“Wow. I guess I should be flattered that you would be concerned for me.”
“I don’t like murder. I really don’t like murder for hire.”
“So, what was the name of the assassin?” I asked.
“Diamond,” he said.
My heart sank. I had known Diamond for the last several years. She was, in fact, a professional assassin. She was good at her work. Years ago, she had been hired to assassinate me, as well as my friend Rosey Washington. It was only Rosey’s SEAL training that had kept us alive. And some circumstantial luck, you might say. Since then I had become reacquainted with her and worked alongside of her on some cases. I wasn’t about to tell Hawkins any of that for obvious reasons.
“And that’s it? Nothing else in the intel?” I said.
“Yeah, there was another name provided by my source, but it was foreign to me. My concern was to make sure you became aware of this.”
“You could’ve called me directly,” I said.
“Yeah. Looking back on it now, I wish I had. Some things are not good topics over phone lines and satellites. Redwine was a good man whom I trusted, and I thought it safe to send him.”
“That other name … mind telling me who it is?” I said.
“Some female named Laurel Shelton. You know her?”
Chapter 39
Laurel Shelton was sitting in Sheriff Buster Murdock’s office in the McAdams County Jail. His open, well-lighted office was a vast improvement over his former confines. The inside walls were mostly glass except for the lower one-third. The outer room was sectioned off by dividers no taller than five feet except for the receptionist’s desk in the center. It was open to all comers, with no privacy walls at all. The lady occupying that desk was busy talking on the phone while simultaneously working on her computer. Of the four cubicles partitioned off, only one was occupied. Deputy Dorothy Smathers was busy at her desk doing administrative paperwork. Deputy Rocky Ramsey was in Asheville at the hospital guarding the semi-conscious Homer Gosnell, who remained under arrest for three murders.
Despite the trauma of the last several days, Laurel was busy observing her environs while answering Sheriff Murdock’s questions.
“How long have you known Homer Gosnell?”
“Two days. No, wait, maybe three days now.”
“You had no prior relationship with this individual?”
“I met him three days ago.”
“How did you meet him?”
“I came across his cabin on top of the mountain while trying to get away from those two guys who held me prisoner in the back of their truck.”
“And who were these two guys?”
“I don’t know. They were strangers.”
“After this Gosnell fellow killed those two men, why did you continue to run?”
“I didn’t know that Homer had stopped both of them. I only knew that he injured one. I ran before the other man was stopped.”
“How did you know that?”
“Homer told me later when we met up on the trail.”
“So, he confessed to you that he had killed both Odell Ponder and Jerome Boswell?”
“Homer confessed nothing. He simply told me that the two men after me would no longer hurt me.”
“So, they did hurt you?”
“Not really. They tied me up and put me in the bed of a truck. I escaped because they didn’t tie my hands very well. I think if I had remained their prisoner, I would’ve been hurt.”
“Where were they taking you?”
“I have no idea.”
“And you jumped out of the truck?”
“Yes.”
“Did they see you?”
“Do you mean did they see me when I jumped?”
“Yes, did they see you when you jumped from the truck?”
“No. It was dark and rainy.”
“So, you jumped, and the truck kept moving. Then you ran into the woods and got away.”
“Yes.”
“Then you believe that they came back later.”
“I believe nothing of the sort. They showed up at Homer’s cabin on top of the mountain some hours later, so, yes, I know they came back.”
Murdock showed some slight displeasure with her answer but said nothing.
“Did you see Homer shoot one of the two men?”
“Yes. He used a crossbow.”
“And then he shot the other man?” Murdock was testing Laurel Shelton to see if her story would be consistent with what others had said.
“I have no information on how he stopped the other man. He may have shot him, but before I ran out the back door to get away, Homer did not have the crossbow in his hands.”
“If he was there protecting you, why did you feel that you needed to run away?”
“He told me to get away.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he was afraid that the second man might get past him and harm me.”
“But that didn’t happen, did it?”
“Apparently not.”
“When did you find out that there was a third man involved?”
“When Homer found me on the trail.”
“And you knew this third man,” Murdock said.
“He was dating my mother.”
“Is it possible that this third man, Curly McClure, was there trying to help you and that Homer killed him without provocation?”
“Not sure about the word provocation, but I can tell you without a doubt that Curly was not there to help me. He was sitting on a porch waiting on us to come along. He had a rifle and he shot at us. In fact, he shot and hit Homer three times. So Curly was connected with those two men who captured me when I was on the Appalachian Trail a day earlier.”
“Why did you run away from home in the first place?”
“I didn’t like Curly.”
“Not much of a reason, Laurel.”
