Grave Undertaking (18 page)
“So, what’s the word?” he asked.
“Nelson Darius is breaking the story at six tonight.”
“Well, that’s some good news,” he said. “You didn’t have any trouble convincing him?”
“He was cautious, but he couldn’t resist. He wants the information to continue to go to him rather than Barringer.”
“That’s great. Sounds like he doesn’t trust his own reporter.”
“I told Darius we were waiting to notify next of kin.”
“Not much to notify. The trailer and the pickup had been her father’s. He died a couple months ago, and Gentle moved in. A neighbor said she’d been living with her grandmother in Tennessee. We’re working through the Pizza Hut personnel records for an address and phone number. I should have something within the hour.”
Helen came up to our booth. She replenished our iced tea without asking. No matter that it was winter. If the sun ever burned out, southerners would still drink iced tea until the air froze around them.
“Those eyes are coming along nicely,” she said. “How can I get some of that makeup?”
“Easy, Helen. All you have to do is die.”
“Thanks, Barry. I’ll pass on it for as long as I can.” She moved her snappy banter on to the next table.
I waited until she was out of earshot. “I found something else. Darius has a photo of Gentle Deal on his wall.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“She’s in a raft with some other kids, but, yeah, it’s her. That girl’s face is etched in my brain. She looked about sixteen.”
“Did you ask him about it?”
“No. I didn’t want him to know her name or that I recognized her. What’s his story?”
“He’s a homegrown multimillionaire. Made his money in timber and real estate and then bought the station. Has the Midas touch all right.”
“No scandals?”
“Not that I’ve ever heard. He and his wife are on half the charity boards in western North Carolina.”
“Can you check on him?”
“I’ll ask around. Anything special about the photo?”
“No. It was one of many. Looks like he and his wife do volunteer work with kids.”
“Maybe Gentle Deal happened to be one of them.”
“Yeah,” I said. “The one we found dead. Have you talked to Pace yet?”
“Yes. He said Gentle never reached him or left a message.”
“How did he know her?”
“She’d started coming to church. They had a conversation about forgiveness last week. Pace said she carried a burden, but she hadn’t confided in him.”
“Too much to expect he’d break the case for us.”
“We’re on to something, Barry. Too many dead bodies prove it.”
“What should I do now?”
“Lie low and get on with your life.”
“Get on with my life? With a killer after me?”
“Get on with your life with Susan.”
His statement surprised me. I knew he saw the color rise in my face.
“Did she say something to you?”
“No. Bridges told me about the incident in her condo last night. How you were blindsided that she and Calhoun had a confrontation at The Last Resort.”
“She lied to me, Tommy Lee. I asked her if she’d been in the bar and she said no.”
“And after you stormed out, she told Bridges and Ewbanks she blew up at Calhoun. He had pretended to be her dead brother to pull her out of the operating room. She was furious.”
“I know about that.”
“So her only lie was about threatening Calhoun in a cheap joint she’d never been in before or since. She knocked over a whole table of drinks she was so mad. I’d say she was embarrassed to admit it. She didn’t want to appear foolish in the eyes of someone she respects. Maybe even loves.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Look,” he continued, “you don’t take my advice about things to keep you alive, and I’ve got no reason to believe you’ll listen to advice about things that make it worth being alive. But I’ll just say the best thing to happen to me was Patsy and I almost blew that.”
“She lied to you?” I asked.
“I lied to myself. I thought no one could love a guy with one eye and half a face. I didn’t want to be pitied. I pushed her away.”
“What changed?”
“She told me I was right. She did pity me. Pitied me that I was hell bent on shutting out anyone that might keep me from pitying myself. ‘Go ahead and wallow in self-pity,’ she said. ‘I love you too much to watch it.’ She nailed me, Barry. That was exactly what I was doing.”
“The truth,” I said. “Not a lie.”
Tommy Lee pushed his half-eaten tuna salad sandwich aside and leaned over the table. “The truth came out at two o’clock this morning. I told you there was a death, and you cried Susan. That came straight from the heart, pal. And you’re a damn fool if you don’t see it.”
I left the Cardinal Café and got on with my life. Things were quiet at the funeral home. Arrangements had been completed for the Metcalfs’ service on Thursday, and I spent the afternoon in the office, reviewing the paperwork from Hoffman Enterprises.
Two million dollars sounded straightforward enough. The sum was nearly twice what I’d valued the business. The more I studied the documents the more I realized the words “aggregate amount” required interpretation. I called my attorney, Carl Romeo, and my accountant, Josh Birnam, and asked them to analyze the proposal. Scanning and e-mail provided the fastest means of getting the information to them. We set up a meeting for the next afternoon in Carl’s law office.
