What threatening phone call?”

  “Someone called my phone on Friday. Repeatedly. Never said a word, except the final time. They told me to take some golden advice. Back off.”

  “Golden?” Genny gasped. “How could anyone know?”

  “I have no idea. Granny Bert thought it still could have been Lamont, playing on the Gold and Silver aspect. But I’m not so sure. Especially now. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Mr. Pruett is missing and the last thing he looked up on his computers was the necklace.”

  “To be such an obnoxious piece, it certainly has created a commotion,” Genny murmured. “Just imagine the drama if it had been well designed.”

  “I do have to wonder what the jeweler was thinking, creating that piece.”

  “He probably wasn’t thinking. He was probably working as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t get caught. If the feds were on to him, and he was operating in his basement like the article suggests, he was probably trying to get in, slap on a few gems to make it look like an authentic pendant, and get out.”

  “You’re probably right. If no one is home, I’ll take you up to the library and show you the thing in person. I think the photograph may be more flattering than it deserves.”

  “Is that even possible?” her friend murmured. “The picture was pretty bad.”

  “I’m afraid so,” Madison chuckled. “I’ll spend the rest of the afternoon following up what little I found at the house.”

  “And tomorrow, after I try calling Mr. Pruett one more time, I’ll call Brash. I think it’s time to file an official missing person’s report.”

  The medications she discovered at his house gave Madison more insight into Tom Pruett’s health status. Most of the medicines were used for treating symptoms of dementia such as delusions, paranoid behaviors, and irrational beliefs, all of which the man possessed. Madison wasn’t certain if he had sleep disturbances, aggressive behavior, or restless wandering, but she thought some of the behavior she had witnessed fell under “disinhibited behavior.” All were classic symptoms for patients suffering from Alzheimer’s or other dementias.

  Reading the side effects of each medication was scary enough, imagining them together as a whole was a potential nightmare in the making. What was beneficial for one symptom was prone to make another worse. All cautioned the increased risk of confusion. All warned that treatments should never end abruptly, but gradually tapered off under a physician’s watchful eye. Unless Tom Pruett had a second set of meds with him or was under a doctor’s care, Madison worried about the consequences of him going cold turkey.

  Judging from the emergency contact list, the man saw a variety of doctors. Research revealed the list included a cardiologist, psychiatrist, and a neurologist. His primary care physician was a geriatrician in Bryan, but most of the other specialists practiced in Houston.

  Madison ruled out the probability of a ride share service making the three-plus-hour round trip, but he could have taken a bus. She doubted the transportation line would give information to a civilian, so she left that lead for her husband and his deputies to chase.

  In the meantime, she could contact the Houston-area hospitals used by his doctors and ask the operators to connect her to his room. Houston had 2.3 million residents, not to mention the thousands of people from around the world visiting the Bayou City’s renowned doctors and hospitals. Knowing there could be multiple patients with that name, she specified that he ‘was admitted on Sunday or possibly Monday.’ Even within that parameter, she was connected to three others with that same name plus a female Tommie Pruett, but none was the right person.

  Madison breathed a sigh of relief when Thursday morning arrived. Today, Genny would call Brash and report Mr. Pruett missing.

  Brash would know exactly what to do.

  Twenty-Five

  “And when did you first notice he was missing, Genny?” Brash’s tone held the appropriate concern, but Madison couldn’t detect an undercurrent of suspicion. So far, so good.

  She came with Genny to file the report, sensing her friend could use the moral support. Plus, if Brash should discover their duplicity, Madison felt she should be the one to deal with the fallout, not Genny. Who better to reason with the chief than his newly wed wife?

  “I was surprised when he didn’t come in Monday for his normal chicken-fried steak. I tried calling him that afternoon, just to make sure he was feeling well. No answer. By Tuesday, I was concerned. I even asked Madison to run over to his house with me that afternoon. We knocked on both doors, but he never answered. By Wednesday, I was worried. Still no word from him. He’s never gone this long without coming in for at least one meal. Even the time he suspected Shilo Dawne of trying to poison him with tainted jalapeno juice—long story, don’t ask—he only stayed away two days. But he hasn’t been in since Saturday, and this is Thursday.”

  The friends had agreed to tell as much of the truth as they could, without implicating themselves in their unorthodox ‘visits’ inside the house. As she recited the edited chain of events, her hands twisted in her lap and her blue eyes clouded.

  “I’m worried, Brash,” she concluded.

  “Why didn’t you mention this earlier, Genny? Or Maddy? Why did you wait so long to bring this to my attention?” His voice was still gentle, but the concern now edged toward judgmental.

  “And say what? That a customer didn’t eat at my restaurant? Even though it’s a Monday tradition, it’s not a mandate. He’s under no obligation to eat at New Beginnings. I appreciate his loyalty, but he hardly owes it to me.”

