number was unlisted. Of course other law enforcement people and agencies had it, so maybe it was more available than he realized, but why tell him to stay out of Sierra County? It was strange, but Ray had thought it sounded like Max Johnson. It was his father’s old cabin—why would Max threaten him? No question it was time to consider retiring—maybe it should be somewhere that no one knew him.
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma—June 1987
Joe was enjoying a much calmer schedule now that tax season was over. Every year he swore to himself he wouldn’t do it again the following year, but so far he’d always broken that pledge. He didn’t consider himself much of an expert on taxes, but it went with the job. If you said you were a CPA everyone assumed that you spent every waking hour keeping up with the huge, convoluted pile of crap that was the tax code. And, of course, tax season accounted for a substantial portion of his annual income. On the plus side, even though things were intense leading up to the filing deadline, for the most part after April fifteenth the whole mess disappeared for another nine months or so.
As part of his recent I-need-to-relax-more approach to life, Joe had taken up golf. He’d never thought he’d get into it because he wasn’t exactly a natural athlete and he was sure it’d be humiliating. But after a few lessons he’d gone out with some of his friends and realized that having golfing skills didn’t seem to be a requirement. While he was really bad, some of his buddies—who had played for years—were actually worse. It was an odd game, and he was still unsure if he really enjoyed it, but it did give him an excuse to drink in the afternoon without the social stigma of hanging out in a bar.
He was playing today at Oakwood County Club as a guest of one of his clients, who was in the used car business. Joe thought the guy was a little creepy, but he had turned out to be a well-paying, decent client. His client had brought two employees along to make sure he was playing with people who would hold him in the highest esteem—and would let him win. Joe didn’t care. He tried to enjoy the day and the setting. The game went as expected, with his client being the easy winner. They invited Joe to have drinks with them at the clubhouse, but he begged off, saying he still had some business to take care of before the day ended. They said their goodbyes.
The truth was that just before he’d left he’d received a message that Mike had called and needed to talk to him later that day. The message said to meet him at the usual place around 4:30. Of course the usual place was Triples. Joe was headed that way.
“You’re not going to believe this!” First words out of Mike’s mouth as Joe slid into the booth.
“First, I need a drink. Then you can tell me what I won’t believe.” Joe signaled to the bartender and got a finger wave indicating that his drink was on the way.
“First thing this morning, I got a call from some realtor guy from someplace in New Mexico asking me about a property that was owned by Elizabeth Ruth Hall of Oklahoma City. He said it had taken him months to track her down to this phone number. Well, I wasn’t real sure what to say—I told him that was my mother’s maiden name and she was no longer living.”
Mike’s mom had died suddenly of breast cancer about six years after his father died. His mother’s death had been a crushing blow to Mike. She’d always been the one who he knew cared about how he was and what happened to him. Mike had great difficulty, at the time, dealing with her death. He was still grieving four years later.
“What—what are you talking about? Your mother—I thought her name was Bugs.”
“Yeah, that’s the only name she used, but her legal name was Elizabeth. My mother didn’t have any property in New Mexico, or anywhere else for that matter.”
Mike had been about ready to tell the guy he must have the wrong person when the guy had
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma—June 1987
Joe was enjoying a much calmer schedule now that tax season was over. Every year he swore to himself he wouldn’t do it again the following year, but so far he’d always broken that pledge. He didn’t consider himself much of an expert on taxes, but it went with the job. If you said you were a CPA everyone assumed that you spent every waking hour keeping up with the huge, convoluted pile of crap that was the tax code. And, of course, tax season accounted for a substantial portion of his annual income. On the plus side, even though things were intense leading up to the filing deadline, for the most part after April fifteenth the whole mess disappeared for another nine months or so.
As part of his recent I-need-to-relax-more approach to life, Joe had taken up golf. He’d never thought he’d get into it because he wasn’t exactly a natural athlete and he was sure it’d be humiliating. But after a few lessons he’d gone out with some of his friends and realized that having golfing skills didn’t seem to be a requirement. While he was really bad, some of his buddies—who had played for years—were actually worse. It was an odd game, and he was still unsure if he really enjoyed it, but it did give him an excuse to drink in the afternoon without the social stigma of hanging out in a bar.
He was playing today at Oakwood County Club as a guest of one of his clients, who was in the used car business. Joe thought the guy was a little creepy, but he had turned out to be a well-paying, decent client. His client had brought two employees along to make sure he was playing with people who would hold him in the highest esteem—and would let him win. Joe didn’t care. He tried to enjoy the day and the setting. The game went as expected, with his client being the easy winner. They invited Joe to have drinks with them at the clubhouse, but he begged off, saying he still had some business to take care of before the day ended. They said their goodbyes.
The truth was that just before he’d left he’d received a message that Mike had called and needed to talk to him later that day. The message said to meet him at the usual place around 4:30. Of course the usual place was Triples. Joe was headed that way.
“You’re not going to believe this!” First words out of Mike’s mouth as Joe slid into the booth.
“First, I need a drink. Then you can tell me what I won’t believe.” Joe signaled to the bartender and got a finger wave indicating that his drink was on the way.
“First thing this morning, I got a call from some realtor guy from someplace in New Mexico asking me about a property that was owned by Elizabeth Ruth Hall of Oklahoma City. He said it had taken him months to track her down to this phone number. Well, I wasn’t real sure what to say—I told him that was my mother’s maiden name and she was no longer living.”
Mike’s mom had died suddenly of breast cancer about six years after his father died. His mother’s death had been a crushing blow to Mike. She’d always been the one who he knew cared about how he was and what happened to him. Mike had great difficulty, at the time, dealing with her death. He was still grieving four years later.
“What—what are you talking about? Your mother—I thought her name was Bugs.”
“Yeah, that’s the only name she used, but her legal name was Elizabeth. My mother didn’t have any property in New Mexico, or anywhere else for that matter.”
Mike had been about ready to tell the guy he must have the wrong person when the guy had
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