Ending the Varney Curse

By MaryJo Dawson

Sally is asked to assist in an ongoing undercover operation investigating shipping magnate Jock Varney. All she has to do is slip away to Phoenix for a few days to fill in as caregiver to Varney's elderly mother, Elizabeth. And while doing that, carry out her primary assignment. It all goes smoothly. So why, less than two weeks later, is Mrs. Varney's regular companion standing at Sally's front door with a suspicious mind and a lot of questions? One reason: her employer is dead and the loyal Vera Riley isn't convinced it was natural causes. And no wonder. The Varney family has experienced more that its share of sudden deaths. Sally and her two loyal assistants travel to California where they team up with Mrs. Riley to find out the truth. Who or what is behind the dark events plaguing the Varneys?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elderberry Press
• Release date: Aug 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370672394

MaryJo Dawson

MaryJo Dawson had a long and satisfying career as a nurse, most of it specialized in Obstetrics. She's lived in several states and one country abroad, but has settled happily in a small town in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains with her husband, Bill.Always a lover of mysteries, biographies, and history, but especially fond of the British mystery authors of the mid-twentieth century, she set out to write a mystery series of her own using these as her role models. There are currently five Sally Nimitz mysteries in print, the latest released in June of 2015. The books reflect the author's own enjoyment of a good story based in solid values, yet realistic, and fun.When not pondering a new adventure for Sally, there is time for family, friends, flowers, hikes, and the used bookstore.

Book preview

Also by MaryJo Dawson

The Death of Amelia Marsh

(First Sally Nimitz Mystery)

The Disappearance of Douglas White

(Second Sally Nimitz Mystery)

The Strange Situation at Emlee

(Third Sally Nimitz Mystery)

The Truth About Charlie

(Fourth Sally Nimitz Mystery)

Did Lucy Bedford Have to Die?

(Fifth Sally Nimitz Mystery)

Ending the Varney Curse

(6th Sally Nimitz Mystery

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Also by MaryJo Dawson

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter One

John Severson was standing at my front door. I stared at him in incredulity. It couldn’t be. Why would he come to see me? But there was no mistaking him. His suit looked just like it had the last time we saw each other, sixteen months earlier. Surely that couldn’t be the same light stain on his shirt, or the same rumpled tie? He still needed a good haircut. All of that was a contradiction to the keen, direct, way he looked at you with those penetrating eyes.

In the flesh, he said, reminding me how the loud and clear tone of his voice could be irritating. He added with a shiver, May I come in?

Yes, of course. He shouldn’t have had to ask. It was bitterly cold outside and in spite of that he wasn’t wearing an overcoat. Only a suspicious character would have been left standing outside without immediate entrance on such a day. But then again, Severson showing up again in my life was very suspicious.

You really took me by surprise so forgive my lapse in good manners.

He wiped his feet on the mat at the front door before following me into my living room and accepting my invitation to sit down on the couch, where he could stretch out his legs and had room for his considerable bulk.

Never expected to see me at your door, did you? he asked with a grin, stating it more as a matter of fact than a question.

Definitely, you are on the bottom of that list, I admitted dryly. Can I get you something to drink? Something hot?

Now that would be nice. I’m a southern kind of guy, and this weather reminds me why. Coffee?

He made himself comfortable while I went to the kitchen to brew a pot of decaf. It was mid-afternoon so he wasn’t asked if that suited him. I was going to have coffee too, and uninvited guests didn’t usually get me to go to the trouble of making two separate pots of coffee.

I don’t recall. What do you take in your coffee? I called out.

Just sugar, two teaspoons, he called back.

After pushing the ‘on’ button and setting out cups, a spoon, and the sugar bowl, I returned to keep him company while the coffee brewed.

This gives me the chance to thank you for giving me some follow-up after what happened in Florida, I said. Is that how you found your way here, through our local police department?

You aren’t very hard to find, Severson replied. But as a matter of fact, I did stop off and meet your friend, Detective White; nice guy. He told me to wait until at least two o’clock since you work nights, and if you didn’t answer your doorbell to wait a couple of hours more.

