Justice Overdue: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (7 page)

Varick uncrossed his arms, leaned forward, and glared. “And so, you gave up your old friend to save your own hide. What kind of a friend does that?”

Otis’s voice came out as a whine. “A frightened one.” He paused, cleared his throat and spoke more firmly. “I couldn’t do time like you, Varick. I wouldn’t survive in there.”

“I survived.”

Otis fidgeted with his hands, an uncomfortable look in his eyes as he avoided Varick’s stare. He prodded the empty beer bottle with his foot, and then kicked it across the clearing. It landed near a spray of goldenrods that had somehow managed to work their way up through the dirt.

Otis spoke slowly, quietly. “I … I’m sorry, Varick. I really am.” He looked at his friend earnestly. “If I could do it again, it would be different.”

“Different how?”

“Just different, that’s all. I wouldn’t have squealed on you.”

Varick nodded slowly as he observed Otis. His friend was a liar, and probably afraid. And he had every reason to be afraid.

Otis steadied the still-swinging hammock, sat back down, and dug his smokes from his shirt pocket. His hand trembled as he poked a cigarette into his mouth and flicked his lighter. He took a long drag, blew the smoke into the air, watched it rise, and then turned his attention back to the conversation. “What’re you gonna do, Varick?”

“About you?”

Otis nodded uneasily, still twiddling his fingers.

Varick shrugged. “Nothing.” Yeah right, nothing. He had to do something; his honor was at stake. “You owe me, Otis. I did your time. You owe me.”

Otis spoke in a fervent voice. “Whatever you want, Varick. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Varick said nothing.

Finally, Otis broke the uneasy silence. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I might’ve been inside but word gets around. I heard you had taken off somewhere. Figured it was here. I know how you always liked this place.”

Otis nodded. “Yeah, it’s quiet here.”

Varick eyed Otis thoughtfully. “Figured I might stay awhile. You know, until things blow over.”

“Sure, Varick. It’ll be cool to have you here.” The words tumbled out eagerly. “You can stay as long as you want.”

Varick grinned. “I thought you’d say that.”

Chapter 14

Thursday, 7:56 PM

THE CAR TIRES squealed as the driver hit the brakes and pulled onto the shoulder of the road. The vehicle came to a dead stop, backed up fifty feet, and stopped again. The driver leaned sideways, blinked a couple of times, and stared out the passenger side window.

The driver side door swung open and a man stepped out, hurried around the car, and gazed into the ditch. He scratched his head and frowned. The sight before him was not exactly what he expected to see today.

A body in the ditch lay on its back, nestled in weeds, feet pointing upwards, but there was no doubt about it; it was a dead person and it shouldn’t be there.

He climbed down into the ditch for a closer look. The sight was gruesome and made him gag. He looked away and climbed back out of the ditch.

He glanced up and down the road, hoping to see another vehicle, perhaps someone else who could take responsibility for finding the body and all the headaches along with it. He didn’t want to get involved in something like this.

There were no other cars in sight and he considered a moment. Should he leave it alone and be on his way? Better judgment took over his thoughts and he sighed, reached for his cell phone, and called 9-1-1.

He decided not to give the police his name, then he could be on his way with no one the wiser. There was no need for him to stick around. It was a dead body and he didn’t have anything to do with it. Besides, he had better things to do right now.

He gave the emergency operator a few details, the approximate location of the body, then got back in his car and continued on his way. He’d done his duty and that was that.

~~*~~

RCMP SERGEANT LANCE BREWER had barely finished interviewing Ben and Sally Ann Draper when he got word of the body that had been discovered.

The Draper’s car was stolen at gunpoint by someone who perfectly fit the description of Varick Lucas. They were kind enough to give him a lift and he’d rewarded them by assaulting the driver, taking their car, and dumping them on the side of the highway. And now, a body was found along the same highway, a little further east.

Brewer dropped his notes onto the passenger seat, hung up the radio, pulled the shifter into drive, and spun onto the road. This was no coincidence. That body was more evidence of the work of that scumbag, Varick Lucas.

