by Douglas Hall
“Tell you all about it when we pick you up at the Chattanooga airport.”
“What he is saying,” King said, “if he tells you now, you might not come.”
“That bad,” Mandy replied.
“You will be in for a new experience, and it will look good on your resume,” West replied.
“Will I be in danger?”
West looked hurt, “I ask you…would I put you in harm’s way?”
“In a heartbeat, right, Charlie?”
“I refuse in order not to incriminate myself.”
“You will have two Alabama Deputy Marshall’s protecting you at all times,” West said.
“What are their names?” Mandy asked and ended with, “good night, boys.”
Eight
BEFORE THEY LEFT for Chattanooga to pick up Mandy, West called Culpepper and had a long discussion outlining what he and King had planned for Mandy, and how she could be invaluable to the investigation. It started with her being booked into Sammy Pines for a two-week stay and, before she left, offering her services as a staff worker in the office. Once settled in, she would cultivate a friendship with Emmy Lou. If successful, she would find out if Cindy Madison had ever been involved with the resort, and if she had, what happened to her.
He ended with, “We saw Emmy Lou last night. Mayfield nearly had a stroke. He had coached her well. She would not confirm nor deny if she had ever seen Cindy Madison at Sammy Pines. It’s our guess that she has, and we are not finished with her.”
Mandy Perkins received a warm welcome when she arrived in Chattanooga. During the drive to Moody Brook, West played the recorded interviews with Mayfield and his daughter Emmy Lou. All Mandy could say was, “Unbelievable, that girl isn’t telling all she knows, just listen to her.”
When they stopped for a coffee, West went over the copy of Child Waiting he had nicked from Cindy’s night table and pointed out the box on the back cover promoting Sammy Pines as an ideal Christian vacation location and singling out Sammy Pines as the champion in the fight to eradicate juvenile conjunctivitis in Africa’s remote regions. At the bottom, in boldface block type, were instructions that one-time gifts or monthly donations could be made through credit cards, or by mail in larger type the address and a number to call collect for details. It was a boldface pitch for donations.
“A piece of cake for you,” King said, “all you have to do is worm your way into their confidence and get a job.”
“I hope you are not expecting me to make beds or serve meals. I’d go out of my mind,” protested Mandy, “but if that is your devious plan, I’ll have no choice if I want to keep my job.”
“Don’t worry, we have something far more interesting and a better way to use your talent. You will arrive in grand style and with a cover tale of coming off a bitter divorce and wanting to forget the past by carving out a new beginning. With the divorce settlement, you are financially independent and want to do something worthwhile with your life. You’ll impress with a $500 donation to Child Waiting, out of the general operating fund, of course.”
“Have you two been smoking funny cigarettes again? I am afraid to ask what else you have planned for me.”
“It’s bloody brilliant,” King said with a laugh.
West cleared his throat, “Charlie and I worked this all out and ran it by Sheriff Culpepper who is in with both feet. You have more than enough business experience running Paul West Detective Agency to work in their office. Once you have established a rapport with Pastor Paul, tell him that since you have no one back home waiting for your return, you’d like to stay on and make yourself useful. Tell him you have a business administration degree from the University of Toronto and would be willing to put it to good use in the office.”
“I never went to university, I went to work after high school,” protested Mandy.
“How is he to know?” King asked.
“Precisely,” West said, “you know how to talk a good game. You are a master at it.”
“What if he tries to check me out?”
“Let him. I’ll bet he couldn’t find Toronto on a map.”
“Do I use my real name?”
West made a sucking noise, “Good question.”
“My mother has said more than once that she nearly named me Bethany.”
“I like that. Isn’t Bethany a Bible name?”
“I think it is,” King offered.
“What was your mother’s maiden name?”
“Walker?”
“That’s it. From now on, you will be Bethany Walker. I’ll take you to the motel office, and you can book into your cabin as Bethany Walker from Canada.”
“Have I missed anything?” West asked King.
“The Child Waiting brochure. Mandy should read it until it is so firmly planted in her memory. She can drop references or phrases in conversation. It would really impress and could well be a door opener along with the donation.”
“Good thinking. It will be your homework for tonight. You have near total recall, so read it through, so you can sound as though you were looking for a cause, and juvenile conjunctivitis triggers your interest. Are you aware that it is called red eye?”
Mandy nodded, “I had an aunt who suffered from it. It put her through hell whenever it erupted. She took it to her grave.”
“Good, work it to death like you had just got religion and want to devote the rest of your life to helping the infected children in Africa.”
“I don’t know if I am going to like this.”
“You’ll like it, and you’ll like Sheriff Culpepper. He has an unmarked car waiting for you with a Tennessee licence plate. He got it from the Chattanooga police department after we ran by our plan to plant you in the Sammy Pines office. It will have a tracking device hidden on the frame underneath, and you’ll be outfitted with one on your person.”