While I was attaching the file in preparation to send it, an e-mail message arrived from Tommy Lee. He had attached a photo of Gentle Deal from the Department of Motor Vehicles along with the contact instructions that Nelson Darius could give his viewers. I forwarded both immediately.
It was three-thirty, well ahead of his deadline, but cutting it close for mine.
I parked at the far end of the lot, tucked behind a GMC Suburban. Through its windows, I had a clear view of Susan’s front door. The reserved space beside her walk was empty.
Thirty minutes later, it was still empty. I was tempted to start the jeep and blow some heat. My jacket hung in her condo, and I hadn’t brought another. I was afraid the sound of the engine and the vapor from the exhaust would draw attention to me. She should have been home around five given her early surgeries. Maybe there’d been complications; maybe an emergency.
At five-thirty, I started the engine and was speed dialing her cell, when her Subaru zipped into her spot. She emerged with a small bag of groceries, and, without so much as a glance in my direction, hurried inside. I waited a minute to make sure she wasn’t returning for something else. Then I walked to her condo while dialing her home phone.
“Barry?”
Count on caller ID to eliminate phone surprises.
“I have something I want to say,” I began seriously. I pressed her doorbell.
“Wait,” she interrupted. “Somebody’s at the door. Hold on, I’ll get rid of them.”
I stepped to the side where I wasn’t visible through her window. She opened the door, still holding the cordless phone to her ear. I was gratified to see her amazement.
“I left my jacket,” I said into the phone. “I can’t stand having a cold shoulder.”
I not only got my jacket, but also an invitation to stay for dinner. I had planned to calmly and maturely explore why Susan had been less than candid with me about Calhoun and the bar. We couldn’t let that fester between us. But it was nearly time for the newscast and I was anxious to see how
NEWSCHANNEL-8
handled the Gentle Deal story.
I told Susan about the murdered girl and my visit with Nelson Darius. She was distraught that a young woman might have become another victim of Sammy Calhoun’s blackmail scheme.
True to Nelson Darius’ word, Gentle Deal was the lead story. Her blurry driver’s license photo appeared over Matt Markle’s shoulder. The anchorman detailed her suspected murder in a few short sentences which could have been lifted from the crime scene report. Then Matt uttered the words “a
NEWSCHANNEL-8
exclusive” and the camera zoomed back to include Charlene Kensington seated beside him.
Charlene moistened her lips as her colleague introduced her. The script in her hand shook slightly, and I realized this woman who deftly hosted “Pastors Face Your Questions” was nervous. Perhaps she had never faced so large an audience; perhaps she had never been on the air live with the owner of the station standing only a few feet out of camera frame; perhaps she realized Cliff Barringer had to be fuming that she was reporting his story.
“
NEWSCHANNEL-8
has learned that yesterday’s death of Gentle Deal may be tied to the murder of Sammy Calhoun nearly seven years ago.” Charlene’s confidence returned as she raced through the first sentence without stumbling. She even managed to keep her eyes from wavering back and forth across the TelePrompTer. “A source close to the investigation has told
NEWSCHANNEL-8
the Laurel County Sheriff’s Department is questioning anyone who may have known both the victims. Gentle Deal would have been sixteen at the time and a resident of Walker County.”
“Walker County,” I said to Susan. “I didn’t know the girl had lived in Walker County.”
Charlene continued, “Sheriff Tommy Lee Wadkins would neither confirm nor deny that his department was pursuing such a connection, but he did say his inquiry into the girl’s death was independent of Sheriff Horace Ewbanks’ investigation. At this time, the Walker County Sheriff’s Department has made no arrests in the Calhoun case.”
“Interesting that neither of our names is mentioned,” said Susan.
“I think Darius wants to avoid having a suspect also declared a source.”
Charlene took a breath and managed a smile before continuing. “Meanwhile, in the interest of justice and cooperation with law enforcement officials,
NEWSCHANNEL-8
is making every effort to assist the investigation. Anyone who may have information regarding Gentle Deal and Sammy Calhoun should telephone the Laurel County Sheriff’s Department.” A phone number appeared on the bottom of the screen. “The
NEWSCHANNEL-8
team will continue to cover this major story as it unfolds. This is Charlene Kensington on special assignment.”
I clicked off the set. “Well, I guess we’ll know soon enough.”
