The Territory A Novel - By Tricia Fields Page 0,63
me. Don’t give me this crap about living a good life and not having anything to worry about. You’re not that naïve. I don’t care if they’re cops or not; they’re human. Odds are, if they’re in trouble, they’ll do whatever it takes to get out of it.”
* * *
Martínez reclined back on the bench with his legs spread apart, slouched somewhat, appearing tired and angry to Josie. She sat beside him, but he said nothing.
“You need to know, straight up, if Bloster reaches for his gun in response to an altercation with me again, he is liable to catch a bullet.”
Martínez still said nothing, just stared at his hands folded in his lap.
Josie wasn’t sure where to take the conversation, so added, “I won’t let that son of a bitch intimidate me with his fists or his gun.”
“I think I’m screwed, Josie.”
The flat tone of his voice raised the hair on her arms.
“I gave Bloster too much power. I couldn’t keep up with the paperwork, and the bills and receipts. Running that jail takes up all my time, and I can’t keep up with the department issues. I figured, Bloster’s such a pain in the ass, he’s always got complaints filed on him for his rough conduct, I’ll just bury him in paperwork.” He turned to face Josie. “That guy’s got a business degree from Texas State. He’s not the dumb jock he portrays himself to be. He was supposed to run his dad’s trucking business, but he wanted something more physical.”
“How bad is it?”
“He took over department expenditures in December. I’ve gone back to check, and he’s been submitting false invoices since January. They’ve gotten more absurd each month.”
“Didn’t you see the expense report? Or, if not you, what about the commissioners? Didn’t they question things?”
“I never submit an expenditure report. I know your office does. Sheriff’s department never has, though. Since I’ve been in office, all I do is a monthly report. I write a one-page summary of profit and expense, and I show them a basic revenue report.”
She smiled grimly and looked at the row of businesses across the street, wondering if the double standard would ever be lifted. “Otto used to do the same, but Moss requested the detailed expenditure report from me. He’s never asked you for one?”
He shook his head.
“You got no worries. You’re a man. Commissioners? Mayor? Come on, Martínez. You can good-old-boy your way through this.”
Martínez nodded once to acknowledge her remark and then looked away.
Josie regretted her words instantly. Martínez had never played her sex against her, and he deserved the same respect.
“I’m sorry, Roy. I shouldn’t have said that.”
He ignored her apology and looked out across the courtyard, his expression distant. “I found receipts for several guns the department supposedly purchased from Red. There was a receipt for a contractor that doesn’t exist, doing five thousand dollars’ worth of repairs on the jail that never happened.” Martínez looked at the ground. “I found mileage claims for Bloster driving from Texas to Florida. Two of them. He’s filched twenty thousand dollars over the past six months alone.”
“Where’s the money coming from?” she asked.
“Homeland Security Grant. The description on the mileage claim said he went to pick up equipment for the department.”
“Get the paperwork together, and I’ll take it to Dillon Reese. He’s discreet. Maybe we can take care of Bloster without making a community spectacle. The commissioners won’t want to admit this to anyone any more than you do.”
Josie stood and saw Manny step outside from his motel office and wave to her. She made arrangements with Martínez to gather all his paperwork together for Dillon by the next morning and walked across the street leaving him sitting there, staring off at nothing.
* * *
Manny was standing behind the counter bent over a ledger when she walked in the front door. Josie could tell by his meek smile that something was wrong.
“What’s up, Manny?”
“I hate like anything to ask you this, but your mother left this morning without a word. She just slipped a letter under the office door. Dropped her key in my drop box. I was up and in here by seven, so she must have left at the crack of dawn.” He frowned and slid her a piece of notepaper, with the words MANNY’S MOTEL in green block letters printed across the top. Under that, she recognized her mother’s neatly slanted cursive.
Dear Manny,
Thank you for a sweet time. Sorry I had to miss you this morning. Places