It was almost two-thirty so my surprise guest had followed instructions. He was looking around.

Nice little place you have here, he said conversationally. He nodded toward two photographs on the opposite wall. Your family? Nice looking group, cute kids, and look at that, a new baby, too. He paused as the reason for my being in Florida came back to his memory. The younger of those two boys, is that him?

He was right on all observations. The pictures were recent, taken just weeks earlier during the holidays. One was of my son and his family, and the other of my daughter and hers. My son’s youngest was adopted as a newborn, and my part in that proceeding put me into the path of this man.

He asked where they lived. I told him and responded by inquiring politely, Do you have children?

Our relationship in Florida had been completely on the level of his being in law enforcement and me being a thorn in his side. We had never touched on personal issues except for making it clear at the time that George - who was with me - was only a good friend and nothing more.

Yeah, two, a boy and a girl, just like yourself. I’m married too. Can you believe a woman has put up with me this long?

Barely. Since he asked I might as well be candid.

She’s tried to shape me up for years, and does a pretty good job when I’m at home. He grinned again, making me uncomfortable. The guy was trying too hard to be nice to me. What did he want? What was he doing here?

The coffee should be almost ready. I’ll be right back, and you can tell me what’s going on.

I’ve got a proposition for you, Severson said after taking a couple of sips and nodding his approval of my coffee making skills. Once your local detective recalled who I was he had no problem with me showing up asking about you. He has a good reputation and a good record, so I let him in on some of what my reasons are.

"You researched David’s career? And you told him why you came all this way?’

Not everything, but enough. He gave me his word he’d keep it strictly confidential.

I said lightly, My, my, aren’t we being secretive? But my pulse was picking up a little bit. A federal agent wasn’t very likely to come all this way to see someone he hardly knew and go through this sort of trouble unless he had some specific agenda.

He sat back on the sofa and eyed me speculatively. You might as well know up front you’ve been checked out pretty thoroughly, too.

Again? You did that when our paths crossed the first time.

He waved a hand dismissively. Not as thoroughly then. But if you go along with this, the boss had to know without a doubt you were totally clean, no record or shenanigans of any kind in your past.

The idea of coming under such close scrutiny by anybody was disquieting. But it must have been done very discreetly because his disclosure came as a shock. He caught the reaction on my face, which put a satisfied look on his own. It was done very low key so no one would give it a second thought.

Are you ready to tell me why?

My curiosity was rising above my other mixed feelings - mainly negative ones - about having my life examined without my prior knowledge or consent. When someone applied for a position in government or law enforcement circles they could expect a thorough background check. My lifestyle and nursing career had never called for more than reference inquiries.

John Severson was going into his explanation so I put aside all other thoughts to listen carefully.

I’ve been off of the Morelli case for a while. What we presented to the prosecution won our case for fraud, and I’m not involved in the trial for murder. What I’ve been assigned to since then doesn’t have anything to do with being here. But two weeks ago I ran into a friend of mine. We used to work together, and we were both subpoenaed for a new trial of an old case. Over lunch we were talking shop. It was a safe place, and he told me about his current assignment. It has to do with an import/export business that’s involved in illegal smuggling on the side, and making a lot of extra money with both the sales and avoiding taxes.

He set his coffee cup down on the table in front of him and leaned forward, rearranging himself on the couch and folding his hands on the table.

He was pretty frustrated, saying the case was stonewalled. After months of under cover work and following leads, they’ve pinpointed some of the cargo ships being used to move the contraband, and they’ve worked out who they think is running the operation. There are several investors in the firm, some American, some Oriental, Chinese, mainly. Not all of them are involved in the smuggling.

The light steely eyes met mine. What I’m going to tell you next is the sensitive part, top secret, hush, hush, think real life James Bond. Even if you say no, you promise me, Sally, to keep this completely to yourself. If you mention it to family or a friend, and they write a casual e-mail to somebody who mentions it in one of those chat rooms on the computer, it could ruin months of work and put good people’s lives at stake.

This was so obviously on the level I didn’t even dwell on the fact he had called me Sally.

All right. Never? I mean, is this like being in some sort of special intelligence where the agents have to keep many of their secrets to the grave?