“He tried to kiss me.”
“More than just showing you some affection?” he said.
“Sleeping with my mother was not enough for him. He wanted to sleep with me.”
“That’s quite a charge to make, you know.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Did you tell your mother?”
“She didn’t believe me.”
“And you’re sure you are not making this up?”
“Why would I make this up?”
“Lots of people make lots of things up … for various reasons. You said yourself that you didn’t like Curly.”
“I didn’t trust him. I’m a good judge of character. He was no good, and since my mother wouldn’t believe me when I told her what he had said to me, I had to get away. I wasn’t about to allow him to touch me.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He wanted me to go away with him in his truck.”
“Nothing more than that?”
“He said it would be good for us to be alone and get to know each other better. We could be real friends.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a threat to me,” Murdock said.
“If he had said that to you, you would have shot him.”
Murdock was taken aback by her calm answer.
“I think you have caused a lot of deaths, little girl.”
Laurel started to say something, but held back at the last second. She decided that challenging this man was not in her best interest. She was also suspicious of his intent. Laurel believed that Sheriff Murdock wanted her friend Homer Gosnell to answer for the deaths of Curly and his two friends. She had the feeling that his questions were intended to trick her.
“And why did this FBI agent come after you?”
“I don’t think he was an FBI agent,” she said.
“We found credentials on his body,” Murdock said. He knew that the man was not an FBI agent, and he wondered how she could have known that.
“He was going to kill me. I doubt if an FBI agent would do that.”
“Did he say why he wanted to kill
you?”
“No.”
“Did he shoot Homer Gosnell?”
“He tried to shoot Homer.”
“What stopped him?”
“Me.”
“You?”
“I was behind him when he turned to shoot Homer, who was in the bed. I ran into him and hit him hard in the back just as he fired his weapon. When I hit him with my body, it caused him to miss.”
“You hit that man in the back and this caused him to shoot and miss?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Just trying to clarify, Laurel.”
“Sure. You don’t believe me.”
“Your story is a little farfetched.”
“The man already had two arrows in him. Homer had shot him twice with the crossbow. He was weak, so my running into him was easier than if he had not been injured.”
“There were three arrows in the man when we found him,” Murdock said.
“Homer shot him again when the man dragged me outside the cabin, and we were standing near the ambulance.”
“Why did this man drag you outside?”
“He wanted me to drive him away.”
“For what purpose?”
“To get help for his wounds, I suppose. I don’t know really. But I refused.”
“You’re only … what … thirteen?” Murdock asked.
“Fourteen,” she said.
“You know how to drive?”
“No.”
“So why would he think you could drive him?”
“He was desperate. I doubt if he was thinking too clearly. He was injured and needed some medical attention.”
“So, according to you, Homer Gosnell saved you three times. Is that correct?”
“Four.”
“He killed four people to save you, someone he had only met three days earlier? Is that your story?”
“That’s the truth.”
Murdock smiled suspiciously as he stood up and walked out of his office. Laurel watched him as he moved to the desk of the receptionist where a deputy was sitting. He said something to her, but she couldn’t hear what was said. Murdock then moved to one of the cubicles. She recognized the deputy when he stood after Murdock entered his space. They talked for a minute or so. The deputy nodded and then sat down. Murdock then returned to his office.
“Do you need anything?” he said to Laurel.
“I need to speak with Clancy Evans or Starnes Carver,” she said.
“Why do you need to talk with them?”
“I trust them.”
Just then, Beth Call walked into the Sheriff’s office.
“Laurel!” she said as she quickly moved to her daughter and hugged her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay,” Laurel said. She held her mother tightly and began to cry.
Chapter 40
“I need you to contact Diamond for me,” I said to Rogers.
“What’s she got to do with this?”
“Not sure. Her name came up.”
“In what manner?”
“Circuitous warning, but vague.”
“Reliable source?”
“Intended it to be, I suspect.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Rogers said.
“Do it quickly.”
“I’ll send a message, but it will be up to her as to how fast she responds. She could be off somewhere … you know, working.”
“Contact her and tell her to call me directly. Give her my number.”
“She has your number,” Rogers reminded me.
It was late afternoon, and I was walking around Starnes’ acreage when my cell rang.
“What do you need?” the husky female voice said.
“Nice of you to call.”
“Tell me what you want,” Diamond said.
“Information more than anything.”
“Not my normal expertise or function. Go ahead and ask.”
“You name surfaced through an FBI agent.”
“I get around.”
“In regard to a job.”
“What job?”
“Laurel Shelton.”
“I turned it down.”
“Scruples getting in the way of money?” I said without intending sarcasm.