First responders had already secured the area, a forensic team at work when Brewer arrived on the scene. Four cruisers had pulled to the side of the road, red and blue lights flashing. A forensic van sat with its doors open, police milling about, unloading equipment. A cop was setting up orange cones by the side of the highway.

The sun was sinking low in the western sky and remote area lighting was set up in the immediate vicinity. The darkness would arrive before they were done here.

Brewer climbed down into the ditch, approached the investigator in charge, and offered his hand. “Sergeant Lance Brewer. RCMP.”

The towering young investigator shook his hand and looked at him quizzically. “Inspector Bruce Sheldrick. Why’re you guys involved in this?”

“I believe this is the work of Varick Lucas.”

The other cop whistled. “The escapee?”

“Believe so. Our inspectors are on their way and we’ll be conducting a joint operation with local law enforcement.”

“Always happy to work with you guys, but there’s not a lot to go on here.”

Brewer glanced at the body. “Who’s the vic?”

“No ID on the victim,” Sheldrick said.

“No wallet? Credit cards?”

“Nothing.”

“What about the witness? The guy who found the body?”

Sheldrick shrugged. “The guy who called it in didn’t stick around. Didn’t give his name to the operator.”

“We’ll find him,” Brewer said. “It could’ve been Lucas himself called it in.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Dunno. But if he killed this guy and stole his car, why dump him here? Why not leave the body where the deed was done?”

Sheldrick looked confused. Finally, he said. “He wanted to make sure the body was found.”

Brewer nodded. “Makes sense to me.”

“But why would he care?”

“That’s the question. Why?” Brewer said, and approached the body. “Maybe he can tell us.” He crouched down and looked at the now whitened face. Blood had flowed from wounds inflicted to the top and left side of the head, now dried and turned a brownish hue. There was evidence of defensive wounds to the arms and chest. His mouth and jaw was banged up and the left jaw possibly dislocated, a real mess. “Maybe he can tell us,” Brewer repeated as he straightened up and turned back to face Sheldrick.

The young cop looked bewildered but nodded as if he understood, and then asked, “How can you be sure it was Lucas?”

Brewer observed the young cop, still green. He had a lot to learn. “Just my gut, son. It never leads me wrong.” He waved toward the body. “Make sure they don’t move him until we’re done. Our first priority is to find out who he is, and then put a BOLO out on his car.”

Brewer glanced toward the road as two RCMP cars pulled up. A forensic van stopped close behind. Officers and investigators streamed from the vehicles. They were going to take over this scene whether the local law wanted them to or not. As far as he was concerned, the scene had already been contaminated, but they would make do and sift through everything.

Brewer crossed his arms and stared up the highway. It looked like Lucas was heading east. The roadblocks that were set up earlier had netted nothing. Investigators would try to find out who the victim was as soon as possible; they had no choice but to do their job.

Brewer wasn’t convinced that knowledge would give him anything. Lucas had probably killed this guy and stolen his car. He was changing cars all the time, and he had to be stopped.

Chapter 15

Thursday, 8:42 PM

VARICK LUCAS dropped down onto the bunk, leaned against the wall of the cabin, and stared across the small room. His former friend was cooking up something on a small wood stove they had lugged up here many years ago.

His eyes wandered around the room. The cabin was dirty. The wooden floor probably hadn’t seen a broom in years. Spiders had spun their webs in the rafters and the entire place smelled of human sweat. There was no excuse for that, and that would change. Varick didn’t like living in a pigsty.

Otis glanced over. “Want some bread with your beans, Varick?”

“Beans? Canned beans? Is that all you got here? No real food? Don’t you have any meat?”

“I like beans,” Otis said. “Sometimes I catch a rabbit, maybe the odd fish, or a duck, but I don’t have a fridge here, Varick. How am I supposed to keep stuff fresh in the summer? Winter time I can freeze it, but right now … it’s beans and bread.”

That was going to change too. Varick had no desire to eat beans every day. Steak. Now that’s food. A moose or a deer would last him a long time. If he was going to stay here awhile he was going to be comfortable. And comfortable meant this small cabin only had room for one. Otis had to go.

