Diana Racine 02 - Goddess of the Moon

coming, and he was back on the job the day after he buried his family. Craven had begged him to take time off, but Lucier refused . No way would he miss work for anything less than a calamity. U nless he were seriously hurt or dead, he ’ d have checked in.
    Beecher’s description of Lucier’s automaton-like voice bothered Craven most. A no-nonsense boss , well- liked and respected by his men, he c ould sometimes be aloof . But no one would ever describe his speech pattern as robotic.
    Beecher had brought Craven up to speed on Lucier’s investigation . He’d c heck ed the whereabouts of Compton’s group . All were out of their offices this morning except Martin Easley, and none of the secretaries would confirm when their bosses would return. H e ’d called the Sunrise Mission , too, and the secretary said Edward Slater ha d left on a short, well-deserved vac ation. ”
    Coincidence? Craven didn’t think so. He believed in coincidences. They happened all the time , b ut there were too many in this case to ignore. Lucier’s disappearance might push the right buttons to search more thoroughly into Compton’s hidden properties . He picked up the phone and called FBI agent Ralph Stallings to fill him in on the going s on.
    “Any luck untangling the mess of properties owned by the men, especially Co mpton and Crane?” Craven asked.
    “ Our team of forensic accountants is working on it. The men’s multiple corporations have a tangled provenance of ownership, most through shell companies and land trusts, some registered offshore.”
    “We’re looking for someplace within a few hundred miles, I’d guess,” Craven said. “Someplace a couple of hours by private plane.”
    “What makes you think that?”
    “Nothing concrete. I’m hunching here, Ralph.”
    “Hold on.”
    Craven heard the rustle of paper. He waited.
    “Sorry to keep you. I wanted to make sure I had all the facts. At least those w e can confirm. Hmm, let’s see.”
    More paper shuffling.
    “Both Crane and Compton were born in Oklahoma. In fact, all five men are Okies. P eople often resort to their comfort zone when seek ing a place to hide. In other words, so meplace they’re familiar with.”
    “ Which would be somewhere in Oklahoma?”
    “If I were a guessing man, yes, although I’d hate to hang someone’s life on a supposition.”
    “What about Slater?”
    “Born in Texas. Never had enough money to buy property. Not according to his tax returns.”
    “You have better resources than I do, Ralph, but go deeper into Crane’s history. This thing may go back generations. He’s the one I’ m betting on, ’cause it’s his seed money. He bought Co mpton and the others too.”
    “I’ll get back to you , ” Stallings said.
    “Thanks. Meanwhile, there’s one last idea I want to investigate.”
    Craven hung up and buzzed Beecher to his office. The big man entered , looking more put together than usual. With Lucier AWOL and B. D. Harris retired, Beecher was senior man. Today, he wore a pressed shirt tucked it into his pants, although they were still slipping down below his gut . Beecher and Lucier were close, and Craven saw the worry lines on his detective’s face.
    “ P ay a visit to Martin Easley, Sam, and take Cash with you. Easley’s the only one in town this morning and the only one you verified who stayed in New Orleans this weekend. I called and made an appointment. I wanted him to think about the reason you’re coming. Think and worry, if he has reason to. I think he has.”
    “Why , Captain?”
    “ S omething strange in his history makes me wonder,” he said, referring to a folder on his desk. He opened it , riffled through until he extracted a sheet of paper. “In the late fifties, Easley’s father was accused of raping and murdering a college girl in town. The cops went to his house to question him, but he resisted, claiming he was innocent. One overzealous cop knocked him around. Easley , Sr. , fought back and they beat him so bad, he later died of a brain hemorrhage. Ten-year-old Martin witnessed the whole thing. Easley’s mother filed a lawsuit, but no jury was going to convict two cops of killing a dirt-poor farmer. The y got off , and l ater, another man confessed to the girl’s murder.”
    No light bulbs seemed to be going off in Beecher ’s head . Maybe his idea wa s off the wall, Craven thought.
    “What are you thinking, Captain?” Beecher asked.
    “If Compton and Crane are masterminds of a group