“The profile that came through was insufficient. I did some checking and discovered that Laurel Shelton was a fourteen-year-old. As a rule, I do not remove teenagers from society. I don’t necessarily like them, but the majority of them do not deserve to die.”
“And the fact that you met her a couple of years ago maybe entered the picture,” I added.
“There’s that,” she said, without feeling.
“Did you forget that you had met her once upon a time?”
“I’m like an elephant with my mental faculties.”
“That could be a myth, you know,” I said.
“Go with that, if you must.”
“What’d they offer?”
“You mean the price for the hit?”
“Yeah.”
“I tell them what it will cost. They either accept or reject.”
“So, money was not discussed.”
“Didn’t say that, but I had them wait until I did the research. I never gave them a price since I refused to do the work.”
“You took her name, did your diligent research, discovered her age, recalled knowing her with that elephantine memory of yours, and then turned them down. Is that about it?”
“Close enough.”
“Did they make a counter offer to entice you to change your mind?”
“Five.”
“Sounds low, but what do I know?”
“It was low, even for a fourteen-year-old.”
“And one that you knew.”
“Didn’t enter the picture.”
“And you said …?”
“I didn’t say. I laughed and they took that to mean no.”
“And then they said …?”
“Ten.”
“And you said …?”
“I hung up on them.”
“If they had gone higher …?”
“They didn’t have enough money to hire me at any price.”
“Scruples.”
“Call it what you will.”
“I have other terms in my word-bag. Were they even close to your rate?”
“All things being equal, no.”
“Pricey shooter.”
“I’m the best.”
“And people pay your usual price?”
“If they want the job done correctly, yes.”
“But this time you turned them down.”
“You got it.”
“So, if I am trying to contract you to kill someone, and you turn me down, who would I go to next?”
“Too broad a question,” she said flatly.
“They ask you for a recommendation?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not kidding,” I said in earnest.
“I just told you, I hung up on them.”
“Oh, yeah, you did say that. Maybe you gave them a name before you hung up.”
“I gave them nothing. What’s up with you?” Diamond said.
“I’m on a case that is strange, to say the least.”
“Tell me about it.”
I filled her in with my wild and woolly tale of kidnapping and shootings and the runaway teenager.
“Compared to you, I live a rather peaceful existence,” Diamond said.
“Most do.”
“Describe the guy who was your phony FBI agent,” she said.
I told her what I could recall and what he had done to get close to Laurel.
“Sounds like Rutledge Connors.”
“You can tell that from my vague but accurate description?”
“Patterns. Techniques. It’s how I stay alive. Others who live long enough to last in this business have to do the same. If you don’t pay attention to those details, you will die sooner rather than later.
I pay attention to people and how they behave. Even my competition, so to speak.”
“You would’ve made a good psychiatrist in another life,” I said.
“Who says I’m not one now?”
I paused and thought about her comment. Did I undercover yet another clue about my dubious friend Diamond, the professional assassin?
“Don’t over-think that,” she said, as if she could read my mind through the air waves. “I’ll send you a photo of Rutledge, but it definitely sounds like he was the one who took the job.”
“You have photos of your competition?”
“Couldn’t send it if I didn’t have it.”
“Point.”
“And, I have no genuine competitors, by the way,” she said.
“His price as high as yours?”
“He works for less.”
“Wouldn’t have done it for five?”
“Doubt it. He fancies himself as good. Probably thinks he’s as good as me. He tends to like the number ten for some reason.”
“You ever meet him?”
“No. It’s not like we have a club with monthly meetings, or an annual Christmas gala. Word travels. I get info. I stay ahead of the game. I do my homework, then I hide and watch.”
“And most of your peers don’t do that as well as you do?”
“I’m anal or pedantic or first-born-birth-order careful. Whatever you want to call it, I am the paradigm. No brag, just fact. What I do, I do because I intend to stay alive. And, for the record, I have no peers.”
“Thanks for the information and the education,” I said. “Oh, and you have no idea who it was that called you?”
“No. My contacts are usually indirect. I have no idea who wanted the child removed.”
“Did you try to find that out?”
“I’ve told you enough. You should have a photo of Rutledge Connors after I hang up. Good to know that you’re still around and kicking, despite your hazardous lifestyle. Stay safe.”
Diamond was gone. My cell beeped to tell me that I had a text message. It was a photo. Rutledge Connors was the man pretending to be Agent Redwine. Rutledge Connors was the hired assassin in the morgue in Asheville who had been shot with three arrows by Homer Gosnell with his crossbow. I had double proof now concerning the subterfuge, but I was still in the dark as to the people behind this whole mess.
The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon Page 20