He looked at me disapprovingly. I’m serious.

I know. It wasn’t meant to sound flippant.

He relented. Okay, fair question. Not until this whole investigation has gone to trial, convictions have gone down, appeals exhausted, and the smuggling ring completely obliterated. So years. How’s that?

Perfect. You have my word.

He stifled a sigh and took a healthy swig of his coffee.

Everything seems to point to an American businessman who is head of the San Francisco office. He’s the main suspect. But it has been impossible to penetrate his staff, or get anywhere near enough to plant anything to bug his offices or his home. Even the night cleaning service people are kept under tabs with cameras and a couple of night guards. All of that tight security makes it even more likely he’s got plenty to hide.

This was all fascinating. How this fit into a winter visit by a federal law enforcement agent to my house unannounced wasn’t clear, but it was interesting.

He was getting there. Our team knows that the suspect owns a home in Arizona, and for a few weeks every winter it’s occupied by family who want to get out of the San Francisco fog and rain. One person who always uses it is his mother. She’s very elderly, not in good health, and she has her own private caregiver. But this year the house in San Francisco is being renovated and even the exec is out there, has been since Christmas.

The special agent drank more coffee and said with relish, And we know why. Our person of interest had surgery at the University Medical Center in Phoenix. He’s going to need a month to recover from a nasty gall bladder infection, and he’s got a subordinate running the legitimate side of things in San Francisco. But with the people he’s taken with him south, there’s a strong possibility he’s staying in charge of the clandestine stuff from his armchair.

Now things were making more sense. I have a habit of interjecting something when someone is going into a long explanation with me. This was probably annoying to some people, including the man sitting on my sofa. That didn’t stop me.

You found a way to get someone into the house, and you have me in mind.

Quick, aren’t you? he said a little resentfully. His grand announcement was spoiled.

Not really. Why else would you come all the way out here to find me and tell me about a sensitive government investigation unless you thought I could be useful? You’ve just said how that could happen. Right?

Instead of answering me he raised his mug back to his mouth for another swig. It was empty. He set it sadly back on the table, but I took the hint. No one goes without their fill of coffee at my house.

After bringing the carafe from the kitchen, giving us both a refill and returning it, I curled up in my favorite chair and said, Okay. Tell me if I’m right.

*********

He left half an hour later. An hour and a half after that the front doorbell rang again. This time the person pushing the button was an invited guest, and the only person I could talk to about what Severson was asking me to do without breaking my word not to share sensitive information. Local law enforcement officer Detective David White had agreed to stop and see me on his way home after his shift ended. I knew approximately where he lived and this detour was about five minutes out of his way.

He didn’t want coffee, and I certainly didn’t want anymore. We settled for two glasses of water, and we sat across from each other at my little dining room table.

I really, really, appreciate you coming over here on such short notice. It wasn’t the first time David had accommodated me when his experience or professional opinion was needed. Could I express my appreciation with a big batch of chocolate chip cookies?

He looked interested. My wife doesn’t have much time or inclination for baking; we usually get the store bought kind. A batch of cookies could hardly be considered a bribe.

Good, because it wouldn’t be. It would simply be an expression of appreciation for being a friend who happens to be able to give me some good in-put - due to your profession - on a decision I have to make, and make very quickly.

How quickly?

By tomorrow.

I accept your flattery, and won’t take that as a bribe either. What can you tell me?

Our relationship went back six years, beginning when I was his wife’s labor and delivery nurse during the birth of their third and last child. Our paths crossed again three years later when my neighbor, Amelia Marsh, was bludgeoned to death. In the following years we developed a casual but easy friendship. With the assistance of two friends, following up on my curiosity helped Detective White find out who killed Mrs. Marsh, and it started my sideline of helping individuals find answers to their perplexing situations. In fact, the second situation involved assisting David’s own family.

He was in his late thirties, and except for a slight recession of his hairline he wasn’t showing any signs of getting older. Everything I knew about this man said he was all he appeared to be; a dedicated and very good police detective, and in his off duty hours a devoted husband and father.

