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Authors: Scott Dennis Parker
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your cash. And I’m savvy enough to know
you ought to get inside or they’ll see you.”
I whirled around and saw that Danielle and the mystery man had
separated. Danielle was walking west, the mystery man hailed a cab. The cabbie
dutifully stopped and the mystery man was gone.
Replacing my wallet in my pocket, I moved out to follow Danielle.
I didn’t give the deli owner a second thought.
Danielle moved with an assurance that all but made me have to
trot to keep up. You know how hard it is to do that and still be inconspicuous?
Damn near impossible. The patrons walking along the sidewalks would likely
remember the strange man moving against the grain of pedestrian traffic with
his eyes focused on something across the street.
Danielle moved with speed down the block to the fourth store. She
stopped and went in. I angled for a better look and read the name on the sign:
Holcombe Jewelry. I pulled out my notebook and jotted down the name. I wasn’t
familiar with it, but that didn’t mean anything. One of the benefits of not
having a steady gal on my arm was that it eliminated the need to frequent
jewelry stores.
Leaning up next to the wall, I pulled out a cheap pair of
binoculars and peered through the window. Danielle was the only patron in the
store. The jangling bell had alerted the jeweler and he looked up. A smile
creased his face. The smile faltered a bit when she handed him the envelope.
The smile died on his face. He went pale when he opened it and read the
contents. The jeweler looked up at Danielle and shook his head. She nodded her
head. Then she pointed her finger at him and must have said some pretty awful
words because he shrank back, then nodded meekly.
Danielle turned. I quickly stowed the field glasses inside my
coat and turned to admire women’s clothes in the store front. In the
reflection, I watched Danielle once more move down the block in her brisk pace.
Instead of the bus this time, she hailed a cab. She was gone.
I didn’t have long to wait. The jeweler stuck his head out the
front door and looked down the street in the direction Danielle had gone.
Seeing that she was gone, he turned his sign from “Open” to “Closed” and locked
the door. He adjusted his hat lower on his head and made his way to a Chevrolet
town sedan parked two slots from the front door. Again, looking both ways, he
got into his car and pulled out into the street. Whatever had spooked him was
something big. I aimed to find out what it was.
I ran back to my car and climbed behind the wheel. If he got on
Kirby, I’d lose him.
Throwing the car into gear, I raced off after him.
Chapter Twelve
Cyrus Holcombe drove purposefully, taking
some turns tight and others more leisurely. His commute took us both back to
downtown. The sun was setting and, one by one, the lights were coming on.
Houston at night is a beautiful sight. There were days when I just looked at
the buildings, felt pride in my hometown. I didn’t have that luxury tonight. I
had a quarry to pursue.
Holcombe drove north through downtown and into the area known as
the Heights. Along Heights Boulevard, he finally slowed as he neared a rather
large Victorian mansion. I matched his slow-down speed and parallel parked
behind a large delivery truck. I slipped out of the car and watched as Holcombe
got out of his car, did another spot check of his surroundings, and headed up
the stairs to a house. Waiting a few more moments, I sneaked up closer to the
house.
Three short raps on the door, followed a few seconds later with
four more must have been the passcode. The door opened. In the dim twilight,
the yellow porch bulb splashed outside and onto the well-manicured lawn. The
man who opened the door was backlit so I didn’t get a good look at him.
Giving the open area in the front yard a quick once-over, I
tiptoed across it and flattened myself against the side of the house. I looked
across the street and prayed no nosy neighbor decided to look outside.
The
you ought to get inside or they’ll see you.”
I whirled around and saw that Danielle and the mystery man had
separated. Danielle was walking west, the mystery man hailed a cab. The cabbie
dutifully stopped and the mystery man was gone.
Replacing my wallet in my pocket, I moved out to follow Danielle.
I didn’t give the deli owner a second thought.
Danielle moved with an assurance that all but made me have to
trot to keep up. You know how hard it is to do that and still be inconspicuous?
Damn near impossible. The patrons walking along the sidewalks would likely
remember the strange man moving against the grain of pedestrian traffic with
his eyes focused on something across the street.
Danielle moved with speed down the block to the fourth store. She
stopped and went in. I angled for a better look and read the name on the sign:
Holcombe Jewelry. I pulled out my notebook and jotted down the name. I wasn’t
familiar with it, but that didn’t mean anything. One of the benefits of not
having a steady gal on my arm was that it eliminated the need to frequent
jewelry stores.
Leaning up next to the wall, I pulled out a cheap pair of
binoculars and peered through the window. Danielle was the only patron in the
store. The jangling bell had alerted the jeweler and he looked up. A smile
creased his face. The smile faltered a bit when she handed him the envelope.
The smile died on his face. He went pale when he opened it and read the
contents. The jeweler looked up at Danielle and shook his head. She nodded her
head. Then she pointed her finger at him and must have said some pretty awful
words because he shrank back, then nodded meekly.
Danielle turned. I quickly stowed the field glasses inside my
coat and turned to admire women’s clothes in the store front. In the
reflection, I watched Danielle once more move down the block in her brisk pace.
Instead of the bus this time, she hailed a cab. She was gone.
I didn’t have long to wait. The jeweler stuck his head out the
front door and looked down the street in the direction Danielle had gone.
Seeing that she was gone, he turned his sign from “Open” to “Closed” and locked
the door. He adjusted his hat lower on his head and made his way to a Chevrolet
town sedan parked two slots from the front door. Again, looking both ways, he
got into his car and pulled out into the street. Whatever had spooked him was
something big. I aimed to find out what it was.
I ran back to my car and climbed behind the wheel. If he got on
Kirby, I’d lose him.
Throwing the car into gear, I raced off after him.
Chapter Twelve
Cyrus Holcombe drove purposefully, taking
some turns tight and others more leisurely. His commute took us both back to
downtown. The sun was setting and, one by one, the lights were coming on.
Houston at night is a beautiful sight. There were days when I just looked at
the buildings, felt pride in my hometown. I didn’t have that luxury tonight. I
had a quarry to pursue.
Holcombe drove north through downtown and into the area known as
the Heights. Along Heights Boulevard, he finally slowed as he neared a rather
large Victorian mansion. I matched his slow-down speed and parallel parked
behind a large delivery truck. I slipped out of the car and watched as Holcombe
got out of his car, did another spot check of his surroundings, and headed up
the stairs to a house. Waiting a few more moments, I sneaked up closer to the
house.
Three short raps on the door, followed a few seconds later with
four more must have been the passcode. The door opened. In the dim twilight,
the yellow porch bulb splashed outside and onto the well-manicured lawn. The
man who opened the door was backlit so I didn’t get a good look at him.
Giving the open area in the front yard a quick once-over, I
tiptoed across it and flattened myself against the side of the house. I looked
across the street and prayed no nosy neighbor decided to look outside.
The
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