Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 09 - The Crystal Skull Murders by Kent Conwell Page A

talk to someone who is
very knowledgeable in the field.” In the rearview mirror, I spotted a police cruiser turning the corner.
    Phone at my ear, I hastily climbed out, fumbled for
my magnetized sign, slapped it on the door, and leaned
casually against the fender of the Silverado as Beatrice
replied, “We purchase all of our crystal from Tower Jewelers. J.C.Towers is the connoisseur of crystal in
Texas. All of our crystal comes from him.” In the background, I heard a door close. She hesitated. “Oh, hello,
Janice.”

    I heard Janice ask. “Am I interrupting anything, Aunt
Beatrice?”
    “No, dear. I’m just talking to Tony”
    I spoke up. “Thank you for the information, Aunt Beatrice. And if you don’t mind, may I speak with Janice?”
    She must have offered the receiver to Janice for I
heard my poor little rich girl snap, “I don’t want to talk
to him ever again.”
    Now, I can’t swear for certain, but I thought that I detected a hint of smug satisfaction in Beatrice’s voice
when she replied, “I’m sorry, Tony. But she never wants
to speak to you again.”
    Shaking my head, I punched off just as the police
cruiser stopped beside me. The shotgun window hissed
down and the officer leaned over. “What are you doing
down here, Boudreaux? Slumming?”
    I recognized the grinning face of Frank Watson. “Trying to make a buck, Frank. Hey, you seen any of the
street guys around-Pookie, Downtown, any of them?”
    “Over in the alley. A couple are sleeping in a box behind a Dumpster.” He glanced at the pickup. “That’s
yours?”
    “Yeah?”
    With a suspicious grin, he asked, “When did you get
in the delivery business?”

    “Hey, you know how it is with PIs, Frank. We have to
have all kinds of sidelines just to make half of what you
rich cops make”
    He sneered at me.
    “Which Dumpster?” I asked.
    “Behind the Red Rooster.”
    As Doreen and I headed for the alley, I brought her
up to date on what I had learned from Beatrice. “When
we get back to the office, I’ll get in touch with this Towers guy, and we’ll get in to see him.”
    A frown knit her brows. “About the skull?”
    “Yeah. I don’t know. In the back of my mind, I think
I’ve heard or read something about crystal skulls, but
for the life of me, I can’t remember what.’
    We turned down the alley, and I spotted Clay, Buck’s
handyman, hauling out garbage from the Red Rooster.
He was wearing the same black T-shirt and threadbare
jeans he had worn the day before.
    I nodded, but he ignored us.
    “Friendly sort,” Doreen muttered sarcastically.
    “Probably spaced out”
    After Clay dumped the garbage and locked the door to
the Red Rooster behind him, I spotted a pair of worn-out
Nike running shoes protruding from a cardboard box
behind the Dumpster. I squatted and peered into the box,
but the old man was bundled in a GI greatcoat held together by dirt, and his knitted toboggan mask only showed his closed eyes and thin lips from which the drool
had soaked into the cardboard in a spreading damp stain.

    I tapped the sole of his shoes with my knuckles. After a moment, he stirred and grunted. I rose and stepped
back. “Pookie?”
    From the box came an almost unintelligible reply.
“Not here”
    “Who’s in there? Goofyfoot? Spryo? Downtown?”
    Moments later, the running shoes began moving and
the grimy bundle began sliding out. The brown mask finally emerged and two phlegmy eyes squinted up at
me. A dirt-stained hand pulled the mask up.
    I recognized Spryo.
    He grunted when he recognized me. He glanced at
Doreen. “You looking for something?”
    “Yeah. You”
    The emaciated old man managed to stagger to his
feet. “Me. What for? I ain’t done nothing.”
    “I’m looking for a man. It’s worth twenty bucks. The
guy’s got a black ponytail, busted nose, wears fancy
suits.”
    He glanced suspiciously at Doreen and then back to
me. “Ain’t seen him. He a regular from around