“Haven’t you been able to scrounge up any food from the campers?” Varick asked. “There should be lots of opportunities around here. Just like we used to do years ago.”

Otis stopped stirring, set the spoon on a small table beside the stove and turned away from the sizzling meal. “I gotta be careful. The game warden has been here a couple of times. I don’t know how he found this place being it’s so far from any roads and trails. He seemed like a decent guy, though. We’re a long way from any campers, but if there are reports of stuff stolen …” Otis paused. “I just don’t want him to report me being here, that’s all. This is government land.”

“What do you do here in the winter?”

“Only been here one winter. Mostly I just lay back, take it easy. Maybe do a little hunting, fishing.” Otis laughed. “And a lot of sleeping.” He glanced around the cabin. “I like it here. I have enough wood piled up for the winter and it’ll be nice and toasty in here.”

Varick thought a moment before asking, “Got any money, Otis?”

Otis dished out the beans onto plates. “I got a couple thousand stashed away. I don’t buy much. Too hard to lug it back here so it oughta do me awhile.”

That was good news. Varick’s small stash had dwindled and he would need money if he wanted to make this place his home for a while.

Otis pointed toward the ceiling where a toboggan rested across the rafters. “In the winter I can bring stuff back here with that, but in the summer, it’s not so easy. Besides, I would run out of money real fast if I bought steak and beer every day.”

“What about in town?” Varick asked. “Surely there are some houses there you can liberate stuff from?”

Otis shrugged. “It’s a small town. You can’t be breaking into houses every day. Sometimes I rob their gardens, grab some corn, potatoes, and carrots, from the farmers, but money’s hard to come by. Folks ain’t rich around here.” He set the plates on the table, grabbed a loaf of bread from the cupboard and removed four slices. He dropped two on each plate. “Food’s ready.”

Varick crawled off the cot and sat at the table. The food wasn’t half bad, likely because Varick was famished. He hadn’t eaten for a while. He wolfed it down in silence. When they finished, he pushed his chair back and stood. “Gimme a smoke.”

Otis pointed to a cupboard beside the stove. Varick found the cigarettes, lit one and breathed the warm smoke in. It tasted good. They always tasted good after a meal. He’d already chain-smoked the pack he’d bought from the truck stop. Nerves maybe. He didn’t smoke much but he liked one now and then and didn’t want to get in the habit now. Otis’s money wouldn’t last long at that rate.

Varick waved the cigarette in the air. “You have more?”

Otis pointed to the cupboard. “A couple more cartons. They need to last me awhile, so take it easy.”

“No problem,” Varick said, and then turned toward the door. “I’m going outside.”

“Be right out soon as I wash up.”

Varick stepped out in the bright moonlit evening, lounged back in the lawn chair, and closed his eyes. The weather was pleasant enough and he hoped it would stay that way awhile. He wasn’t looking forward to the winter, but he’d survived enough of them in his life, what was one more? At any rate, he would have to make do until everything blew over. The future was open and changeable.

He opened his eyes a few minutes later when Otis came out and dropped into the hammock.

“Nice night,” Otis said.

“Yup,” Varick answered. He looked over at Otis, lounging comfortably. It was a shame. They were such good friends, but Otis had betrayed him. There was no way around that, and of course, there could be no forgiveness.

“Gonna get cold soon, though,” came from Otis.

“Yup.” Varick lifted the front of his shirt and wrapped his hand around the pistol. Yes, it would get cold real soon. Might as well get this over with. He stood, removing the pistol as he approached the hammock.

Otis turned his head toward Varick and opened his eyes. They popped as he stared at the weapon gleaming in the moonlight, now pointed at him. “What …?”

“Sorry, old pal. You betrayed me.”

Varick stepped back as Otis sprang to his feet. “I thought we were past that.”

“Maybe you are. I’m not.”

Otis dropped to his knees and raised his hands in a begging position. “Please, Varick. I’m sorry. Don’t kill me. I’ll make it up to you.”

“What’s done is done.”

“It can be undone.” He was pleading. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can stay here for as long as you want and won’t have to do nothing.” Otis took his eyes off the gun and looked at Varick. “Please. We’re friends.”