When the Dead Speak

Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Preston walked up behind Cain. "What are you looking at?"

Cain's thick fingers were parting the white sheers hanging from the window in the ballroom. "There was a dark car following me from the hotel this morning."

"Could have been a coincidence."

Cain shook his head. "Maybe, maybe not. I made a detour through the shopping center and eventually lost him."

"Did you get a look at the driver?"

"Dark windows. Could be cops."

"You are jumpy." Preston walked over to the silver tray on the bar and poured himself a glass of orange juice. His heels clicked against the polished marble floor. "You did an excellent job in Dallas. They have made it official. My dear friend, George Abbott, died of natural causes. No witnesses. Another clean job."

"What about Parker Smith?"

Preston reached into the inside pocket of his linen jacket and pulled out an envelope. "Parker is a vegetable. He's no threat. Ames is already dead. That takes care of everyone." He handed Cain the envelope. "There's a little bonus in there, too. The helicopter should be coming soon. I'll be leaving shortly for a meeting in Springfield."

"When will you be back?"

"Late this evening or early morning, depending on the weather."

Cain watched a blue Jeep ramble up the drive. "Are you expecting company?"

Preston looked over Cain's shoulder. "Come." Preston led Cain down the hallway to the living room. He motioned for him to wait around the corner in the dining room. A few minutes later, Juanita knocked on the door and announced his visitor.

"Hope this isn't a bad time, Mister Hilliard," Sam said with a somewhat monotone voice that said, I don't really give a damn if it is. Preston extended his hand which she clasped firmly.

"I'm leaving in a few moments. What can I do for you, Sergeant Casey?"

Sam took a seat on the Queen Anne sofa. Preston chose a regal high-backed chair. "I'm sure you've read about the body discovered in the overpass."

"Yes. A syndicate hit, wasn't it?" Preston smiled slightly, then added, "or was it a drug buy gone bad?" Hearing a helicopter droning nearby, he checked his watch.

Sam watched him closely, her eyes dissecting his every move, her mind digesting and storing the information for future use. She pulled out a picture of Hap Wilson from her purse and said, "I understand that you served in the Korean War. Mushima Valley seemed to be where you made a name for yourself."

Preston picked up the picture of Hap and studied it. "He wasn't one of the wounded I carried out."

"No?" Sam asked with an innocent, wide-eyed expression.

"There weren't any blacks on that killing field. I would have remembered that."

"You don't recall during your tour of duty in Korea of ever seeing this man?"

Preston gave a half-hearted laugh and tossed the picture on the coffee table in front of her. "My dear girl, that war ended over forty years ago. Where has this man been all that time? He has been reported missing from duty while the rest of us risked life and limb. And you expect anyone to have any interest whatsoever in where he has hidden himself all these years?"

Preston pulled a piece of lint from his pants and held it up as if scrutinizing this foreign object that dared to soil his clothing. Standing up, he straightened his floral silk tie and buttoned his suit coat over his trim torso. "I saw a lot of men die in that war, Sergeant. I myself was wounded. I won't spend one more second discussing a cowardly deserter."

He was ending the meeting. Sam watched him walk to the door. She picked up the picture and followed him.

"Did you know George Abbott?"

Preston turned, his hand on the front door knob.

"Abbott?" He furrowed his brow in thought. "Yes, he was with me in Korea, for a brief time. I'm ashamed to say I didn't keep in touch with anyone after Korea." He held the front door open.

"The Dallas police are looking into Abbott's death as a possible homicide."

"Oh, really? The papers say the police closed that case."

"That's what the police want the press to print." She handed him a picture of Cain. "What about this man? His name is Cain Valenzio and it's possible he might be tied to Abbott's death. Maybe he has some vendetta against Korean War vets."

Preston grew silent. Overhead, the helicopter was sweeping around for its landing in the backyard. The updraft sent tree branches swaying.

Sam could tell by the way his temples pulsed that she had hit a nerve. "Well, I see your ride is here." She motioned for him to keep the picture of Cain. "Have a safe trip, Mister Hilliard."

Sam smiled as she walked to her Jeep. She had ruffled his feathers, and ruffling a few feathers was always her favorite way to start out a morning.

As the pilot carried Preston's suit bag and briefcase onto the helicopter, Preston made a quick call.

"You need to rein in Sergeant Casey or we are going to have problems."