“I want to see what you come up with first. Then I’ll need to talk to Tommy and Mike. If this thing really looks like something that involves multiple jurisdictions, I’ll call them and we can talk about it.”

“You won’t be calling them until I come back from Houston, then.”

“No, Toni. I have my hands full right now.”

“Good.”

“And I want you to let me know exactly what you find out on your trip to Houston.”

“You got it.”

Chapter Thirteen

After meeting with Drew, I had called Michael and arranged to meet him at our dojo for an aikido workout. My son and I were both black belts in the art, although at different levels-I had begun teaching him when he was nine-and we both served as instructors there as much as our schedules would allow. Lately, my schedule hadn’t even allowed for much in the way of workouts.

Mike met me there and the two of us sparred with a group of black belts who regularly met there on Tuesday evenings. I was rusty and needed the workout badly. My son almost beat me, but the old lady was still ahead and I proved I could teach him a few things.

When we were done with the workout, we cleaned up and buzzed over to one of our favorite Tex-Mex joints to meet Tommy. He was crunching on tostadas and gulping down gallons of tea when we arrived.

Mike and I ordered water and tea, too.

The waiter brought our beverages, and we ordered our food. “So, who won the big sparring match tonight?” Tommy asked.

Mike cleared his throat, and gave Tommy the corner eye shot that silently told him, “Don’t go there, man.”

Tommy started to chuckle. “I love it, she kicked your rear again.” He laughed out loud now.

Mike sighed, shook his head and put his hand over his eyes.

“Well, I was his teacher, Tommy, and I do outrank him. Besides, he was doing really well at first. It took me a while to get a handle on him tonight.”

“Hey, man, don’t feel bad,” Tommy said to Mike. “My mom kicks my rear every time I go home and she’s not even into martial arts. She’s a little stick of dynamite.”

We all laughed now. I knew Mrs. Lucero, and I could just imagine her keeping Tommy right in line.

“So, Tommy, when are you going to come to the dojo and start taking lessons?” Mike said.

“Are you interested in aikido?” I asked.

“Well,” Tommy said, “I’ve seen Junior here get some suspects under control in real short order and without a lot of energy expense. So, I just thought it might be a good idea to at least explore the merits, you know, see what it’s like.”

“He’s chicken,” Mike said.

“Whoa, partner! I am not chicken. I just don’t want you to be my teacher, that’s all. I got to put up with you all day long, I don’t want to have to put up with you in the dojo, too.”

“We have a lot of great teachers, Tommy,” I said, “but you know you do have to show deference to all the black belts.”

“That’s okay. I understand that, but I would prefer to learn from you, Toni.”

I smiled. “Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll be happy to teach you.”

The food was delivered to the table and there wasn’t a lot of chatter while the boys wolfed down their dinner as if they hadn’t eaten in three days. I thought with their mouths full, it would be a good time for me to update them on what I had learned recently, and the latest thoughts I had about the case. I filled them in and they listened without much comment.

“So, what I’d like to do now-with your blessing, of course-is go visit Mrs. Ferguson. I’d like to talk to her about Brian’s habits, but I’d also like to just visit with her a little. This whole case, and the way Brian was killed in particular, really gets to me, and as one mother to another, I’d like to visit with her.”

“Mom, I just don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, you’ve been to see Jimmy, Dody and Lori, and you didn’t really find out anything new, so I don’t see the point.”

“We did find out something new. We found out Jimmy is withholding something.”

“Leo thinks,” Mike said.

“We also know that Jimmy wants us to believe that Addie and Doug were not involved with one another, but that Dody believes they definitely were. That could become important later.”

“Mom, we don’t need civilians poking around in all this. We can close the case on our own.”

“Excuse me, but I’d like to point out a few things here,” Tommy interjected. “First of all, don’t talk to your mom like that. It’s rude, and it bothers me-a lot.”

Mike sighed.

“Hey, this ain’t the dojo, man. I’m the senior guy here. You may not like it, Mike, but your mom is not a civilian. She’s in law enforcement-she’s a forensic artist and scientist. You don’t have to carry a badge and a gun to be in law enforcement. My sister is a toxicologist at the State Crime Lab. She’s in law enforcement, too.”

“Yeah, but your sister doesn’t go all over the place questioning people.”

“That’s only because she’s a science geek and that isn’t her thing. Your mother is good at this and people talk to her. She might have gotten something out of Dody, but as it is, she didn’t hurt anything by talking to him either-and it did help us to have Leo observe him, and Jimmy and Lori, and give us her assessment.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” I said.

“Toni put the faces back on both of these victims, Mike. Frankly, I don’t know how she does that without getting involved with them. I think it would mess me up. It doesn’t surprise me that she has to know.” Tommy turned to me now. “There’s no harm, Toni, in you talking to Mrs. Ferguson. I’ll give you her number. She’s not dangerous and she’s not a suspect. You’re both widows and mothers of a son. She may very well remember things in talking to you that she didn’t when she talked to me and Mike. Plus, she was really touched by what you did for her. Might be good for her to get to meet you. I feel sorry for her, too. She doesn’t have long to live, and she didn’t deserve for any of this horror to happen to her.”

His eyes misted up a little now. He was fiery sometimes, but Tommy Lucero had that sentimental heart. Sometimes it served him well, as in this case. Sometimes it burdened him with guilt, as with the death of Bobby Driskill.

“I never thought about it that way,” Mike said. “I’m sorry, Mom. I was wrong to jump all over you. I just didn’t think about all that stuff.”

“That’s because you got your ego wrapped so tight around your head, it’s like a tourniquet on your brain,” Tommy said.

I busted out laughing. Then Tommy started to laugh and Mike couldn’t help but join in.

When our laughter tapered off, Tommy said, “Okay, just one thing, Toni.”

“What’s that?”

“You share whatever you find down there.”

“That’s a given, Tomas. That’s always a given.”

I had called Mrs. Ferguson and told her I was the artist who had done the bust of her son. She was glad to speak with me and thanked me for what I had done for her. I told her I appreciated her comments, but that finding Brian’s remains was luck, and someone else’s “luck” at that-all I had done was my job. When I told her that I would like to come down and visit with her, she readily agreed.

The weather the next morning was grim. It was gray and cloudy and it drizzled all morning. It didn’t improve any as I got closer to Houston. I followed Mrs. Ferguson’s directions and arrived at her home about 10:30 a.m. I had dressed in my nicest black slacks, a dark green cotton shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves and my “citified” short, black zip-up boots. I pulled up to the curb in my black Pony and shut the power plant off to hear the soft pattering of rainfall on the roof and windshield. I grabbed a slicker from the back seat, threw it on over my clothes and exited the car.

Down the street about three houses away, I could have sworn that I saw Lori Webster. It was gray and rainy and difficult to see. I went toward the person, but she turned and hurried away from me. I wasn’t going to chase her in the rain. It certainly looked like her, but I couldn’t be a hundred percent sure. If it was her, I wondered why on earth she would come here to Mrs. Ferguson’s.