Soon enough came twenty minutes later as Susan and I sat down to tortellini, French bread, and a garden salad. My forkful of pasta was in midair when the call came.
She rose from the table. “If it’s for you, I assume you’ll want to talk.”
“Unless it’s Tommy Lee interrupting our dinner for the hell of it.”
It was Tommy Lee, and he had news.
“I tried your cell first. Glad I found you where I found you,” he said.
“Just getting on with my life. Did you get a call?”
“Calls,” he corrected. “Three of them. The first one within five minutes of the newscast.”
“It connected Gentle and Calhoun?”
“Darden Claiborne wanted to know what was going on.”
“What did you tell him?”
Tommy Lee laughed. “I asked him if he believed everything he saw on TV. I said I had no idea where they got such a cock and bull story, but as a concerned officer of the court, he must appreciate I was doing everything I could to bring this poor girl’s murderer to justice. He told me to watch my step and not compromise his case.”
“What case? He means he doesn’t want his innuendos to unravel. Who was the second call? Sheriff Ewbanks telling you to stay out of his county?”
“Close. Bridges.”
“You got a warning from Bridges?”
Susan gave up any pretense of eating her dinner and joined me in the kitchen.
“Calm down,” said Tommy Lee. “I made good progress this afternoon. Gentle Deal’s autopsy report leaves no doubt she was murdered. Traces of chloroform were found on her lips, trachea, and lungs.”
“Will that hit the papers?”
“Not if I can help it. I certainly won’t be sharing it with Walker County. It does show the murderer had sophistication and that the killing was premeditated.”
“Gentle had to have been targeted before she saw the article on Gibson’s death. To arrange her murder in that brief time would have taxed even the CIA.”
“And the CIA wouldn’t have stolen drugs from the evidence room of the Walker County Sheriff’s Department. That’s why Bridges called.”
“What?”
“Four days ago, some heroin and marijuana came up missing from their evidence room. It’s being handled as an internal investigation.”
“Four days ago and Bridges is just now telling you?”
“He’s not running to me at every creak in the floorboard. He didn’t have any reason to think there was a connection until he heard how Gentle died.”
“Jesus, that means—”
“That means,” he interrupted, “we either have a coincidence, or someone is very dirty in the Walker County Sheriff’s Department. You know how I feel about coincidences.”
I did know. He hated them. In any of his investigations, circumstances were labeled coincidence only after every other possibility had been eliminated.
“If they find who stole the drugs, we’ve found who killed Gentle Deal,” I said. “But how do we prove it?”
“They won’t learn a damn thing, Barry. The murderer is either too good at covering his tracks, or too high up the food chain. All we know is what we suspected. Sammy Calhoun was onto someone in the Walker County justice system. It got him killed, it got Skeeter Gibson killed, and it got Gentle Deal killed.”
I thought about the cold reality of how what he was saying would play in a courtroom without direct evidence. “But, Tommy Lee, we can’t even prove it’s Walker County. All I have is drunk Skeeter Gibson toasting the heavens and saying Sammy Calhoun’s name.”
“Yes, we do know for sure,” he said confidently. “The third call came from a man named Amos Slatterly. He used to be the manager of Hinkle’s Department Store in Tyler City, the Walker County seat.”
“I know. I’ve seen their courthouse and jail.”
“Slatterly’s retired now, but seven years ago, he hired Sammy Calhoun to watch for shoplifters. One of the shoplifters Calhoun apprehended was a sixteen-year-old girl named Gentle Deal.”
“Calhoun arrested Gentle?” I asked.
“He had her arrested, or rather the store did. Slatterly mentioned Calhoun didn’t want to involve the Tyler City police. He preferred the Sheriff’s Department, and he took the girl straight to Sheriff Horace Ewbanks.”
A tingle ran from the base of my spine to the top of my head. Ewbanks. The man who headed the Sheriff’s Department for over thirty years and could have removed those confiscated narcotics as easily as getting candy from a vending machine. Hard-ass Hor-ass. The top of the food chain for sure.
“For God’s sake, tell him to come over,” said Susan. “I’ve got an extra bottle of wine, and it’s killing me to hear only half the conversation.”
We sat around the fire. Tommy Lee took the glass from Susan, and then swept it in an arc from her to me. “Here’s to the two of you. May you both stay out of jail.”
“Amen,” I said. “I’ll just be happy to stay alive.”
“We’re working on it,” said Tommy Lee. “Now here’s what I learned. Amos Slatterly told me that he hired Sammy Calhoun in early 1997 because a rash of shoplifting plagued Hinkle’s. Posted signs threatening prosecution had done nothing to halt the increase.”