“Sheriff Culpepper just got in some new trackers for his men. They are state-of-the-art and are on line with the station’s tracking system which he says is first rate, so you’ll never be out of touch. Before we take you to Sammy Pines, give me your iPhone and any identification you are carrying including your passport, driver’s licence and credit cards. Culpepper will give you a disposable cell phone that can’t be traced. You will be covered night and day by the Moody Brook police, and we are about twenty minutes away from Sammy Pines. If you are in any danger, you’ll be pulled out immediately.”
“If I don’t have my credit cards, how do I pay for anything, especially if they ask for payment up front when I check in?”
“How much US money do you have on you?” West asked.
“The two thousand US$ you asked me to get out of the bank after I booked my seat.”
“We’ll split it. A thousand that should be enough for the moment. If you need more, I can always get a cash advance on my credit card. Anything else?”
“If I am getting a car, I shouldn’t be driving without a licence.”
“Good thought,” King said. “When we get back, I’ll put in a call to Culpepper and ask him to get a licence issued to Bethany Walker with a phony Tennessee address that can’t be traced. He will have it for you tomorrow when we take you in to meet him.”
“Can he get it that fast?”
“That man is unbelievable. He’ll get it.”
“And just what will you two be up to while I am in harm’s way at Sammy Pines?”
“I’ll be having another chat with the friendly bank manager and see if I can rattle his cage once again. That man is a fount of information and I have only started,” West said.
“He didn’t say we,” Mandy said. “Are you taking a day off?”
King smiled broadly, “I leave for Boca Raton, Florida tomorrow to check out the Bethesda Senior Retirement Centre and, hopefully, get a few hours on the beach knocking back a pinna colada or two.”
THE LAST THING MANDY asked West for was a repeat of the Cindy Madison’s profile. Since she would not be able to take a copy of the photograph with her
. It would be a dead giveaway if it was found on her. What they told her was a compilation of what each had built from their separate investigations beginning with King’s when Madison’s filed his missing person report.
During each interview of those who knew Cindy, the same question was asked, “Tell me about Cindy and what was she like.” The Madison’s gave an insight as they remembered their daughter, but Amber Ferguson, her high school girl friend, was the most revealing when she talked about growing up with her from early childhood. Her brother Scott, who dated Cindy, was also candid and gave further brush strokes to the canvas of a beautiful complicated young woman. Mandy studied the police photograph of Cindy as both men talked. She would be looking for her strictly from memory, but, thankfully, she had an amazing capacity to remember faces and a near eidetic memory for facts which, at time, outstripped West’s.
SHERIFF CULPEPPER couldn’t have been more welcoming as he turned on the southern charm for Mandy. Following pleasantries, he got down to business and ran Mandy through a detailed briefing of how she would be monitored while at Sammy Pines night and day. West and King sat silently and said nothing as there was nothing to add to what Culpepper was saying. They were content to let him take centre stage.
"Here is your tracker and a roll of double-backed adhesive tape. Place it on your body and keep it on your person at all times. Our female deputy attaches it to her brassiere. It works for her because it is under her uniform and can’t be spotted. If she was in trouble, she would violently jiggle it and help would be on the way.
Indicating to Mandy, Culpepper said, “The ladies’ is to the left.”
Mandy returned from the washroom and noticed West and King looking at her breasts and laughingly asked, “What makes you think it is there.”
“Can’t see a thing,” West replied.
The final thing to be covered was the unmarked police car. Culpepper handed Mandy the keys and opened a file, “Here is your Tennessee driver’s licence. If you will sign your name in the space provided, everything will be in order should you have to show it.”
“How…?” Mandy began to ask but stopped when Culpepper interrupted and said:
“Did I get it so fast? This is the south, my dear, we may talk slower than you people from the north, but we can move just as fast when the moment requires it. Come with me to the parking lot and let me show you how your car is hooked up.”
Opening the driver’s door, Culpepper pointed to a small button unobtrusively attached to the underside of the dashboard. “Should you ever need to reach us in case of an emergency, all you have to do is press this button and an alarm will go off in the station that would even wake my aunt Bessie, and she has been dead these twenty odd years,” Culpepper removed his glasses and chuckled at his turn of phrase.
“I’m impressed, sheriff, your idea?” King asked.
Culpepper smiled, “It was the genius of our headquarters technician who oversees all the security equipment at the state level. It’s a great comfort whenever we send an undercover deputy into the field. We also have a cache of out-of-state licence plates to use when need.”
“I’ll have to tell my chief about that one when I get back,” King said.
“You do that.”
“The station’s non-traceable number is on the fast call of the cell phone I just gave you, see if works?”
The ringing in the outer area could be heard and it took but a moment before the call was answered. “One, two, three, four, five,” Mandy said as she enunciated each word.
“You are coming through loud and clear,” Chester confirmed.
“If you have nothing more and feel comfortable with the arrangements,” Culpepper said as Mandy put the phone back in her purse, “I’ll call Chester in, and we can get you on your way. I’ve instructed him to accompany you to road that leads to Sammy Pines. My best wishes and hopes go with you, and I am sure I speak for your friends.”
“Indeed, you do,” West responded.