Stretching the point only a little, it could be said that every time my comrades and I solved a puzzle that involved a serious crime, we had not broken the law or interfered with an ongoing police investigation. This was at least part of the reason why my contact in local law enforcement was not only tolerant when he learned we were up to something - and sometimes he knew very little - but when asked for help he could be a godsend.

Agent Severson’s organization needs someone to infiltrate the home of a person they strongly suspect of defrauding the government. It isn’t his investigation but he has a lot of history with the man who is in charge, and purely by chance he found out they have a desperate need for someone who can breach the fortress. Severson remembered me from our association in Florida, and he thinks I’m the person who fits the bill.

What do you mean, ‘fits the bill’? Be a little more specific.

They need someone totally off the radar, because no amount of checking must turn up the person they use in any government data base of personnel files, or even on the negative end, such as a prison term.

What I could not share with him was the fact there was a strong suspicion that someone was gaining access into data files that were supposed to be available only to personnel with certain security clearances. It was for this reason such a small group of individuals were aware of Severson approaching me.

David frowned. This sounds dangerous. You’re not trained for covert operations of any sort.

That’s one of my pluses, I said lightly. I’m a total unknown, upstanding, boring citizen. All of the things George, Anne, and I have looked into since Amelia’s death has kept us out of the limelight and pretty well off the grid all together. Severson and his people couldn’t find anything, so they doubt anyone else could.

He understood. There are a few police reports where your names are mentioned, certainly, but those are in individual files and they’d have to know exactly what to look for. So, okay, that keeps you safer. It still sounds way out of your league.

It sure does. But the thing is, it would only be for two or three days, and he insists the risk is very minimal. I’m told even if the bad guys get suspicious all they would do is show me the door. Severson says these people are not stereotypical mafia types; they don’t like to kill people, leaving bodies, and drawing attention. Their method of quality control is to thoroughly check out everyone who comes into close proximity of their world, and anyone who looks even remotely unsuitable simply doesn’t get the job or gain entrance.

Another frown. I don’t suppose you asked if this approach ever failed, and what the results were.

"Of course I did, and to his credit he admitted there were two suspicious deaths associated with these people, three known incidents of severe beatings, and a few more of strong intimidation. The deaths and the beatings were all individuals deep within the active process of the moving of the illegal goods who may have gotten greedy or broken trust in some way. There was one undercover agent who took a beating, but his cover didn’t appear to be blown, he just rubbed somebody the wrong way.

My part involves the family and has nothing to do with the business end, which lowers the risk a great deal. So I’m told.

Are you qualified to do the job you’re being lined up for? David asked carefully, aware there was only so much I could tell him.

It is not a position that requires a lot of expertise, I admitted. That’s all I’d better say.

He took a drink from his water glass, said nothing, and continued to frown. I waited while he pondered the situation and eventually weighed in.

You and your friends have gotten involved in some interesting situations, and a couple of times it could have gotten out of hand. But this is something entirely different. I can’t tell you what to do. Maybe with your back being watched by the big players you’ll be safer than you were out in the woods with your friend, George, or poking around in Florida.

I smiled. That’s what I’d like to think.

And for what it’s worth, when you’ve been in a tight spot you seem to keep your head. That might come in useful on the chance things don’t go exactly according to plan.

Severson rather grudgingly had told me the same thing. His words in effect were that I came to mind when he heard about the dilemma because You’ve got nursing background, and you seem pretty good at improvising in a hurry.

David had another thought. Apparently making a plausible excuse for you to disappear for a few days has already been thought of?

Yes. You’ll be the only person who knows the truth about why. You can get up with Severson in an emergency. Someone will arrange with the phone company to fix my phone line so all of my calls are forwarded on to your office extension. With your permission of course.

David tilted back in his chair, shook his head, and said confidently, You won’t be able to resist. You’ll accept.

Chapter Two

And obviously, I did. After spending a couple more hours in solitude and contemplation of this curious and unusual request, Severson got the phone call he was waiting for. It was pointless to wait until morning when I knew the answer wouldn’t change. Contradicting himself, the last two things John Severson said to me before he left was to take my time, but the sooner he had my answer the better

He was in his hotel room and answered the phone immediately. Okay. Good. What’s your work schedule for the next few days?