“Calhoun worked undercover?” I asked.
“Yes. Slatterly was getting pressure from upper management to do something. To take aggressive action. Gentle Deal had been the first catch made by Calhoun. She tried to take a large leather handbag out of the store. Slatterly said she had no identification and wouldn’t give her name. She was afraid to have her parents notified.”
“Was she an abused child?” Susan asked.
“Slatterly didn’t think about it then. He was glad they’d finally caught someone, and he wasn’t looking for reasons to let her off the hook.”
“So Calhoun took her to Ewbanks.”
“To the jail,” said Tommy Lee. “He pressed charges on behalf of the store and waited while the girl was booked. But they wouldn’t release her until they had family information, and she wouldn’t talk. She stayed in juvenile detention three days.”
“Three days!” exclaimed Susan.
“That’s what Slatterly said. He asked Calhoun whatever happened to the girl and he said her father had finally sobered up enough to realize she was missing. When he came to the police, that’s when they got her name.”
“Was she convicted?” I asked.
“No,” said Tommy Lee. “Slatterly said the charges were dismissed by the court.”
“This Slatterly’s got a good memory,” said Susan.
“Struck me as being a little too good,” agreed Tommy Lee. “I was afraid maybe his stepping forward was a setup somehow, arranged by someone to throw me off the track. I’m getting paranoid in my old age.”
“That’s why you’re around to reach old age.”
“But then Slatterly made an unprompted remark that the reason he remembered the girl is because of what happened several weeks later. Even though Calhoun was no longer working security, he came back to see Slatterly.”
“What for?” asked Susan.
“To buy the purse that Gentle tried to steal.”
Susan held up her hands. “Well, he didn’t give it to me.”
“No,” said Tommy Lee. “Calhoun made a point of telling Slatterly it was for the girl. He said after what she’d been through she deserved it. And she deserved it filled with money. Slatterly thought Calhoun meant she should sue the store and he told his former detective they wouldn’t pay a nickel. Calhoun said all Slatterly had to do was promise to testify Gentle Deal had been caught shoplifting and taken to the Walker County jail for prosecution.”
“Did he?” I asked.
“Calhoun never came back. Shortly after that, Gentle went to Tennessee.”
“I wonder how that photograph wound up on the wall of Nelson Darius?”
“Bridges said Darius and his wife have worked with troubled kids for years. They founded an outdoor adventure program that was in place when he worked juvenile. It’s not unusual she would have participated.”
“Did Bridges know Gentle?”
“He doesn’t remember her.”
“But her name’s unusual.”
“Barry, he says he doesn’t remember her.”
“So, what about next of kin?”
“This afternoon I spoke with her grandmother, Mrs. Bethel Deal, in Knoxville. She bounced back and forth between grief and anger, but she understood I was trying to find out who murdered her granddaughter. The woman confirmed Gentle moved in with her during the summer of 1997. Her son was at a loss as how to handle his teenage daughter. He might have been abusive. His wife had left him and Gentle a few years before. Gentle never gave the grandmother any trouble.”
“I’ll bet she was scared,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I asked Bethel Deal if Gentle ever mentioned a man named Sammy Calhoun or Sheriff Ewbanks. She said her granddaughter had had no contact with anyone here after she left North Carolina. Her father would drive over every few months and visit. Then his liver gave out on him.”
“Alcoholic?”
“Sounds like it. Mrs. Deal said he was bad to drink. He died last summer. He’d moved to Laurel County and Gentle came back to watch over his land and trailer until it sold. Nobody knows where or even if the mother is living.”
“Who knew Gentle moved to the trailer?” Susan asked.
“If you ever get tired of chopping up people, you’d make a good detective,” said Tommy Lee. “I posed that same question. At first, Bethel Deal couldn’t think of anybody. I asked if Gentle had filled out any official change of address notices. The word official jarred her memory. Last week, someone called from the juvenile records division of Walker County, or so they said. Since Gentle was no longer a minor, they wanted to update the files before reclassifying her status.”
“Last week?” I said. “Amazing timing, isn’t it.”
“Sure is,” said Tommy Lee. “Obviously, that was a ploy as there’s no such procedure. Mrs. Deal asked me if she’d done all right in giving Gentle’s address. I told her yes. How could I tell her she got her granddaughter killed?”
“Did she remember which day?”
“She’s pretty sure it was Wednesday. She was getting ready for Wednesday night prayer meeting.”
“Wednesday’s right after Sammy Calhoun’s body was publicly identified,” I said.