  “That being the case, why are you here today? Like you say, he can take his meals anywhere he chooses.”

  Genny glanced at Madison, trying to judge whether the chief was attempting to trick her. “That’s absolutely true,” she agreed with an animated nod. “And that could very well be the case. But he’s not answering his phone or his door, and none of his neighbors remember seeing him since Sunday.”

  “And you know this how?”

  Madison slowly crossed her legs before offering a simple explanation. It took a moment for her husband’s eyes to release the image of her long, slender legs and focus on her words. His gaze was like a caress, momentarily distracting them both. “While we were in the neighborhood, we knocked on a few doors and asked. Reverend Green remembered waving to him on Sunday after church. No one else had much interaction with him. Ever, apparently.”

  “Did I mention that his car was still parked in his carport? Since we have no local taxis or Uber here, we think he must have left with someone else.” Genny stated the obvious, but she was nervous. Brash’s sharp, watchful gaze danced between the two women as if he suspected they were hiding something.

  “What makes you think he’s not visiting relatives?” Brash asked.

  “He could be.” She was quick to answer. Slower to add, “He’s mentioned a daughter, but to be honest, I’m not sure she exists.”

  Brash nodded in understanding. He was familiar with Mr. Pruett’s many versions of his life.

  “We know he uses doctors in the Houston area,” Madison pitched in. “For all we know, he took a bus down there and has checked into a hospital for routine tests.”

  “Or, with any luck, to a mental faci
lity where he can get help and supervision,” the police chief muttered.

  A frown marred Genny’s forehead. “I hadn’t considered that.”

  Brash released a sigh. “I’ll check into it. He lives on Meadow in Naomi, right?”

  “Yes. Last house on the right. Directly across from the Reverend.”

  “I’ll send one my officers out to do a welfare check. We’ll see if we can find his whereabouts for you, Genny.”

  “It’s not just for me. I’m getting truly concerned for his safety. What if he doesn’t have his medicine with him? What if he just wandered off?”

  Brash was kind enough not to point out that reporting him missing earlier may have prevented all of that. He still wasn’t completely convinced his wife and her best friend were telling him the whole truth.

  Madison presented him with a beaming smile. “Thank you, sweetheart. We knew you could help.”

  “I’m not sure how much I can do or if I can locate him, but I will try,” he promised.

  Genny stood to leave. “That’s all I can ask of you.”

  “Maddy? A word?” Brash said when she would have followed her friend out the door.

  Genny turned to see Madison, her back to her husband, mouth the word, “Uh-oh.” She pasted on a smile, said, “I’ll be right out, Gen,” and whirled to face the firing squad.

  “Want to tell me what’s really going on?” Brash asked with a shrewd look on his face.

  “We told you. No one has seen or heard from Mr. Pruett since Sunday, and Genny is concerned enough to file a missing person’s report. It could be nothing, but she’s worried.”

  “Why do I think there’s something you two aren’t telling me?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Mrs. deCordova.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she murmured demurely.

  “Okay, so now I know something is up!” His bark of laughter lacked amusement.

  Having anticipated his suspicion, Madison had her response planned. She looked momentarily torn before she admitted, “Okay, you’re right. I told Genny you would see through us. The truth is, she’s hired In a Pinch to look into his disappearance, as well.”

  He arched that imperial brow of his. “She doesn’t trust the department to do our job?”

  “It’s not a matter of trust. It’s a matter of knowing how busy you are and how few resources you have to dedicate to the investigation. Since my schedule is currently free, I’m able to give it my undivided attention.”

  “And what has your undivided attention turned up?”

  “He hasn’t been admitted to any of the local hospitals, the VA Hospital in Waco, or to these facilities in the Houston area.” She presented him with a typed list. “There are plenty of others, but these are all I’ve had time to check.” This was true. She just hadn’t bothered checking with the hospitals not affiliated with his doctors. She couldn’t volunteer that information to her husband, however, so she left it at that. “I didn’t bother with the bus station angle, because I knew they wouldn’t release such information to a civilian. You’ll have to chase that one down.”

  “Very good, my love,” he commented.

  “Thanks. Genny says I should go for my PI license,” she said, a proud twinkle in her eyes. One look at her husband’s solemn expression doused the light. “We’ll discuss this later.” Quickly changing the subject, she stretched upward to give him a kiss. “Don’t forget, Blake has a game this afternoon. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, sweetheart.”

  Madison scurried from the room, thankful to have narrowly escaped her husband’s razor-sharp intuition.

  She missed the way his eyes narrowed as he watched her retreat.

  Nor did she hear his muttered words.

  “I wonder what my beautiful but curious wife and her faithful sidekick are up to this time.”

  They were in bleachers cheering on the home team when Brash took a call from his deputy. He couldn’t hear well for the noisy crowd, namely his wife. Blake was having a particularly good game, which hadn’t escaped the attention of his most devoted fan. While there were plenty of high school girls cheering for the talented athlete, Madison was doing her part and more.

