When the Dead Speak

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sam stood on the patio, her hands wrapped around a glass of wine. The humid, evening breeze was doing its best to dry her long, thick hair.

It had taken a hot, fifteen-minute shower to wash what felt like a pound of make-up off and bring some life back to her natural sun-streaked brown hair. Clad in a roomy sweatshirt, her favorite jeans, and a comfy pair of moccasins, she looked up at the stars as if seeking answers to what had gone wrong tonight. At what point did she start to lose control?

Her right hand followed the leather strap around her neck down to a small leather pouch. With a firm clasp she nestled the pouch in her right hand. It was a medicine bundle, a gift from her mother on her twenty-first birthday. It contained sage, pipestone, tobacco, and her umbilical cord and was believed to keep the wearer safe from harm.

Taking a swallow of wine, she thought back to the security guard who found her and wondered where he was from. With any luck he wasn't local.

Lowering herself onto the chaise lounge, Sam picked up her cell phone and called her client.

"I have them," she told him.

"Thank God," he said softly. "I'll be in town soon."

Sam hung up feeling pleased with herself. Preston can find some other sucker to blackmail now.

Her cell phone rang. It was Jackie. "Hey, girlfriend. How did things go?" Jackie asked. Sam told her about the fiasco in the study. "Maybe that's what all the commotion was about. Some security guards rushed in to talk to Preston. He escorted them out to the hallway. Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes." Sam smiled. "And my client is thrilled."

Jackie Delaney was perhaps the closest friend Sam had, next to her mother. Sam had to pull her share of street duty in her novice days. It was Jackie who showed her how to apply the makeup, how to dress and look the part. Jackie wasn't just a hooker. Back then she was a classy, high-priced call girl. There were oil sheiks who had paid five thousand dollars just to have Jackie on their arm for the night.

"How was the night for you?" Sam asked.

"Oooooweee, baby," Jackie squealed. "I made a little over twelve thousand dollars. Those puppies couldn't even pee straight let alone count their cards. You sure you don't want part of it?"

"No, thanks. You were helping me out tonight. I'm not going to cut in on your action. What about Preston?"

"The old fart wanted me to spend the night. His wife is out of town and he was going to make it worth my while. I just took twelve thousand dollars off of his buddies. How is he going to make it worth my while?"

They said their goodnights promising to meet soon for lunch. Sam was glad Jackie was into a different line of work, even if it was a shade illegal. But Jackie and her connections came in handy. A friend of Jackie's had given them both a crash course on dealing blackjack a couple years ago. Sam was able to infiltrate an illegal gambling ring that had netted over a million a week. The cops got the money and the men. Somehow the blackjack equipment was missing one table and a rack of chips.

Talking to Jackie felt good, better than the wine. But then Sam remembered the security guard and that queasy feeling crept into her stomach again. She poured herself another glass of wine and sank back against the cushions.