Storm Front
dollars, which is a federal offense,” Virgil said.
“My God, what’d he do?” she asked. But Virgil saw the flicker in her eyes, and Yael glanced at Virgil to see if he’d picked it up. He nodded his head a quarter of an inch. Not only was the woman not telling the truth, but that kind of pickup put Yael distinctly with the Mossad.
“You’re his daughter who works with the DOT?” Virgil asked. He dug around in his memory and came up with, “Ellen?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“We tried to get in touch with you, but were told you were on your way to Alaska,” Virgil said.
“That was a joke about getting away from my ex,” she said. “But about Dad . . . You can’t find him? I’m sure he never smuggled anything, or stole anything, that’s crazy talk. He’s very ill. We tried to talk him out of going to Israel this summer. We were supposed to meet out here this morning, to see if there’s anything anybody might want in the house before they burn it down—”
“You’re going to burn it?”
Ellen looked back at the place and nodded. “I’m afraid so. It was my great-grandparents’ place, but I can hardly ever remember even coming here. My grandfather was a preacher, and then Dad. The land was all sold off, the house can’t be fixed . . . the land’s more valuable with the house gone. We’ll burn it, then clear it with a bulldozer, fill in the basement, and then maybe Chuck Miller will add it to his farm.”
Virgil said, “Nice to have apple trees . . . and asparagus.” He could see the feathery bush-tops of asparagus growing down the far fence line.
“The apple trees are pretty much shot. Mostly good for firewood, now.”
Virgil came back to the case: “We went to your father’s house this morning. He wasn’t there, but he was last night. We haven’t been able to locate him, but we did find a spot of blood on the floor.”
“I just can’t help you,” she said. “I’ve tried calling his cell, but it goes right over to the answering service, so it’s probably turned off.”
Virgil said, “He’s not in the house. This house.”
“No, of course not. You think I’m lying?”
Virgil said, “No, I just have to ask—because if I ask, and if it turns out that you
are
lying, then you’ve committed a crime, and I can come back to you on that. I mean, you can refuse to talk to me, but you can’t lie to me to cover up a crime or hide a criminal.”
She put her fists on her hips: “That’s a mean thing to say.”
“I try not to be mean,” Virgil said. “But this is a serious matter, Ellen, and you should not be fooling around with it, thinking otherwise. Your involvement in this, if you’re involved, could jeopardize your whole career.”
Yael chipped in: “He is trying to sell this artifact he stole. The people he is trying to sell it to are extremely dangerous. People who might kill him, if they need to, to get the stone.”
Virgil added, “Hezbollah, among others.”
Yael added, “And Texans.”
Ellen nodded. “I will keep trying to get in touch. I’ll go into town and look for him. I’ll leave messages. I’ll do everything I can.”
“Don’t get too close,” Virgil said. “Like Yael said, these people could be dangerous. There’s a lot of money involved.”
“I promise: I’ll tell you the minute I find him.”
They exchanged cell phone numbers, and Virgil got her father’s phone number, and then, like an afterthought, she asked, “Before you go, do you want to look inside? To see that I’m telling the truth?”
Yael said quickly, “I would.”
Virgil said, “Go ahead. But old houses can be dangerous—Ellen should go with you. I’ll take a look at the machine shed and garage.”
—
T HE TWO WOMEN WENT INSIDE , and Virgil headed toward the garage. He stepped inside, saw nothing, then checked to make sure the two women were out of sight in the house. They were; he hurried back to the truck, got inside, and dug into Yael’s handbag.
She carried a small clutch purse inside, with a snap, which he unsnapped. In one of the credit card slots he found two key cards for the Downtown Inn. Like most seasoned travelers, she’d gotten two, so she wouldn’t lock herself out on a quick trip to the Coke machine. He took one of them, and put the purse back in the bag.
He got out of the truck, eased the door shut, walked quickly behind the row of lilacs, to the end of the driveway, into the machine shed. Nothing there, either,
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