  “Hold on. I’ll have to call you back, Abraham.” Brash was already up from the bench.

  “Trouble?” Madison asked, dividing her attention between his answer and Blake’s pitch.

  “I don’t know yet. I can’t hear.”

  “Sorry about that. Way to go, Blake!” Her attention shifted at the speed of a fast pitch. “One more!”

  Brash sat back down to watch their son strike out another batter and end the inning. He then stood again and wove his way among pumped arms and excited fans.

  When he returned a few minutes later, Madison immediately noticed the dark look on his face. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “That was Officer Abraham. She made the welfare check as requested.”

  Madison knew Mr. Pruett wasn’t in the house—or hadn’t been yesterday, at any rate—but Brash’s brow had puckered into a frown. “What—What’s wrong?” she asked. Her attention transferred from the game to her husband’s pending answer.

  “She didn’t find Mr. Pruett, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he was quick to correct. “But she did find something else.”

  Madison was impressed. Had she found the hidden room that quickly? Maybe the woman was more than a pretty face, after all.

  When Misty Abraham joined the force a few weeks ago, Madison was the first to admit she wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect. After all, the woman and Brash had once dated, no matter how casually and how sporadically. Maddy knew the woman was still attracted to the handsome chief of police—and who could blame her? —but she had been nothing but respectful toward Madison and the sanctity of their marriage. For his part, Brash paid the curvy blonde no more attention than he paid the other two officers on the force. His wife held his undivided attention and affection.

  “Oh? What was that?” she asked now, trying to sound casual.

  “The house had been ransacked. The entire place tossed.”

  “What!” Her shocked cry was utterly real.

  When did that happen? Her mind raced with possibility, probability, and cause. ‘Cause someone has been following you, Madison reminded herself bitterly. They watched you go in the house and wondered why. You led them right to his house, and they trashed the place.

  Unless…

  Unless she had been right, and Mr. Pruett was somehow mixed up in this whole messy gold business in the first place.

  “But… why? How?”

  She was talking to herself, but Brash didn’t know that. His release of breath sounded weary. “Because my life isn’t complicated enough right now. Because we need one more thing on our plate to juggle.” He rubbed his hand over his suddenly haggard face and shook his head. “I know I should be ashamed, making this about me. A man is missing, and considering this discovery, there may very well be foul play involved. I’m sorry.”

  Madison slipped her hand onto his leg. “You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart. I know you have enough to deal with, without this.”

  “I need to go. I need to make sure the scene is processed properly.”

  A line appeared between Madison’s brows. “Does that mean… fingerprints?” She had worn gloves the second time, but not on that first visit.

  “Maybe. I guess that depends on how big of a mess they left. If it was a professional, they would have known to wear gloves.”

  Another reason you have no business playing private eye, Madison scolded herself silently. You’re obviously not a professional, or you would have known that.

  Aloud, she tsk-tsked her disdain. “Why do you think someone would do something like that? Why would they kidnap an old man and toss his house?”

  “Like we’ve said before. With all the crazy claims he makes, someone may have been just foolish enough, or greedy enough, to
see if they were true.” He leaned over to brush a kiss across her lips. “Tell Blake I’m sorry. I hate to walk out in the middle of a game, but duty calls.”

  “He’ll understand. Be careful.”

  “Will do.”

  His feet barely touched dirt before Madison texted her best friend.

  Have to talk.

  Bubbles appeared on the screen a few seconds later.

  What’s up?

  Madison glanced around, making certain no one watched the exchange.

  Someone broke it to TP’s house.

  More bubbles.

  Well, duh.

  Madison shook her head, even though her friend couldn’t see.

  For real. Tossed the place.

  Her phone rang immediately. Madison answered with, “Give me a second.” She picked her way off the bleachers and found a semi-private place to talk.

  “Brash just got the call. They were waiting on the locksmith to come from Riverton and open the house. Misty took the welfare check and found the house ransacked. Brash is headed over there now. Gen, what if they take fingerprints? Mine will be all over the place from that first day!”

  “So will mine!”

  “Yours could be explained. For all anybody knows, you made a home delivery in the past. I, however, have absolutely no reason to have been inside that house. Ever.”

  “Let’s not worry about that until it happens. The place may be too trashed to give a complete print.”

  “What about the windowsill? My prints will still be all over it!”

  “Maybe not,” Genny said with a hopeful whine. “With my graceful belly flop over the edge, I may have wiped out all traces of those suckers.”

  Madison’s lips twisted in memory. A tiny giggle escaped, easing some of the worry gathered at the base of her spine.

  “That offers a little hope,” she agreed.

  On a gasp, Genny asked, “Did they find the secret room, I wonder?”