Nine
FIVE MINUTES after the bank doors opened, two officious bank inspectors walked into Jayden Mayfield’s office unannounced. They were there to conduct the annual bank inspection, and he couldn’t imagine his day starting off any worse. He was busy setting up the examiners with a desk in the small meeting room adjacent to his office when he was interrupted by his secretary.
West was waiting in his office and could he attend without delay.
Mayfield excused himself and stopped by his secretary’s desk to instruct her to cancel all appointments for the rest of the day. He closed his office door and thumped down in his chair without any salutation. He just stared at the recorder West had placed on the desk and turned on without first asking for permission.
“I thought we had finished up last time you were here,” he said with an edge in his voice and continued, “If you are here to ask me more questions about Pastor Sammy, Pastor Paul or Sammy Pines, my position has not changed. I am forbidden to discuss client accounts.”
“Would you care to see the warrant Sheriff Culpepper obtained for me to do just that? He said he had no problem getting it once he gave the judge just cause.”
Mayfield struggled to control himself as he accepted the warrant and, after a quick scan, handed it back to West, “I would like to have a word with Sheriff Culpepper first and then with my superior at headquarters before I accede to the demands of his warrant. Could you please return mid-afternoon for my decision?”
“No,” responded West, in a firm voice, “that will not be convenient. I am are here to obtain printouts of the documents we discussed yesterday, and I am not leaving until I get them.”
West was thoroughly enjoying backing Mayfield into a corner that had no escape.
“All I am asking for is time to speak to Sheriff Culpepper and apprise headquarters. Is that too much to ask?”
“As a matter of fact, it is,” West responded icily. “I remind you again I am investigating the disappearance of a young woman, Cindy Madison, by name, and my investigation has brought me to your branch. Sheriff Culpepper anticipated your reluctance to comply, and, as his sworn deputy, I am under orders to bring you personally to his office to discuss this matter further either willingly or under arrest should you not comply. Sheriff Culpepper suspected you would want to phone him and he said, if you did, he is far too busy to talk to you on the phone. It is up to you how we do it.”
Mayfield slumped in his chair, “I can’t imagine Sheriff Culpepper saying he is far too busy to speak to me on the phone. We go back many years and…”
“A young girl has gone missing,” West snapped as he cut Mayfield off in mid-sentence.
“Deputy King and I met your daughter, and if she was missing and you had filed a missing person report, wouldn’t you expect the police to leave no stone unturned?”
“Is there a possibility that this young woman may be dead?” Mayfield stammered.
“We don’t know that at this point in our investigation but are proceeding with the hope that she isn’t. We have no intention of letting some bureaucrat like you dictate to us and impede our investigation while there could be a chance that we could find her. If she is already dead, we intend to find her body, so her parents can give her a proper burial and achieve some kind of closure. Wouldn’t you, at least, want that much if she were your daughter?”
“That is a wicked thing to say to me.”
“Be that as it may, what is your decision? Do I get what I came for, or do I take you to Sheriff Culpepper’s office in the marked scout car I came in?” West jerked his thumb. “I can see it from here. It’s parked in front of your office window, and I am sure a parked police car for everyone to see isn’t a welcoming sight for your customers.”
Mayfield sighed deeply, “You leave me no choice, but I go on record that I shall be making a full report of protest to Sheriff Culpepper and copying my head office.”
“I would expect nothing less. Just to refresh your memory, I shall read the items I need in case
you’d like to make a list.” It was a patronising suggestion and not received well.
Mayfield made a face and reached for a yellow-lined pad and clicked his pen.
“To begin, I want printouts of the following items: first, the monthly statements which list all deposits and withdrawals for Pastor Samuel Proctor’s personal accounts and any accounts pertaining to his television ministry and the fund-raising operation for Child Waiting one year prior to his arrest and up to the closing of the accounts. Those accounts are all dormant and in the archives. I am sure you can access them. Second, I want the same for all Sammy Pine’s operating accounts, and the personal accounts of Pastor Paul Proctor from the date of Sammy Pines opening up to the last entry. If the early ones are in archives, they won’t be difficult to access. That’s it!”
Mayfield dropped his pen and looked up. His face was ashen, “This will take some time, and I don’t know if I can access computer records today. The bank inspectors are here and have control of all computer accounts and files until they are finished their inspection which could take days.”
King made a sucking noise and said, “Well, I suggest you have a word with the inspectors and inform them of what I want, and if they don’t release the computer files for you to access them, tell them I am prepared to arrest each one of them and charge them with obstruction along with you. Is that clear?”
Mayfield pushed his chair back and stood up, “They may have to call headquarters, and it could take some time to reach the proper individual to get approval.”
West looked at his watch and said with a menacing smile, “I will give you half an hour and not a minute more.”
Mayfield pushed his chair back and left without making eye contact.
When Mayfield left, West put a call through to Culpepper and gave him a full report. All Culpepper said before hanging up was, “Stay until you get what you came for, and don’t take no for an answer. I’m here all day, and I’ll wait for your return.”
MANDY’S CONNECTION to church and religion was limited to weddings and funerals, so she was totally out of her element when she walked into Sammy Pine’s reception area with the large plaque hanging on the wall behind the reception desk. It read Jesus Christ is our Special Guest.