After telling him he said, I’ve got some calls to make. Is it any problem to see you tomorrow morning?

We settled on 9 a.m. He might have been good with an earlier time but I wasn’t. We agreed to meet in the dining room of the hotel where he was staying, as it was unlikely I would run into anyone there I knew on a Thursday; on a weekend for Sunday brunch, perhaps. That would save me from a fictitious explanation for eating breakfast with a strange man.

Severson did not want my neighbors to wonder about his returning to my house either, and he had a point. I doubted the immediate neighbors who might be at home on a weekday morning would care even if they noticed, but Anne Carey would. She lived a few doors further down the sidewalk, and we knew each other well. It was a good idea not to arouse her suspicions, although I longed to confide in her about my sudden thrust into the world of going undercover.

Excluding Anne and George Thomas from knowing what I was going to do for love of country and justice was the only thing that kept me from being totally hyped about being offered the chance to do something so unique. It would be difficult to keep my secret from my family, too, but that was different.

Leaving town for a few days without telling anyone was going to be the easy part. I would connect with my children prior to departure, and they wouldn’t expect to hear from me again for a week or more. George, Anne, my other friends, family, and co-workers, shouldn’t get suspicious, either. As a rule none of us had a regular communication schedule. Everyone would assume I was either working a string of night shifts or was out of town visiting my son. They all knew I would get back in touch with them eventually.

But covering my tracks made me realize how much deception goes into even the most basic of covert operation schemes. Through fixing myself something to eat, jotting down things to ask Severson in the morning, and going through the motions of my usual activities on a normal night at home, the whole idea that seemed so simple at first got more and more complex. It boggled the mind to think what it was like for those in charge of everything.

When the bedside table light was turned off at last, the brain wasn’t willing to be turned off with it. But it did allow me to change channels.

The new channel was on reruns, reruns of the previous times I had gotten involved in situations that ended up involving crime, and usually a suspicious death. Beginning with Amelia Marsh’s demise, Miss Carey and George had been my partners and consultants on every one. My mind rehashed some of the details I hadn’t thought about in a long time, and others that were still fairly recent so not quite relegated to the archives yet. I smiled into the darkness of my solitary bedroom. What a pair those two were.

Correction. What a trio the three of us were. There was the spinster and retired educator who had already celebrated her eightieth birthday. And the long time telephone company employee, divorcee, and loyal friend to my deceased husband and myself. And me: the widow, the part-time obstetrical nurse, mother, and grandmother. It was really ludicrous, but we had become a very successful team.

Except for a minor problem that came up through George’s son, we hadn’t collaborated on anything for almost six months. Robin’s problem had been easily resolved and involved only a petty crime committed by one of his casual friends.

Because of the holidays and the birth of my granddaughter - which resulted in a trip for me to Massachusetts for a week - I hadn’t missed the challenge of a new case and the camaraderie it brought with Miss Carey and George so much.

On a recent coffee date with George a few days earlier, he admitted to wishing someone would approach us asking for help with something.

My hours are down because of the weather, ice fishing doesn’t sound appealing, and I’ve got a couple of house projects to get to, but they’ll go quicker in the spring, he confided that day. My son is completely involved in his job and his girl friend. Bowling is only one night a week, and football season is over. I’ve been good and attended church more regularly. There’s still plenty of time left over for a little snooping.

Better find yourself a good book to read or a new computer challenge had been my suggestion. Who can know if we’ll ever be asked to get involved in a crime situation again? And we sure don’t want to have anyone we know get themselves killed, like Amelia and Charlie did.

And here I was, with an opportunity to be a part of solving a crime dropped right into my lap. But for the first time not only was this a solo act, but my friends couldn’t even know about it. When I was safely back home, perhaps Severson or his boss would give me permission to share just the basics with them. Anne and George had already proven themselves quite capable of keeping secrets. One could hope.

*********

It was still bitterly cold, but the roads were clear when I drove to the small but charming downtown area of Hanley’s historical district. The snow on the roadsides was gray and dirty looking, but it shone white and glistening on the expanses of space